CHAPTER XXXV.
"WHAT AM I TO SAY?"
"So we grew together, Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, And yet a union in partition, Two lovely berries moulded on one stem."
SHAKESPEARE.
Although March set in fierce and blustering as a lion, it might havebeen as mild as any lamb to Waveney; for when one is young, and theblood courses freely in the veins, even a nipping east wind and greyskies are not the intolerable hardships that older people feel them,especially when a well-spring of joy is bubbling up in the heart.
Mollie was getting well--that was the key-note of Waveney's happiness.And though Althea shivered and looked depressed, as she gazed out at theuninviting prospect, and even Doreen shrugged her shoulders and madeuncomplimentary remarks on the weather, Waveney only laughed and lookedprovokingly cheerful.
"I don't mind the long walk one bit," she returned, in answer to apitying observation from Althea. "I shall walk as fast as possible andkeep myself warm; and as for the dust, don't you know the old saying,that 'a peck of March dust is worth a king's ransom'?" But Althea smileda little sadly as Waveney ran out of the room to put on her hat andjacket.
"How happy the child is!" she said, with an involuntary sigh. "Afterall, Dorrie, when one is growing old, it is pleasant to have a brightyoung creature about the house. Don't you remember when Aunt Sara firstsuggested that I should have a companion, that you looked rather blank,and said that our old cosy life would be quite spoiled?"
Althea spoke in rather a depressed voice, and Doreen looked at heranxiously.
"Yes, I remember," she replied, quietly. "The idea quite worried me. Iwas almost cross with Aunt Sara for mentioning it. But I am glad nowthat Waveney came to us," she continued, thoughtfully. "She is a dearlittle thing, and one can't help loving her; and then, you have foundher such a comfort."
"Indeed, I have," was Althea's reply; "she is such a bright, intelligentlittle soul, and she has so much tact and sympathy. I am afraid I almostbegrudge her to Mollie, especially as----" But here she checked herself.
"You are not feeling quite well, dear," observed her sister,affectionately. "I hope your eyes are not troubling you." But Altheashook her head.
"Not particularly. No, don't fuss, Dorrie, there is nothing really thematter; only the east wind is my enemy. How is one to feel happy withoutsunshine and warmth? Do you remember that March we spent in the Riviera,and those orange groves, and the bed of Neapolitan violets under ourwindow? How delicious it was!"
"But, Ally, dear," remonstrated Doreen, "why do you speak in thatregretful voice? You know Aunt Sara wanted you to spend the winter withher at Mentone, but you refused at once."
"Of course I refused," returned Althea, indignantly. "Do you think I wasgoing to leave you alone all the winter? Besides, there was my work.What would have become of my Porch House Thursdays, and my classes andLibrary teas? Oh, no, Dorrie. What is the use of 'putting one's hand tothe plough, and looking back?' Work has its responsibilities. As long asmy strength lasts I want to do my own little bit as well and asperfectly as I can." And then Mitchell came in for the coachman'sorders, and Althea went off to read the letters in the library.
Waveney spent half her time at Cleveland Terrace. As Mollie grewstronger, she yearned incessantly for her sister's companionship, and,as Althea once remarked to Everard, "it seemed useless and cruel to keepthem apart." And Everard fully concurred in this opinion.
"But you are very good to spare my little Waveney to us so much," hesaid, gratefully, "and we ought not to take advantage of your kindness.The child was here three or four times last week. I am afraid she isneglecting all her duties for Mollie." But though Althea was tootruthful to deny this, she assured him that she was perfectly willingto spare her young companion.
"I don't think I ever saw two sisters so devoted to each other," shecontinued. "It is really beautiful to see their love for each other."
"It has always been the same," returned Everard, in a moved voice. "Evenwhen they were mere babies, Mollie would refuse to touch her cake unlessWaveney had half. Dorothy had to put them to sleep in the same cot, orMollie would have cried half the night. It was the prettiest sight, sheused to tell me." And then he broke up rather abruptly. "I am an oldfool about my girls," he said, with a little laugh; "but, you see, Ihave had to be mother as well as father for so many years." But Altheamade no answer to this. She only bade him good-bye very kindly. It wasthe first time he had mentioned his wife to her. Dorothy! How his voicehad softened as he mentioned the beloved name.
That morning when Waveney made her little speech about a peck of Marchdust, she found a delightful surprise awaiting her at Cleveland Terrace.
Her father was not at home. She knew well it was his day at Norwood, soshe went hastily past the studio door without peeping in as usual; butthe next moment she saw Nurse Helena on the threshold beckoning her.
"Will you come in here for a minute, Miss Ward?" she said, rathermysteriously. And Waveney, with some surprise, retraced her steps, andthen, as she followed her in, a little cry of delight broke from her,for there was Mollie pillowed up cosily on the old couch, and smiling ather in the most triumphant way.
"Oh, you darling!" exclaimed Waveney, in perfect ecstasy at the sight."Do you mean that you have actually walked downstairs?"
"Yes, and all by myself, too," returned Mollie, proudly. "But do youknow, Wave, I have been grumbling dreadfully. 'Grumps' is not a bitcomfortable;" and she pinched the old moreen cushions rather pettishly."But Nurse Helena promises that I shall have my lovely new couch downto-morrow. It will stand quite well in that corner between the windowand fireplace, and I shall be able to see any one who comes to the gate.It is so stupid only to lie and look at the fire."
"Of course it is, you poor dear; but you will soon be watching the wavesbreaking on the beach, so cheer up, sweetheart." But it was evidentthat Mollie was not listening. Something else was occupying herthoughts. Her fingers played absently with Waveney's curly hair as sheknelt beside her. Then she drew a note from under her pillow.
