Morag Part 20

"Ah, I'm afraid we are getting beyond our depth now, p.u.s.s.y. Come, little kittens should not look grave," he added, for Blanche had a dreamy look in her eyes which he did not care to see.

She was thinking of the poor fairy who was so greedy as well as so needy; and presently she began to tell her papa a little about her, and how she had gone to see her in her wretched home. She told him, too, that she was making a dress for her--really of her own sewing; and, taking for granted that her papa would be much interested in the garment, she brought it for his inspection. But she did not tell him why she was so very anxious to make it for her, nor that it was meant to be, perhaps, the first token recognized by the poor fairy's dark soul of that Love which "pa.s.seth knowledge."

The father and daughter spent some very happy hours together on this first evening of their reunion. And as Mr. Clifford walked up and down the drawing-room, after Blanche had left for the night, his thoughts dwelt with a new joy and hope on the only child of his house, whose birth had left his home so desolate. He remembered with what a sad heart he took for the first time the motherless babe into his arms, and what a sorrowful welcome he could only give to her. And now he thought with pride of what a sweet child-woman she had grown, how much she seemed to have deepened lately, and what a beautiful woman she promised to be! Mr.

Clifford smiled to think of the time when her school-room days would be at an end, and she would make her entrance into society to be his companion; and he felt as if life were opening pleasanter vistas before his eyes than it had done for many a day.

The next morning was bright and pleasant for December; and, to Blanche's great delight, Mr. Clifford proposed that she should have a holiday in honor of his return, and go somewhere with him. After some deliberation, Blanche decided that the most pleasant way to spend the morning would be to go for a ride in the Park with her papa.

The stately bay stood at the door at the hour appointed, but instead of the little brown s.h.a.g, the pretty white pony Neige awaited his mistress.

Blanche had not felt so happy since she left the Highland strath as she did when she found herself riding by her father's side. The yellow fogs had quite withdrawn themselves; the air was keen and bracing now, and the sun shone brightly on the winter landscape. The "Row" was gay with riders and the drive with carriages, taking advantage of this rare December day, and the horses' hoofs rattled pleasantly along the crisp, frosty ground.

More than one pa.s.ser-by glanced at the pleasant-looking pair of riders as they cantered along in the suns.h.i.+ne--Blanche prattling to her papa with gay, upturned face, her long fair curls floating about, and her pretty blue habit forming a contrast to Neige's snowy back, while her father glanced down at her with fondness and pride reflected on his handsome face.

On they rode, fast and far; for the day was bright and their spirits were high. At last Mr. Clifford reined his horse, and suggested that they should turn homewards.

"Now, p.u.s.s.y, you do purr so delightfully, and we have had such a pleasant ride, that I think we shall beg Miss Prosser for a holiday every bright day. Wouldn't that be a delightful arrangement, Blanchie?"

"It would be very nice, papa. But, perhaps, there may be no more bright days as long as winter lasts," said Blanche, taking a more desponding view of things than she generally was apt to do.

They had now reached home. Mr. Clifford dismounted, and lifted his little daughter from her saddle.

"You are looking tired, Blanche, darling. I am afraid we have rather overdone it to-day. I quite forgot that it was so long since you had ridden before. How pale you are, child! what is the matter?" said Mr.

Clifford in a startled tone, as he looked at Blanche.

"I do feel rather queer, papa," replied Blanche, faintly, as she staggered and leaned against her father for support.

Lifting her in his arms, Mr. Clifford carried her up the broad stone steps to the hall door, and hurrying into the library, laid her gently down on one of the couches.

Hardly had he laid her there when she became deathly pale, and presently a sudden crimson flow came from her white lips, staining her blanched cheek and fair cl.u.s.tering curls, and Blanche Clifford fainted away!

XVI.

_THE BORDERS OF THE FAR-OFF LAND._

MR. CLIFFORD again walked up and down his empty drawing-room where only the evening before he had been weaving such a bright future for himself in the companions.h.i.+p of his child; and now the doctors had just left him with the terrible decision ringing in his ears--that she was dying! It might be weeks, and even months; but the fragile frame could not long resist the disease that had been stealthily doing its deadly work for many weeks.

Blanche, the pride of his heart, the heir to his fortune, was pa.s.sing away from him! Covering his face with his hands, the poor father seated himself on the couch where only a few hours before the bright face had been gazing into his, and the merry laugh re-echoing through the now silent, deserted room.

Blanche lay pale and feeble in her darkened chamber, while servants flitted about, whispering and ministering, and Miss Prosser sat tearfully by the bedside.

At length the closed drawing-room door opened, and the poor, grief-stricken father stood beside his child. They might leave him--he would stay and watch to-night, he said huskily, as he seated himself beside the bed. Blanche had hardly spoken since she had been taken ill; but the sound of her father's voice seemed to rouse her, and, opening her eyes, she welcomed him with her old sunny smile.

"O papa, dear, is that you? It seems such an age since I saw you. I must have been sleeping all day long. I was so tired. I think we did go too far, to-day; but it was so nice, and I did not feel at all tired at the time. But I shall be all right to-morrow, I'm sure."

"I hope so, my darling!" said her father, as he kissed the uplifted face, and stroked the curls sadly.

"This is good-night, I suppose, papa? I have been sleeping so much that I have actually no idea what o'clock it is," said Blanche, smiling.

Mr. Clifford told her it was quite bed-time now; and when she turned to sleep again, he took his seat quietly beside the chintz-curtained little bed, promising to relinquish it towards morning to Miss Prosser, who, tearful and anxious, begged to have a share of the watching.

