Heriot's Choice Part 72

'But Polly is so fond of Roy,' pleaded Olive; timid with regard to herself, she could persist with more boldness on another's behalf. 'Roy would not care for me half so much as he would for her; when he had that feverish cold last year, no one seemed to please him but Polly. Do let her go, Aunt Milly,' continued the generous-hearted girl. 'I do not mind being left. If Roy is worse I could come to you,' and Olive spoke with the curious choke in her voice that showed strong emotion.

Mildred looked touched, but she remained firm. Little did Olive guess her reasons.

'I could not allow it for one moment, Olive. I think,' hesitating a little, as though sure of inflicting pain, 'that I ought to go alone, unless Roy is very ill. I do not see how your father is to be left; he might have another attack, and Richard is not here.'

'I forgot papa,' in a conscience-stricken tone. 'I am always forgetting something.'

'Yes, and yourself in the bargain,' smiling at her earnest self-depreciation.

'No, please don't laugh, Aunt Milly, it was dreadfully careless of me--what should we all do without you to remind us of things? Of course papa must be my first thought, unless--unless dear Rex is very ill,' and a flush of pain pa.s.sed over Olive's sallow face.

Mildred melted over this fresh instance of Olive's unselfish goodness; she wrapped her arms fondly round the girl.

'Dear Olive, this is so good of you!'

'No, it is only my duty,' but the tears started to her eyes.

'If I did not think it were, I would not have proposed it,' she returned, reluctantly; 'but you know how little care your father takes of himself, and then he will fret so about Roy when Richard is away. I never like to leave him.'

'Do not say any more, Aunt Milly; nothing but real positive danger to Roy would induce me to leave him.'

'No, I knew I could trust you,' drawing a relieved breath; 'but, indeed, I have no such fear for Rex. Mrs. Madison says it was only a slight attack of inflammation, and that it has quite subsided. He will be dreadfully weak, of course, and that is why the doctor has sent for us; he will want weeks of nursing.'

'And you will not take Polly or Chriss. Remember how far from strong you are, and Rex is so exacting when he is ill.'

'Chriss would be no use to me, and Polly's place is here,' was Mildred's quiet answer as she went on with her preparations for the next day's journey; but she little knew of the tenacity with which Polly clave to her purpose.

When Dr. Heriot came in that afternoon for his last professional chat with Mildred, he found her looking open-eyed and anxious in the midst of business, reading out a list for Olive, who was writing patiently from her dictation; Polly was crouched up by the fire doing nothing; she had not spoken to any one since the morning; she hardly raised her head when he came in.

Mildred explained the reason of their unusual bustle in her clear, succinct way. Roy was ill, how ill she could not say. Mr. Lambert had had a touch of gout last night, and dared not run the risk of a journey just now. Olive must stop with her father, at least for the present; and as Chriss was too young to be of the least possible use, she was going alone. Polly's name was not mentioned. Dr. Heriot looked blank at the tidings.

'Alone, and in your state of health! why, where is Polly? she is a capital nurse; she is worth a score of others; she will keep up your spirits, save you fatigue, and cheer up Roy in his convalescence.'

'You cannot spare her; Polly's place is here,' replied Mildred, nervously; but to her surprise Polly interrupted her.

'That is not the reason, Aunt Milly.'

'My dear Polly!' exclaimed Dr. Heriot, amazed at the contradiction.

'No, it is not, and she knows it,' returned the girl, excitedly; 'ask her, Heriot; look at her; that is not the reason she will not suffer me to go to Roy.'

Mildred turned her burning face bravely on the two.

'Whatever reasons I have, Polly knows me well enough to respect them,'

she said, with dignity; 'it is far better for Roy that his aunt or his sister should be with him. Polly ought to know that her place is beside you.'

'Aunt Milly, how dare you speak so,' cried the girl, hotly, 'as though Roy were not my own--own brother. Have we not cared for each other ever since I came here a lonely stranger; do you think he will get better if he is fretting, and knows why you have left me behind; when he was ill in the summer, would he have any one to wait on him but me?'

'Oh, Polly,' began Mildred, sorrowfully, for the girl's petulance and obstinacy were new to her; but Dr. Heriot stopped her.

'Let the child speak,' he said, quietly; 'she has never been perverse to you before; she has something on her mind, or she would not talk so.'

The kind voice, the unexpected sympathy, touched Polly's sore heart; and as he held out his hand to her, she crept out of her dark corner. He drew her gently to his side.

'Now, Polly, what is it? there is something here that I do not understand--out with it like a brave la.s.sie.'

But she hung her head.

'Not now, not here, before the others,' she whispered, and with that he rose from his seat, but he still kept hold of her hand.

'Polly is going to make a clean breast of it; I am to hear her confession,' he said, with a cheerfulness that rea.s.sured Mildred. 'There is no time like the present. I mean to bring her back by and by, and then we will make our apologies together.'

Mildred sighed as the door closed after them; she would fain have known what pa.s.sed between them; her heart grew heavy with foreboding as time elapsed and they did not make their appearance. When her business was finished, and Olive had left her, she sat for more than half an hour with her eyes fixed on the door, feeling as though she could bear the suspense no longer.

She started painfully when the valves unclosed.

'We have been longer than I expected,' began Dr. Heriot.

His face was grave, and Mildred fancied his eyes looked troubled. Polly had been crying.

'It was a rambling confession, and one difficult to understand,' he continued, keeping the girl near him, and Mildred noticed she leant her face caressingly against his coat-sleeve, as she stood there; 'and it goes back to the day of our picnic at Hillbeck.'

Mildred moved uneasily; there was something reproachful in his glance directed towards herself; she averted her eyes, and he went on--

'It seems you were all agreed in keeping me in the dark; you had your reasons, of course, but it appears to me as though I ought to have been the first to hear of Roy's visit,' and there was a marked emphasis in his words that made Mildred still more uncomfortable. 'I do not wish to blame you; you acted for the best, of course, and I own the case a difficult one; it is only a pity that my little girl should have considered it her duty to keep anything from me.'

'I told him it was Roy's secret, not mine,' murmured Polly, and he placed his hand kindly on her head.

'I do not see how she could have acted otherwise,' returned Mildred, rather indistinctly.

'No, I am more inclined to blame her advisers than herself,' was the somewhat cool response; 'mysteries are bad things between engaged people. Polly kept a copy of her letter to show me, but she never found courage to do so until to-night, and yet she is quite aware what are Roy's feelings towards her.'

Mildred's voice had a sound of dismay in it--

'Oh, Polly! then you have deceived me too.'

'You have no reason to say so,' returned the girl, proudly, but her heart swelled over her words; 'it was that--that letter, and your silence, that told me, Aunt Milly; but I could not--it was not possible to say it either to you or to Dr. Heriot.'

'You see it was hard for her, poor child,' was his indulgent comment; 'but you might have helped her; you might have told me yourself, Miss Lambert.'

But Mildred repelled the accusation firmly.

'It was no business of yours, Dr. Heriot, or Polly's either, that Roy loved her. Richard and I were right to guard it; it was his own secret, his own trouble. Polly would never have known but for her own wilfulness.'

'Yes I should, Aunt Milly; I should have found it out from his silence,'

returned Polly, with downcast eyes. 'I could not forget his changed looks; they troubled me more than you know. I puzzled myself over them till I was dizzy. I felt heart-broken when I found it out, but I could not have told Heriot.'

'It would have been better for us both if you had,' he replied, calmly; but he uttered no further reproach, only there was a keen troubled look in his eyes, as he gazed at the girl's upturned face, as though he suddenly dreaded the loss of something dear to him.