He was interrupted; Violet had awakened in an alarming fit of trembling, imploring to be told why he was angry, and whether he would ever come back.
So glimmered the feeble ray of life throughout the day; and when the post went out, the end was apparently so near, that it was thought in vain to send for Mrs. Moss; whom Arthur shrank from seeing, when it should be too late. He was so completely overwhelmed with distress, that in the short intervals he spent out of the sick-room, it was his brother's whole work to cheer and sustain him sufficiently to perform those offices, which Violet was incapable of receiving from any one else.
It was no wonder he broke down; for it was a piteous sight to see that fair young mother, still a child in years, and in her exhausted state of wavering consciousness, alive only through her fond affections; gleams of perception, and momentary flashes of life, called forth only by her husband, or by the moanings of the little frail babe, which seemed to have as feeble and precarious a hold of life as herself. The doctors told John that they were haunted through the day by the remembrance of her face, so sweet, even in insensibility, and so very lovely, when the sound of her babe's voice, for a moment, lighted up the features. Their anxiety for her was intense; and if this was the case with strangers, what must it not have been for her husband, to whom every delirious murmur was an unconscious reproach, and who had no root of strength within himself! The acuteness of his grief, and his effectiveness as a nurse, were such as to surprise his brother, who only now perceived how much warmth of heart had been formerly stifled in a cold, ungenial home.
Sustained from hour to hour by his unremitting care, she did, however, struggle through the next three days; and at last came a sounder sleep, and a wakening so tranquil, that Arthur did not perceive it, till he saw, in the dim lamp-light, those dark eyes calmly fixed upon him. The cry of the infant was heard, and she begged for it, fondling it, and murmuring over it with a soft inarticulate sound of happiness.
'You purr like an old cat over her kitten,' said Arthur, longing to see her smile once more; and he was not disappointed; it was a bright, contented, even joyous smile, that played on the colourless features, and the eyes beamed softly on him as she said, 'Kiss him, papa.'
He would have done anything for her at that moment, and another bright look rewarded him.
'Does mamma know about this dear little baby?' she said, presently.
'Yes, dearest, I have written every day. She sends you her love;' and as Violet murmured something of 'Dear mamma--'
'Do you wish to have her here?'
'No, indeed, I don't wish it now,' said Violet; 'you do make me so very happy.'
She was returning to her full self, with all her submission to his will, and in fact she did not wish for any change; her content in his attention was so complete, so peaceful, that in her state of weakness there was an instinctive dread of breaking the charm. To lie still, her babe beside her, and Arthur watching her, was the perfect repose of felicity, and imperceptibly her faculties were, one by one, awakening. Her thoughtfulness for others had revived; Arthur had been giving her some nourishment, and, for the first time, she had taken it with a relish, when it so chanced that the light fell for a moment on his face, and she was startled by perceiving the effects of anxiety and want of sleep. In vain he assured her there was nothing the matter. She accused herself of having been exacting and selfish, and would not be comforted, till he had promised to take a good night's rest. He left her, at length, nearly asleep, to carry the tidings to his brother, and enjoy his look of heart-felt rejoicing. Never had the two very dissimilar brothers felt so much drawn together; and as John began, as usual, to wait on him, and to pour out his coffee, he said, as he sat down wearied, 'Thank you, John, I can't think what would have become of me without you!'
'My father would have come to you if I had not been here.'
'Where's his letter?--I forgot all about it. Is there none from Theodora?'
'No; I suppose she waited for further accounts.'
Arthur began reading his father's letter. 'Very kind! a very kind letter indeed,' said he, warmly. ''Earned so high a place in our regard--her sweetness and engaging qualities,'--I must keep that to show her. This is very kind too about what it must be to me. I did not think he had appreciated her so well!'
'Yes, indeed, he did,' said John. 'This is what he says to me. 'Never have I seen one more gentle and engaging, and I feel sure she would have gained more on our affections every day, and proved herself a treasure to the family.''
'That is right,' said Arthur. 'He will get to know her well when they come to London! I'll write to him to-morrow, and thank him, and say, no need for him to come now! 'Hopes his grandson will live to be a comfort to me!'' and Arthur could not help laughing.
'Well, I am not come to that yet!'
'He is much pleased at its being a son,' said John.
'Poor little mortal!' said Arthur, 'if he means to be a comfort I wish he would stop that dismal little wail--have one good squall and have done with it. He will worry his mother and ruin all now she takes more notice. So here's Mrs. Moss's letter. I could not open it this morning, and I have been inventing messages to Violet from her--poor woman! I have some good news for her now. It is all about coming, but Violet says she does not want her. I can't read it all, my eyes are so weak! Violet said they were bloodshot,' and he began to examine them in the glass.
'Yes, you are not equal to much more nursing; you are quite done for.'
'I am!' said Arthur, stretching. 'I'm off to bed, as she begged me; but the worst is over now! We shall do very well when Theodora comes; and if she has a taste for the boy, she and Violet will make friends over him,--good night.'
With a long yawn, Arthur very stiffly walked up-stairs, where Sarah stood at the top waiting for him. 'Mrs. Martindale is asleep, sir; you had best not go in,' said she. 'I have made up a bed in your dressing-room, and you'd best not be lying down in your clothes, but take a good sleep right out, or you'll be fit for nothing next. I'll see and call if she wants you.'
'Thank you, Sarah; I wonder how long you have been up; you will be fit for nothing next.'
'It don't hurt me,' said Sarah, in disdain; and as Arthur shut his door, she murmured to herself, 'I'm not that sort to be knocked up with nothing; but he is an easy kind-spoken gentleman after all. I'll never forget what he has done for missus. There is not so much harm in him neither; he is nothing but a great big boy as ought to be ashamed of hisself.'
The night passed off well; Violet, with a great exertion of self- command, actually composed herself on awaking in one of her nervous fits of terror; prevented his being called; and fairly deserved all the fond praise he lavished on her in the morning for having been so good a child.
'You must not call me child now,' said she, with a happy little pride. 'I must be wiser now.'
'Shall I call you the prettiest and youngest mamma in England?'
'Ah! I am too young and foolish. I wish I was quite seventeen!'
'Have you been awake long?'
'Yes; but so comfortable. I have been thinking about baby's name.'
'Too late, Violet; they named him John: they say I desired it.'
'What! was he obliged to be baptized? Is he so delicate? Oh, Arthur! tell me; I know he is tiny, but I did not think he was ill.'
Arthur tried to soothe her with assurances of his well-doing, and the nurse corroborated them; but though she tried to believe, she was not pacified, and would not let her treasure be taken from within her arms till Mr. Harding arrived--his morning visit having been hastened by a despatch from Arthur, who feared that she would suffer for her anxiety. She asked so many questions that he, who last night had seen her too weak to look up or speak, was quite taken by surprise. By a little exceeding the truth, he did at length satisfy her mind; but after this there was an alteration in her manner with her baby; it was not only the mere caressing, there was a sort of reverence, and look of reflection as she contemplated him, such as made Arthur once ask, what she could be studying in that queer little red visage?
'I was thinking how very good he is!' was her simple answer, and Arthur's smile by no means comprehended her meaning.
Her anxious mind retarded her recovery, and Arthur's unguarded voice on the stairs having revealed to her that a guest was in the house, led to inquiries, and an endless train of fears, lest Mr. Martindale should be uncomfortable and uncared for. Her elasticity of mind had been injured by her long course of care, and she could not shake off the household anxieties that revived as she became able to think.
