spite of time and place, as soon as he had a daughter to himself. ‘Settle nothing now—education not finished; but privately he tells me he believes his mother would as soon have sent Leonard to the hulks as to that old rascal, and the scamp, his grand-nephew.’
Mary’s answer to this, as his tones became incautiously emphatic, was a glance round all the attic doors, lest they should have ears.
‘Now then, do you want to get home?’ said the Doctor, a little rebuked.
‘Oh no, not if there is anything I can do.’
‘I want to get this girl away from Leonard. He is just come to the state when it all turns on getting him off to sleep quietly, and not disturbing him, and she is too excited and restless to do anything with her; she has startled him twice already, and then gets upset—tired out, poor thing! and will end in being hysterical if she does not get fed and rested, and then we shall be done for! Now I want you to take charge of her. See, here’s her room, and I have ordered up some tea for her. You must get her quieted down, make her have a tolerable meal, and when she has worked off her excitement, put her to bed—undressed, mind—and you might lie down by her. If you can’t manage her, call me. That’s Leonard’s door, and I shall be there all night; but don’t if you can help it. Can you do this, or must I get Miss “What-d’ye-call-her” the elder one, if she can leave the Greens in Randall’s Alley?
Well was it that Mary’s heart was stout as well as tender; and instead of mentally magnifying the task, and diminishing her own capabilities, she simply felt that she had received a command, and merely asked that Ethel should be informed.
‘I am going to send up to her.’
‘And shall I give Averil anything to take?’
‘Mutton-chops, if you can.’
‘I meant sal-volatile, or anything to put her to sleep.’
‘Nonsense! I hate healthy girls drugging themselves. You don’t do that at home, Mary!’
Mary showed her white teeth in a silent laugh at the improbability, there being nothing Ethel more detested than what she rather rudely called nervous quackeries. Her father gave her a kiss of grateful approbation, and was gone.
There was a light on the table, and preparations for tea; and Mary looked round the pretty room, where the ornamental paper, the flowery chintz furniture, the shining brass of the bedstead, the frilled muslin toilet, and et ceteras, were more luxurious than what she ever saw, except when visiting with Flora, and so new as to tell a tale of the mother’s fond preparation for the return of the daughter from school. In a few moments she heard her father saying, in a voice as if speaking to a sick child, ‘Yes, I promise you, my dear. Be good, be reasonable, and you shall come back in the morning. No, you can’t go there. Henry is going to bed. Here is a friend for you. Now, Mary, don’t let me see her till she has slept.’
Mary took the other hand, and between them they placed her in an arm-chair, whose shining fresh white ground and gay rose-pattern contrasted with her heated, rumpled, over-watched appearance, as she sank her head on her hand, not noticing either Mary’s presence or the Doctor’s departure. Mary stood doubtful for a few seconds, full of pity and embarrassment, trying to take in the needs of the case.
Averil Ward was naturally a plump, well-looking girl of eighteen, with clearly-cut features, healthy highly- coloured complexion, and large bright hazel eyes, much darker than her profuse and glossy hair, which was always dressed in the newest and most stylish fashion, which, as well as the whole air of her dress and person, was, though perfectly lady like, always regarded by the Stoneborough world as something on the borders of presumption on the part of the entire Ward family.
To Mary’s surprise, the five weeks’ terrible visitation, and these last fearful five days of sleepless exertion and bereavement, had not faded the bright red of the cheek, nor were there signs of tears, though the eyes looked bloodshot. Indeed, there was a purple tint about the eyelids and lips, a dried-up appearance, and a heated oppressed air, as if the faculties were deadened and burnt up, though her hand was cold and trembling. Her hair, still in its elaborate arrangement, hung loose, untidy, untouched; her collar and sleeves were soiled and tumbled; her dress, with its inconvenient machinery of inflation, looked wretched from its incongruity, and the stains on the huge hanging sleeves. Not a moment could have been given to the care of her own person, since the sole burthen of nursing had so grievously and suddenly descended on her.
Mary’s first instinct was to pour out some warm water, and bringing it with a sponge, to say, ‘Would not this refresh you?’
Averil moved petulantly; but the soft warm stream was so grateful to her burning brow, that she could not resist; she put her head back, and submitted like a child to have her face bathed, saying, ‘Thank you.’
Mary then begged to remove her tight heavy dress, and make her comfortable in her dressing-gown.
‘Oh, I can’t! Then I could not go back.’
‘Yes, you could; this is quite a dress; besides, one can move so much more quietly without crinoline.’
‘I didn’t think of that;’ and she stood up, and unfastened her hooks. ‘Perhaps Dr. May would let me go back now!’ as a mountain of mohair and scarlet petticoat remained on the floor, upborne by an overgrown steel mouse- trap.
‘Perhaps he will by and by; but he said you must sleep first.’
‘Sleep—I can’t sleep. There’s no one but me. I couldn’t sleep.’
‘Then at least let me try to freshen you up. There. You don’t know what good it used to do my sister Blanche, for me to brush her hair. I like it.’
And Mary obtained a dreamy soothed submission, so that she almost thought she was brushing her victim to sleep in her chair, before the maid came up with the viands that Dr. May had ordered.
‘I can’t eat that,’ said Averil, with almost disgust. ‘Take it away.’
‘Please don’t,’ said Mary. ‘Is that the way you use me, Miss Ward, when I come to drink tea with you?’
‘Oh, I beg your pardon,’ was the mechanical answer.
Mary having made the long hair glossy once more, into a huge braid, and knotted it up, came forth, and insisted
