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Page 91
She wrenched at the latch, finding the door frozen into place, as it had
been all through this weather. She tugged in vain for a moment, then a
voice called from the other side:
"Look out! I'm going to push!"
With a catch in her throat, her heart pounding even more wildly than it
had done before, she stood aside. What voice was that? It couldn't be
possible, of course, but it had sounded like one she knew in its every
inflection, one which did not belong to any of her nearby friends. It
could not be possible--it could not--but--
The door crashed open, and a mound of snow fell in with it. Striding in
over the snow came a tall figure in an enveloping great coat, covered
with white from head to foot, the face ruddy and smiling.
CHAPTER XVII
FROM THE BEGINNING
John Leaver turned and tried to close the door, but the mound of snow
prevented. The wind was sweeping in with fury. "Go away from it," he
commanded. "I'll see to it."
He kicked the snow out with his foot, crowded the door into place, and
turned about again. He stood still, looking at the figure before him,
with its startled face, wide eyes staring at him, breath coming short.
Charlotte's hands were pressed over her heart, she seemed unable to
speak.
"Did I frighten you, rushing in upon you at this time of night?" The
smile upon his face died, he looked as if she had put out a hand to hold
him off. Then, as he regarded her more closely, he saw that which alarmed
him.
"Is something wrong? Has something happened?" he asked hurriedly.
She nodded, still staring with a strange, wild look. Then, in a breath,
she found speech and action.
"Oh, come!" she gasped. "Granny is--something has happened to Granny!"
and ran to him and caught at his hand, like a child, pulling him.
"Just a minute," he said, quickly, releasing himself, and pulled off his
snow-covered overcoat and frozen gloves, and threw them to one side. Then
he put out his hand to her.
"Now!" he said, and they ran together to the stairs, and up them. At the
top Charlotte paused.
"In there!" she whispered, and let him take the lead.
Her hand held very tight in his he crossed the room. He took up the
candle from the dressing-table, approached the bed, and gave the candle
to Charlotte. Letting go her hand then, he bent and looked closely into
the still, peaceful old face ... made a brief, quiet examination....
He led her down the stairs again. She was fully blind now, seeing
nothing, conscious of but two things--the sense of a great blow having
fallen stunningly, and the sense of being held firmly by a warm, strong
hand. She clung to that hand as if it were all that lay between sea and
shore.
In the living-room, before the fire, she felt the hand draw itself gently
away. But then she found herself clasped in two warm arms, her head
pressed gently down upon a strong shoulder. A voice spoke with a
throbbing tenderness which seemed to envelop her:
"Don't question anything, just let me take you to my heart--where you
belong. God sent me to you at this hour, I'm sure of it. I felt it all
the way--that you needed me. I am yours, body and soul. Let me serve you
and take care of you as if it had all been settled long ago. Be big
enough for that, dear."
She listened, and let him have his way. Whatever might come after, there
seemed nothing else to do now. The Presence in the room above seemed to
have changed everything. One could not speak or act as might have been
possible an hour ago. Only the great realities counted now. Here were
two of them confronting her at once--Death and Love. How could she be
less primitively honest in the face of one than of the other?
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