CHAPTER XVIII.
AUNT MADGE GIVES HER OPINION.
"Death is a black camel that kneels at the gate ofall."--_Abd-el-Kader_.
After all, the dreaded influenza epidemic did not make its appearance,and, though people still talked learnedly of germs and microbes, andput meddling fingers into the medical pie, it was decided by thelegitimate authorities that the mischief had blown over for the present.
It is a curious fact that there is a fashion even in talk. A subjectis discussed until it is worn thread-bare. When the germ theory wasexhausted the bicycle craze took its place. Perhaps future students ofhieroglyphics may yet discover in some palimpsest that in old days theEgyptian maidens had quaint iron machines that carried them swiftlythrough the desert.
In the early March days, when the winds were keen and blusterous, Mr.Williams died; his end was very sudden.
Greta had just retired to her room for the night when the nurse noticeda change in him and hastily summoned her. A messenger was sent for Dr.Luttrell, but before he could reach the house Mr. Williams was dead.
He could have done nothing if he had been there. That was the solecomfort Marcus could give to the stricken daughter, and she knew thathe spoke the truth.
The bow of the king of terrors is never drawn at a venture. The arrowgoes deep and true, but to Greta and Olivia he was only the angel ofsorrow, who did his master's bidding. Alwyn in after years worked outthis idea in a noble picture called the "House of Mourning."
The little one, evidently the sole child and heir of a goodly heritage,lay panting out his feeble life on the pillow. The broken-heartedparents bent over him hand in hand. The filmy look of unshed tears inthe mother's eyes was wonderfully rendered. On the threshold stood akingly presence, in dark trailing robes of majesty and a starry crownon his head. The face, solemn and beautiful, wore an expression ofinfinite pity; the arms were stretched out to the child with a gestureof tenderness.
Underneath was written those striking words: "Is it well with thechild?" and the answer, "It is well." It was that picture that madeAlwyn Gaythorne's name.
Olivia hurried round to Brunswick Place as soon as her husband brokethe news to her, and spent the greater part of each day there for thenext week or two.
It was touching to see how the poor girl clung to her friends; shewould do nothing without their advice.
Dr. Luttrell saved her as much as possible. He and Alwyn did thenecessary business, and Olivia brought her work and Dot, and strove inevery way to cheer and console her.
It was a very quiet funeral. Only Marcus and his wife and Alwyn andthe lawyer were present. When they went back to the house the will wasread. The provisions were perfectly simple. Everything, with theexception of a few minor legacies, was left to Greta,--the house inBrunswick Place and an income of nearly three thousand a year.
Olivia opened her eyes a little widely when she heard this. She had noidea that Greta would be such a rich woman. But Greta herself seemedutterly indifferent.
"How am I to live on here alone?" she said, with an outburst of grief,when she found herself left with Olivia. "Dear Mrs. Luttrell, you mustboth help me. All my friends must help me to some decision, but tolive alone in this house just because it belongs to me; oh, I cannot doit," with a sudden shiver of repulsion. "I would sooner go into ahospital and learn nursing." But when Olivia repeated this speech toMarcus he only smiled.
"An attractive young woman with three thousand a year will soondiscover some object of interest," he said, a little dryly. "But itwould hardly do to hint at this just now. Nursing in a hospital is afine work, no doubt, for anyone who has a vocation, but you may as welltell Miss Williams not to ask my advice. She has not the physicalstrength; besides, in her position, the idea is absurd.
"Why take the bread out of other women's mouths? No, no; just counselher to patience, and in a few months we shall see which way the windblows," for, though no word had yet passed between them, Marcus wasquite aware of Alwyn Gaythorne's _penchant_ for his old playfellow,though the idea was hardly more pleasing to him than it was to Olivia.
"There is not enough of him," he said to himself. "He does not come upto her mark. It is not her money, for Mr. Gaythorne is a rich man andhis son will have plenty, but she stands on a higher plane than his,and, in my humble opinion, Miss Williams could do better for herself."
