“What’s up, yer honour, Miss?”
“I’ll tell you later. Hurry — hurry! Run!”
Patsy-Joe ran to the stable, swinging his arms like flails to propel himself. When he returned it was obvious that he had thrown the harness on the horse. He met Adeline with a wild look. His sandy whiskers stood out on either side of his thin face. He snatched the portmanteau from her hand and hurled it into the buggy.
“Run to the parlor,” she said, “and fetch Boney! He must not be left.”
Patsy-Joe flung himself into the house and flung out again, the bird cage swinging from his hand. Boney, hilarious at this sudden break in the boredom of his present life, hung head downward from the top of his cage, uttering cries of delight. In his travels he had learned the word “good-bye” and he now screamed it repeatedly though without any accent of affection or gratitude.
“Good-bye — good-bye — good-bye!” he screamed, and his mouth curved upward beneath his dark beak.
Tremblingly Adeline climbed into the buggy. The parrot’s cries had made the old horse restive and he rolled his eyes and tried to move forward and backward simultaneously. Adeline caught up the reins. “My baby will be coming before long,” she said.
“Be quate, will you?” cried Patsy-Joe to the horse, putting in the portmanteau and the bird cage. “D’ye want to put me lady on to the gravel, you brute?” He scrambled to the seat beside Adeline. “Och, Miss Adeline, yer honour, I can see by the look in yer eyes that you have great pain in you and no wonder, the way you have run up and down thim stairs an lugged great armfuls of linen about! ’Tis himself will be vexed with you for lavin’ Misthress Vaughan’s house when naught is ready at Jalna.” He looked anxiously into her face. “But don’t worry. I’ll get ye there in good time.”
“You must not breath a word of this to anyone till I tell you. I feel better now. Drive fast but be careful of the ruts.” She took the cage on to her lap to steady it. Patsy had put up the buggy top so she was sheltered from the rain that fell like a silver veil from the dim grey sky.
Patsy set the portmanteau and the bird cage on the bed in Adeline’s room. “Shall I unpack the bags fer ye, Miss?” he asked, bending over and peering into her face. She had dropped panting into a chair. Loud hammering resounded through the house. It beat cruelly on her nerves. She said — “Tell them to stop the hammering, Patsy-Joe. Say that my head aches. Just that. Nothing more, mind. Then find Lizzie and send her to me. Tell her to come at once. Then drive to the Rectory and ask Mrs. Pink if she will come back with you. She’ll understand.”
“I will. I’ll be back with her before you know it, Miss. Hadn’t I better fetch the doctor — or the midwife if himself is out? Sure you’ll need all the help you can get.”
Not yet. I have things to do.”
“But can ye wait?”
“Yes. Run along, Patsy.”
“Hadn’t I better fetch the masther?”
“No, no. Do just what I have told you.”
He gave her a look of concentrated assurance of his capacity, so intense as to be comic. Then he tiptoed heavily from the room and clumped along the hall. In a moment the hammering ceased. She heard the sound of horses’ hoofs and the rattle of the buggy. Now all was silent except for the quiet drip of rain from the roof. Adeline drew a long quivering breath of relief. She sat with arms outstretched in her lap, relaxing her nerves, resting.
Now she heard Lizzie coming up the basement stairs.
“I was just on my way here,” she said, “when I met Mr. O’Flynn. He told me you are kind of sick. Shall I make you a cup of tea, ma’am?”
“Yes. I’d like a cup of tea. Build the fire up quickly and put on the big copper of water to heat.”
“Do you want this floor scrubbed and the window cleaned right now, ma’am?”
“No. Yes — you had better clean the window. I’ll find curtains and we’ll hang them. We’re preparing for a confinement, Lizzie.” She smiled a little maliciously at the girl.
“Land sakes alive!” Lizzie almost screamed. “I haven’t had no experience with them. I’m not twenty yet. You can’t expect me to know. I’d be scared to death.”
“I don’t expect anything of you except to do what you are told. The doctor will be here. There is plenty of time. Now — make the tea and put on the water to heat.”
