and cast a hurried look at their directions. None were for him, but there was one in his sister's hand-writing. Violet did not feel herself able to read it, and was laying it aside, when she saw his looks following it. Her present world was so entirely in that room that she had forgotten all beyond; and it only now occurred to her to say, 'Your father? Do you wish for him? I will write.'
'Telegraph.' Even this whisper brought back the cough that was anguish and terror.
It was already so late in the day, that though thus summoned, there was no chance of Lord Martindale's arriving till the following evening; and Violet's heart sank at reckoning up the space that must elapse, more especially when she saw the perturbed eye, the startings at each sound, the determination to know the business of every one who came to speak to her--evident indications that there was some anxiety on his mind which she could not comprehend.
Thus passed the day--between visits from desponding doctors and vain measures for reducing the inflammation. At night Mr. Harding would have prevailed on her to go to rest, promising to keep watch in her stead; but she only shook her head, and said she could not. She had not seen, and had scarcely thought of, the elder children all day; but at about eleven o'clock at night she was startled by a sound of lamentable crying,--Johnnie's voice in the nursery. The poor little boy's nerves had been so much shaken by the fire at Martindale, that he had become subject to night alarms, which sometimes showed their effect for the whole subsequent day; and his mother stole away on hearing his cry, leaving Arthur in Mr. Harding's charge, and hoping not to be missed.
Sarah was standing over Johnnie, half-coaxing, half-scolding while he sat up in his little crib, shivering and sobbing, with chattering teeth, and terrified exclamations about papa all over blood, lying dead under the burning windows.
'There now, you have brought your poor mamma up!' said Sarah, indignantly.
'Mamma, mamma!' and the cold trembling little creature clasped itself upon her neck and bosom, still repeating the dreadful words. She carried him to the fire, warmed him on her lap, caressed and soothed him, as his understanding awoke, telling him that papa was safe in his own room,--he was ill, very ill, and Johnnie must pray for him; but oh! he was alive, safe in his own bed. But as Johnnie nestled to her, repeating, 'Say it again, mamma, I was so frightened! I can't get it out of my head. Oh! is papa safe?' there would come the thought that, with morning, the child might have to hear that he was fatherless.
This dread, and the desire to efface the impression of the terrible dream, induced her, when he had obediently struggled for composure, to tell him that, on condition of perfect stillness, he might come down with her, and have a little glimpse of papa. Wrapping him up, she took him in by the open dressing-room door, to which Arthur's back was turned, trusting to escape observation. but nothing eluded those fever-lighted eyes, and they instantly fell upon the little trembling figure, the quivering face and earnest gaze.
'I hope we have not disturbed you,' apologized Violet; 'we hoped you would not hear us. Poor Johnnie woke up crying so much at your being ill, that I ventured to bring him to have one look at you, for fear he should not go to sleep again.'
She need not have feared. Even while she spoke Arthur held out his hands, with a countenance that caused Johnnie, with a stifled exclamation of 'Papa! papa!' to spring on the bed, and there he lay, folded closely to his father's breast.
It was but for a moment. Violet had to lift the child hastily away, to be carried off by Sarah, that he might not witness the terrible suffering caused by the exertion and emotion; and yet, when this was passed, she could not repent of what she had done, for one great grief had thus been spared to herself and her boy.
She knew that to discover his son's ardent affection must be a poignant reproach for his neglect and jealousy, and she grieved at once for him and with him; but she could not understand half the feelings of bitter anguish that she perceived in his countenance and gestures. She did not know of his expectation that each ring of the bell might bring the creditors' claims to heap disgrace upon him, nor how painful were the thoughts of her and of the children, totally unprovided for, without claim during his father's lifetime, even on his own scanty portion as a younger son. He could only cast them on the mercy of his father and brother; and what right had he to expect anything from them, after his abuse of their kindness and forbearance? He thought of his neglect of his patient devoted wife, whom he was leaving, with her little ones, to struggle with poverty and dependence; he thought of his children growing up to know him only as the improvident selfish father, who had doomed them to difficulties, and without one tender word or kind look to grace his memory. No wonder he turned, unable to brook the sight of his unconscious babe; and that, when with morning little steps and voices sounded above, such a look of misery came over his face, that Violet hastened to order the children down to the dining-room, out of hearing.
