The Fortunes of the Farrells Part 37

When the house was reached, there was the little mother standing in the doorway, smiling and waving her hands in welcome; but at the first sight of her both girls felt a sudden choking sensation in the throat, so wan did she appear, so bleached in colour, such a tiny, frail little creature to be burdened with the care of an impecunious household! She clung to her girls, and her girls clung to her, and presently they were seated together round the dining-room table, on which, in spite of Trix's dismal prophecy, appeared a tray of the ever-welcome afternoon- tea.

"After their journey, Trix dear! I thought just this once," murmured Mrs Connor apologetically. "Dear Ruth, how sweet you look! Is that a new coat? No, I see it is not; but it looks new, with that charming collar and vest. And your hair, dear; and Mollie's, too! So beautifully done! I suppose the maid taught you? Oh, darlings, I'm thankful to have you back, but I should never have sent for you! You were on the spot, and could judge best what to do. Did you--did you let Uncle Bernard know of our trouble?"

The strained eagerness of the small face, the involuntary tremor in the voice, smote the girls to the heart. Ruth turned her head aside, herself on the verge of tears, while Mollie said brokenly--

"We sent him your letter to read, and when he said nothing I asked him point-blank if he would lend father enough money to put things right just now, and promised that we would all work to pay him back."

"Yes, dear--yes! And then?"

"He wouldn't. He jeered at me, and said he made it a rule never to throw good money after bad. He would keep us for the remaining six weeks, if we agreed to stay, but more than that he must refuse to do.

So there seemed no alternative, mother dear, but to come straight away and try to help you ourselves."

"Yes, dear--yes. Bless you! You were quite right!"

Mrs Connor tried to speak bravely; but it was as if the last gleam of hope had died out of her tired eyes, and her hands trembled as she clasped them in her lap. She herself had not realised until this moment how much she had counted upon Uncle Bernard's intervention, and now the last hope seemed gone. She s.h.i.+vered, and put her hand to her head; then forced herself to smile, as she met the girls' anxious gaze.

"It's always the darkest the hour before the dawn. You must talk things over with pater, dears; my head is so confused. I shall be thankful for your help in the house, and no doubt something will turn up for you, as it has done for Trix."

"Mother," cried Ruth, with an outburst of irritation, which was the result of tired-out nerves and body, "Trix is insupportable! She behaves as if she were the head of the house! How can you let her give herself such airs and domineer over you so? I shan't stand it for one, and the sooner she understands it the better. I am not going to be ordered about by a bit of a chit of seventeen, and apologise to her if I dare to have as much as a cup of tea!"

"Hu-ush, dear!" Mrs Connor cast an apprehensive glance towards the half-opened door, through which Trix's voice could be heard superintending the carrying of the luggage. "She is such a child!

Young things are always inclined to go to extremes; and she has been so good! I don't know what I should have done without her! We must not let her feel slighted because you have returned!"

That was true enough; Trix had borne the heat and burden of the day, while her stepsisters were amusing themselves, in blissful ignorance of the gathering troubles. Ruth's irritation was silenced by the reminder, and she listened quietly while Mollie pressed her mother for details of the present situation. Alas, it was even worse than had been expected!

It was so bad that it could not well be worse, and it seemed ridiculous to talk of what they could afford, since, as a matter of fact, they could afford nothing at all. It was a matter of speculation whence the next twenty pounds was to come.

"'Man's extremity is G.o.d's opportunity!' Some friend will be raised up to help us through this strait. It is not often that we are brought to a point when we realise our own helplessness so plainly. Let us look upon it as an opportunity, and watch to see what He will do. 'Be not dismayed, neither be afraid, for the Lord thy G.o.d is with thee whithersoever thou goest.'"

Mrs Connor's voice sank to a rapt whisper, her face shone with that wonderful grace and exaltation which the Christian knows in the midst of his trial; but her daughters looked at her pinched cheeks and haggard eyes, and felt their hearts sink within them.

It was a dreary evening--how different from the triumphant home-coming which fancy had painted so often during the weeks of absence! The house felt unbearably cramped and airless. It was dreadful to have no garden, after having practically lived out of doors; and oh, what a contrast the evening meal presented from the repast served nightly in the old oak dining-hall!

When people are in the extremity of anxiety and poverty, they have no heart to attend to the little superfluities which add so much to the beauty of daily life; there was not a single flower on the table, nor in the half-lit drawing-room, where Trix sternly forbade the lighting of a second lamp. Mr Connor sat silent and haggard, and his wife poured out tea and smiled a pathetic, patient little smile, as the children catechised the travellers.

Was the Court a jolly big house? Were there strawberries in the garden?

Did the footmen wear white stockings, like the Lord Mayor's Show? What was the name of the horse that bolted? What did they have for dinner every night? On and on went the endless catechism, which the sisters tolerated only as an improvement on silence. They had no wish to visit Attica, but retired upstairs to their bedroom at the earliest possible moment to mingle tears of misery.

"I--I feel as if I should burst!" cried Ruth expressively. "My heart is so full that I can't bear another thing! Everything seems to have happened at once, and I feel crushed!"

"It's so bad that it must get better! it can't possibly get worse!" said Mollie, persistently hopeful in the midst of her misery.

But alas, her prophecy was not justified by events! Mrs Connor crawled about the house for another week, looking every day smaller and more fragile; and then a morning came when she could not rise from bed, and all other anxieties seemed to dwindle in significance when the illness took a serious turn, and her precious life itself seemed in danger.

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.

THE SILVER LINING.

Ruth and Mollie const.i.tuted themselves nurses, Mollie, as the more robust of the two, insisting upon taking as her share the arduous night duties. Trix found time to attend to the housekeeping between school hours, the younger children were housed by sympathetic friends, and on the once noisy house settled down that painful silence which prevails when a fight is being waged between life and death.