Lizzie clattered down the stairs, almost beside herself from excitement. Adeline felt strong and capable. She opened the linen chest and took out sheets and blankets. When Lizzie returned they made the bed together. Adeline chose two small rugs from the mound in the hall and laid them on the floor of the bedroom. Lizzie cleaned and polished the window and, as they had no curtain rings or rods, they tacked up as a curtain a piece of Indian embroidery. Adeline fortified herself with strong tea. All the while she talked cheerfully to Lizzie who gave her frequent looks of apprehension. Now the room looked really habitable. Adeline could have sung for joy to think she was in it — safe under her own roof.
At last Mrs. Pink appeared in the doorway.
“Oh, how nice — how very nice!” she exclaimed. Then added — “From what your man tells me, you’re not feeling very well. Really I think you are running a great risk in working to the last minute.”
“Would you want to have your baby in another person’s house with a young lad just home from college?”
“No, indeed. I don’t blame you. But this is much sooner than you expected, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I’m afraid I’ve been overdoing it. Then there was the piano taking that tumble — I thought the horses were going over, too — it gave me quite a start.”
“Dr. Ramsey was not at home but his housekeeper will send him here as soon as he returns.”
More tea was made. Mrs. Pink busied herself unpacking the portmanteau, laying Adeline’s toilet articles on the dressing table. The figure of Kuan Yin caught her eye. “How pretty!” she said. “It’s Chinese, isn’t it?”
“Yes. The goddess Kuan Yin. She has promised to look after me.”
Adeline spoke with such sincerity that Mrs. Pink was startled.
“Oh, Mrs. Whiteoak, you’re joking, aren’t you?”
“Well I think there’s a good deal in these Eastern religions.”
“Still, I don’t think Christians should countenance them, do you?”
“God has countenanced them for a good many centuries, hasn’t He?”
“His ways are beyond our understanding, my husband says.”
Adeline moved restlessly about the room, then turned sharply to Mrs. Pink. “I think Philip had better be sent for. It is well to be on the safe side.”
Mrs. Pink hurried out. She sent one of the men to fetch Philip, then went down to the kitchen to see that Lizzie had preparations in progress. Adeline was alone when Philip came to her. He gave an astonished look about the room and at the freshly made bed where her nightdress and peignoir were laid out.
“What’s this?” he demanded.
“I’ve moved in.” She smiled up at him.
“The house is not ready and won’t be for another ten days. You can’t do it.”
“I have done it. It’s accomplished.” She surveyed what she had done with satisfaction. “Oh, Philip, dear, you’d not want me to have my baby at Vaughanlands, would you?”
“It’s not due till the end of the month.”
She spoke in a small voice. “I think it is coming today. I have sent Patsy for the doctor.”
“Good God!” he exclaimed, his blue eyes prominent.
“You wouldn’t want me to be out of my own bed, would you, Philip? I’ve had a time of it to get everything ready, I can tell you. But doesn’t it look nice?”
“Very nice,” he answered grimly.
Mrs. Pink returned to ask Adeline how she was.
“Better. I shall be all right for hours, I expect. Should you like to go home to see your little boy?”
“If you think you can spare me.” She turned to Philip. “My youngest has a gathering i
n his ear. I am keeping hearts of hot roast onions in it. I can’t trust the servant to do it. The doctor will be here any moment, I’m sure, and I shall not be gone long.”
Philip went to drive her to the Rectory. Adeline was alone but she did not mind. She was supremely happy. There, under her own roof, with the rain pattering lightly on it, she awaited her ordeal with more of pride than fear. She was in her own house. From now on she would do what she liked. Oh, how she loved the house! It spoke to her, as though in a deep reassuring voice. It resolved itself from the chaos of building and took shape as a home about her. Echoes of footsteps sounded through it, footsteps to come; unborn voices called out to her, not only the voice of the child to whom she was about to give birth but of her children’s children. She would spend all her days here. She and the house would have many secrets together. The house would teem with life, with emotion. It would hold all together inside its walls, over which in time vines and their leaves would grow.