When all was silent in the room except the flickering fire, and Mr.

Clifford sat sad and anxious at his unwonted duty, Blanche seemed to get wakeful again, and presently low tones reached his ear, meant only for the unseen Friend whom his little girl had in these last days been learning to know and love.

Feebly and tremulously she whispered, as she sat up in bed, reverently covering her face with her hands--"O Lord Jesus Christ, I am so tired to-night, I can't remember all I want to say. But, long ago, upon earth you used to know what people needed before they ever asked, and I am sure you do still. Do teach the poor sick fairy all about Thyself. I didn't seem to be able to make her understand about you; and she needs a Friend so very much. Bless my own dear papa. Make him so happy here in London that he will never think of going away again. I am sure you must love him, and he must love Thee; but, O Lord Jesus Christ, I would like him to speak about Thee, sometimes, as Kirsty used to do.

"Help me to be good, to do everything that pleases Thee, so that Thou may never turn away sorrowfully from me, as you used to do long ago when people would not follow Thee;" and as she prayed, Blanche fell asleep again, and all was silent.

Mr. Clifford had been listening to his child's words with bowed head and shamed heart. He felt that he was one of those from whom the Saviour must have turned away sorrowfully many a time. Through many lands and in many ways he had sought rest and solace, forgetting that the heart which G.o.d has made for Himself can only find rest in Him. And his little daughter seemed to have sought and found this satisfying portion which he had been seeking vainly. When her earthly father and mother had forsaken her, then the Lord had taken her up; and now He was, perhaps, going to take her to Himself, though she did not know it.

Kneeling beside her bed, Mr. Clifford prayed that G.o.d would pardon the wasted, sinful past, and would give him back his child, so that, together, they might tread the heavenward path!

When Miss Prosser appeared to claim her share of the vigil, Blanche was sleeping so soundly that any watching seemed almost unnecessary. And in the morning she looked so bright, though pale and fragile, that the anxious faces round her caught the infectious brightness, and the gloomy forebodings of the previous day seemed already to belong to the past.

As the days went by, Blanche appeared really to gain strength; and although there was still much cause for anxiety regarding her health, there seemed some reason to hope that the fatal issue might yet be warded off.

Mr. Clifford spent much of his time in his daughter's sick-room. And during these December days, as he sat by his daughter's couch, he listened with mingled feelings to many a childish tale of joy and grief that had marked the years in which he had borne no part.

And so it happened that these days of illness became days of intense enjoyment to Blanche. Ellis had returned to her post, and Blanche confided to her that it was really quite worth while being ill, and having to take all those nasty medicines, to have her papa all to herself for so many days.

The poor fairy was now comfortably housed in the Hospital for Sick Children, and Blanche looked forward to being able to pay her a visit there, one day before long. The half-finished dress was again taken from the drawer, where it had been sorrowfully laid by Grant on the day Blanche was taken ill; and now the little fingers were busy at work again, though they looked pale and feeble enough, Mr. Clifford thought, as he watched them, all stained with blue dye, putting the finis.h.i.+ng st.i.tches into the fairy's promised garment.

Blanche pleaded very hard that morning to be allowed to sew; and notwithstanding Miss Prosser's remonstrances, and her papa's joke about the ponderous piece of work which she had undertaken, she worked on, till at last, with a wearied smile, she held out the finished dress for her papa's inspection.

"Look now, papa--it is finished! I have really put in the last st.i.tch. I am so very glad I have been able. I felt as if I could do it to-day, somehow, and that was what made me so anxious to try, though Miss Prosser was so unwilling I should; but I don't think it has hurt me at all."

"Why, Blanchie, it is the most wonderful work of art imaginable. I must really put in my claim for a greatcoat next. The doctor says you may have a drive to-morrow, if it is fine, and we will go to the Hospital; and you shall introduce me to the fairy, and present the dress."

"I hope I shall be able to go, papa. But it will be sent whether I am or not, won't it? I think the fairy will understand why I wanted so much to send it. I am so glad it is finished," she added, with a wearied sigh, as she laid the dress on a chair, and went to lie on the sofa, which she rarely did of her own accord.

Mr. Clifford made no remark, but, as he glanced at her anxiously from under his newspaper, he could not help noticing, as she lay quietly there, that the little face looked worn and the outline of the cheek sharper than hitherto. She lay with her eyes shut for some time, and presently she said, in a low, firm tone, as she looked up--

"Papa, dear, come to me, I want to speak to you."

Mr. Clifford was not a nervous man, but his hand shook as he laid down his newspaper and went to his daughter's side, for there was a foreboding of trouble in his heart.

Her arm was round his neck, but she did not see his face as she said, softly--

"Do you know, papa, it makes me very sad, as well as glad, to look at that finished piece of work. Shall I tell you why? It seems to me it is the very first useful thing I have ever done in my life; and papa, dear, do you know it will be the last?" and the blue-stained fingers played nervously with her father's hand as she spoke.

Mr Clifford was going to interrupt her, but Blanche went on--

"Yes, papa; I know. I have known it for two days now. I'll tell you how I came to know. I overheard Ellis telling somebody that the doctor said I was--dying. Dear, kind Ellis; I'm sure she would be sorry if she knew I heard that; but she must not be told. I am so glad that I do know just a little before, though it did make me feel very sad at first. Indeed, I cried the whole night in the dark, papa; but now I feel as if it were all right. And I don't think I'm afraid to die now, as I should have been when I fell into the loch," she added, in a faltering tone.

"My darling, you must not talk so. And, besides, Ellis was not correct.