CHAPTER XXXIV.
"I HAVE WANTED MY OLD SWEETHEART."
"Our doubts and our fears we are leaving; Before us the future uprears, Where angels a rainbow are weaving Of smiles and of tears."
HELEN MARION BURNSIDE.
During Waveney's indisposition Everard Ward had been constantly at theRed House, and these visits had been full of consolation to both fatherand daughter. Althea's kindly welcome and womanly gentleness had, fromthe first, put him at his ease. Both she and Doreen had cordiallypressed him to repeat his visits, as they gave Waveney so much pleasure.Once, when the sisters were out, and Waveney was making tea for him inthe library, she asked him suddenly why Mr. Ingram never called at theRed House.
"I do not think it is quite kind and cousinly," she said, ratherseriously.
Everard seemed a little embarrassed by the question.
"Why, you see," he replied, in rather a hesitating way, "Ingram is sofully engaged. He is up at our place regularly every morning andevening. He does not seem able to exist away from it. Mollie ought toconsider herself a lucky little girl," he continued, thoughtfully, "forI never saw a man more deeply in love. He is a fine fellow--Ingram--thebest-hearted fellow I know; and I only hope"--and here he looked atWaveney rather searchingly--"that our dear Mollie values him as hedeserves."
"I think Mollie is beginning to care for him," returned Waveney; "atleast, I fancy so. But, of course, one can only guess at her feelings.You see, he has given her so much pleasure. And she has learnt to dependon him so much for companionship and sympathy, that it would be strangeif she were to harden her heart against him, at last. But, father,"--hervoice deepening with emotion,--"do you think he is quite good enough forour sweet Mollie? He is very kind and amusing--our dear little MonsieurBlackie, but----" Everard interrupted her abruptly.
"Pshaw, what a ridiculous name! I think it is quite time that you andNoel dropped it. Monsieur Blackie, indeed! Absurd! I cannot imagine whyyou have all taken such a liberty with him." Everard spoke in such aruffled tone that Waveney stared at him in surprise.
"But, father, dear, he likes it. He is as proud of the name as possible.In his little notes to us he always signs himself 'Monsieur Blackie.'"And then she added, rather wickedly, "You know, dear, the name does suithim so perfectly. If he were tall, and handsome, and dignified, weshould have found him quite a different name."
But this explanation did not seem to please Everard. "Nonsense, child!"he said, quite sharply. "What do looks matter? A good heart, and agenerous nature, are worth far more. Some of the greatest men in theworld were short of stature. Nelson and Napoleon--oh! and many others.But girls are so silly and sentimental, they prefer some Adonis six feethigh, with an empty purse and head."
Waveney laughed merrily at this. Then a sudden thought came to her.
"Father," she said, rather gravely, "it is easy to see that Mr. Ingramwill have no difficulty with you, and that you are his best friend. Hashe"--and here she hesitated, and flushed--"has he spoken to you yet? Imean, has he told you that he loves Mollie?"
"My little Waveney, that is not a fair question," returned Everard,quickly. "But I suppose that there is no harm in telling you that I ammost certainly in Ingram's confidence. Now, no more questions; he hasbegged me to respect his secret. Yes"--rising from his seat, andspeaking with repressed excitement--"he has my best wishes for hissuccess. Now I must go, dear child, for I have promised to dine with himand Noel."
When Everard had gone, Waveney sat down by the fire; the conversationhad given her plenty of food for thought. Her father was in Ingram'sconfidence; it was evident that he fully approved of him as aprospective son-in-law--that Ingram's generosity and kindness of hearthad won him over completely. "I like him," she said to herself, "and Ithink I could get fond of him as a brother; but in Mollie's place"--andhere Waveney shook her head. The vision of a grave, strong face, withkeen, thoughtful grey eyes, seemed to rise before her; a quiet, culturedvoice vibrated in her ears. Well, Mollie was welcome to her BlackPrince. To her there was only one man in the world, and his name wasThorold Chaytor.
This little talk had taken place two or three days before her interviewwith Thorold that Sunday afternoon. After that she thought less aboutMr. Ingram. She was reading her own version of the old, old story, whichmost women read once in their lives; and though the opening chapter washeaded "Waiting and Patience," it was none the less sweet and engrossingto the reader. There was something heroic to her in Thorold's silenceand self-renunciation. "He is great because he has learnt to conquerhimself," she thought. "Most men are dominated by their own passions andprefer inclination to duty." And then, like a true woman, she reverencedhim the more.