XVII
SPRINGTIME AT JALNA
PHILIP SAID, AND said it from the bottom of his heart, that he hoped and prayed Adeline would never have another child. To say nothing of her sufferings and the risk to her life, it was too hard on him. He felt a nervous wreck after this last. The doctor had been so long in coming that it looked as though the infant might be born without his assistance. The midwife had never arrived, being engaged in another confinement. It seemed for a time that Philip and Mrs. Pink would be Adeline’s sole support. At the mere thought of such a contingency, a cold sweat broke out on him. Adeline had more than her share of endurance but, for some reason, her self-control deserted her and she cried out with every pain. Time and again she declared that she was dying. When Dr. Ramsey came at last she faced him with defiance and momentary calm. Before he did anything for her relief he told her his opinion of her actions of the morning. In half an hour the child was born.
Though Adeline had gone through so much, her recovery was quick. This was probably because of her great content. The weather too became sunny and warm. All about her, indoors and out, the work went forward. There was jubilation among the workmen at the news of the birth in the new house. To the best of their ability they did their work quietly. When the infant was ten days old, Philip carried him out to show him to them. He was a smaller, weaker child than Nicholas had been but he had pretty features, an exquisite skin, and his eyes were like forget-me-nots. The woodsmen, horny-handed and unkempt, crowded about him. They were pleased by the fineness of his long white robe and the little lace cap he wore. He looked up at them reflectively, placing the finger tips of one hand against those of the other.
Philip was delighted because he was the first of his children to show a resemblance to his own family. Adeline, with him on the pillow beside her, would study the small face and declare that, though his colouring was Philip’s, his features never would be. There was some discussion over his name. Philip chose Charles, his own father’s name. Adeline chose Dennis as the name least aggressively her father’s. Certainly, she declared, she would never name him after their doctor, as she had Nicholas after her loved Dr. St. Charles. But they could not decide which of his names he should go by. Each disliked the choice of the other. “Charles is a stern name,” she affirmed.
“Nonsense,” said Philip. “It’s as agreeable a name as there is. Dennis sounds like a comical Irish story.”
“You just show your bad feeling when you say such a thing,” she retorted. “’Tis a grand name!”
But the problem was settled by a book Wilmott sent her. It was Ernest Maltravers, by Lord Lytton. Adeline had not read halfway through the book before she cried — “His name shall be Ernest!”
Philip had to acknowledge that the name was a good one and Wilmott, when he came to see the infant, said that nothing could be more suitable and expressive of the tiny personality. So he was named, Ernest Charles Dennis, but continued to be called Baby, for some time.
Philip’s heart glowed with pride when he sat by Adeline’s bed and saw her propped up on the pillows, the week-old infant snuggled in the curve of her arm, the two older children perched beside them. Adeline’s pallor brought out the superb contours of the bones of her face which would, even in age, be arresting. Her hair, massed on the pillow, made a striking background. Her white arms curved about her children with maternal satisfaction.
The children had been brought from Vaughanlands by their nurse to inspect their baby brother for the first time. Augusta, now three years of age, sat decorously at the infant’s feet, her hands crossed in her lap, her eyes fixed in wonder on his pink face. Nicholas however was more excited by the painting on the head of the bed. The brilliant flowers and fruit with their strange sensuous beauty filled him with delight. He bounced on his plump behind, his hands now clasped ecstatically beneath his chin, now stretched out to grasp them. He laughed and shouted.
“Dr. Ramsey says,” remarked Adeline, “that I might have a child every year without harm, if only I would take better care of myself.”
“Not one more,” said Philip, “unless Ramsey promises to sit on our doorstep for the last month. In any case, three is enough. We have a daughter to comfort our old age. We have two sons, so we are certain of an heir. Surely you don’t want more!”
“No. Three is enough.”
