by L. T. Meade
CHAPTER III
The next thing that I recall was also connected with that most terribleday. I was lying on a tiny bed, a sort of cot bed, in a very small room.There was a fire about the size of a pocket-handkerchief burning in thewee-est grate I have ever looked at. A woman was sitting by the firewith her back to me, the woman was knitting and moving her hands veryrapidly. She wore a little cap on her head with long black lappets toit. I noticed how ugly the cap was and how ugly the woman herself lookedas she sat and knitted by the fire. I suppose some little movement on mypart caused her to turn round, for she came towards me and then Iobserved that it was Aunt Penelope.
"That's a good girl," she said; "you are better now, Heather."
A sort of instinct came over me at that moment. Instead of bursting intoa storm of rage and tears, I stayed perfectly quiet. I looked her calmlyin the face. I remembered every single thing that had happened. Fatherhad gone, and I was left behind. I said, in a gentle tone:
"I am much better, Aunt Penelope."
"Come," said Aunt Penelope, speaking cheerfully, "you shall have somenice bread and milk presently, and then I will undress you myself andput you to bed. Lie quite quiet now like a good child, while I go downto prepare the bread and milk."
I made no answer, but lay still, my eyes fixed on her face. She turnedand left the room.
The moment she had shut the door I sat up in bed. I had been acting apart. I was only eight years old, that is, eight years and a half, orvery nearly so. Nevertheless, I was a consummate actress all the timeAunt Penelope was in the room. The instant she had gone I scrambled tomy feet and slid off the little bed and stood upright on the floor. Isaw the hat I had worn when I came from Southampton, lying on a chair,and also the little jacket. I further noticed with satisfaction that myboots were still on my feet. In a flash I had managed to button on myjacket and to slip the elastic of my hat under my thick hair, and then,with the half-crown which father had given me safely deposited in mypocket, I softly, very softly, opened my bedroom door. Oh, yes; I wasacting splendidly! I was quite excited with the wonder of the thing, andthis excitement kept me up for the time being. I heard Aunt Penelope'svoice downstairs. She was saying something; her words reached me quitedistinctly.
"Go at once to the chemist's, Jonas, and tell him to make up theprescription the doctor has given, and bring it back again as fast asever you can. Wait for it until it is made up. The child is highlyfeverish, and must have the medicine at once."
Jonas said, "Yes, Miss Despard," and I heard the front door of thelittle house open and shut again. I also heard Aunt Penelope going awayto the back part of the premises, and I further heard the shrill voiceof the parrot, making use of his constant cry, "Stop knocking at thedoor!" Now was my opportunity.
I glided downstairs like a little ghost. I ran swiftly across the hall,I opened the front door--it was quite easy to open, for the door was avery small one--and then I let myself out. The next minute I was runningdown the street, running as fast as ever I could, and as far as possiblefrom Hill View House. I had a distinct object in my mind. I did not meanto run away in the ordinary sense; my one sole desire was to go to therailway station to meet the train which would bring Anastasia. Fatherhad said with his own lips that she would come by the next train. Ofcourse, I had no idea where the railway station was. I felt that I mustrun as quickly as possible, for Jonas might see me, and although he wasquite a kind boy, I did not want him to see me then. I hoped thechemist--whoever the chemist was--would keep him some time, and that thefeverish person--whoever the feverish person was--would be kept waitingfor whatever Jonas was fetching for that person. I did not meet Jonas,and I ran a long way. Presently I came bang up against a stout,red-faced woman, who said:
"Look out where you are going, little 'un."
I paused and looked into her face.
"Have I hurt you?" I asked.
The woman burst out laughing.
"My word!" she answered. "As if a mite like you would hurt _me_. Is itlikely? And who are you, and where are you going?"
"I am going to the railway station to meet Anastasia," I said. Then Iadded, as a quick thought flashed through my mind, "Anastasia is mynurse, and she's coming by the next train. I will give you some moneyif you will take me to the railway station to meet her."
"How much money will you give me?" asked the red-faced woman.
"I will give you a whole half-crown," I said. "Please, please takeme--it is so dreadfully important, for the next train may come in, andAnastasia may not know where to go to."
"Well, to be sure," said the woman, looking me all over from top to toe;"I don't seem to know you, little miss, but there's no harm in me takingyou as far as the station, and the next train will be due in a very fewminutes, so we'll have to go as fast as possible."
"I don't mind running, if you don't mind running too," I answered.
"I can't run," said the woman; "I'm too big."
"Well," I said, "perhaps the best thing of all would be for you to showme how to get to the railway station. If you do that, I can run veryfast indeed, and you shall have your half-crown."
