Heartsease; Or, The Brother's Wife Part 58

'A bad fit of croup. He was better when the letter went. My poor Violet!

She has called in further advice; but it may come back. Do you like to come with me?'

'If you like to have me.'

'Only be quick. I must be gone by the ten o'clock train. You must be ready to start by nine.'

'I'll be ready at once,' said Theodora, hastily ringing for Pauline, and rushing upon her preparations. She could not bear to part with him in his grief, and thought, in case of the child's severe illness or death, that he would be in need of her comfort when he had his wife on his hands. She would not take Pauline--she would not be dependent, and trouble their small household with another servant; but Charles Layton she could not leave, and having given orders to pack up her things, she flew off down the avenue to desire his aunt to prepare him.

Up and down, backwards and forwards, giving directions to every one, she hurried about till her father summoned her to breakfast.

'I am glad you are going with him, my dear,' he said, as he went down the steps with her. 'We shall depend on you for hearing of the little boy.'

That genuine cordial approbation was so pleasant that the thought crossed her, 'Was she going to be a blessing to her family?'

'Good-bye, Arthur,' said Lord Martindale, warmly pressing his hand. 'I hope you will find him better, and Violet not doing too much. Give my love to her.'

Arthur was moved by his father's unwonted warmth, and leaned back in the carriage in silence. Theodora watched him anxiously, and did not speak for some time.

'Had there been any tendency to croup before?' she asked at last.

'Tender throat, I believe; Violet always was anxious. I wish I had not come away; it is too much for her alone! Ha! what are we stopping for now?'

'To pick up Charles Layton.'

'You'll make us miss the train.'

'No, here he is. He shall be in n.o.body's way. I'll put him into the housemaid's charge in Belgrave square.'

And with her eyes and fingers she encouraged the poor child as he was lifted up to the box. 'There, I've not stopped you long.'

'What shall you do with him on the railroad!'

'Take him with us, of course.'

'I won't have him going in a first-cla.s.s with me.'

'Then I shall go in a second-cla.s.s with him.'

Here it occurred to her that this was a strange way of fulfilling her mission of comfort, and she would fain have recalled her words, but only sat silent till they came to the station, where, without any further question, they were all three lodged in the same carriage, where presently a county neighbour entered, attracted by the sight of Arthur.

Theodora was provoked, feeling for Arthur, and thinking it was the stranger's presence that hindered her from resuming the task of cheering him, but she was more annoyed when Arthur plunged into a hunting discussion.

She sat working up the scene which awaited them, the child just expiring, his mother in hysterical agonies, and she herself displaying all her energy and resources, perhaps saving Johnnie's life--at any rate, being her brother's stay and support when his wife gave way.

His silence and anxious looks returned as they drove from the station, and she could think of nothing to say but the old hope that the baby was better. As they stopped, he threw open the carriage-door, and springing out, impatiently rang.

'Child better?' were his hurried words to James.

'Yes, sir.'

Before even this brief answer was spoken, Arthur was halfway upstairs.

No one was in the drawing room; he dashed up to the bed-room; that, too, was empty; he climbed on where he had never been before, and opened the nursery-door.

There sat Violet on a low chair by the fire, with the little boy on her lap. With a cry of joy she rose; and in another moment was standing, almost unable to speak, as she saw Johnnie, looking much surprised, but well pleased, to find himself in those strong arms, and his soft face scrubbed by the black whiskers.

'He is pleased! He is smiling. You know papa, don't you, my Johnnie?'

cried the happy Violet.

'And he is all right again?'

'So much better to-day! We trust the cold is gone. Does he not breathe softly and freely? If only there's no return to-night.'

'Was there last night?'

'Indeed there was. It was too dreadful!' said Violet, leaning against him, and lowering her voice. 'Once Sarah and Mr. Harding both thought it was all over, and I never dared to expect to see those eyes come back to their own dear look at me! O, Arthur, when I thought if I could but once have seen him in your arms! I never thought to be so happy as this!' and she caressed the child to hide the tears of thankfulness. 'I'm glad you weren't there.'