It was the longest week that Waveney had ever passed, and it seemed asthough Thursday would never come.
Althea had promised to have luncheon with Mrs. Mainwaring that day, soshe proposed to drive Waveney over to Cleveland Terrace about noon. Shehad already made her preparations for the interview by sending Molliethe prettiest and daintiest blue dressing-gown. Mollie, who was stillvery weak, had shed tears over the gift; but Nurse Helena had onlylaughed at her, and made her try it on.
Everard was in the studio, touching up a picture that one of his pupilshad painted, when Waveney entered. She was rather pale and breathless.How shabby and bare the dear old room looked to her, after her longabsence! And yet, in spite of its dinginess, how she loved it!
"Oh, father, how nice it is to be here again!" she said, softly, as shestood near him. And Everard smiled and patted her cheek.
"Ingram left those flowers for you," he said, pointing to a charmingbouquet on Mollie's little painting-table. "He was so sorry that hecould not wait and see you, but he had to meet an old friend at hisclub." But before Waveney could make any reply to this, or look at herflowers, a pleasant-looking woman in nurse's garb entered. She had agentle face, and kind eyes, and Waveney went up to her at once and tookher hand.
"You are my sister's Nurse Helena," she said, quickly. "Thank you forall your care of Mollie. May I see her soon?"
"Certainly. Will you come with me now? Miss Ward heard the carriagestop, and she sent me down to bring you up at once. I need not cautionyou," she continued, as they went upstairs, "to be very quiet, as mypatient is still weak. She is on the new couch that Mr. Ingram sent forher use, and I think you will say she looks very comfortable." Waveneywas far too agitated to answer. As Nurse Helena opened the door, sheheard Mollie's dear, familiar voice say, in weak accents, "Wave,darling, is it really you?" and the next moment she was kneeling by thecouch, and she and Mollie were clasped in each other's arms, andMollie's thin white cheek was wetted by her sister's tears.
"Wave, dear, you must not cry so," whispered Mollie, in a troubledvoice. "I am better, and Nurse Helena says that I get stronger everyday." Then Waveney, ashamed of her want of self-control, andremembering the nurse's injunction, brushed away her tears and tried tosmile.
"I have wanted my old sweetheart so badly," she faltered, and withdifficulty she repressed a sob; in spite of her pallor, Mollie lookedlovelier than ever--almost too fragile and beautiful, Waveney thought,with that faint flush of excitement on her wasted cheeks, and the violetlines under the large eyes.
"Not more than I have wanted you, darling," returned Mollie, softly."Wave, I want to see your dear face more clearly. Look, Nurse Helena hasput that seat close to me, so that I can hold your hand, and we can talkcomfortably. She is going to leave us alone for a quarter of an hour,and I have promised to be good and not tire myself." Then, as NurseHelena closed the door, "Oh, Wave, it is almost worth all the pain andweariness, to have such happiness as this!"
"It is almost too good to be true," returned Waveney, tenderly. "DearMollie, it has been such a dreadful time. If I could only have borne thepain for you! But to know you were suffering, and that strangers werenursing you, and I could do nothing--nothing----" and a faint shuddercrossed her as she remembered those days of anguish and suspense.
"Hush, darling," replied Mollie; but there were tears in her eyes. "Wewill not talk about that sad time now. Do you think I did not know whatmy Waveney was feeling? That night I was so bad, and I thought thatperhaps I should die, I prayed that I might see you once more, and thatwe might bid each other good-bye. There, don't fret," for Waveney waskneeling beside her again, with her face hidden in the pillow. "I onlywant to tell you how good Nurse Helena was to me, and how she comfortedme. I was very miserable the next day, though I believe I was reallybetter; and when Nurse Helena asked me what was troubling me, I told herit was because I was so wicked that I felt I could not be happy inheaven, if my Waveney were breaking her heart about me here, and thatwith such feelings I was not fit to die. And she said, in such acomforting way,--
"'But you are not going to heaven yet, my child, so you need not troubleyour head about leaving your sister. As for feeling wicked--well, we arenone of us angels, but it is my belief that our Heavenly Father will notbe angry with us for loving those He has given us to love.' Oh, she issuch a sweet woman, Wave! If you only knew her you would like her asmuch as I do. Nurse Miriam was very kind, too, but she is not as nice asNurse Helena."