Strange to say, Mrs. Broderick differed from them. She had alreadymade Greta's acquaintance, and they had mutually taken to each other.Greta had been charmed with Mrs. Broderick's cheerfulness and quaintspeeches, and Aunt Madge, in her turn, had declared herself fascinatedby Greta's gentleness. "She is exactly my idea of a young Englishgentlewoman," she had said after her first visit. "I thought thearticle had gone out of fashion. Oh," as Olivia looked shocked atthis, "I grant you there are hundreds and thousands of good, honestgirls, I'm thankful to say, but they are so terribly outspoken and upto date. Of course, I am only an old-fashioned frump and sadly behindthe times, but though slang may not be sinful and a little outwardroughness is only the husk, and there is plenty of sweet, sound kernelinside, yet I must own, Livy, I like gentleness as well."
Alwyn and Aunt Madge were already firm friends. She shared hisartistic tastes and could talk intelligently to him on the subjects heliked best, and from the first she refused to see any defects in him.
"My dear Livy," she once said when Olivia had made a somewhatdisparaging remark about his want of steadiness, "you are far toocritical. You judge men by Marcus's standard, but you must rememberevery one is not a moral son of Anak.
"Now Mr. Alwyn is a great favourite of mine, and I think highly of him.Few young men would be so good-natured as to come two or three times aweek to chat with an elderly invalid. And yet that is what Mr. Alwyndoes, and he knows I enjoy his visits.
"Yesterday when he came in he found Miss Williams sitting with me, andthey both looked as pleased as though they had not met for years. Andit made me feel quite young to look at them. Oh!" in an exasperatedtone, as Olivia shook her head, "I know what that means,--that you andMarcus forbid the banns,--but you might just as well try to stop anexpress train with a penny whistle, so you may as well save your breath.
"Those two mean to take each other for better or worse. They don'tknow it themselves yet, but it is written already in the book of fate."
"Oh, Aunt Madge, how can you say such things? You have not seen Gretamore than three or four times."
"All the same, the oracle has spoken," with a wise nod of her head."My dear, Greta Williams was born into this world to be someone'scrutch. A strong, healthy-minded man could not utilise her bestqualities. She would be simply wasted on him. She has got to motherher husband, you see, and that is what Mr. Alwyn wants his wife to do.Leave them alone, they will soon find out their need of each other.And then they will settle matters. And for pity's sake, Olive, don'tyou try and put a spoke in their wheel." But Olivia, who was a littlehuffy on the subject, refused to say another word.
"It was no business of hers or anyone's," she said, pointedly, "whomAlwyn Gaythorne chose to marry, but in her opinion it was always a pityto couple names together beforehand," and with this virtuous snub sherose to take her leave, but Mrs. Broderick only indulged in one of herhearty laughs.
"Livy, I do declare you are actually cross with me,--well, there, Iwill not say another word; don't look as though I have been talkingtreason. I quite allow your Greta is too good for any ordinary faultyman, and that even my young friend is not worthy of her," and at thisadmission Olivia's brow cleared.
"Thank you for saying that, Aunt Madge. I know we do not reallydiffer, only--only," with a little laugh, "you are always so ready fora love-story."
"Yes, I love a lover," returned Mrs. Broderick, playfully, and then hermanner changed. "No, I will not jest about it; life and death and loveare no subjects for jests,--they are three splendid realities. Yes, mydear Olive, you are right, and love-stories, even the poorest, interestme. Haven't I l
ived mine? Do I not know how it glorifies life? butwe can only read the first chapters here,--there is eternity for uspresently. 'The many mansions,' I think I love those words more thanany in the Bible; they always make me think that even there there willbe a special home for Fergus and me and our boy."
Olivia certainly found it difficult to satisfy the various claims onher; her household tasks occupied most of the morning; as long asMartha remained their sole domestic, it was necessary for the mistressto superintend the cooking. To look after Marcus's comfort was herfirst and paramount duty, and it was seldom that she found herself atleisure until the afternoon, and then she and Greta were generallytogether, either at Brunswick Place or Galvaston Terrace.
Sometimes she would combine her duties by taking Greta with her whenshe went to Mayfield Villas, but she never ventured to take her toGalvaston House after her first visit, as she found that Mr. Gaythornepreferred her to come alone.
