CHAPTER VIII.
"'TIS A LOVE TOKEN, I RECKON."
"It is in men as in soils--where sometimes there is a vein of goldwhich the owner knows not of."--_Dean Swift_.
"Marcus, I have an idea."
Olivia had been sitting for some time in a brown study, staring intothe red caverns, where the yellow fire-elves were beating out theirrainbow gold on their glowing, hissing anvils.
It was in the gloaming, and the little sitting-room was warm and cosy.Dot was on her mother's lap, toasting her pink toes gleefully, andchuckling over them in baby fashion. And Marcus, who had finished hisday's work, had left off trying to read by the light of the flickeringflame, and was indulging in a furtive doze. He roused up when Olivia'sclear voice broke the silence.
"Marcus, do you hear me? I have such a nice plan."
"Is it a riddle?" he returned, lazily. "I give it up." Then hecontemplated his small daughter with much satisfaction. "I wonder noneof you advanced women have ever turned your attention tobaby-language," he observed presently; "we are studying theape-vocabulary, you know. Dot has got quite a little language of herown. As far as I can make out each sentence is finished off with a'gurgle-doe.' Something between the 'gobble, gobble' of a turkey andthe coo of the ring-dove. I suppose it all means something."
"Means something!" and Olivia kissed the little rings of curly hairwith passionate fondness. "Of course my girlie means something! Iunderstand her as well as possible. She is scolding the fire, becauseit has burnt her dear little toes. Look, she is showing them to me.Naughty fire, to burn my baby." And thereupon followed one of thosematernal and infantine duets, which appear such hopeless jargon to themasculine mind.
To Marcus it had a lulling effect, his eyes began to blink drowsilyagain, but Olivia, who had passed a solitary day, was not disposed forsilence.
"You are not a bit curious about my plan, dear," she said presently."I have been thinking so much of that sad, sad speech of Mr.Gaythorne's yesterday. I cannot bear to think of him alone allChristmas Day, with only the ghosts of happier years to haunt him."
"There is no need for him to be alone," returned Marcus, coolly. "Hecould invite us to supper. Why don't you propose it, Livy? You seemto say anything that comes into your head. A good bowl of steamingpunch would drive all the grey and black spirits away. I wouldundertake to amuse him." But Olivia only looked at him rebukingly.
"Marcus, it is so tiresome that you will always joke when I want to beserious. Now, do give me a straightforward answer, if you can. Shallyou have any visits to pay on Christmas Day?"
"My dear child, how can you expect me to answer in that off-hand way,and without consulting my visiting list? Well, if you must know," asOlivia uttered an impatient exclamation, "I shall have to go up to theModels after tea, to see that poor woman who was confined yesterday.The baby is not likely to live; and then I shall look in on Travers. Idon't suppose I shall be out more than an hour."
"Oh, that will do nicely," returned his wife, in a satisfied tone."Marcus, do you know, I have made up my mind to pay Mr. Gaythorne asurprise visit on Christmas evening. We are always back by six, and Iknow he does not dine until half-past seven. Do you think I dareventure? You see, I have never been without an invitation yet."
"And you actually mean 'to beard the lion in his den, and Douglas inhis hall,'" spouted Marcus. And then, in his ordinary voice, "Well,you might try it, if you like; but I should not be surprised if you gotsnubbed. Christmas ghosts have a ghastly effect, and rub a man up thewrong way."
"Oh, I will take my chance of that," returned Olivia, cheerfully. "NowI will put Dot to bed, and leave you to finish your nap in peace."
"Thank goodness!" was on the tip of Marcus's tongue, but he refrainedand only curled himself up afresh in his easy-chair. He had sat uplate over his books the previous night, wasting lamp-oil and coals, ashis wife had remarked, rather severely, and the cold air, with a touchof frost in it, had made him sleepy.
