Mostly Mary

  CHAPTER X.

  A SEVERE TEST.

  "Italy, Mother! Father must go to Italy? Where is that?"

  It was Saturday morning. During the week, every one had been busyhelping to prepare for the voyage; but as Mary was still too weak to domore than sit up in a big chair for a short time every day, she saw andheard nothing that was going on outside her own room.

  "Italy is a country in the southern part of Europe, dear. Have you everseen a map of Europe?"

  "I am not sure, Mother. One warm day at school, Sister took us acrossthe hall to a cooler room. There were big maps hanging on the walls; andshe showed us the one of our country, and put her pointer right on NewYork. She couldn't find Maryvale; but only large cities are shown onthat map; and Maryvale is not even in the village, you know. It is morethan a mile beyond it."

  "Maryvale is the name of the convent grounds only; and though they arevery large, they could not be shown on such a map."

  "But about Europe, Mother. There is another map hanging next to the onewhere New York is. P'r'aps that is Europe. There is one country at thelower part of it shaped exactly like a boot sticking out into the sea.Rome, the city where the Pope lives, is in that country."

  "And that country is Italy, dear, and Rome is the very city to whichFather is going."

  "Oh, will Father see the Pope?"

  "He will surely go to see the Holy Father."

  "Father Lacey saw the Holy Father last summer when he went to Rome andtook the audience with him. Of course, the whole audience didn't go--youand Father and Uncle Frank and Rosemary's mother and some others whowere in the audience on the last day of school didn't go."

  Mrs. Selwyn laughed merrily.

  "If you were to ask Father Lacey about his companions, he would tell youthat he made that trip alone. He _had_ an audience with the Holy Father,dear; that is, he was allowed to see the Pope and speak with him. Theword _audience_, like many other words, has more than one meaning."

  "Dear, me," sighed the little girl, "there is so much to learn; isn'tthere, Mother? It seems to me that I just get a thing all fixed in mymind when I have to upset it and fix it over again a different way."

  "Then your first idea was not the correct one. You should ask themeaning of new words instead of trying to decide for yourself?"

  "That's exactly what I shall do after this. But--but, Mother,--don'tyou--isn't it just a little strange for Father to go to Italy byhimself? He has never gone away without us, you know. But I s'pose hewill be back in a few days, and he thinks it would be too hard for youto travel with the babies. Is he going soon?"

  "The steamer sails at two o'clock Monday afternoon and will take a weekto reach England where Father must stay for two or three days. Then,there is the trip across the Channel to France, and from there by trainto Italy. We must allow two weeks for the entire trip."

  "Two weeks! Two _weeks_! Why, Mother! Father to be away _two wholeweeks_!--But no,--he will be gone much longer, because it will take twomore weeks to come home, and besides that, he will have to stay in Italya few days to attend to that business. Two weeks and two weeks are fourweeks and--why, he will be gone at _least_ five weeks, and what shall weever do without him, Mother?"

  Mrs. Selwyn's heart sank. How was she to tell the child of the long,long separation to come? But Mary must hear of it without more delay;and taking the little girl on her lap, she began: "I have something tosay to you, darling, that you will not like to hear any better than Ilike to tell it. Father cannot put off this trip. If he had only himselfand us to think of, he would surely do so even though he would lose thechance of opening a branch of the business in Rome. But he must think ofhis partners in the bank. Now, this is where the trouble lies. Fathermust be away from home, not for five or six weeks, but for a year, andMother should be with him. It would never do, you know, to have himliving alone in a hotel for a year. In case of illness or accident, itwould take me nearly two weeks to reach him."

  "Of _course_ you should be with him, Mother. That is why I said itseemed strange for Father to go away without us. But Uncle Frank--can hego, too?"

  "No, dear."

  "But--but--won't he be very lonely without us, Mother? Oh, dear, me! How_can_ we go away for a whole year and leave him here all by himself? ButI s'pose there isn't any other way to fix it. Mother, I think I ought totry to walk to-day. I am sure I can if you and Sister will hold myhands. Then to-morrow, I shall try going down stairs so as to be readyfor Monday."

  "No, no, Mary, you are far too weak to do any walking yet. I fear thatit will be many days before Uncle will allow you to try that. Remember,he said that you must not sit up in the big chair longer than an hour ata time. Whether you could walk or not by Monday would make no differenceif you were strong enough otherwise. Father or Uncle Frank could easilycarry you down to the carriage and on the steamer; but----"

  "Why--why, Mother!" Mary fixed her startled eyes on Mrs. Selwyn's face."You--you sound as if--as if you mean that I am not--not able to go!"

  "That is what Mother does mean, darling," Mrs. Selwyn murmured in ahusky voice, pressing her lips to the bright little head. "Uncle saysthat the voyage at this time of year would kill you; that the cold anddampness would bring on a relapse, and you would die before we couldreach England. Oh, my baby! Father and Mother feel very, very bad aboutleaving you. What we should do were it not for dear Uncle Frank, I donot know. It will be a great comfort to us to feel that you are safewith him, darling, and that you are helping him not to be too lonely. Heloves you so dearly and has the most beautiful plans to keep you happyand make you well and strong. He will help you to write long letters tous every Sunday, and I shall write to you every day to tell you justwhat we are doing and how fast the babies are growing and----"

  Mary had been very, very quiet; but at this--"O Mother, Mother!don't--_don't_ take the babies away from me," she wailed. "I can'tb--bear _that_! I d--d--don't see how--I can--l--let you andFather--g--go, but oh! d--don't t--t--take the b--babies away fromm--m--me! Aunt Mandy--a--and Liza will--t--take good care of them,a--and I will h--help; oh!--I will, I _will_! I d--don't care wh--whatUncle s--s--says! I d--don't care if I n--n--_never_ learn--a--anything!I don't care if--I gr--grow up to b--be a d--_dunce_! I'm going--t--tohelp--t--take care of the b--b--_babies_!"

  "Darling, darling! there, there! You will make yourself ill again!Listen to Mother a moment!"

  Mrs. Selwyn was really alarmed, for never before had the child given wayto such an outburst. She knew that Mary felt things more deeply than domost children of her age, and had dreaded the hour when she should beobliged to tell her the sad news. She saw that the little girl was muchweaker after her illness than she had thought. By degrees, she quietedher, and then resolved to appeal to her generous nature.

  "Of course, dear, Father will go alone to Italy rather than have youmake yourself ill again. He loves you so much that he would sufferloneliness and many other things all his life if by so doing he couldkeep you well and happy. If Mother goes with him, she _must_ take thebabies. They are too young to be left with even so good a nurse as dearold Aunt Mandy. But I am going to let you decide whether I shall go orstay. I know that will be very, very hard for you to do, because you arenot selfish; and I am perfectly sure of what your answer would be if youwere a little stronger. I know my little bluebird too well to doubt it.But if you really feel that you cannot do without Father and Mother andthe babies and Aunt Mandy--for, of course, I shall need her--you mustnot fear to tell me so. Now, I am going to put you to bed and give yousome broth; and then I shall go away for a little while to let you havetime to think."

  The frail little arms went round her neck as Mary whispered, "No, no,Mother, I don't need time to think. I know now. I will stay," she gulpedhard, "with Uncle. I'm sorry--I was so selfish and horrid, and that Isaid I wouldn't mind Uncle. I will, Mother, everything he tells me.But--but I'll just have to cry a little bit now."