"That would be much the best way," said the woman; "and look, missy, youhaven't very far to go. Here we are at the foot of this steep hill.Well, you run up it as fast as ever you can, and when you get to thetop you will see the railway station right in front of you, and all youhave to do is to ask if the train is in. There's only one train in andone train out at a little railway station like ours, so you can't missyour way. You will have to ask a porter, or any man you see, to show youthe platform where the trains come in, and there you are. Now, myhalf-crown, please, missy."
"Yes. Here it is," I answered, "and I am very much obliged to you,woman."
I thrust the money into her hand and began to run as fast as ever Icould up the hill. I was a very slight child, and ran well. With thefear and longing, the indescribable dread of I knew not what in myheart, there seemed to be wings attached to my feet now, for I went upthe hill so fast--oh, so fast!--until at last I arrived, breathless, atthe top. A man was standing leisurely outside an open door. He said,"Hallo!" when he saw me, and I answered back, "Hallo!" and then he said:
"What can I do for you, little miss?" and I said:
"I have come to meet the next train, and, please, when will it be in,for Anastasia is coming by it?"
"Whoever is Anastasia?" asked the man.
"My nurse," I answered; "and she's coming by the next train."
The man whistled.
"Please show me the right platform, man," I said. "I have no money togive you at all, so I hope you will be very, very kind, for I gave allthe money I possessed in the world to a stout, red woman at the bottomof the hill. She showed me how to get here, but she could not run fastenough, for she was so very stout, so I left her and came on alone.Please show me the platform and Anastasia shall give you some money whenshe comes."
"I don't want any money, missy," said the man in a kind tone. "You comealong of me. There's the London express specially ordered to stop here,because Sir John Carrington and his lady are expected. The expressesdon't stop here as a rule, missy--only the slow trains; but maybe theperson you want will be in this express."
"She's sure to be if it's the next train," I said. "Is it the nexttrain?"
"Well, yes, miss, I suppose it is. Ah! she is signalled."
"Who is signalled?" I asked. "Is it Anastasia?"
"No, missy; the train. You grip hold of my hand, and I'll see you safe.What a mite of a thing you be."
I held the man's hand very firmly. I liked him immensely--I put him atonce third in my heart. Father was first, Anastasia second, and therailway porter third.
The great train came thundering in, and a kind-looking gentleman,accompanied by a beautifully-dressed lady and a number of servants,alighted on the platform. But peer and peer as I would, I could not geta sight of Anastasia.
"Now, missy, you look out," said the porter. "Wherever do she be?"
"Hallo--h
allo! Where have you dropped from?" said a voice at that momentin my ears, and, looking up, I saw that Sir John Carrington was a manwho had come all the way from India on board the _Pleiades_, and that,of course, I knew him quite well.
"Why, Heather," he said. "My dear," he continued, turning to his wife,"here's Major Grayson's little girl. Heather, child, what are you doinghere?"
"I am looking for Anastasia," I said, in a bewildered sort of way.
Lady Carrington had a most sweet face. I had never noticed before howvery lovely and kind it could be.
"You poor little darling," she said, "Anastasia isn't here." Then shebegan whispering to her husband and looking down at me, and her soft,brown eyes filled with tears, and Sir John shook his head and I heardhim say, "Dear, dear, how very pathetic!" and then Lady Carrington said,"We must take her home with us, John."
"No, no," I answered at that; "I can't go home--I must wait until the_next_ train, for Anastasia will come by the _next_ train."
"We'll see that she's met," said Sir John. "Come, Heather, you've got tocome home with us."
I have often wondered since what my subsequent life would have been hadI really gone home that night with Sir John and Lady Carrington, whetherthe troubles which lay before me would ever have existed, and whether Ishould have been the Heather I now am, or not. But be that as it may,just as Lady Carrington had put sixpence into the hand of my kind porterand was leading me away towards the beautiful motor car which waswaiting for her, a strong and very bony hand was laid on my shoulder,and a voice said fiercely, and yet with a tremble in it:
"Well, you are enough to try the nerves of anybody, you bad, naughtychild!"
"Oh, Aunt Penelope," I said. "Oh, Aunt Penelope, I can't go back withyou!"
"We knew this little girl," said Sir John; "she came from India on boardthe _Pleiades_ with us."
"Heather Grayson came from India on board the _Pleiades_ to live withme," said Aunt Penelope. "Her father has just committed her to my care.She is an extremely naughty child. I haven't the least idea who youare."
"This is my card," said Sir John.
When Aunt Penelope read the words on the card she became kinder in hermanner.
"I suppose I must welcome you back again, Sir John," she said. "It isyears and years since you visited your native place. But I won't detainyou now. Heather, come with me."
