And even he was glad to be checked, rebuked, held back. For to desire
is better than to possess, the finality of the end was dreaded as
deeply as it was desired.
They walked on towards the town, towards where the lamps threaded
singly, at long intervals down the dark high-road of the valley. They
came at length to the gate of the drive.
'Don't come any further,' she said.
'You'd rather I didn't?' he asked, relieved. He did not want to go up
the public streets with her, his soul all naked and alight as it was.
'Much rather--good-night.' She held out her hand. He grasped it, then
touched the perilous, potent fingers with his lips.
'Good-night,' he said. 'Tomorrow.' And they parted. He went home full of the strength and the power of
living desire.
But the next day, she did not come, she sent a note that she was kept
indoors by a cold. Here was a torment! But he possessed his soul in
some sort of patience, writing a brief answer, telling her how sorry he
was not to see her.
The day after this, he stayed at home--it seemed so futile to go down
to the office. His father could not live the week out. And he wanted to
be at home, suspended.
Gerald sat on a chair by the window in his father's room. The landscape
outside was black and winter-sodden. His father lay grey and ashen on
the bed, a nurse moved silently in her white dress, neat and elegant,
even beautiful. There was a scent of eau-de-cologne in the room. The
nurse went out of the room, Gerald was alone with death, facing the
winter-black landscape.
'Is there much more water in Denley?' came the faint voice, determined
and querulous, from the bed. The dying man was asking about a leakage
from Willey Water into one of the pits.
'Some more--we shall have to run off the lake,' said Gerald.
'Will you?' The faint voice filtered to extinction. There was dead
stillness. The grey-faced, sick man lay with eyes closed, more dead
than death. Gerald looked away. He felt his heart was seared, it would
perish if this went on much longer.
Suddenly he heard a strange noise. Turning round, he saw his father's
eyes wide open, strained and rolling in a frenzy of inhuman struggling.
Gerald started to his feet, and stood transfixed in horror.
'Wha-a-ah-h-h-' came a horrible choking rattle from his father's
throat, the fearful, frenzied eye, rolling awfully in its wild
fruitless search for help, passed blindly over Gerald, then up came the
dark blood and mess pumping over the face of the agonised being. The
tense body relaxed, the head fell aside, down the pillow.