by L. T. Meade
CHAPTER XV.--WAS HE ACTING?
"I can't help it, Kitty; you really must not ask me. I'm a very muchpuzzled boy. I'm--I'm--Kitty, did you ever have to pull yourself up shortjust when you wanted to say something most interesting? I'm alwayspulling myself up short, and I'm dreadfully, dreadfully tired of it."
"It must be something like giving a sudden jerk to one of our ponies,"said Kitty. "I know--it must be a horrid feeling. Does it set your teethon edge, Phil, and do you quite tremble with impatience?"
"Yes," said Phil, throwing himself full length on the floor of the oldarmory, where he and Kitty had ensconced themselves on a pouring wet dayearly in the month of February. "Yes, Kitty, if feeling very unpleasantall over means setting your teeth on edge, I do know it. I'm a littleboy with lots of secrets, and I never can tell them, not to you nor toanybody at Avonsyde--no, not to anybody. I'll get accustomed to it intime, but I don't like it, for naturally I'm the kind of boy who can'tkeep a secret.'
"What a horrid man you'll grow up!" said Kitty, eying her cousin withmarked disapproval. "You'll be so reserved and cross-grained anddisagreeable. You'll have been pulled up short so often that you'll lookjerky. Oh, dear me, Phil, I wouldn't be you for a great deal!"
"I wouldn't be myself if I could help it," said Phil, with a sigh whichhe tried hard to smother. "Oh, I say, Kitty-cat, will you coax AuntGrizel to take us into Southampton soon? I am quite certain my lettermust be waiting for me. You don't know, Kitty, you can't possibly guesswhat a letter from his dearest friend means to a rather lonely kind ofboy like me."
"You had better ask Aunt Grizel yourself," answered Kitty, with a littlepout and a little frown. "She's so fond of you, Phil, that she'll do it.She'll take you to Southampton if you coax her and if you put on thatfunny kind of sad look in your eyes. It's the kind of look our spanielputs on, and I never can say 'No' to him when he has it. I don't knowhow you do it, Phil, nor why you do it; but you have a very sorry lookin your eyes when you like. Is it because you're always and alwaysmissing your dearest friend?"
"It's partly that," answered Phil. "Oh, you don't know what he's like,Kitty! He's most splendid. He has got such a grand figure, and he walksin such a manly way, and his eyes are as dark and wonderful-looking asRachel's, and--and--oh, Kitty, was I telling you anything? Please forgetthat I said anything at all; please don't remember on any accountwhatever that I have got a dearest friend!"
"I think you are perfectly horrid!" said Kitty, stamping her foot. "Justthe minute we begin talking about anything interesting you give one ofthose jerks, just as if you had a cruel rider on your back. I can'tthink what it all means. If you have a dearest friend, there's no harmin it; and if you had a Betty to take care of you, there's no harm inthat; and if you lived in a cottage in a plantation, that isn't a sin;and if you did go into the forest to meet the lady, and you didn't meether, although you were nearly swallowed up by a bog, why--why--what's thematter, Phil? How white you are!"
"Nothing," said Phil, suddenly pressing his face down on the cushionagainst which he was lying--"nothing--Kit--I--" He uttered one or twogroans. "Fetch me a little water, please!"
The child's face had suddenly become livid. He clinched his hands andpressed them against his temples, and buried that poor little drawn,piteous face further and deeper into the soft cushion. At last theparoxysm of pain passed; he panted, raised himself slowly, and struggledto his feet.
"Kitty!"
But Kitty was gone. Terrified, the little girl ran through the hall. Thefirst person she met was Mrs. Lovel, who, dressed gracefully in a softblack silk, trimmed with lace, was walking languidly in the direction ofthe great drawing-room.
"You had better come!" said Kitty, rushing up to her and seizing herhand. "Phil is very dreadfully ill. I think Phil will die. He's in thearmory. Come at once!"