Ere long, however, from the other room, appropriated to the baby, a face peeped in, and Johnnie sprang to her side with earnest whispers: 'Mamma, may I not say my prayers with you! I will not wake papa, but I can't bear it without!' and the tears were in his eyes.
Violet's glance convinced her that this would be anything but disturbing, and she consented. Johnnie thought his father asleep, but she saw him watching the boy, as he stood with clasped hands, and eyes in fixed steadfast gaze, repeating the Creed, so gravely and distinctly, that not one of the whispering accents was lost. Looking upwards, as if pursuing some thought far away, Johnnie said, 'Amen'; and then knelt, breathing forth his innocent petitions, with their mention of father, mother, sisters, and little brother; and therewith a large teardrop gathered in the eyes fixed on him--but she would not seem to notice, and bent her head over the boy, who, when his daily form was finished, knelt on, and pressed her arm. 'Mamma,' he whispered, very low indeed, 'may I say something for papa?' and on her assent, 'O God! make dear, dear papa better, if it be Thy heavenly will, and let it be Thy heavenly will.'
Arthur's face was hidden; she only saw his fingers holding up the covering with a quivering grasp. Johnnie rose up quite simply, and letting him continue in the belief that his father slept, she allowed him to go noiselessly away, after she had held him fast in her arms, able to feel, even now, the comfort and blessing of her child.
Some little time had passed before Arthur looked up; then gazing round, as if seeking something, he said, 'Where is he?'
'Johnnie? He is gone, he did not know you were awake. Shall I send for him?'
'For all.'
They came; but he was made to feel that he had disregarded them too long. They had never been familiarized with him; seldom saw him, and were kept under restraint in his presence; and there was no intimacy to counteract the fright inspired by his present appearance. Ghastly pale, with a hectic spot on each cheek, with eyes unnaturally bright and dilated, and a quantity of black hair and whiskers, he was indeed a formidable object to the little girls; and Violet was more grieved than surprised when Annie screamed with affright, and had to be carried away instantly; and Helen backed, with her hands behind her, resisting all entreaties and remonstrance, and unheeding his outstretched hand. The child was of so determined and wilful a nature, that Violet dreaded an outbreak if she were too much pressed, and was forced to let her go--though much grieved, both for the distress that it gave Arthur, and for the thought of how his daughter might remember it by and by.
They supposed that Johnnie had gone with his sisters, but at the end of half an hour became aware that he had ever since been standing, almost hidden by the curtain, satisfied with merely being in the room. The fair face, so delicately tinted, the dark shady eyes, lovingly and pensively fixed on his father, and the expression, half mournful, half awe-struck, were a touching sight in so young a child, and Arthur seemed so to feel it. He signed to him to come near; and with a flush, between joy and fear, the little boy was instantly at his side. One hot hand enfolded the small soft cool one, the other pressed fondly on the light silken waves of hair. After thus holding him for some moments, he tried to speak, in whispering breathless gasps of a word at a time.
'You'll comfort her!' and he looked towards his mother, 'You'll take care of the others--will you?'
'If I can. God takes care of us,' said Johnnie, wistfully, as if striving to understand, as he felt the pressure redoubled on hand and head, as if to burn in what was uttered with such difficulty and danger.
'Tell your grandfather I trust you all to him. He must forgive. Say so to him. You'll be a better son to him than I. When you know all, don't remember it against me.'
He could say no more, it had brought on a fit of coughing and breathlessness, through which he scarcely struggled. Silence was more than ever enforced; but throughout the day the oppression was on the increase, especially towards the evening, when he became excited by the expectation of his father's arrival. He sat, pillowed high up, each respiration an effort that spread a burning crimson over his face, while eye and ear were nervously alert.
'Arthur is very ill, and begs to see you,' was the telegraphic message that filled the cottage at Brogden with