'My Violet, why!'

'You could not have borne to have seen and heard, and now you won't have it to remember. At least, I trust not! Think of their once wanting me to go away, saying it was not fit, and that I was of no use; but you knew better, Johnnie. You held mamma's finger tight, and when you came to yourself, your sweet look and smile were for her! And at last he went to sleep over my shoulder, as he likes best; and I felt each one of his breathings, but they grew soft and smooth at last, and after two good hours he woke up quite himself.'

'And you! Sitting up all night! You are not fit for such things. How did you get through it?'

'I don't know; I hardly remember,' said Violet. 'Your letter was such a pleasure! and oh! I had help.'

'What, Harding--'

'I did not mean that, though he was very kind. No, I meant thoughts--verses in the Bible,' said Violet, hanging her head, and whispering, 'I don't mean at the worst. Then one could only pray he might not suffer so much; but things his uncle had helped me to, did come so comfortably while he was asleep. Don't you remember saying I had no troubles for Helen's cross to comfort me in!'

'And did it?' said Arthur, half smiling.

'Not itself, you know; but it helped to put me in mind to be sure that all he was going through would somehow be a blessing. I could bear it then, and not be angry, as I was last year. Dear little fellow, it is as if he would put me in mind himself, for the only thing like play he has done to-day has been holding it up, and pulling its chain.'

'There! go to your mother, Johnnie,' said Arthur, giving him back. 'She is a rare one, I tell you, and you understand each other. He does not look much amiss either. He really is a very pretty little fellow!'

No wonder Arthur made the discovery, as he for the first time remarked the large wistful dark eyes, the delicately fair skin, which the heat of the fire had tinged with soft pink, on the cheeks, the shapely little head, with its flaxen waves of curl; and the tiny, bare, rosy feet, outstretched to enjoy the warmth. Very small, tender, and fragile he looked, and his features had an almost mournful expression, but there was something peculiarly engaging in this frail little being.

Violet was charmed with the tribute of admiration: indeed, she had hardly known whether she might hope for Arthur's return, though she had felt as if her heart would break if her child should die without his coming. The winter, though cheerful, had been spent in endeavours against her want of faith and hope, and this hard trial in the spring had brought with it a comfort and beginning of resignation that proved that her efforts had not been in vain.

Very happy she was as, Sarah coming up, she prepared to go down with Arthur, who now remembered to inform her of the arrival of 'Theodora and her dummy.'

These two personages were waiting in the drawing-room, Theodora in an excited state of antic.i.p.ation and energy, prepared for a summons to take care of the baby, while Arthur was supporting his wife in hysterics.

Long she waited and listened; at last there was an opening of doors, then what she fancied the first shriek, and she started, alarmed, in spite of being wound up, but it sounded nearer--much too like a bona fide laugh, the very girlish sound she had condemned--Arthur's voice--Violet's gaily answering! They came in, full of smiles, Violet with outstretched hands, and warm unconstrained welcome. 'How kind of you to come! I'm sorry you have been so long alone, but I did not know it,' said she, kissing her sister-in-law, and giving a kind silent greeting to the dumb boy.

Disconcerted at her waste of preparation, Theodora stood for a moment, fancying Violet triumphant in having spoilt Arthur's holiday by what must have been an exaggerated trifle. She was almost ready to make no inquiry for Johnnie, but 'conventional instinct' prevailed, and his parents were so full of him, and of each other, that it set them off into an eager conversation, such as made her, in her present mood, believe herself neglected for the sake of Arthur's weak, tyrannical, exacting idol. She resolved to take Charles at once to her father's house. If it would not have been an insult to her brother, she would have slept there herself. She surprised the others by rising from her seat, and taking up the boy's cap.

'Oh!' exclaimed Violet, 'I had forgotten him, poor little fellow. I will take him to Susan to have some tea.'

'Thank you, I am going to take him to the maid at our house.'