"Pray give us your name," said Lady Carrington.
"Miss Despard, of Hill View," was her answer, and then she took my handand led me out into the street.
I suppose I was really feverish, or whatever that word signifies to achild, for I do not remember anything about what happened during thenext few days; then by slow degrees memory returned to me. I was veryweak when this happened. Memory came back in a sort of dim way at first,and seemed to be half real and half a dream. Once I was quite certainthat I saw a tall and broadly-made man in the room, and that when hestood up his head nearly touched the ceiling, and that when he sat downby my cot and took my hand I said "Daddy, daddy," and after that I had acomfortable sleep. There is no doubt whatever that I had a sort of dreamor memory of this tall man, not once, but twice or thrice; then I didnot see him any more.
Again, I had another memory. Anastasia had really come by a train atlast, and was in my room. She was bending over me and smoothing mybed-clothes, and telling me over and over again to be a good girl, and Ikept on saying, "Oh, Anastasia, don't let the pins stick in," but eventhat memory faded. Then there came more distinct thoughts that seemed tobe not memories but realities. Aunt Penelope sat by my bedside. Therewas nothing dreamlike about her. She was very upright and full ofpurpose, and she was always knitting either a long grey stocking or ashort sock. She never seemed to waste a moment of her time, and while Ilooked at her in a dazed sort of way, she kept on saying, "Don't fidgetso, Heather," or perhaps she said, "Heather, it's time for your gruel,"or, "Heather, my dear, your beef tea is ready for you."
At last there came a day when I remembered everything, and there were noshadows of any sort, and I sat up in bed, a very weak little child. AuntPenelope was kinder than usual that day. She gave me a little bit ofchicken to eat, and I was so hungry that I enjoyed it very much, andthen she said:
"Now you will do nicely, Heather, and I hope in future you will becareful of your health and not give me such a fright again."
"Aunt Penelope," I said, "I want to ask you a question, or rather, twoquestions."
"Ask away, my dear," she replied.
"Did father come here by any chance? While I was in that cloud sort ofworld I seemed to feel that he came to see me, and that he looked tallerand broader than before."
"I should think he did," said Aunt Penelope. "Why, he had to stoop toget in at the door, and when he was in the room his head almost touchedthe ceiling."
"Then he was here?" I said.
"Yes. He came three times to see you. That was when you were reallybad."
"When is he coming again?" I asked.
"Finish your chicken, and don't ask silly questions," snapped AuntPenelope.
I did finish my chicken, and Aunt Penelope took the plate away.
"Was Anastasia here also?" I asked. "And did I say to her, 'Please,don't let the pins stick in'?"
"The woman who brought you back from India came to see you once ortwice," said Aunt Penelope.
"Then she did catch the next train?" I said.
"You have talked enough now, my dear Heather. Lie down and go to sleep."
"When will she come again?" I asked.
"You have talked enough. I am not going to answer any silly questions.Lie down and sleep."
I was very sleepy, and I suppose that when you are really as weak as Iwas then, you don't feel things very much. Now I allowed Aunt Penelopeto lay me flat down in my little bed, and closing my eyes I forgoteverything in slumber.
Those are my first memories. I got well, of course, of that childishillness, and Aunt Penelope by and by explained things to me.
Anastasia was not coming back at all, and father had gone to India. AuntPenelope was rather restrained and rather queer when she spoke offather. She told me also that she had the entire charge of me, and thatI was being brought up at her expense, as father had no money to spendon me. She gave me to understand that she was a very poor woman, andcould not afford any servant except Buttons, or Jonas, as she calledhim. She said she preferred a boy in the house to a woman, for he wassmarter at going messages and a greater protection at night. I could notunderstand half what she said. Almost all her narrative was mixed withinjunctions to me to be good, to be very good, to love my aunt more thananyone in the world, but to love God best. When I stoutly declared thatI loved father better than anyone in any world, she said I was a naughtychild. I did not mind that--I kept on saying that I loved father best.
Then I got quite well and was sent to school, to a funny sort of littleday school, where I did not learn a great deal, but made friends slowlywith other children. I liked school better than home, for Aunt Penelopewas always saying, "Don't, don't!" or, "You mustn't, you mustn't!" whenI was at home; and as I never knew why I should not do the things shesaid I was not to do, I kept on doing them in a sort of bewilderment.But at school there were rules of a sort, and I followed them asattentively as I could.
Thus the years went by, and from a little girl of eight years of age Iwas a tall, slender girl of eighteen, grown up--yes, grown up at last,and I was waiting for father, who was coming back for good, and my heartwas full to the brim with longing to see him.
