Christie Redfern's Troubles Part 32

Very humble and earnest were the prayers that rose beside the bed of little Claude that day, and very grave, yet happy, was the face that greeted his waking. Christie needed all her patience, for this was one of Claude's fretful days. He grew weary of being confined to one room; he longed for the company of his sister and Clement. His brother came in for a little while after he had had his dinner; but he was in one of his troublesome moods, and vexed and fretted Claude so much that Christie was fain to give him over to Martha's charge, bidding him not come into the green room till he was ready to be good and kind.

In the meantime, Miss Gertrude was enjoying her book in her own room; or, rather, she was not enjoying it. It had lost much of its interest to her. She was not in a humour to enjoy anything just then. She wandered into the parlour at last, thinking a chat with her father, or even with Mr Sherwood, would be better than her book. But her father was in the library, with the door shut, and Mr Sherwood had gone out, notwithstanding the rain. The deserted room looked dreary, and she went to her own again.

At six she went down to dinner. They were not a very lively party. Mr Seaton looked sleepy, and yawned several times before they went to the dining-room. Mr Sherwood was very grave, and, indeed, "stupid," as Gertrude thought.

"What a misfortune a rainy Sunday is!" she said at last. "One scarcely knows what to do with one's self. This has seemed twice as long as other days."

"Pray don't let any one hear you say that, my dear," said her father, laughing. "If one rainy Sunday exhausts the resources of a well-educated young lady, I am afraid her prospects are not the brightest."

Miss Gertrude laughed.

"Oh, father, I haven't quite got to that state of exhaustion! But I have been dull and stupid--not able to settle myself to the enjoyment of anything--all day."

"Where are the boys?" asked her father.

"Claude is in the green room, with his nurse. Indeed, I suppose both boys are there just now. After dinner I shall send for them. Claude really seems better; he runs about again."

"Stay," said Mr Sherwood. "This reminds me that I brought a letter last night for the new nursemaid; at least, I suppose so;" and he took a letter from his pocket, and laid it on the table.

"You don't mean that you brought that home last night, and have kept it till this time?" said Miss Gertrude, with much surprise.

"Tut, tut, my child!" said her father, touching the hand outstretched to take the letter. She withdrew her hand without a word.

"You could not have been more indignant had the letter been for yourself. It is not such a terrible oversight," said Mrs Lane, or Aunt Barbara, as she was commonly called, who had looked in on her way from church. "If it is like most of the letters of that sort of people, it would be little loss though she never got it. Such extraordinary epistles as I sometimes read for my servants!"

"This seems quite a respectable affair, however," said Mr Seaton, reading the direction in Effie's fair, clear handwriting:

_Christina Redfern_, _Care of J.R. Seaton, Esquire_.

"That is a very pretty direction--_very_."

"I am very sorry, and very much ashamed of my carelessness," said Mr Sherwood. "I hope, Miss Gertrude, you will forgive me, and I will never do so again, as little boys say."

But he did not look either very sorry or very much ashamed, Miss Gertrude thought, and she made no reply. The rather uncomfortable silence that followed was broken by a low voice at the door:

"Am I to take the children, Miss Gertrude?"

Master Clement answered:

"No, I shan't go to bed yet. It's only seven o'clock."

"Come in," said Mr Seaton, kindly. "I want to know how these little fellows have behaved since their mother went away."

Christie came forward shyly, curtseying, in some confusion, to Mrs Lane, whom her short-sighted eyes did not discern till she was close upon her.

"I hope they have been good and obedient, and have not given you much trouble?" said Mr Seaton again.

A little smile pa.s.sed over Christie's mouth. "Master Clement is Miss Gertrude's boy, sir," she said, as she stooped to buckle the belt of that active young gentleman.

"And I'm very good. She punishes me when I ain't good."

"I'm afraid she has enough to do, then. And the doctor thinks Claude is better, does he?" he asked, caressing the pale little face that lay on his shoulder.

"Yes," said Christie, doubtfully. "He says he is better."

There was no mistaking the look of wistful interest that overspread her face as she looked at the child.

"He is very good and patient, almost always," she added, as she met the little boy's smile.

"I'm a great deal better," said Claude. "The doctor says I may ride on the pony some day."

"Have you had much to do with children?" asked Aunt Barbara.

"I lived with Mrs Lee eight months."

"And she parted with you because she needed a person of more experience?"

"Yes, I suppose so. I wasn't strong enough Mr Lee thought. I was very sorry."

It was a sore subject with Christie yet, and the colour went and came as she spoke.

"And where were you before?" asked Mr Seaton, wishing to relieve her embarra.s.sment.

"I was with our own children, at home. I was one of the children then myself. I never was away from home before my father died."

"Look, here is something for you. Cousin Charles says it is for you.

It is a letter," said Clement, holding it up.

If there had been ten Aunt Barbaras in the room, Christie could not have restrained the expression of surprise and pleasure that rose to her lips at the sight of Effie's familiar handwriting, and her hands quite trembled as she took it from the little boy.

"Now, Claudie," said the young lady, coming forward, "it is time for you to go with Christie. Say 'good-night' to father and Aunt Barbara."

For a single moment the look of peevish resistance that used to come so often to the child's face pa.s.sed over it, but it changed as Christie stooped down, saying softly:

"Will you walk? or shall I carry you, as they carried the little boy home from the field?"

"And will you tell me more?" he asked, holding out his hand.

"Oh, yes; and how glad his mother was when he grew better again. Now walk a little bit, and I will carry you up-stairs. The doctor says he ought to be encouraged to walk," she said to his father, as she set him down.

The child bade them "good-night" quite willingly, and went.

"Clement, stay with me," said his sister. "Christie will not get much good of her letter for the next two hours, if you are with her."

Clement was very willing to stay. But for all that Christie did not get much good of her letter for an hour and more, except the good it did her to hold it in her hand, and feeling the delight that was in store for her. Miss Gertrude came to the green room some time after, to find her still rocking and singing to the wakeful Claude.

"You don't mean you haven't read your letter yet?" she said, in astonishment.