"I love her already for being so good to my darling," returned Waveney;and then she tried to smile. "Mollie, dear, there is some one else towhom we owe gratitude."
Then a swift, undefinable change passed over Mollie's face.
"I know whom you mean," she returned in a low voice; "and father hastold me how good he has been. It was Mr. Ingram who sent Sir Hindleydown, and he made him come three times. Nurse Helena says his fees aretremendous, and that he is the greatest throat doctor in the world. Andthen he is paying for the nurses. I found that out the other day. Andevery day something comes--game, and wine, and fruit, and flowers, andyesterday this lovely couch. Oh, Wave, somehow it oppresses me to thinkof it all, for how is one to repay such kindness?"
"We will think about that, dear, when you are stronger. Oh, we shallhave so much to talk about and to plan, so you must make haste and getwell, for I cannot do without my sweetheart any longer."
Then Mollie smiled, well satisfied.
"Oh, dear, how nice it will be!" she said, in rather a tired voice. "Doyou know, Wave, Miss Althea sent me a message by father the other day.She has promised to spare you to me whenever I want you, and when I goto the sea you are to come, too."
This was news to Waveney.
"I have heard nothing about it. Are you quite sure?" she asked,doubtfully.
"Quite sure," returned Mollie, decidedly; "but it was only settled lastnight. He--Mr. Ingram, I mean"--and here Mollie spoke rather hurriedlyand nervously, "was talking to father. He said change of air wasnecessary after such an illness, and that the doctor wished it, and thatI should never get strong without it. And then father gave in, and itwas decided that I should go as soon as possible, and that you and NurseHelena were to come, too. Oh, there she comes," as the nurse opened thedoor, "but I am sure our quarter of an hour is not up yet."
"It is just twenty minutes," observed Nurse Helena, composedly. "Justfive minutes too long, I can see, by your face. Miss Ward, will you bidyour sister good-bye, please? I should like her to be quiet for a littlebefore her dinner."
"Yes, you must go, Wave," observed Mollie, with ready submission; "butyou are to have dinner with father before you go back, and I am to seeyou again on Sunday." And then the sisters kissed each other silently.But as Waveney turned on the threshold for a last look, Mollie waved herhand. "Oh, it has been so nice," she said, feebly, "and I am so happy."But, almost before Waveney was downstairs, Mollie was asleep.
"Well," observed Everard, with a questioning smile, "have you talkedMollie into a fever?"
"I am afraid we did talk rather too much," returned Waveney, penitently,"for Mollie looked very tired when I left. But, father, how weak andthin she is! I could not help fretting when I saw her. But she lookssweeter than ever, dear thing, and Miss Althea's blue dressing-gown islovely! She was quite a picture with that Indian silk rug over her feet,and all those beautiful flowers beside her."
"Ingram again," returned Everard, with a groan. "Do you know, he isactually going to Eastbourne next week to take lodgings for her andNurse Helena, and nothing I can say will stop him."
"Mollie says I am to go, too," observed Waveney, anxiously.
"Yes, dear, Miss Harford proposed that, and I think she is right insaying that you need a change, too; you are looking thin and pale, mychild."
"Oh, I am very well," she replied, hastily; and then Ann, theheavy-footed, came up to tell them that dinner was ready. After that, asWaveney was too restless to stay in the house, they went out for a walk,and strolled in Old Ranelagh gardens, and then down the lime walk andalong the embankment to Cheyne Walk; and then, as it was growing dusk,they walked on quickly to Sloane Square, and Everard put her in thetrain.
"Good-bye until Sunday, father, dear," were her last words, as the trainmoved off. But that night, before Waveney fell asleep happily in herPansy Room, Nurse Helena's homely words recurred to her.
"Well, we are none of us angels, but it is my belief that our HeavenlyFather will not be angry with us for loving those He has given us tolove."
"Thank God for that," she murmured, "and that it is no sin that I lovemy Mollie so intensely." And in the dying firelight Waveney folded herlittle hands together, and with a grateful heart said her _Te Deum_.