A Monk of Cruta Read online

  CHAPTER XI

  ADREA'S DIARY

  "A figure from the past I see once more as in a dream."

  This evening I have had an adventure! I am thankful, for it hasoccupied my thoughts for awhile; and for anything that does that I amgrateful. I had been in the house all day, restless and nervous, andtowards dusk I put on my cloak and a thick veil, and went out into thestreet. I scarcely noticed which way I went. It was all the same tome. A dull purple bank of clouds hung low down in the west, and theair was close and still. By-and-by I heard thunder, and big raindropsfell upon the pavement. A storm was threatening, and I longed for itto come and clear the air.

  I must have been walking for nearly an hour, when it came at last, andthe rain fell in great sheets. I looked around for a cab, but therewas none in sight. I had no idea where I was,--London is so vast andlarge,--and though, by the distant roar of wheels, I could tell thatI was not far from a great thoroughfare, the street in which I wasseemed to be deserted. Just by my side was a dark tunnel, gloomy andvault-like in appearance; but in that downpour any refuge was welcome,and I stepped back underneath it. It was like going into the bowelsof the earth; and, every now and then, there was a roar over my headwhich made me almost dizzy. But, from round the corner, I could seethat it was only the sound of trains passing and repassing, so Idecided to stay until I could see a cab.

  Opposite to me was a man with a truck-load of oranges, and by hisside a boy seated before a red-hot swinging can, containing chestnuts.There was no one else in the street, although at the bottom of itcrowds of people and a constant stream of vehicles were hurryingalong. On the other side of the way was a tall and grim-lookingbuilding, discoloured with smoke and age. It was evidently a hospitalor institution of some sort. The windows were long and narrow, and oneor two of them, I could see, were of stained glass. There was no brassplate by the front door, nor any sign. In the absence of anything elseto do, I began to frame surmises as to what the place might be. Thespotlessly white doorsteps and polished bell interested me;they seemed out of tone with the character of the place and itssurroundings, so utterly bare and dreary. I began to wish that acaller would come and ring the bell, so that I could get a peep atthe interior. But no one did, although I noticed that more than onehurrying passer-by glanced up at it curiously.

  The thunder died away, but the rain still came down heavily. If it hadnot been for my curious interest in that great ugly building opposite,I should have risked a wetting, and made my way down to the busythoroughfare in the distance. But I was anxious to see some one enteror leave the place, or for something to happen which would give mean idea as to its character; so I waited. Half an hour passed, and mycuriosity remained unsatisfied. There was no sign of life aboutthe place; not even a tradesman had called, nor had thatforbidding-looking portal once been opened. It was still raining fast,but there were signs of finer weather, and right overhead was abreak in the clouds. I should certainly be able to leave now in a fewminutes; but, strangely enough, all my impatience seemed gone. Thegrim-looking building opposite had fascinated me. I had no desire toleave the place until I had found out all about it.

  It was odd, that curiosity of mine; all my days I shall wonder at it.On the face of it, it seemed so unreasonable, and yet it led to somuch. I have no creed, and I know nothing about philosophies, orperhaps to-night's adventure might have meant even more to me. But,indeed, it seems as though some unseen hand led me out and brought meinto that deserted street. From to-night there must be changes in mylife; I cannot escape from them. As yet I am too much in a whirl toask myself whether I wish to.

  To return to that house. When I saw that the storm was clearing, andthat I should be able to leave in a few minutes, I determined to makean effort to satisfy my curiosity. I crossed the road, and addressedthe man who was sitting on the handles of his barrow of oranges.

  "Do you know what place that is opposite?" I asked, pointing acrossthe road.

  He took out a filthy pipe from his mouth, and spat upon the pavement.I think that he must have noticed my look of disgust, for he answeredme surlily, "No, I don't!"

  I turned to the boy. "Do you?" I asked.

  He shook his head. "Not for certain, ma'am. I believe it's some sortof a Roman Catholic place, though. Them gents in long clothes andshovel hats is allus going in and hout. 'Ullo, Bill! Here she beagain! She's a-trying it on, ain't she?"