He folded his arms on his broad chest. “I have made up my mind to one thing, Adeline. This boy, Ernest, shall be christened in our own church. Of course, you know that Pink and I have talked a good deal of the desirability of a church in the neighborhood. You remember what we went through last winter in discomfort in those long drives to the service. Now I am willing to give the land for a church and we might, with a great deal of effort, raise a fund sufficient for a poor-looking edifice. But I want a substantial church to sit in on a Sunday and, if I am to be by far the largest subscriber, I say that I might as well build the place myself. Then I shall have it as I want it and no bickering.”
“It would take a lot of money just to build one little church.”
“Adeline, that church will provide for your spiritual needs for the rest of your life, and for these children after you. That is not a little thing, is it?”
“You have the Church in your blood,” she said. “I haven’t.”
“But you would like to own a church, wouldn’t you?”
“It would be heavenly. If I didn’t like the clergyman I should just put him out.”
“Oh, you couldn’t do that! But — you would have a good deal of influence.”
“But, if it were my church, I could,” she said stubbornly.
“Once the church is consecrated it is under the jurisdiction of the bishop of the diocese.”
The dimple flashed in her cheek. “I should attend to the bishop.”
Their talk had been punctuated by Nicholas’s shouts. Now he became too noisy to ignore. He crept to the head of the bed to kiss the grinning face of a monkey that peered between bright blossoms. He knelt on his mother’s hair.
“Young rascal!” exclaimed Philip, picking him up and setting him on his knee. He took out his great gold watch and held it to Nicholas’s ear.
“Ga — ga — ga — ga!” shouted Nicholas, his eyes dancing like stars.
“You see,” said Philip, “the time is as propitious as ever it will be for building a church. I have the men on the spot. I have the money to spare. Large amounts of material left over from the building of the house and barn can be utilized. The Rector has a book of excellent plans for churches in the Colonies where there are not great sums of money available. It will be an unpretentious building but, in time, as the community grows it can be added to. The Rector is most enthusiastic, as there are a good many of the poorer people who seldom have the opportunity of attending a service. You can imagine how they would welcome a church and a parish room where they could meet and be sociable.”
“Ga — ga — ga!” shouted Nicholas. “Ga — ga!”
“My sister would be tremendously pleased. I am su
re she would send a substantial donation. I should screw something out of the Dean also.”
“If you think you will get anything out of my people, you’re mistaken,” said Adeline.
“I had no such thought,” he returned.
“But my mother would embroider a beautiful altar cloth.”
“That would be very nice.”
“My grandfather might give a pair of silver candlesticks.”
“I doubt if candles on the altar would be acceptable. The Rector is against ritualism.”
“Ga — ga — ga — ga!” said Nicholas, violently shaking the watch, then biting on it.
Philip returned it to his pocket. He rose, took his elder son beneath the arms, and tossed him in the air. Nicholas’s face became a mask of hysterical delight. He would not have minded if he had been tossed clear into the sky.
Adeline smiled lazily, her hand rhythmically patting the back of her last-born. Gussie was enraptured. She scrambled down from the bed and ran to her father and clasped him about the legs. If any hard feeling existed between them, it was now forgotten.
“Me too!” she shrieked. “Gussie too!”
Philip set Nicholas on the floor and snatched up Gussie. He tossed her up and caught her. Again and again. Higher and higher, till she almost touched the ceiling. At each upward flight she uttered a cry of mingled fright and joy. Her dark curls stood on end. Her dress of pale blue merino, cut low at the neck and with short sleeves, blew out like a little balloon. Her tiny kid-clad feet hung helpless beneath her white pantalettes.
Adeline lay laughing at them. Nicholas pouted a little. But Ernest kept his forget-me-not blue eyes fixed on space and the tips of his pink fingers just touching.
“Stop,” said Adeline at last. “You will make her giddy.”
He desisted but before he put her down he gave her a hearty kiss on the mouth.
“Little daughter!” he said. “Little daughter!”
The Jalna Saga – Deluxe Edition: All Sixteen Books of the Enduring Classic Series & The Biography of Mazo de la Roche Page 26
