The Trial; Or, More Links of the Daisy Chain Part 79

'Oh, don't repeat that! I have been so bitterly ashamed of it!'

'I am sure I have.'

'And I have longed so to ask your pardon. I thought I would leave a letter or message with Ella that you would understand.'

'You can do better than that now. You can forgive me.'

'Oh!' said Averil, her hands suddenly joined over her face, 'this is one joy more! I cannot think why it is all growing so bright just at last--at last. It is all come now! How good it is!'

He saw that she could bear no more. He pressed no more for a decisive answer; he did not return to the subject; but from that time he treated her as what belonged to him, as if it was his business to think, act, and judge for her, and to watch over her; and her acquiescence was absolute.

There was not much speaking between them; there were chiefly skirmishes between him and Cora, to which she listened in smiling pa.s.sive amus.e.m.e.nt; and even when alone together they said little--actually nothing at all about the future. He had written to Ethel on his first arrival, and on the reply, as well as on Averil's state, all must depend. Meanwhile such a look of satisfied repose and peace shone upon Averil's face as was most sweet to look upon; and though extremely feeble, and not essentially better, she was less suffering, and could in great languor, but in calm enjoyment, pa.s.s through day by day of the precious present that had come to crown her long trial.

CHAPTER x.x.x

Oh, when its flower seems fain to die, The full heart grudges smile or sigh To aught beside, though fair and dear; Like a bruised leaf, at touch of fear, Its hidden fragrance love gives out.--Lyra Innocentum

'The letters at last! One to Ethel, and three to Leonard! Now for it, Ethel!'

Ethel opened--read--ran out of the room without a word, and sought her father in his study, where she laid before him Tom's letter, written from Ma.s.sissauga the day after his arrival.

'Dear Ethel,

'I have found my darling, but too late to arrest the disease--the work of her brother's perverseness and wrong-headedness. I have no hope of saving her; though it will probably be a matter of several months--that is, with care, and removal from this vile spot.

'I am writing to Henry, but I imagine that he is too much charmed with his present prospects to give them up; and in her angelic self-sacrifice she insists on Leonard's not coming out. Indeed, there would be no use in his doing so unless she leaves this place; but should no unforeseen complication supervene, it is my full persuasion that she could be removed, safely make the voyage, and even be spared for this summer among us. Surely my father will not object! It will be but a short time; and she has suffered so much, so piteously needs love and cherishing, that it is not in him to refuse. He, who consented to Margaret's engagement, cannot but feel for us. I would work for him all my life! I would never cast a thought beyond home, if only once hallowed by this dear presence for ever so short a time. Only let the answers be so cordial as to remove all doubts or scruples; and when they are sent prepare for her. I would bring her as quickly as her health permits. No time must be lost in taking her from hence; and I wait only for the letters to obtain her consent to an immediate marriage. Furnish the house at once; I will repay you on my return.

There is 200 for the first floor, sitting, and bedrooms; for the rest the old will do. Only regard the making these perfect; colouring pink--all as cheerful and pleasant as money can accomplish. If Flora will bear with me, get her to help you; or else Mary, if Cheviot forgives me. Only don't spare cost. I will make it up some way, if you find more wanted. I saw an invalid sofa, an improvement on Margaret's, which I will write to Gaspard to send from Paris. If you could only see the desolateness of the house where she has wasted away these three years, you would long to make a bower of bliss for her. I trust to you. I find I must trust everything to you. I cannot write to my father; I have made nine beginnings, and must leave it to you.

He has comforted her, he knows her sorrows; he could not see her and bid me leave her. Only there must be no hesitation. That, or even remonstrance, would prevent her from consenting; and as to the objections, I cannot know them better than I do. Indeed, all this may be in vain; she is so near Heaven, that I dare not talk to her of this; but I have written to Leonard, dwelling chiefly on the chance of bringing her to him. Her desire to keep him from attempting to come out will I trust be an inducement; but if you could only see her, you would know how irreverent it seems to persecute one so nearly an angel with such matters. If I may only tend her to the last! I trust to you. This is for my father.

'Ever yours, 'THOMAS MAY.'

The last sentence referred to a brief medical summary of her symptoms, on a separate paper.

'Can this be Tom?' was the Doctor's exclamation. 'Poor boy! it is going very hard with him!'

'This would soften it more than anything else could,' said Ethel.

'Oh yes! You write. Yes, and I'll write, and tell him he is free to take his own way. Poor child! she would have been a good girl if she had known how. Well, of all my eleven children that Tom should be the one to go on in this way!'

'Poor dear Tom! What do you think of his statement of her case? Is she so very ill?'

Dr. May screwed up his face. 'A sad variety of mischief,' he said; 'if all be as he thinks, I doubt his getting her home; but he is young, and has his heart in it. I have seen her mother in a state like this--only without the diseased lungs. You can't remember it; but poor Ward never thought he could be grateful enough after she was pulled through.

However, this is an aggravated case, and looks bad--very bad! It is a mournful ending for that poor boy's patience--it will sink very deep, and he will be a sadder man all his days, but I would not hinder his laying up a treasure that will brighten as he grows older.'

'Thank you, papa. I shall tell him what you say.'

'I shall write--to her I think. I owe him something for not proving that it is all as a study of pneumonia. I say, Ethel, what is become of the "Diseases of Climate?"' he added, with a twinkle in his eye.

'In the nine beginnings.'

'And how about the Ma.s.sissauga Company?'

'You heartless old worldly-minded father!' said Ethel. 'When you take to prudence for Tom, what is the world coming to?'

'Into order,' said the Doctor, shaking himself into the coat she held for him. 'Tom surrendered to a pet patient of mine. Now for poor Leonard! Good-bye, young people! I am off to c.o.c.ksmoor!'

'Please take me, grandpapa,' cried d.i.c.kie, hopping into the hall.

'You, you one-legged manikin! I'm going over all the world; and how are you to get home?'

'On Leonard's back,' said the undaunted d.i.c.kie.

'Not so, master: poor Leonard has news here that will take the taste of nonsense out of his mouth.'

'I am his friend,' said d.i.c.kie, with dignity.

'Then your friendship must not disturb him over his letters. And can you sit in the carriage and twirl your thumbs while I am at Fordham?'

'I shall not twirl my thumbs. I shall make out a problem on my ship chess-board.'

'That's the boy who was sent from the Antipodes, that he might not be spoilt!' quoth Aubrey, as the Doctor followed the child into the carriage.

'Granting reasonable wishes is not spoiling,' said Ethel.

'May the system succeed as well with d.i.c.kie as with--' and Aubrey in one flourish indicated Gertrude and himself.

'Ay, we shall judge by the reception of Ethel's tidings!' cried Gertrude. 'Now for it, Ethel. Read us Tom's letter, confute the engineer, hoist with his own petard.'

'Now, Ethel, confute the Daisy, the green field daisy--the simple innocent daisy, deluded by "Diseases of Climate."'

'Ethel looks as concerned as if it were fatal truth,' added Gertrude.

'What is it?' asked Aubrey. 'If Henry Ward has gone down in a monitor at Charleston, I'll forgive him.'

'Not that,' said Ethel; 'but we little thought how ill poor Ave is.'

'Dangerously?' said Aubrey, gravely.

'Not perhaps immediately so; but Tom means to marry at once, that he may have a chance of bringing her home to see Leonard.'

'Another shock for Leonard,' said Aubrey, quite subdued, 'why can't he have a little respite?'