Without waiting for the lady's answer, little Kitty turned on her heeland flew back the way she had come. Phil had scarcely time to struggleto his feet, scarcely time to notice her absence, before she was backagain at his side. Putting her arms around his neck, she covered hisface with passionate kisses.
"Phil, Phil, I was so frightened about you! Are you better? Do say youare better. Oh, I love you so much, and I won't be jealous, even if youhave got a dearest friend!"
Phil could stand, but the sudden attack he had passed through was sosharp that words could scarcely come to his lips. Kitty's embrace almostoverpowered him, but he was so innately unselfish that he would notstruggle to free himself, fearing to pain her.
His mother's step was heard approaching. He made a great effort to standupright and formed his little lips into a voiceless whistle.
"Why, Phil, you have been overtiring yourself," said Mrs. Lovel. "Oh,Kitty, how you have exaggerated! Phil does not look at all bad. Isuppose you were both romping, and never ceased until you lost yourbreath; or you were having one of your pretense games, and Phil thoughthe would frighten you by making out he was ill. Ah, Phil, Phil, what anactor you are! Now, my dear boy, I want you to come up to your bedroomwith me. I want to consult you about one or two matters. Fancy, Kitty, amother consulting her little boy! Ought not Phil to be proud? But he isreally such a strong, brave little man that I cannot help leaning onhim. It was really unkind of you to pretend that time, Phil, and to givelittle Kitty such a fright."
Phil's beautiful brown eyes were raised to his mother's face; then theyglanced at Kitty; then a smile--a very sorry smile Kitty consideredit--filled them, and giving his little thin hand to his mother, he walkedout of the armory by her side.
Kitty lingered for a moment in the room which her companion haddeserted; then she dashed away across the brightly lit hall, throughseveral cozy and cheery apartments, until she came to a room brilliantwith firelight and lamplight, where Rachel lay at her ease in a deeparm-chair with a fairy story open on her knee.
"Phil is the best actor in all the world, Rachel!" she exclaimed. "Heturned as white as a sheet just now. He turned gray, and he groaned mostawfully, and he wouldn't speak, and I thought he was dying, and I flewfor some one, and I found Mrs. Lovel, and she came back to Phil, and shelaughed, and said there was nothing the matter, and that Phil was onlyacting. Isn't it wonderful, Rachel, that Phil can turn pale when helikes, and groan in such a terrible way? Oh, it made me shiver to seehim! I do hope he won't act being ill again."
"He didn't act," said Rachel in a contemptuous voice; "that's what hismother said. I wouldn't have her for a mother for a great deal. I'drather have no mother. Poor little Phil didn't act. Don't talk nonsense,Kitty."
"Then if he didn't act he must be very ill," said Kitty. Then, her blueeyes filling with tears, she added: "I do love him so! I love him eventhough he has a dearest friend."
Rachel stretched out her hand and drew Kitty into a corner of her ownluxurious chair. She had not seen Phil, and Kitty's account of himscarcely made her uneasy.
"Even if he was a little ill, he's all right now," she said. "Stay withme, Kitty-cat; I scarcely ever see you. I think Phil is quite yourdearest friend."
"Quite," answered Kitty solemnly. "I love him better than any one,except you, Rachel; only I do wish--yes, I do--that he had not so manysecrets."
"He never told you what happened to him that day in the forest, did he,Kitty?"
"Oh, no; he pulled himself up short. He was often going to, but healways pulled himself up. What a dreadfully jerky man he'll grow up,Rachel."
"He never quite told you?" continued Rachel. "Well, I don't want him totell me, for I know."
"Rachel!"
"Yes, I know all about it. I'm going to see him presently, and I'll tellhim that I know his secret. Now, Kitty, you need not stare at me, forI'm never going to breathe it to any one except to Phil himself. There,Kit, the dressing-gong has sounded; we must go and get ready forsupper."
