Here Comes a Candle (3 page)

He gave her a longer look than he had spared for her so far. She was no fool, this shrimp of a girl with the untidy hair and the huge brown eyes.
“
Quick of you,
”
he said.
“
It
’
s quite true. I did have a selfish reason for coming. Oh
”
—impatiently—
“
of course I wanted to get my grandmother and Liz away from the seat of the war
.
That was true enough. It was no place for them, two women alone. Well, so it has proved. But I did hope that Liz
...
Did Mac tell you about my Sarah?
”
He turned to the doctor to ask this, it seemed, almost reluctantly.

“
She did say something. Is the poor child no better?
”

“
Worse. I
’
d hoped that Liz might help with her. God forgive me, I suppose that
’
s mainly why I came. Arabella said it was a mad start. Well, she was right. My poor little Sarah.
”

“
But what
’
s the matter with her?
”
Jonathan
’
s tone, as he spoke of his daughter, had caught Kate Croston
’
s attention.

“
Nobody knows.
”
He turned to speak to her directly.
“
It began last year, when I was away in England. I had to go—
”
he seemed to be arguing with
hims
elf.
“
I
’
ve business interests there. My ships go there all the time. Went there, I should say. By last spring, what with Jefferson
’
s embargo on trade, and the British Orders in Council, things were pretty well at a standstill. And then the threat of war—I thought it my duty to go. To settle things there. Besides, despite all the War Hawks
’
talk in Congress, we never believed, in Boston, that this crazy war would happen, that President Madison could be such a fool. Anyway, I went. I
’
d not left home before, not for five years—not since Sarah was
born
. I
’
m a sea captain,
”
he explained to Kate.
“
Used to be. I settled on shore when I married, six years ago. I sailed as a passenger for England last spring. Everything went wrong: winds, tides, incompetence
...
We did not reach Plymouth till mid-June. T
h
ings looked bad by then. I pressed on with my business as fast as I could. No use. Before I was done, war was declared, my ship impounded. I spent a couple of nights in jail myself. That didn
’
t matter. Getting home did. It took me till fall. And then—
”

“
Yes?
”
She could see how hard it was for him to go on.

“
You have to understand about Sarah. Before I left, she was the brightest, quickest little thing. Early with everything: sitting ... smiling at me
...
pulling herself up in the cot. Then walking
...
talking. You couldn
’
t hold her back. She followed me everywhere,
to the mill, even, if I didn
’
t take care. Then—when I got home last fall, I couldn
’
t believe my eyes. I
’
d had no letters, of course. Nobody had warned me. They hadn
’
t realized at first how bad it was.
”

“
But what?
”

“
It
’
s like black magic.
”
The flight of fancy came strangely from him.
“
She didn
’
t even recognize me. She doesn
’
t speak: she doesn
’
t smile; she doesn
’
t look at you.
It
’
s enough to break your heart.
”

“
The poor lamb.
”
He had her full attention and sympathy now, and Dr. Brown, watching, thought it was good for her to be taken out of herself.
“
But there must be some explanation,
”
she went on.
“
What happened to her?
”

“
If I
’
d only been there!
”
He would never forgive himself.
“
She was on a visit with Arabella—with her mother—at Saratoga Springs. She used to play on the hotel porch there, good as gold—she was such a good child always, my Sarah. One day, when her mother was out, she disappeared. They searched for her all night. In the morning they found her, half a mile away, in a deserted woodman
’
s hut
.
The door had slammed on her, apparently. How she
’
d got there
...
what kind of a night she
’
d spent ... it doesn
’
t bear
thinking
of. Arabella blames herself, of course, but it wasn
’
t her fault
.
The child had always been so good, you see: she
’
d, never strayed before. And no one realized, at first just how much harm it had done. It came on slowly, they say: a little worse every day. She got quieter and quieter
...
And then the screaming fits began. They go on and on. It
’
s breaking my heart.
”

“
I don
’
t quite see what good you thought your cousin Liz would be.
”
Dr. Brown was putting on his coat
.

“
Sarah needs caring for, I
think,
loving. Someone with her all the time. The local girls won
’
t stay.
”
And then, explaining:
“
They
’
re so independent, our American girls. They
’
d rather work in the mill. And—it
’
s worse than that. They
’
re ignorant, superstitious ... I heard one of them talking about witchcraft
...
about Salem. I got
rid of her on the spot. The others we
’
ve tried were almost as bad. They just don
’
t seem capable of the kind of patience—of caring that Sarah needs. That
’
s what made me think of Liz.
”

“
But your wife? Arabella?
”
Dr. Brown picked up his bag.