"Miss Williams is all very well," he said once, "and we are alwayspleased to see her, but I like my pleasures singly; besides, Alwynalways monopolizes her. Invalids are allowed to be exacting, so I maytell you plainly that I like to have you to myself," and after thatOlivia went alone.
It was always a pleasure to her to go there, she had such a warmwelcome from the father and son, and it did her heart good to see thelight of happiness in the old man's eyes, he seemed hardly able to bearhis son out of his sight. Alwyn's health, his comforts and his tasteswere his chief topics of conversation. One day he made Alwyn take herupstairs and show her the new studio that had been planned; two roomswere to be thrown into one, and a fresh window put in.
Directly the work was commenced he and Alwyn were going to Bournemouthfor a few weeks. The sea-voyage had been postponed for the present.Mr. Gaythorne fretted himself at the idea of parting so soon with hisboy, and he hated the thought of his going alone.
"If there were someone to look after him," he would say to Dr.Luttrell; "but I feel as though I could never trust him to take care ofhimself again; look at him, he is a perfect wreck." And though Marcusstill held to his opinion that a long voyage would be his best remedy,he thought it more prudent to wait a little, and on his side Alwynseemed reluctant to go.
"I have been too much my ain lane already," he said; "I should preferto stay at home a little longer," and then Bournemouth was selected asa compromise. Mrs. Crampton would go with them, and, at Mr.Gaythorne's request, Marcus went down first and chose their rooms.
"Why not go from Saturday to Monday, and take your wife down? I willfrank your expenses," he said, "and the little trip will do you bothgood." And though Marcus hesitated over this, as Martha was too youngto be trusted with the care of Dot, Greta came to the rescue byundertaking to look after the child.
Olivia could scarcely believe her ears when this magnificent projectwas unfolded to her. Two whole days with Marcus by the sea! And theyhad neither of them had an outing since their modest wedding-trip,--aweek at St. Leonards.
"It will be another honeymoon," she said, flushing with pleasure. Andas they sat together in the hotel garden that Saturday evening, shethought of the humble lodging to which Marcus had taken her, and whatfun they had got out of their first attempt at housekeeping.
The little change did them both good, but, though neither of them wouldhave owned it for the world, No. 1, Galvaston Terrace, certainly lookeda little dreary on their return.
The bright spring weather only made the dinginess more apparent, butnothing would induce the landlord to treat them to a fresh coat ofpaint. Marcus whitewashed one or two of the rooms in the intervals ofhis work, and Olivia put up clean curtains and purchased a plant ortwo. As far as scrupulous cleanliness could avail, the little housewas in first-rate order. Nevertheless Marcus gave vent to an impatientsigh now and then as he looked round the small, low room. The sidewindows had been blocked up in the days of the window-tax, and the onesmall window lighted the room imperfectly.
"If we could only move," he said once. "I want you and Dot to havemore light and air. We are too near the cemetery, too. We should domuch better in Compton Street or Norfolk Terrace." And then, as Olivialooked at him in surprise, he said a little impatiently:
"Oh, I know it is not to be done yet. We shall have to want a littlelonger. I believe it was that insufferable woman, Mrs. Tolman, put itinto my head. She actually told me that we ought to move, as no goodclass of patients would ever come to Galvaston Terrace. It was justlike her impudence--eh, Livy?"
"Oh, Marcus, I am so sorry," and Olivia put down her work and looked athim sympathetically. "I thought something had annoyed you the momentyou came in. It is too bad of Mrs. Tolman always to tread uponpeople's corns in this fashion. She might wait until one asks heradvice."
"Oh, but it is true, all the same," he returned, with a tinge ofdespondency in his voice.
"A good house in a good neighbourhood would make all the difference tothe practice. A house in Brunswick Place, for example."
But Olivia only laughed. "Someone besides myself can buildair-castles," she said, archly. "You might as well go on, Marcus. Whynot be Dr. Bevan's partner, too?" Then Marcus started, and an oddlittle smile played round his mouth. The very same thought had alreadyoccurred to him.
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