Meanwhile Mrs. Lovel, taking Phil's hand, had led him out of the armoryand to the foot of the winding stone stairs. Once there she paused. Thelook of placid indifference left her face; she dropped the smili
ng maskshe had worn in Kitty's presence, and stooping down lifted the boy intoher arms and carried him tenderly up the winding stairs, never pausingnor faltering nor groaning under his weight. When they reached the towerbedroom she laid him on his little bed, and going to a cupboard in thewall unlocked it and took from thence a small bottle; she poured a fewdrops from the bottle into a spoon and put the restorative between theboy's blue lips. He swallowed it eagerly, smiled, shook himself, and satup in bed.
"Thank you, mother. I am much better now," he said affectionately.
Mrs. Lovel locked the door, stirred the fire in the old-fashioned grateinto a cheerful blaze, lit two or three candles, drew the heavy curtainsacross the windows, and then dragging a deep arm-chair opposite theglowing hearth, she lifted Phil again into her arms, and sitting down inthe comfortable seat, rocked him passionately to her breast.
"My boy, my boy, was it very bad, very awful?"
"Yes, mother; but it's all right now."
"Did Kitty hear you groan, Phil?"
"Yes, mother; but not the loudest groans, for I buried my head in thecushion. I'm all right now, mother. I can go down again in a minute ortwo."
"No, Phil, you shan't go down to-night. I'll manage it with the oldladies; and Phil, darling, darling, we have almost won; you won't haveto pretend anything much longer. On the 5th of May, on Rachel'sbirthday, you are to be proclaimed the heir. This is the middle ofFebruary; you have only a little more than two months to keep it all up,Phil."
"Oh, yes, mother, it's very difficult, and the pain in my side getsworse, and I don't want it, and I'd rather Rupert had it; but nevermind, mammy, you shan't starve."
He stroked his mother's cheek with his little hand, and she rocked himin her arms in an ecstasy of love and fear and longing. At that momentshe loved the boy better than the gold. She would have given up alldreams of ease and comfort for herself if she could have secured realhealth for that most precious little life.
"Mother," said Phil, "I do want to go to Southampton so badly."
"What for, dearest?"
"Because I'm expecting a letter, mother, from Rupert. No, no, don'tfrown! I can't bear to see you frown. I didn't tell him anything, but Iwrote to him, and I asked him to send his answer to the post-office atSouthampton, and it must be waiting there now; yes, it must, and I dowant to fetch it so dreadfully. Can you manage that I shall go, mother?"
"I'll go for it myself, dear; I'll go to-morrow. There--doesn't motherlove her boy? Yes, I'll go for the letter to Southampton to-morrow.There's the supper-gong, Phil. I must go down, but you shan't. I'llbring you up something nice to eat presently."
"Oh, no, please; I couldn't eat. Just let me lie on my bed quite stillwithout talking. Mother, my darling mother, how can I thank you forpromising to fetch Rupert's letter?"
Mrs. Lovel laid Phil back on his bed, covered him up warmly, and softlyunlocking the door went downstairs.
She had got a shock, a greater shock than she cared to own; but when sheentered the long, low, old-fashioned dining-hall where Miss Griselda andMiss Katharine and the two little girls awaited her, her face wassmiling and careless as usual. The poor, weak-minded, and bewilderedwoman had resumed her mask, and no one knew with what an aching heartshe sat down to her luxurious meal.
"Is Phil still pretending to be very, very dreadfully ill?" called outKitty across the table.
Miss Griselda started at Kitty's words, looked anxiously at Mrs. Loveland at a vacant chair, and spoke.
"Is your boy not well? Is he not coming to supper?" she inquired.
"Phil strained himself a little," answered Mrs. Lovel, "and he had quitea sharp pain in his side--only muscular, I assure you, dear MissGriselda; nothing to make one the least bit uneasy, but I thought itbetter to keep him upstairs. He is going to bed early and won't comedown again to-night. May I take him up a little supper presently?"
"Poor boy! he must be ravenously hungry," said Miss Griselda in acareless tone. "Strained his side? Dear, dear! children are alwayshurting themselves. I wanted him to go with me early to-morrow tocollect mosses. I intend to drive the light cart myself into the forest,and I meant to take Phil and Kitty with me. Phil is so clever at findingthem."