"Nurse Helena brought me this on my breakfast-tray," she said, flushinga little as she spoke; "but I have not answered it yet. I want you totell me what I ought to do." Then Waveney, who had recognized Ingram'shandwriting, read it somewhat eagerly.
"MY DEAR MISS MOLLIE," was all it said--"Do you think you are well enough to see an old friend? I need not tell you what pleasure it will give me if you will allow me to come. You shall choose your own day and hour--any time from cockcrow to midnight will be equally convenient to
"Yours most sincerely," "MONSIEUR BLACKIE."
"Short and sweet," observed Waveney, smiling at the superscription; butMollie was in no mood for trifling.
"What am I to say?" she asked, anxiously, and her eyes looked brightwith excitement.
"My darling, that is for you to decide. Are you sure that you are quitestrong enough to see Mr. Ingram? Shall we ask Nurse Helena what shethinks about it?"
"I have asked her," replied Mollie. "And she said that if I did not stayup too long, or tire myself with talking, that probably I should be wellenough to see a visitor, the day after to-morrow."
"Well, dear, shall I write and tell him so? Shall I ask him to come inthe morning, or the afternoon?"
"Oh, the afternoon, please. But Waveney,"--and here Mollie seemed on theverge of tears--"of course I want to see Mr. Ingram, but yet I do dreadit so. What am I to say to him? And how am I to thank him, for all hehas done? I feel quite overwhelmed by it all." And then, as Mollie wasstill very weak, one or two tears rolled down her cheeks; but Waveneykissed them away.
"Oh, you silly child!" she said, tenderly. "Fancy crying, just because akind friend wants to come and see you! Why, it will do you all the goodin the world! There is no one so amusing as Monsieur Blackie. Take myadvice, Mollie dear. Be as kind to him as you like, but don't troubleyour poor little head about making him grateful speeches. Wait
untilyou are stronger. You may depend upon it," she continued, "that theBlack Prince has simply been pleasing himself, quite as much as he hasyou. I expect generosity is just an amiable vice of his--a sort ofcraze, don't you know. He likes playing minor providence in otherpeople's lives. It makes him feel warm and comfortable." But Mollie wasquite indignant at this.
"You are very clever," she said, rather petulantly. "But you talk greatnonsense, sometimes. An amiable vice, indeed! I should like father tohear that! Why, the other night he said, quite seriously, that Mr.Ingram had been a perfect godsend to us all. And Waveney"--and hereMollie's voice grew plaintive--"I do feel as though I owe my life tohim. For if it had not been for Sir Hindley, and Nurse Helena, and NurseMiriam I should never have got well--for father had no money, and whatcould we have done?" and here Mollie broke off with a sob.
"Darling, do you think I don't know all that?" returned Waveney, vexedwith herself for her attempt at a joke. "I would not undervalue Mr.Ingram's kindness for the world. He has been our benefactor--yours, andmine, and father's, and Noel's. As for myself, I could grovel in thedust at his feet, out of sheer gratitude for all his goodness to myMollie. What I meant to say was this: Mr. Ingram does not want ourthanks. We are his friends, and he just loves to help us. So be as niceto him as you like, sweetheart, but don't embarrass him with gratefulspeeches, for you would certainly cry over them--and then he will getinto a panic, and ring violently for Nurse Helena." And then Mollielaughed. And after that they talked with their old cheerfulness. Indeed,Waveney was quite wild with spirits. For Althea had told her, thatmorning, that she would give her a month's holiday, when Mollie went toEastbourne.
It so happened that Waveney had promised to spend an hour at theHospital with Corporal Marks on the very afternoon that was fixed forMr. Ingram's visit. The old man was depressed and ailing. "Jonadab hasnever got over the sergeant's loss," as his sister used to say; and shereminded Mollie of this.
"It just fits in nicely," she observed; "for, you see, two is company,and three's none, and I should have been dreadfully in the way. But Ishall be back in time to make tea for Mr. Ingram, and we will have acosy little time together. Now I must go, dear, for I promised MissAlthea that I would not be late. So good-bye until the day afterto-morrow."
"I wish it were to-morrow," whispered Mollie, feverishly. "I do so hatewaiting for anything like that. I shall just think about it, and what Iam to say, until I get quite nervous. There, don't talk about it anymore;" and Mollie, who looked flushed and tired, pushed her gently away.
Waveney had promised to have luncheon with her father before she went tothe Hospital, and when Wednesday came she went up to the studio to havea peep at the invalid.
"Why, Mollie!" she exclaimed, as she entered the room, "it is quite atransformation scene!"
And, indeed, the shabby old studio looked wonderfully bright and cosy.The round table had been moved to the other side of the room, andMollie's pretty couch, and a low table that Ingram had sent for her use,were placed between the fireplace and window, and a bowl of Neapolitanviolets was beside her. There were flowers everywhere, and as forMollie,--"Oh, you dear thing! how sweet you look!" remarked Waveney,with a hug.
And, indeed, Mollie had never looked more lovely. Nurse Helena hadfastened two little pink rosebuds in the lace at her throat, and theirsoft, delicate tint just matched Mollie's cheeks; she had a tiny gold_vinaigrette_ in her hand, which she showed Waveney.
"It came this morning, with the flowers," she said, rather shyly.
Waveney looked at it silently. "M. W." was engraved on it.
"Is it not beautiful, Wave? But I wish--I wish he had not sent it."
When luncheon was over, Everard walked with Waveney to the door of theHospital. He had a tiring afternoon's work before him. By tacit consent,neither of them spoke much of Ingram's visit.
"I hope it will not tire Mollie too much," was all Waveney said. Andonce Everard hazarded the observation that Ingram was sure to bepunctual.
Mollie's Prince: A Novel Page 36
