adenoanswer.
“Youdespisehim,Harriet,andyoudespiseme.Butyoudousnogoodbyit.Wefoolswantsomeonetosetusonourfeet.SupposeareallydecentwomanhadsetupGino—IbelieveCarolineAbbottmighthavedoneit—mightn’thehavebeenanotherman?”
“Philip,”sheinterrupted,withanattemptatnonchalance,“doyouhappentohavethosematcheshandy?Wemightaswelllookatthebabyagainifyouhave.”
Thefirstmatchblewoutimmediately.Sodidthesecond.Hesuggestedthattheyshouldstopthecarriageandborrowthelampfromthedriver.
“Oh,Idon’twantallthatbother.Tryagain.”
Theyenteredthelittlewoodashetriedtostrikethethirdmatch.Atlastitcaught.Harrietpoisedtheumbrellarightly,andforafullquarterminutetheycontemplatedthefacethattrembledinthelightofthetremblingflame.Thentherewasashoutandacrash.Theywerelyinginthemudindarkness.Thecarriagehadoverturned.
Philipwasagooddealhurt.Hesatupandrockedhimselftoandfro,holdinghisarm.Hecouldjustmakeouttheoutlineofthecarriageabovehim,andtheoutlinesofthecarriagecushionsandoftheirluggageuponthegreyroad.Theaccidenthadtakenplaceinthewood,whereitwasevendarkerthanintheopen.
“Areyouallright?”hemanagedtosay.Harrietwasscreaming,thehorsewaskicking,thedriverwascursingsomeotherman.
Harriet’sscreamsbecamecoherent.“Thebaby—thebaby—itslipped—it’sgonefrommyarms—Istoleit!”
“Godhelpme!”saidPhilip.Acoldcirclecameroundhismouth,and,hefainted.
Whenherecovereditwasstillthesameconfusion.Thehorsewaskicking,thebabyhadnotbeenfound,andHarrietstillscreamedlikeamaniac,“Istoleit!Istoleit!Istoleit!Itslippedoutofmyarms!”
“Keepstill!”hecommandedthedriver.“Letnoonemove.Wemaytreadonit.Keepstill.”
Foramomenttheyallobeyedhim.Hebegantocrawlthroughthemud,touchingfirstthis,thenthat,graspingthecushionsbymistake,listeningforthefaintestwhisperthatmightguidehim.Hetriedtolightamatch,holdingtheboxinhisteethandstrikingatitwiththeuninjuredhand.Atlasthesucceeded,andthelightfelluponthebundlewhichhewasseeking.
Ithadrolledofftheroadintothewoodalittleway,andhadfallenacrossagreatrut.Sotinyitwasthathaditfallenlengthwaysitwouldhavedisappeared,andhemightneverhavefoundit.
“Istoleit!Iandtheidiot—noonewasthere.”Sheburstoutlaughing.
Hesatdownandlaiditonhisknee.Thenhetriedtocleansethefacefromthemudandtherainandthetears.Hisarm,hesupposed,wasbroken,buthecouldstillmoveitalittle,andforthemomentheforgotallpain.Hewaslistening—notforacry,butforthetickofaheartortheslightesttremorofbreath.
“Whereareyou?”calledavoice.ItwasMissAbbott,againstwhosecarriagetheyhadcollided.Shehadrelitoneofthelamps,andwaspickingherwaytowardshim.
“Silence!”hecalledagain,andagaintheyobeyed.Heshookthebundlehebreathedintoitheopenedhiscoatandpresseditagainsthim.Thenhelistened,andheardnothingbuttherainandthepantinghorses,andHarriet,whowassomewherechucklingtoherselfinthedark.
MissAbbottapproached,andtookitgentlyfromhim.Thefacewasalreadychilly,butthankstoPhilipitwasnolongerwet.Norwoulditagainbewettedbyanytear.