That Stick Part 28

'Poor Adela, I pity you almost as much as her,' said Bertha.

'Oh, I know now how much I have to be thankful for! No uncertainty--and my little one's grave.'

'Besides Amice. Let me drive you up, Addie. Your heart is beating enough to knock you down.'

'Well, I believe it is. But not up to the front door. I will go in by the garden. Oh, may he be spared to her at least!'

Very pale then Lady Adela crept in, meeting a weeping maid who was much relieved to see her, but was hardly restrained from noisy sobs. Mr.

Trotman, she said, had come just before the garden boy had inevitably dashed up with the tidings, and the household had been waiting till he came out, to secure that he should be near when Lady Northmoor was told.

Adela felt that this might be the safest opportunity, and sent a message to the door to beg that her ladys.h.i.+p would come and speak to her for a few minutes in the study.

Mary's soft step was soon there, and her lips were framing the words, 'No ground lost,' when at sight of Adela's face the light went out of her eyes, and setting herself firmly on her feet, she said, 'You have bad news. My boy!'

Adela came near and would have taken her hand, saying--'My poor Mary'--but she clasped them both as if to hold herself together, and said, 'The fever!'

'No, no--sadder still! Drowned!'

'Ah, then there was not all that suffering, and without me!

Thankworthy-- Oh no, no, please'--as Lady Adela, with eyes br.i.m.m.i.n.g over, would have pressed her to her bosom--'don't--don't upset me, or I could not attend to Frank. It all turns on this one day, they say, and I must--I must be as usual. There will be time enough to know all about it--if'--with a long oppressed gasp--'he is saved from the hearing it.'

'I think you are right, dear,' said Adela, 'if you keep him--' but she could not go on.

'Well, any way,' said Mary, 'either he will be given back, or he will be saved this. Let me go back to him, please.' Then at the door, putting her hand to her head--'Who is here?'

'Poor Eden.'

'Ah, let her and Emma know that I am sure it is not their fault. Come again to-morrow, please; I think he will be better.'

She went away in that same gliding manner, perfectly tearless. Adela waited to see the doctor, who a.s.sured her that the patient had rather gained than lost during the last twenty-four hours, and that if he could be spared from any shock or agitation he would probably recover. Lady Northmoor seemed so entirely absorbed by his critical state, that she was not likely to betray the sad knowledge she had put aside in the secret chamber of her heart, more especially as her husband was still too much weighed down, and too slumberous to be observant, or to speak much, and knowing the child to be out of the house, he did not inquire for him.

Nevertheless, Mr. Trotman gladly approved of Lady Adela's intention of sleeping in the house in case of any sudden collapse; and the servants, who were not to let Lady Northmoor know, evidently felt this a great relief.

'Yes, it is a comfort to think some one will be within that poor thing's reach,' said Bertha, as they went back together, 'and, if you can bear it, you are the right person.'

'She will not let herself dwell on it. She never even looked at Mrs.

Morton's letter.'

'And I really hope they won't find the poor little dear, to have all the fuss and heart-rending.'

'Oh, Birdie!'

'There's only one thing that would make me wish it. I'm quite sure that that Miss Ida knows more about it than she owns. No, you need not say, "Oh, Birdie" again; I don't suspect her of the deed, but I do believe she saw the boy and kept out of his way, and now wants that poor Ellen to have all the blame!'

'You will believe nothing against a girl out of an orphanage!'

'I had rather any day believe Ellen Mole than Ida Morton. There's something about that girl which has always revolted me. I would never trust her farther than I could see her!'

'Prejudice, Birdie; because she is in bad style.'

'You to talk of prejudice, Addie, who hardly knew how to go on living here under the poor stick!'

'Don't, Birdie. He has earned esteem by sheer goodness. Poor man, I don't know what to wish for him when I think of the pang that awaits him.'

'You know what to wish for yourself and Northmoor! Not but that Herbert may come to good if he doesn't come into possession for many a long year.'

'And now I must write to that poor child, Constance. But oh, Bertha, don't condemn hastily! Haven't I had enough of that?'

CHAPTER x.x.xIII DARKNESS

Full a week later, Frank looked up from his pillow, and said, 'I wonder when it will be safe to have Mite back. Mary, sweet, what is it? I have been sure something was burthening you. Come and tell me. If he has the fever, you must go to him. No!' as she clasped his hand and laid her face down on the pillow.

'Ah, Frank, he does not want us any more!'

'My Mary, my poor Mary, have you been bearing such knowledge about with you? For how long?'

'Since that worst day, yesterday week. Oh, but to see you getting better was the help!'

'Can you tell me?'

She told him, in that low, steady voice, all she knew. It was very little, for she had avoided whatever might break the composure that seemed so needful to his recovery; and he could listen quietly, partly from the lulling effect of weakness, partly from his anxiety for her, and the habit of self-restraint, in which all the earlier part of their lives had been pa.s.sed, made utterance come slowly to them.

'Life will be different to us henceforth,' he once said. 'We have had three years of the most perfect happiness. He gave and He hath taken away. Blessed--'

And there he stopped, for he saw the working of her face. Otherwise they hardly spoke of their loss even to one another. It went down deeper than they could bear to utter, and their hearts and eyes met if their lips did not. Only Lord Northmoor lay too dejected to make the steps expected in the recovery of strength for a few days after the grievous revelation, and on the day when at last he was placed on a couch by the window, his wife collapsed, and, almost unconscious, was carried to her bed.

It was not a severe or alarming attack, and all she wanted was to be let alone; but there was enough of sore throat and other symptoms to prolong the quarantine, and Lady Adela could no longer be excluded from giving her aid. She went to and fro between the patients, and comforted each with regard to the other, telling the one how her husband's strength was returning, and keeping the other tranquil by the a.s.surance that what his wife most needed was perfect rest, especially from the necessity of restraining herself. Those eyes showed how many tears were poured forth when they could have their free course. Lady Adela had gone through enough to feel with ready tact what would be least jarring to each. She had persuaded Bertha to go back to London, both to her many avocations and to receive Amice, who must still be kept at a distance for some time.

Lord Northmoor, as soon as he had strength and self-command for it, read poor Mrs. Morton's letters, and also saw Eden, for whom there was little fear of infection. She managed to tell her history and answer all his questions in detail, but she quite broke down under his kind tone of forgiveness and a.s.surance that no blame attached to her, and that he was only grateful to her for her tender care of his child, and she went away sobbing pitifully.

Adela came back, after taking her from the room, where Frank was sitting in an easy-chair by the window, and looking out on the summer garden, which seemed to be stripped of all its charm and value for him.

'Poor thing,' she said, 'she is quite overcome by your kindness.'

'I do not think any one is more to be pitied,' said he.

'No, indeed, but she wishes you would have heard what she had to say about the supposing Ida to have gone in that direction.'

'I thought it better not. It would not have exonerated the poor little maid from carelessness, and there is no use in fostering a sense of injury or suspicion, when what is done cannot be undone,' he said wearily.

'Indeed you are quite right,' said Adela earnestly. 'You know how to be in charity with all men. Oh, the needless misery of hasty unjust suspicions!' Then as he looked up at her--'Do you know our own story?'

'Only the main facts.'