A Little Mother to the Others Part 45

The medical man arrived; but, when he did so, he shook his head.

"The child is dangerously ill," he said. "I could not hear of her being moved at present. She must have absolute quiet and good nursing."

"I'm going to nurse her," said Fortune.

"A properly trained nurse would be best," said the doctor.

"I and no other am going to nurse her," repeated Fortune.

She had taken off her bonnet and mantle and was seated quietly by the bedside. No one could look more capable, more determined, than the American woman did on this occasion. The doctor saw that he must give way.

"Haven't I done for her from the blessed moment when she was sent from heaven into her mother's arms?" continued Fortune. "I shall nurse her now, whether it's the will of the Almighty that she lives or dies."

At these words, little Diana opened her great, black eyes.

"And you'll never know fear Any more, little dear,"

she said in a voice of intense satisfaction. Then she looked up at Fortune, and raised her brow in a puzzled manner.

"I aren't fwightened of G'eased Lightning," she said. A smile broke over her little face, then the light of reason once more faded, and she entered the dark region of delirium and danger.

The doctor did all he could and Fortune did all she could, and presently Aunt Jane appeared on the scene, and insisted on seeing the child, and shook her head over her and cried a little privately; but, in spite of all their efforts to get her well again, little Diana grew weaker, day by day. She did not know Fortune, except at very rare intervals. Day and night she talked incessantly of her past life, of the beautiful garden, of the animals, of Rub-a-Dub, and more especially of Rub-a-Dub's public funeral. She also mentioned Greased Lightning and Pole Star, and Uncle Ben and the circus; but when she talked of them her voice changed; it grew high, eager, and excited, and her little breath panted out of her weary body. She often ended her delirious talk with a cry of distress.

"Oh, I has fallen," she said, with a sob. "I has fallen from the wing." Then she would clasp both her hot hands to her aching head, and moan bitterly.

The doctor was very anxious about her, and Fortune was very sad, and so was Uncle William, and even Aunt Jane.

The cablegram was sent to father, and they all earnestly hoped that he was already on his homeward way.

Meanwhile, at the Manor, Iris, Apollo, and Orion had a hard time. It is true that they were no longer fettered or coerced in any way. Aunt Jane took scarcely any notice of them, and Uncle William spent most of his time alone. The three children could come in and out of the house as they pleased; they could wander about the garden where four used to play happily; they could visit the old haunts that four used to love; but because the fourth was now absent, the joy and the mirth of the old days seemed quite to have left the remaining three.

As time went by, Iris grew whiter and whiter. Often she wandered away by herself, and flinging herself on the ground, would moan out her distress.

"Mother, mother," she used to sob, "I have not done what you told me; I have not been a little mother. Can you ever forgive me? Oh, if Diana dies, I am certain that I shall never forgive myself."

At last, when a fortnight had pa.s.sed by, Iris had a dream. She never told her dream to anyone, but she got up that morning with a very determined expression on her small face. After breakfast she went straight downstairs to the library, and spoke to Uncle William.

"Uncle William," she said, "I want to say that I am going to see Diana."

"My dear," said Uncle William, who was furtively at that moment wiping a tear from his eye, "I greatly fear that you cannot do so; we have had bad news of little Diana this morning. I greatly fear, Iris, that she will not be long with us; her strength is going, and there is little chance of the fever abating. The doctor has but a small hope of her recovery--in fact, I may almost say that he has no hope."

"It is a fortnight since Diana was found, and you have never let me see her yet," continued Iris; "but I am going to her to-day. I had a dream last night," she continued, "and in my dream I--But I'm not going to say anything more, only I must see Diana to-day."

"I am afraid you cannot do so, Iris," replied Uncle William.

"And why not, if the child has the wish?" remarked Aunt Jane suddenly.

Until that moment Iris had no idea that Aunt Jane was in the room. She started now when she heard her voice; but reading the expression on her face, she ran up to her eagerly.

"If you are for it, Aunt Jane, it will be all right," she cried.

"Please have a carriage ordered this minute and let me go."

"I would not, if I were you, wife," said Uncle William. "You see how delicate Iris is already, and the sight of her little sister would shock her dreadfully."

"She may just as well go," said Aunt Jane. "In my opinion, it would be wrong to leave any stone unturned, and Iris always had a remarkable influence over the other children. Besides, my dear William, when David comes back, I should not like Iris to have to tell him that I refused what, after all, is a very natural request."

"Aunt Jane, I love you for those words," said Iris.

Aunt Jane's face quite flushed when Iris said she loved her. She went across the room and rang the bell.

"Desire the pony carriage to be sent round directly," was her order to the servant when he appeared.

Accordingly, in less than half an hour, Iris and Aunt Jane were driving into Madersley. They went straight to the humble house where the Darlings lived. The greater part of the house was given up to little Diana and her nurse.

"Please, Aunt Jane," said Iris, as they approached the door; "may I go into Diana's room by myself? I don't want anyone to be with me when I see her."

"You may have it your way, Iris," said Aunt Jane. "I interfered once, and I believe I did wrong; now you shall have it your own way."

"Thank you, Aunt Jane," answered Iris. She scarcely looked at her aunt; all her thoughts were centered on the mission which she had taken in hand. When the carriage drew up at the humble door, the child ran straight into the house.

"Who may you be, little miss?" said Bessie Darling, who had never seen her before.

"I am the sister of Diana; I am a mother to the others," said Iris.

"Sakes alive!" exclaimed the woman. "You a mother? Why, you poor little mite, you look as if you wanted a deal of mothering yourself."

"Please tell me what room my sister is in," said Iris, removing her hat as she spoke.

Bessie Darling stared at her for a moment, then she pointed to a door.

Iris turned the handle and entered the room.

It was a hot day, and the window was wide open; a green blind was down to keep out the glare of the sun; there was a quant.i.ty of ice in a great pail in one corner of the room, and, as Iris softly entered, Fortune was in the act of putting a fresh cold cloth on the sick child's forehead.

Little Diana was murmuring her ceaseless refrain:

"You'll never know fear, Any more, little dear.

Good-by."

"Why, Diana!" said Iris.

Iris's voice was quite fresh. It had a different note in it from all the voices which for weeks had sounded in little Diana's ears. She was lying in a partial stupor, but now she opened her eyes very wide.

"Iris," she said; "Iris." And a smile broke all over her face.

Iris ran up to the bedside. She was always quiet in her manner; great excitement only accentuated her quiet. She knelt down at once by the sick child, and took both her hot hands in hers.

"Darling," she said, "I am your little mother, and I have come back to you."

"That's beautiful," answered Diana. She uttered a very deep sigh. She had been tossing restlessly about, but now her hot hands lay quiet in Iris'.