In an instant the poor dear fellow was overwhelmed with grief.
It seemed to me that all that he had of late been suffering in silence found a vent at once.
He grew quite hysterical, and raising his open hands, beat his palms together in a perfect agony of grief.
He stood up and then sat down again, and the tears rained down his cheeks.
I felt an infinite pity for him, and opened my arms unthinkingly.
With a sob he laid his head on my shoulder and cried like a wearied child, whilst he shook with emotion.
We women have something of the mother in us that makes us rise above smaller matters when the mother-spirit is invoked; I felt this big sorrowing man’s head resting on me, as though it were that of the baby that some day may lie on my bosom, and I stroked his hair as though he were my own child.
I never thought at the time how strange it all was.
After a little bit his sobs ceased, and he raised himself with an apology, though he made no disguise of his emotion.
He told me that for days and nights past—weary days and sleepless nights—he had been unable to speak with any one, as a man must speak in his time of sorrow.
There was no woman whose sympathy could be given to him, or with whom, owing to the terrible circumstance with which his sorrow was surrounded, he could speak freely.
“I know now how I suffered,” he said, as he dried his eyes, “but I do not know even yet—and none other can ever know—how much your sweet sympathy has been to me to-day.
I shall know better in time; and believe me that, though I am not ungrateful now, my gratitude will grow with my understanding.
You will let me be like a brother, will you not, for all our lives—for dear Lucy’s sake?”
“For dear Lucy’s sake,” I said as we clasped hands.
“Ay, and for your own sake,” he added, “for if a man’s esteem and gratitude are ever worth the winning, you have won mine to-day.
If ever the future should bring to you a time when you need a man’s help, believe me, you will not call in vain.
God grant that no such time may ever come to you to break the sunshine of your life; but if it should ever come, promise me that you will let me know.”
He was so earnest, and his sorrow was so fresh, that I felt it would comfort him, so I said:—
“I promise.”
As I came along the corridor I saw Mr. Morris looking out of a window.
He turned as he heard my footsteps.
“How is Art?” he said.
Then noticing my red eyes, he went on: “Ah, I see you have been comforting him.
Poor old fellow! he needs it.
No one but a woman can help a man when he is in trouble of the heart; and he had no one to comfort him.”
He bore his own trouble so bravely that my heart bled for him.
I saw the manuscript in his hand, and I knew that when he read it he would realise how much I knew; so I said to him:—
“I wish I could comfort all who suffer from the heart.
Will you let me be your friend, and will you come to me for comfort if you need it?
You will know, later on, why I speak.”
He saw that I was in earnest, and stooping, took my hand, and raising it to his lips, kissed it.
It seemed but poor comfort to so brave and unselfish a soul, and impulsively I bent over and kissed him.
The tears rose in his eyes, and there was a momentary choking in his throat; he said quite calmly:—
“Little girl, you will never regret that true-hearted kindness, so long as ever you live!”
Then he went into the study to his friend.
“Little girl!”—the very words he had used to Lucy, and oh, but he proved himself a friend!
CHAPTER XVIII
DR. SEWARD’S DIARY
30 September.—I got home at five o’clock, and found that Godalming and Morris had not only arrived, but had already studied the transcript of the various diaries and letters which Harker and his wonderful wife had made and arranged.
Harker had not yet returned from his visit to the carriers’ men, of whom Dr. Hennessey had written to me.
Mrs. Harker gave us a cup of tea, and I can honestly say that, for the first time since I have lived in it, this old house seemed like home.
When we had finished, Mrs. Harker said:—
“Dr. Seward, may I ask a favour?
I want to see your patient, Mr. Renfield.
Do let me see him.
What you have said of him in your diary interests me so much!”
She looked so appealing and so pretty that I could not refuse her, and there was no possible reason why I should; so I took her with me.
When I went into the room, I told the man that a lady would like to see him; to which he simply answered:
“Why?”