Olivia had been bristling all day, like a blissful porcupine, withlittle plans and surprises: first, she had actually saved out of AuntMadge's Christmas gift enough money to buy Marcus another ofThackeray's novels; last Christmas she had given him _The Newcomes_,and this year she had fixed on _Esmond_.
Marcus was devoted to Thackeray, and thirsted for a complete set of hisworks, but at present only _Vanity Fair_ and _The Newcomes_ were on hismodest bookshelves. Neither the husband nor wife thought it right tospend even those few shillings on the purchase of books, when theycould make use of the Free Library.
The new copy of _Esmond_ looked decidedly inviting, with its clean,uncut pages, and then there was really a handsome work-bag for AuntMadge, fashioned by Olivia's skilful fingers out of a yard of cretonne.Olivia had already received her Christmas presents, and had nothing toexpect. Her new outfit, and Dot's pelisse, and Martha's wages were allbirthday and Christmas gifts. Nevertheless when Marcus came onChristmas Eve to hang up their scanty store of holly, he was met by hiswife's excited face.
"Oh, Marcus!" she exclaimed, "I thought you would never come home;there is such a hamper from Galvaston House, and I am waiting for youto open it. And oh! do you know, dear, Aunt Madge has sent us some ofher delicious mince pies, and a Christmas cake!"
"She is a good old soul," returned Marcus, fervently. "By-the-bye,Olive, could not we have supper earlier? for this sharp air--and it isfreezing hard, let me tell you--has made me as hungry as a hunter."And as Olivia conceded this point graciously, he was induced to followher to the small kitchen, where Martha, all smiles and excitement,awaited them.
Martha had her best dress on, for she was going round to her mother'spresently, with her little store of Christmas gifts: a red knittedshawl for her mother and half a pound of tea, a comforter for herfather, and some warm cuffs for the boys, and gingerbread-nuts and someoranges for the children, to which Olivia had added a bag of mixedsweets.
Martha's round eyes widened with amazement when the hamper was opened,and a plump turkey, and a fine York ham came to view; there were alsohalf a dozen bottles of old port-wine for Dr. Luttrell, with Mr.Gaythorne's compliments, and a box of candied fruit and a jar ofpreserved ginger for his wife.
"Oh, Marcus! is not this kind?" Olivia's voice was almost awe-struck;her acquaintance with turkeys had hitherto been strictly limited to apartial view of their limp bodies as they dangled above her in thepoulterers' shops; now her little larder would be filled to overflowing.
"Shall I step across and thank him, while you put those things away?"suggested Marcus. And as Olivia agreed to this, he caught up his hatand vanished.
When everything was safely stowed away, and Martha had been madesupremely happy by the gift of two mince pies for her mother, and hadtrotted off red in the face with excitement, Olivia busied herself ingetting the supper ready. The unsightly remains of a cold shoulder ofmutton had been transformed into tempting rissoles. Olivia alwaystreated her husband to a hot supper on Christmas Eve. Potatoes cookedin their coats, and a couple of Deborah's mince pies, finished off the_menu_, to which Marcus did ample justice. Afterwards he hung up theirholly, and then Olivia fetched her work-basket, and Marcus went on withthe novel that he was reading aloud, and both of them looked at theclock in amazement when Martha's modest ring told them the evening wasover.
When Marcus put on his new great-coat the next morning, he shrugged hisshoulders as he opened the front-door. Instead of the frost he hadexpected, the icy coldness of the air and the heavy aspect of thewintry sky were premonitory signs of a snow-storm.
"It is hardly fit for you to go out," he said, as Olivia joined him,but she only smiled at him, her vigorous young strength was proofagainst the cold.
"We must hurry, Marcus," she said, briskly, "or we shall be late, and Iwant to enjoy my Christmas service," for she had already arranged totake care of Dot during the morning, while Martha went to church.Marcus had his rounds, and would fetch her in time for the early dinnerat Maybrick Villas.