"Oh, he's very strong. He'll be quite ready to go with you, MissGriselda," answered the little boy's mother; but she bent her head asshe spoke, and no one saw how pale her face was.
The meal proceeded somewhat drearily. Kitty was out of spirits at theloss of her favorite companion; Rachel's little face looked scarcelychildish, so intensely watchful was its expression; Mrs. Lovel wore hersmiling mask; and the two old ladies alone were perfectly tranquil andindifferent.
"May I take Phil up some supper?" suddenly asked Rachel.
Mrs. Lovel suppressed a quick sigh, sat down again in her seat, for shewas just rising to go back to Phil, and almost ran her nails into herhands under the table in her efforts to keep down all symptoms ofimpatience.
"Thank you, dear," said Miss Griselda gratefully. "If you go up to Philhis mother need not trouble herself about him until bedtime. We willadjourn to the drawing-room, if you please, Mrs. Lovel. I am anxious tohave another lesson in that new kind of crochet. Katharine, will yougive Rachel some supper to take up to Phil?--plenty of supper, please,dear; he's a hearty boy and ought to have abundance to eat."
Miss Katharine smiled, cut a generous slice of cold roast beef, andpiled two mince-pies and a cheese-cake on another plate. When she hadadded to these a large glass of cold milk and some bread-and-butter, shegave the tray to Rachel, and bidding her be careful not to spill herload, took Kitty's hand and went with her into the drawing-room.
Rachel carried her tray carefully as far as the foot of the windingstairs; then looking eagerly up and down and to right and left, shesuddenly wheeled round and marched off through many underground andbadly lit passages, until she found herself in the neighborhood of thegreat old-fashioned kitchen. Here she was met not by the cook, but byMrs. Newbolt, the lady's-maid.
"Oh, Newbolt, you'll do what I want. Phil is ill, and his mother doesn'twant any one to know about it. Take all this horrid mess away and giveme some strong, strong, beautiful beef tea and a nice little piece oftoast. I'll wait here, and you won't be long, will you, dear Newbolt?"
Newbolt loved Phil and detested his mother. With a sudden snort shecaught up Rachel's tray, and returned presently with a tempting littlemeal suited to an invalid.
"If the child is ill I'll come up with you to see him, Miss Rachel," shesaid.
Phil was lying on his back; his eyes were shut; his face looked verypinched and blue. True, however, to the little Spartan that he was, whenhe heard Rachel's step he started up and smiled and welcomed her in asmall but very cheery voice.
"Thank you for coming to see me," he said, "but I didn't want anysupper; I told mother so. Oh, what is that--white soup? I do like whitesoup. And oysters? Yes, I can eat two or three oysters. How very kindyou are, Rachel. I begin to feel quite hungry, that supper looks sonice."
Rachel carried the tempting little tray herself, but behind her cameNewbolt, whom Phil now perceived for the first time.
"Have you come up to see me, Newbolt?" he said. "But I am not at allill. I happened to get tired, and mother said I must rest here."
"The best place for a tired little boy to rest is in his bed, not onit," said Newbolt. "If you please. Master Phil, I am going to put youinto bed, and then Miss Rachel shall feed you with this nice supper. Oh,yes, sir, we know you're not the least bit ill--oh, no, not the least bitin the world; but we are going to treat you as if you were, all thesame."
Phil smiled and looked up at Newbolt as if he would read her innermostthoughts. He was only too glad to accept her kind services, and quitesighed with relief when she laid him comfortably on his pillows. Newboltwrapped a little red dressing-jacket over his shoulders, and then pokingthe fire vigorously and seeing that the queer old tower room looked ascheerful as possible, she left the two children together. Rachel andPhil made very merry over his supper, a
nd Phil almost forgot that he hadbeen feeling one of the most forsaken and miserable little boys in theworld half an hour ago. Rachel had developed quite a nice little amountof tact, and she by no means worried Phil with questions as to whetherhis illness was real or feigned. But when he really smiled, and thecolor came back to his cheeks, and his laugh sounded strong and merryonce more, she could not help saying abruptly:
"Phil, I have been wanting to see you by yourself for some time. Icannot tell Kitty, for Kitty is not to know; but, Phil, what happened toyou that day in the forest is no secret to me."
