Materfamilias Part 11

Well, it seemed rather late to think of that. Still, it showed a nice spirit, and I liked the way she spoke of him. She really was a lady, in her way, and--poor thing!--she did look the picture of misery. I am a tender-hearted woman, and I could not but feel a pang of pity for her.

"Ah, my dear," I said, "there's no question of marrying or not now! He is going fast, and nothing matters any more."

Then I kissed her--I kissed her affectionately--and bade her lie down, and not trouble about Lily's lessons; and I told her that whenever there was a change in Harry's condition I would let her know.

The change came a few days later--not suddenly, but creeping inch by inch; and it was not the change we had all antic.i.p.ated. My splendid boy!

Just as he had struggled and triumphed at football and cricket, so his magnificent strength fought with and overcame the poison in his blood before it could deposit itself in vital organs. It was marvellous. The very doctors, accustomed to miracles, could not believe their senses when they counted his pulse and looked at the little thermometer, and felt the places where the sore lumps had been. For weeks, I may say, we seemed to hold our breath in the maddening suspense, tantalised and intoxicated with a hope we dared not call a certainty; but at last we knew that life had conquered death, and that I was not called upon to undergo _this_ agony of motherhood a second time. Of course he was weaker than a new-born baby--a mere shadow of himself; but he was saved.

When they told me, I fell on my knees, just where I stood, and cried in my wild rapture and thankfulness, "Oh, G.o.d! G.o.d! What can I do--what uttermost service or sacrifice can I offer--for all Thy goodness to me?"

They looked at me in an odd way. They all looked at me, even my boy with his hollow eyes. And Tom said, "Come here, Polly, I want to speak to you;" and took me into our room, and laid his hand on my shoulders. He stood six feet in his socks, and weighed sixteen stone, but he trembled like a child.

"Old girl," he said, "you'll have to let him have her."

"Oh," I replied, "if he wants the moon, give it to him! I don't care."

It was a figurative way of expressing my mood of joy--my longing to compensate him utterly for what he had gone through; and I don't think I ought to have been taken so literally. But, before the words were well out of my mouth, Tom made off to Harry's room, and there and then informed him that "mother had given her consent."

And he did not tell me he was going to catch me up in this way. When next I went to my boy's bedside, and he murmured, "Good old mummy!" and remarked, with that deep thrill in his voice, that it was worth while getting well, I thought he meant that it was worth while getting well to see us all so happy.

"Ay," I said, from my heart, "if you hadn't got well, it's little that would have been worth while to _me_ any more."

"Poor old mummy!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. And then, turning serious eyes upon my face, "You will never regret it. I can answer for that."

"You need not waste breath to tell me what I know better than I know anything," I responded, smiling.

"I mean," he said, still seriously, "about _her._"

Then I understood why he had said it was worth while to get well. She was of more consequence to him than all his own people put together.

"Her?" I queried, smoothing his hair--not letting him guess the pang I felt.

"Miss Blount. Father says you have been so good to us--that you have given us leave--that it's all right now. Look here, mother, if you only knew her----"

I stopped him, for he was getting agitated.

"If your heart is set on it, darling--by and by, I mean, when you are quite well, and have thoroughly considered the matter--don't imagine _I_ shall be the one to disappoint you and make you unhappy. I never have been a cruel mother, have I? And as for knowing Miss Blount, if I don't know her, having her constantly in the house with me, who should? Don't worry yourself about Miss Blounts or anything else till you are stronger, dearest. Put everything out of your head--think of nothing whatever--except getting well. And when you are quite well--then we'll see."

"I can't put her out of my head. I want to see her, mother."

"So you shall, dear--as soon as you are fit to see people. I will ask the doctor about it."

"Juke wouldn't object; he'd be glad. Oh, mother----!"

The nurse came up, and said she thought he had talked enough. I thought so too. His thin cheek was flushed, and his lip trembled; he was inclined to excite himself, and had not strength to spare for that just yet. I gave him his nourishment, turned his pillow, and whispered to him that, if he would sleep for a few hours, then he should have his wish.

"Honour bright?" he whispered back.

"Don't insult me," I retorted. "When did you ever know me to break a promise?"

"To-day, mother?"

"To-day--if Dr. Juke approves. Of course we must have doctor's express permission."

"All right. Give me a squirt of morphia, nurse."

"No, Master Harry. No more morphia, my dear--except maybe a time or two at night, when you _can't_ do without it."

"I can't do without it now," he said. "I've got to sleep before I can see her, and I can't sleep, of myself, until I do see her."

"There," I exclaimed, flinging out a hand. "What did I say? I _knew_ what the effect would be."

The woman--who, I found, was actually privy to the whole affair--Tom's doing, no doubt--began to give her opinion, as is the way of those nurses. "If you'll take my advice," said she, "you'll let him see her now, and sleep afterwards. It'll tire him less than fretting for her."

"And if you will be so good as to mind your own business," I replied, quietly but firmly, "I shall be infinitely obliged to you."

I had not been out of the room five minutes before Tom came to seek me, looking quite hoity-toity, as if he thought himself aboard ship again, with sailors.

"Now then, Polly," he said, "I'm not going to have any more nonsense about this. The boy is too weak to be worried. I am going to fetch Emily."

"Since when," I asked, "has it been your habit to call her Emily?"

He stared, and looked confused. "I suppose," he said, "I've caught it from Harry."

"Talking with him so much about her, when it was so necessary to keep him calm? And to that nurse woman, behind my back--as if the private concerns of our family were any concern of servants! Tom, I didn't think _you_ would ever be disloyal to me."

"I don't think I ever have been, Polly. What's more, I don't think you would ever imagine such a thing in cool blood. Come, you are not going to spoil this happy day for us all, are you? The boy has been given back to us by a miracle----"

That was enough. I flung myself into his arms.

"Forgive me! Forgive me!" I cried. "I know it is wicked of me. But you don't _know_ how I feel it, Tom!"

"Yes, I do, pet; I know exactly."

"No one but a mother _can_ know. I used to be everything to him once, and now he is only glad to get well because of her!"

"Well, it's natural. We----"

"No, we didn't. We had no mothers. But never mind--I won't be selfish. I will go and fetch her at once."

"Would you rather I went?"

"_Certainly_ not! Do you suppose I want them to go on thinking that you are their only friend, and I their implacable enemy? _I_ want to make him happy as much as ever you can do."

"That's right, old girl. If you're going to do a kind thing, do it the kindest way you know. They'll be just fit to worship you, both of 'em."

I did not ask to be worshipped, but I did want my boy to love his mother a little. I ran to him, brushing the nurse aside.

"Dearest," I whispered, "I am going to bring Emily. She shall sit with you as long and as often as you like. She shall be your wife, if you want her. I will make a daughter of her--for your sake."