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bsp; The quiet service in the warm, well-lighted church was very soothingand refreshing. As Olivia knelt beside her husband, her heart swelledwith thankfulness for countless blessings. "I have not deserved to beso happy," she said to herself, as she thought of her two treasures.
Martha had breakfast ready for them on their return, and Olivia hurriedupstairs to take off her hat. She was just stepping into thedining-room, when Marcus caught hold of her, and blindfolded herplayfully.
"No, you are not to look yet!" he said, teasingly. "There is asurprise in store for you." But as he took his hands from her eyes,she uttered a little cry of ecstasy.
On the breakfast-table, propped up with books, was a small framedpicture, the very cornfield, with the brown baby asleep under thehedge, and the old terrier guarding it, that she had so admired. Acard, with Mr. Gaythorne's compliments and Christmas greeting, wasbeside it.
"What do you think of your friend now, Livy?"
But Olivia seemed to have no answer ready, her lips trembled, and thetears gathered in her bright eyes. Marcus, who was almost as pleasedas she was, patted her on the shoulder kindly, and bade her pour outthe coffee, but for a long time Olivia could not be induced to go onwith her breakfast.
"If only I could take it to show Aunt Madge!" she said at last. ButMarcus negatived this at once; the picture was heavy, and the damp,cold air might injure it.
That was a happy morning to Olivia, as she played with Dot, and thensang her to sleep. When Marcus came home he told her to wrap up aswarmly as possible. "The damp quite gets into one's bones," he said;and even Olivia owned that it was disagreeably cold.
Aunt Madge received them with her usual kind welcome, but she looked ather niece with a queer expression.
"Livy," she said, "I feel as though I were living in the days ofAladdin and his wonderful lamp. I had to pinch myself this morning, tobe sure I was not dreaming. What do you think our dear old magicianhas done now?" And as she pointed to the table beside her, Olivia sawthe picture of the ruined church, and the old shepherd in his tatteredsmock. "'Tis a love token, I reckon," repeated Aunt Madge, but hervoice was not quite steady. As for Olivia, the tears were fairlyrunning down her face.
"Dear Aunt Madge, I do love him for this. What do you think, he hassent me the picture of the cornfield that I described to you, and sucha hamper of good things!"
"Yes, and a brace of pheasants have come to me. Livy, do you know whatthat picture means to me? I have just been feasting my eyes on it allthe morning. I mean to get an easel and stand it at the foot of mycouch, with that Indian scarf of mine just draped over it; won't itcheer me up on one of my bad days when I can't read or work, and eventhinking is too hard for my poor head? ''Tis a love token, I reckon,'I shall just say that to myself."
"Marcus, I shall have to pay that visit," observed Olivia, desperately."Oh, dear, if only we could do something in return for him! Don'tlaugh at me, you tiresome boy; it is all very well for you, you aredoing him a good turn every day, that is why it is so grand to be adoctor, but Aunt Madge and I want to have our share too."
"Take off your hat, Livy," interrupted Aunt Madge, "for I hear Debdishing up the dinner, and Marcus looks blue in the face with cold andhunger." And at this reminder Olivia hurried.
Mrs. Broderick always gave them the same dinner, a roast fowl and apiece of boiled ham, with plum pudding and mince pies to follow, butDeborah's cookery always gave it a different and most delicious flavour.
When dinner was over they sat by the fire and roasted chestnuts, andtalked softly to each other, while Aunt Madge dozed. She roused upwhen Deb brought in the tea-things, and chatted in her old bright way,but Marcus's professional eyes detected lassitude, and in spite of herentreaties took his wife away rather earlier than usual.
"Livy," observed Aunt Madge, as her niece stooped over her to kiss her,"I have not been able to write a note of thanks to Mr. Gaythorne yet,but will you tell him that I have not had such a Christmas gift as thatsince my husband left me, and that I have been praying for him off andon all day, that he may have his heart's desire--there, tell himthat----" And then she sank back wearily on her pillows.
Doctor Luttrell's First Patient Page 8