“
She seems to make her worse. And she blames herself so, it makes it hard for her. Besides, she has her own life to lead. She has to be at our Boston house a good deal; that
’
s why we need someone we can rely on. I
’
m sorry. I
’
m keeping you, Doctor.
”

“
No matter. I needed the rest. I
’
m an old man, Jonathan. This year
’
s work, and, more still, today
’
s has taught me that. As to your poor child, I
’
m sorry about Liz, but I
’
ve a suggestion for you just the same. Why don
’
t you engage Mrs. Croston here to look after her?
”

“
Mrs. Croston!
”
There was nothing flattering about his amazement.

“
Yes, Mrs. Croston. She
’
s tired out, right now, with nursing your grandmother, and her husband before that And I watched her nurse them, Jon. I
’
d trust her with my own child, if I had one.
”

“
Thank you.
”
The girl raised her heavy head to look at him with a kind of weary sarcasm.
“
It
’
s more than Mr. Penrose would. And I don
’
t blame
him.
Look at what I did to his grandmother.
”

“
Nonsense,
”
said the doctor.
“
You might as sensibly blame yourself for what happened to Mr. Penrose
’
s child. I tell you, Jon, you
’
ll be a fool if you don
’
t go on your knees to ask her to come. Besides, you
’
re responsible for her. She risked her life to stay with your grandmother and nearly lost it too, by the sound of it.
”
He moved toward the door.
“
If I were you, I
’
d get her safe on board ship just as quick as you can. There
’
s all hell loose in the town by now—-and talk of a counter-attack by the British, too. The 98th are on their way to Kingston, they say, straight from Bermuda and full of fight.
”

“
The 98th?
”
Kate Croston
’
s voice rose almost to a scream.

“
Why, yes, so they say. But there may be nothing in it. Anyway, I must be going. I
’
ll make arrangements for the funeral, Jonathan, when
I’
ve time, and then, my advice to you is to get back to the other side of the lake just as fast as you can. And take Mrs. Croston with you.
”

Left alone, they looked at each other for a long moment in a silence charged with doubt. Surprisingly, she spoke first
“
Mr. Penrose, would you take me? Could you?
”

“
Oh, I guess I could, all right. Chauncey
’
s an old friend of mine. We sailed together once.
”
No mis
taking
the doubt in his voice.

“
But you don
’
t want to. And I don
’
t blame you. Oh, I suppose I
’
m mad even to ask it, but, Mr. Penrose, I must get away. There
’
s someone—someone in the 98th. You heard Dr. Brown say they were coming? If I have to meet him again, I think I
’
ll die.
”
She was out of the chair now, her head hardly reaching his shoulder, her hands working together, her voice holding a threat of hysteria. And then, eyes eagerly searching his strong, unreadable face.
“
Suppose it was your daughter, Sarah, grown up: suppose she was begging you like this? Or begging someone else? You
’
d want them to help her, wouldn
’
t you? And, I promise you, I won
’
t be a burden on you. If you take me away from here, I
’
ll give my life to your Sarah. I
’
ll be glad to. It
’
s what I want, someone to care for.
”

“
But I don
’
t think you quite understand.
”
There was something chilling about his tone and
h
is cool gaze.
“
This is no sinecure, Mrs. Croston. This is no pet child to cosset
.
The doctors say it
’
s hopeless. They don
’
t pretend to understand the case, but they say it can only get worse. Myself, I refuse to believe them. Well, I
’
m her father, I remember what she was like—before. But I
’
m the only one. Even Arabella—
”
he stopped.
“
Well, it
’
s no wonder; sometimes, when the screaming goes on for hours, even I despair. How could you cope with her, a little
thing
like you?
”

Her chin went up.
“
Because I
’
d care, Mr. Penrose. You said that was what she needed, didn
’
t you? Loving
...
caring. Don
’
t you see, I
’
ve been lonely, been unhappy myself, for so long—
”
And then, impatiently,
“
But why should you see? Why should you listen? You know nothing about me.
”

“
I know what Dr. Brown told me, but I confess I
’
m puzzled
...”

“
I don
’
t blame you. Well then, let me te
ll
you: here I stand, poor but honest. I
’
m not quite a pauper; I won
’
t be a charge on you.
”
Her tone of self-mockery came as a surprise to him. She might be a plain little shrimp of a thing, but she had character.

“
My father was a clergyman,
”
she went on.
“
In Sussex. I
’
ve lived there all my life. Till last autumn—
”
She stopped, teeth biting into her lower lip, then went off at a tangent:
“
I taught Sunday school there: I
’
m not totally ignorant about children, though I had no brothers or sisters. My mother died—four years ago. I looked after my father till he died last year.
”
Her voice shook on the words, and he was instinctively aware of immense gaps in her narrative.
“
I don
’
t want to talk about that.
”
She confirmed his guess.
“
Poor Father, he
’
d been so unhappy
...
I can
’
t talk about it.
”