Alone in London

by Oliver Optic

  CHAPTER XVI

  A BUD FADING.

  A second summer went by with its long, hot days, when the sun seemed tostand still in the sky, and to dart down its most sultry beams into thedustiest and closest streets. Out in the parks, and in the broadthoroughfares where the fresh breeze could sweep along early in themorning, and in the evening as soon as the air grew cooler, it was verypleasant weather; and the people who could put on light summer dressesenjoyed it very much. But away among the thickly-built and crowdedhouses, where there were thousands of persons breathing over and overagain the same hot and stagnant atmosphere, it seemed as if the mostdelicate and weakly among them must be suffocated by the breathless heat.Old Oliver suffered very greatly, but he said nothing about it; indeed hegenerally forgot the cause of his languor and feebleness. He never knewnow the day of the week, nor the month of the year. If any one had toldhim in the dog-days of July that it was still April, he would only haveanswered gently that it was bright, warm weather for the time of year.

  But about old times his memory was good enough; he could tell longstories of his boyhood, and describe the hills of his native place insuch a manner as to set Tony full of longings after the country, with itscornfields, and meadows, and hedge-rows, which he had never seen. Heremembered his Bible, too, and could repeat chapter after chapterdescribing his Master's life, as they sat together in the perpetualtwilight of their room; for now that it was summer-time it did not seemright to keep the gas burning.

  Tony's crossing had failed him altogether, for in dry weather nobodywanted it; but in this extremity Mr. Ross came to his aid, and procuredhim a place as errand-boy, where he was wanted from eight o'clock in themorning till seven at night; so that he could still open old Oliver'sshop, and fetch him his right papers before he went out, and put theshutters up when he came back. To become an errand-boy was a good stepforwards, and Tony was more than content. He never ran about bare-headedand barefooted now as he had done twelve months before; and he had madesuch good progress in reading and writing that he could already make outthe directions upon the parcels he had to deliver, after they had beenonce read over to him. He did not object to the dry weather and cleanstreets as he had done when his living depended upon his crossing; on thecontrary, he enjoyed the sunshine, and the crowds of gaily-dressedpeople, for he could hold up his head amongst them, and no longer wentprowling about in the gutters searching after bits of orange-peel. Hekicked them into the gutters instead, mindful of that accident which hadbefallen him, but which turned out so full of good for him.

  DOLLY'S MONTHLY REGISTER.]

  But, if there had been any eye to see it, a very slow, and very sadchange was creeping over Dolly; so slowly indeed, that perhaps none buther mother's eye could have seen it at first. On the first of everymonth, which old Oliver knew by the magazines coming in, he marked howmuch his little love had grown by placing her against the side-post ofthe door, and making a thick pencil line where her curly head reached to.He looked at this record often, smiling at the rate his little woman wasgrowing taller; but it was really no wonder that his dim eyes, loving asthey were, never saw how the rosy colour was dying away out of hercheeks, as gradually as the red glow fades away in the west after the sunhas set, nor how the light grew fainter and fainter in her blue eyes,until they looked at him very heavily from under her drooping eyelids.The house was too dark for any sight to see very clearly; the full,strong, healthy light of the sun, could not find its way into it, and dayafter day Dolly became more like one of those plants growing in shadyplaces, which live and shoot up, but only put out pale and sickly leaves,and feeble buds. One by one, and by little and little, with degrees assmall as her own tiny footsteps, she lost all her merry ways, droppingthem, here one and there another, upon the path she was silentlytreading; as little children let fall the flowers they have gathered inthe meadows, along their road homewards. Yet all the time old Oliver wasloving and cherishing her as the dearest of all treasures, second only tothe Master whom he loved so fully; but he never discovered that therewas any change in her. Dolly fell into very quiet ways, and would sitstill for hours together, her arm around Beppo, and her sweet, patientlittle face, which was growing thin and hollow, turned towards theflickering light of the fire, while Oliver pottered toilsomely about hishouse, forgetting many things, but always ready with a smile and a fondword for his grand-daughter.

  Just as Oliver was too old to feel any anxiety about Dolly, so Tony wastoo young, and knew too little of sickness and death. Moreover, when hecame home in the evening, full of the business of the day, with a numberof stories to tell of what had happened to him, and what he had seen,Dolly was always more lively, and had a feverish colour on her face, anda brilliant light in her eyes. He seemed to bring life and strength withhim, and she liked him to nurse her on his knee, which did not grow tiredand stiff like her grandfather's. How should Tony detect anything amisswith her? She never complained of feeling any pain, and he was glad forher to be very quiet and still while he was busy with his lessons.

  But when the summer was ended, and after the damp warm fogs of Novemberwere over, and a keen, black frost set in sharply before Christmas--afrost which had none of the beauty of white lime and clear blue skies,but which hung over the city like a pall, and penetrated to everyfireside with an icy breath; when only the strong and the healthy, whowere well clothed and well fed, could meet it bravely, while thedelicate, and sickly, and poverty-stricken, shrank before it, and werechilled through and through, then Dolly drooped and failed altogether.Even old Oliver's dull ears began to hear a little cough, which seemed toecho from some grave not very far away; and when he drew his little lovebetween his knees, and put on his spectacles to gaze into her face, thedearest face in all the world to him, even his eyes saw something of itswanness, and the hollow lines which had come upon it since the summer hadpassed away. The old man felt troubled about her, yet he scarcely knewwhat to do. He bought sweetmeats to soothe her cough, and thoughtsometimes that he must ask somebody or other about a doctor for her; buthis treacherous memory always let the thought slip out of his mind. Heintended to take counsel with his sister when she came to see him; butaunt Charlotte was herself very ill with an attack of rheumatism, andcould not get up to old Oliver's house.