  The man looked up and grunted. I followed the boy's glance, and saw atall, dark woman walking swiftly along on the other side of the road.From the very first her figure was somehow familiar to me, and

  She stopped outside the closed door, and hesitated for a moment,as though doubtful whether to ring or not. During her moment ofhesitation she glanced round, and I recognised her. She could not seeme, for I was in the shadow of the underground tunnel.

  "Blarmed if she ain't come again," the man growled. "She's as regularas clockwork! Wonder what she wants!"

  I felt my knees trembling; I could not have crossed the road atthat moment if it had been to save my life. The boy looked up at mecuriously.

  "Happen you know her, lady," he remarked. "She's been here at thistime, or thereabouts, pretty near every day for a fortnight."

  Happen I know her! Yes, that was the boy's odd phrase. It rang in myears, and I found myself gasping for breath. My eyes were fixed uponthat tall, slender figure, clothed in sober black, waiting upon thedoorstep with bowed head, and standing very still and motionless. Itwas like an effigy of patience. There were not two women in the worldlike that; it was impossible. She was in England, and alone--free!What did it mean? Should I run to her, or hide away? I glanced over myshoulder where the black shadows of the tunnel were only dimly lit bythe feeble gaslight. I could steal away, and she would never seeme. Yet as I thought of it, the grimy, barren street and thesolemn-looking building faded away before my eyes. The sun and windburned my face; the wind, salt with ocean spray, and echoing with thehoarse screaming of the sea-birds that rode upon it. I was at Crutaagain, panting to be free, stealing away in the twilight down thenarrow path amongst the rocks to where that tiny boat lay waiting,like a speck upon the waters. And it was she who had helped me--thesad-faced woman who had braved the terrible anger of the man whom wehad both dreaded. Again I heard her gentle words of counsel, and theanswering lies which should have blistered my lips. For I lied to her,not hastily or on impulse, but deliberately in cold blood. Anything,I cried to myself, to escape from this rock, this living death! So Ilied to her, and she helped me. No wonder that I trembled. No wonderthat I half made up my mind to flee away into the sheltering darknessof that noisome-looking tunnel.

  It takes long to set down in writing the thoughts which flashedthrough me at that moment. Yet when I had made up my mind the womanwas still there, waiting meekly before the closed door.

  "You were speaking of her," I said to the boy, who was half-sitting,half-crouching against the side of the tunnel. "What was it you said?I did not hear."

  Man and boy commenced to tell me together. Their strange London talkpuzzled me, and I could only extract a confused sense of what theysaid. The woman, to whom they rudely pointed, had called at thebuilding opposite every day for a fortnight at about this hour to makesome inquiry. Day by day she had turned away, after one brief questionasked and answered, with bowed head and dejected manner. Yet, day byday, she returned and repeated it. Ever the same disappointment, thesame despair!

  They knew nothing more. Her regular visits had awakened a certaincuriosity in them, and they had commenced to look for them, andindulge in a little mild speculation as to her one day meeting witha different reception. Nothing more! There was a shade of pity in theboy's tone, and I gave him a shilling; then I crossed the road.

  As I left the kerbstone, the door opened and I heard her question:--

  "Has Father Adrian called or written, or sent any address yet,please?"

  The man, who had opened the door only a few inches, kept in thebackground, and I could see nothing of him, but I heard h
is grim,monosyllable reply:

  "No! Father Adrian has not visited or communicated with us."

  She turned away with a meek "Thank you," and found herself face toface with me. My heart smote me when I saw how poor were her clothes,and how thin her features.

  At first she did not know me; but I raised my veil, and whispered hername softly in her ear.

  She threw up her hands, and swayed backwards and forwards upon thepavement.

  "Adrea! Adrea!" she cried wildly. "My God!"

  A cab drove up, and I called it. She had just strength enough to enterit, leaning heavily upon my arm; then she fainted.