At the beginning of the illness Ruth was dismayed to see a stranger in Dr Maclure's place, but on the third day he appeared, bringing with him an atmosphere of comfort and security. One felt now that all that was possible from human skill and care would be done for the dear invalid, and, busy man as he was, Dr Maclure found time for several visits a day, until the first acute anxiety was pa.s.sed. Until then his intercourse with Ruth had been solely that of physician and nurse, but one morning, when the invalid's temperature and pulse both showed a satisfactory decline, he walked into the dining-room on the way to the door, and motioned Ruth to a seat.

"Sit down for a moment. I want to have a little talk with you. It is a doctor's duty to see that a nurse does not overtax her strength, and you are looking very ill these last few days. I am going to prescribe a tonic which I want you to take regularly, and you must contrive to have a walk each day, and, if possible, a rest in the afternoon. You might lie down on the sofa while your mother is dozing."

Ruth flushed, and shook her head in pretty disclaimer.

"Oh, I am all right! Don't trouble about me. I have not half such a hard time of it as Mollie. The nursing doesn't tire me a bit; it is other things which make one feel rather ill at times."

"Just so. And it is about those other things that I want to speak.

Eleanor and I have been abroad for a month, and have heard little or no home news. I was ill--that is to say, feeling rather worn out,"

corrected the doctor, with a sudden flush of colour to his thin cheeks, "so we decided to treat ourselves to a holiday. I found on my return that Mrs Connor was ill, and heard rumours which strengthened my own conviction that her trouble was more mental than physical. It is not giving a doctor a fair chance to keep back anything from him in a case of this sort. I want you to tell me honestly, as a friend and physician, if anything can be done to set her mind at rest."

"We are ruined, that's the trouble! The pater has lost every penny--not by his own fault, but through some wretched man who has deliberately cheated him for months back. He can't even go on with what business is left, for want of capital, so we have arrived at the point when we don't know what to do next. We look pretty much as usual, I suppose, but we are just as much paupers as if we lived in the big workhouse over in Smithdown Lane!"

Dr Maclure paced slowly up and down the room, stopping immediately in front of Ruth's chair.

"But, excuse me--your uncle? Surely he will help at a crisis of this sort. Before I went abroad I heard great stories of your life at the Court, and of the very marked preference which he showed to yourself.

It seemed a foregone conclusion that his choice had fallen upon you, and, if so--"

"Ah, that was a month ago! Many things have happened since then. Uncle Bernard doesn't like me as much as he did. He discovered my weaknesses, and accused me of being a coward. I am not a coward, as a rule, but I wanted so badly to please him that I was afraid to be natural, as Mollie was. Before we came away someone went to his desk and read the draft of a will which he had mentioned a few days before. It was not altered or tampered with in any way, but, of course, it was a mean thing to pry into his private papers, when he had put us on our honour by speaking of it. We all denied it, but just because I had been afraid before, I know he suspects that I did it, and dare not confess.--Then we came away against his wishes. Jack Melland left, too, so only one out of the four remains, and he is certain to be the heir."

"You mean Mr Victor Druce?"

Ruth started, raising a flushed, bewildered face.

"Yes; but how,--what do you know about him?"

"Trix brought some of your letters to show us. His name was mentioned very often, Ruth. I had a presentiment that you two would be more than friends. You must forgive me, but one's perceptions grow keen when one's interests are strong. I thought that very probably Mr Farrell had some such hope in inviting you and Mollie to meet these two men."

"Perhaps he had. I have thought so, too, but, in any case, it has come to nothing. Jack Melland cares for nothing but his work, and Mr Druce--"

Ruth hesitated, possessed by a sudden impulse to confide her own troubles to this man, who loved her, and would understand. Her lids dropped till the dark lashes lay on her flushed cheek; she clasped her hands nervously together. "He made love to me as long as I was in favour, but it was only pretence. He really cares for another girl, but he thought I should be a better bargain if I were Uncle Bernard's heiress. He has taken no notice of me lately, but we found him out before that,--I and the other girl. She is good and charming, and in every way better than I am, and she had cared for him, too. I expect he will try to marry her now that I am in disgrace, but she will never accept him."

"And you, Ruth? Has it gone very hardly with you, poor child?"

There was silence for several moments before Ruth lifted a thoughtful face.

"I--don't--know!" she said slowly. "It was a shock to me at first, and I felt as if I could never believe in a man again, but since I came home I have hardly thought about him, and if I had cared as much as I imagined that would have been the worst trouble of all. I think it was just part of the experience. Can you understand? Summer-time, and the lovely country, and the holiday feeling, and nothing to do but laze about, and amuse ourselves together. It seemed--don't laugh!--so natural to fall in love."

Dr Maclure did not laugh, but a smile flashed over his face, full of immeasurable relief and pleasure.

"I do understand," he said heartily. "You have had so few chances of enjoying yourself with young people of your own age. It was, as you say, quite natural, but I hope you will have no more to do with the fellow. He is a pretty contemptible specimen, by all accounts."

"Oh no!" Ruth reared her little head with a haughty gesture. "I could forgive a great deal to a man who really loved me, but nothing to an adventurer who cares only for his own gains; I am sorry the dear old Court will fall into such hands, for he cannot make a good master, and, as far as we are concerned, it will cease to exist. That dream has come to an end, Dr Maclure!"

"Well, one must hope it will be replaced by something more lasting.

Don't trouble too much about Mr Connor's difficulties. I feel quite convinced that some arrangement can be made to tide him over the present crisis. You may not live at the Court, but it is equally certain that you are not going to the workhouse."