Phil opened his eyes very wide.
"What do you mean, Rachel?" he asked. "No, Rachel, you cannot guess it,for I never, never even whispered about that secret."
Rachel's face had turned quite pale and her voice was trembling.
"Shall I whisper it back to you now?" she said. "Shall I tell you whereyou went? You did not meet the myth lady--I begin really to be almostsure she is only a myth lady--but you did meet a lady. She was in grayand she had the saddest face in the world; and oh, Phil, she took youhome--she took you home!"
"Why, Rachel," said little Phil again, "you look just as if you weregoing to cry. How is it you found all this out? And why does it make youso sorrowful?"
"Oh, I want her," said Rachel, trembling and half-sobbing. "I want herso badly. I long for her more than anything. I saw her once and I havenot been quite happy since. She never took me inside her house. Phil, Iam jealous of you. Phil, I want to hear all about her."
"I'm so glad you know," said Phil in cheerful tones. "I was told not totell. I was told to keep it another secret; but if you found it out, orrather if you always knew about it, why, of course you and I can talktogether about her. You don't know how nice it will be to me to be ableto talk to you about one of my secrets. My dearest friend secret, andthe Betty secret, and the little house at the back of the garden secretI must never, never speak of; and the secret about my being a very, verystrong boy--that I mustn't talk about; but you and I can chatter aboutthe lady of the forest, Rachel. Oh, what a comfort it is!"
"It will be a great comfort to me too," answered Rachel. "Let's begin atonce. Tell me every single thing about her. What did she wear? How didshe speak? Had she my ring on her finger?"
Phil smiled and launched forth into a long and minute narrative. Not asingle detail would sharp little Rachel allow him to omit. Whenever hismemory was in danger of flagging she prodded it with vehemence, until atlast even her most rapacious longing was satisfied. When Phil had quiteexhausted all his narrative she breathed a deep sigh and said again:
"I envy you, Phil. You have been inside her house and she has kissedyou."
"She was a very nice and kind lady," concluded Phil, "and she was verygood to me; but all the same, Rachel, I would rather see that otherlady--the lady in green with the lovely face who comes with a gift."
"Perhaps she's only a myth," said Rachel.
"Please, Rachel, don't say so. I want the bag of gold so badly."
Rachel stared and laughed.
"I never thought you were greedy, Phil," she said. "I cannot think, whata little boy like you can want with a bag of gold."
"That's my secret," said Phil, half-closing his eyes and again turningvery pale. "A great many people would be happier if I had that bag ofgold. Rachel," he added, "I do trust I may one day see the lady. I wentto look for her that day in the forest; I went miles and miles to findher, but I didn't, and I was nearly drowned in a bog."
"It is not a bit necessary to go into the forest to see her," answeredRachel; "she might come to you here, in this very room. You know this isthe very oldest part of the house. This part of Avonsyde is quitesteeped in romance, and I dare say the lady has been here once ortwice--that is, of course, if she isn't a myth. There is an old diary ofone of our ancestors in the library, and I have coaxed Aunt Griselda nowand then to let me read in it. One day I read an account of the lady; itwas then I found out about her green dress and her lovely face. Thediary said she was 'passing fair,' and those who looked on her werebeautiful ever afterward. She showed herself but seldom, but would comenow and then for a brief half-minute of time to the fairest and the bestand to those who were to die young."
"Rachel," said little Phil, "just before you came up that time I waslying with my eyes shut, and I was thinking of the beautiful lady, and Ialmost thought I saw her. I should be happy if she came to me."
