impatiently rang.
'Child better?' were his hurried words to James.
'Yes, sir.'
Before even this brief answer was spoken, Arthur was halfway upstairs. No one was in the drawing room; he dashed up to the bed- room; that, too, was empty; he climbed on where he had never been before, and opened the nursery-door.
There sat Violet on a low chair by the fire, with the little boy on her lap. With a cry of joy she rose; and in another moment was standing, almost unable to speak, as she saw Johnnie, looking much surprised, but well pleased, to find himself in those strong arms, and his soft face scrubbed by the black whiskers.
'He is pleased! He is smiling. You know papa, don't you, my Johnnie?' cried the happy Violet.
'And he is all right again?'
'So much better to-day! We trust the cold is gone. Does he not breathe softly and freely? If only there's no return to-night.'
'Was there last night?'
'Indeed there was. It was too dreadful!' said Violet, leaning against him, and lowering her voice. 'Once Sarah and Mr. Harding both thought it was all over, and I never dared to expect to see those eyes come back to their own dear look at me! O, Arthur, when I thought if I could but once have seen him in your arms! I never thought to be so happy as this!' and she caressed the child to hide the tears of thankfulness. 'I'm glad you weren't there.'
'My Violet, why!'
'You could not have borne to have seen and heard, and now you won't have it to remember. At least, I trust not! Think of their once wanting me to go away, saying it was not fit, and that I was of no use; but you knew better, Johnnie. You held mamma's finger tight, and when you came to yourself, your sweet look and smile were for her! And at last he went to sleep over my shoulder, as he likes best; and I felt each one of his breathings, but they grew soft and smooth at last, and after two good hours he woke up quite himself.'
'And you! Sitting up all night! You are not fit for such things. How did you get through it?'
'I don't know; I hardly remember,' said Violet. 'Your letter was such a pleasure! and oh! I had help.'
'What, Harding--'
'I did not mean that, though he was very kind. No, I meant thoughts- -verses in the Bible,' said Violet, hanging her head, and whispering, 'I don't mean at the worst. Then one could only pray he might not suffer so much; but things his uncle had helped me to, did come so comfortably while he was asleep. Don't you remember saying I had no troubles for Helen's cross to comfort me in!'
'And did it?' said Arthur, half smiling.
'Not itself, you know; but it helped to put me in mind to be sure that all he was going through would somehow be a blessing. I could bear it then, and not be angry, as I was last year. Dear little fellow, it is as if he would put me in mind himself, for the only thing like play he has done to-day has been holding it up, and pulling its chain.'
'There! go to your mother, Johnnie,' said Arthur, giving him back. 'She is a rare one, I tell you, and you understand each other. He does not look much amiss either. He really is a very pretty little fellow!'
No wonder Arthur made the discovery, as he for the first time remarked the large wistful dark eyes, the delicately fair skin, which the heat of the fire had tinged with soft pink, on the cheeks, the shapely little head, with its flaxen waves of curl; and the tiny, bare, rosy feet, outstretched to enjoy the warmth. Very small, tender, and fragile he looked, and his features had an almost mournful expression, but there was something peculiarly engaging in this frail little being.
Violet was charmed with the tribute of admiration: indeed, she had hardly known whether she might hope for Arthur's return, though she had felt as if her heart would break if her child should die without his coming. The winter, though cheerful, had been spent in endeavours against her want of faith and hope, and this hard trial in the spring had brought with it a comfort and beginning of resignation that proved that her efforts had not been in vain.
Very happy she was as, Sarah coming up, she prepared to go down with Arthur, who now remembered to inform her of the arrival of 'Theodora and her dummy.'
These two personages were waiting in the drawing-room, Theodora in an excited state of anticipation and energy, prepared for a summons to take care of the baby, while Arthur was supporting his wife in hysterics.
Long she waited and listened; at last there was an opening of doors, then what she fancied the first shriek, and she started, alarmed, in spite of being wound up, but it sounded nearer--much too like a bona fide laugh, the very girlish sound she had condemned--Arthur's voice- -Violet's gaily answering! They came in, full of smiles, Violet with outstretched hands, and warm unconstrained welcome. 'How kind of you to come! I'm sorry you have been so long alone, but I did not know it,' said she, kissing her sister-in-law, and giving a kind silent greeting to the dumb boy.
Disconcerted at her waste of preparation, Theodora stood for a moment, fancying Violet triumphant in having spoilt Arthur's holiday by what must have been an exaggerated trifle. She was almost ready to make no inquiry for Johnnie, but 'conventional instinct' prevailed, and his parents were so full of him, and of each other, that it set them off into an eager conversation, such as made her, in her present mood, believe herself neglected for the sake of Arthur's weak, tyrannical, exacting idol. She resolved to take Charles at once to her father's house. If it would not have been an insult to her brother, she would have slept there herself. She surprised the others by rising from her seat, and taking up the boy's cap.
'Oh!' exclaimed Violet, 'I had forgotten him, poor little fellow. I will take him to Susan to have some tea.'
'Thank you, I am going to take him to the maid at our house.'
'O, pray do not,' said Violet, imploringly; 'there's plenty of room here, and we can see about him so much better.'
'I had rather,' persisted Theodora.
'But see, it is getting dark. The lamps are lighted. You can't go now.'
'I shall not lose my way,' said Theodora, taking by the hand the poor boy, who seemed unwilling to leave the fire and Mrs. Martindale's kind looks.
'Now, Arthur! you wont let her go!' said Violet, distressed.
'What's the row?' said Arthur. 'Setting out on your travels again, Theodora!'
'Only to take Charlie to Belgrave-square.'
'I sha'n't come with you.'
'I can go by myself.'
'Nonsense. You have rattled the poor child about enough for one day. Stay at home like a rational woman, and Violet will see to him.'
The dumb child gazed as if he read their faces, and was begging to remain; he gladly allowed Violet to take his hand, and she led him away, inviting Theodora to come and give her own directions about him to Susan, the girl from Brogden.
So sweet was the manner, so kind the welcome, and so pretty the solicitude for her comfort, that pride and prejudice had much difficulty in maintaining themselves. But Theodora thought that she did not like blandishments, and she was angry at the sensation of being in the inferior situation of Violet's guest, at a moment of its being so signally shown that she could not permit Arthur to enjoy himself without her. To get home again as fast as possible was her resolution, as she merely unpacked the articles for immediate use, and after a hasty toilette, returned to the drawing-room.
Arthur and Violet were in earnest conversation. She fancied herself an interruption, and did not second their attempts to make it general. Violet had received a letter from John, and was offering it to Arthur, who only yawned.
'Five sheets! He writes an abominably small hand! You may tell me what it is about. Niggers and humming- birds and such cattle, I suppose.'
'He has been to see the bishop. He wants a chaplain to live in the house with him to teach the negroes, and have the church when it is built.'
'No chance of his coming home, then ?'
'No, he is so well and busy. Percy Fotheringham is to send out some plans for the church--and only think! he has told Percy to come and ask me about Mr. Fanshawe--don't you remember him?'
'The curate at the chapel at Wrangerton?'
