by L. T. Meade
CHAPTER X.
A GREAT FEAR.
Nothing could exceed the fuss which was made over Maggie and her adventure.Mrs. Grenville turned quite pale when she heard of it--even Ralph, who wastranquilly eating his breakfast, and who, as a rule, did not disturbhimself about anything, threw down his spoon, ceased to devour hisporridge, and gazed at Maggie in some astonishment mingled with a tinydegree of envy and even a little shadow of respect. Mrs. Grenville took thelittle girl in her arms, and while she kissed and petted her, she alsothought it necessary to chide her very gently. It was at this juncture thatRalph did an astonishing thing; he upset his mug of milk, he tossed hisspoon with a great clatter on the floor, and dashing in the most headlongstyle round the table, caught Maggie's two hands and said impulsively:
"She oughtn't to be scolded, really, mother. She didn't know anything aboutits being wrong, and I call it a downright plucky thing of her to do. Shecouldn't have done more even if she had been a boy--no, not even if she hadbeen a boy," continued Ralph, nodding his head with intense earnestness. "Ican say nothing better than that, can I, mother?"
"According to your code you certainly cannot, Ralph," answered his mother."Now go back to your seat, my boy, and pick up the spoon you have thrown onthe floor. See what a mess you have made on the breakfast-table. Maggie,dear, you did not mean to do wrong, still you did wrong. But we will saynothing more on that subject for the present. Now, my darling, you shallhave some breakfast, and then I have a surprise for you."
Maggie could not help owning to her own little heart that Ralph's words hadcheered her considerably; she thought a great deal more of Ralph's opinionthan of any one else's, and it was an immense consolation to be comparedto a boy, and to a plucky one. She accordingly ate her breakfast withconsiderable appetite, and was ready to receive the surprise which her auntsaid awaited her at its close.
This was no less joyful a piece of news than the fact that Lady Ascot'ssister was much better, and that Sir John intended to come up to London fora few days.
"After all, Maggie," said her aunt, "if you had shown a little patience,you could have asked your father for the money, instead of trying to sellyour best hat. Now, dear, you can go up to the schoolroom with Ralph, and Ihope that no bad consequences will arise from this morning's adventure."
"I think, mother," here interrupted Ralph, "it would be a good plan forMaggie and me to go round and see how Jo is. Susy didn't act right, and Iknow Jo will be very unhappy, and Jo oughtn't to be blamed; ought she,mother?"
"Certainly not, Ralph; Jo has done nothing wrong. Well, if Waters can sparethe time, I don't mind you two little people going to see Jo, butremember, you must not stay long; for now I really must buy Maggie a newhat for the garden party."
"Oh, auntie, but I brought my own hat back," exclaimed the little princess.
"Yes, my love, but it is much injured, and there are other reasons why Ishould not care to see you wear it again. Now run away, children, and getyour visit over, for we have plenty to do this afternoon."
When Maggie, with her heart beating high, and one of her hands held tightlyin Ralph's, entered Mrs. Aylmer's room, she was startled to find herself ina scene of much confusion. Mrs. Aylmer prided herself on keeping a veryneat and orderly home, but there was certainly nothing orderly about thathome to-day. Mrs. Aylmer herself was seated on a low, broken chair, herhands thrown down at her sides, her cap on crooked, and her face bearingsigns of violent weeping. The two little boys stood one at each side oftheir mother: Ben had his finger in his mouth, and Bob's red hair seemedalmost to stand on end. They kept gazing with solemn eyes at their mother,for tears on her face were a rare occurrence. Susy was nowhere to be seen;and most startling fact of all, Jo's little sofa was empty.
It was Jo's absence from the room which Ralph first remarked. He rushed upto Mrs. Aylmer and clutched one of her hands.
"What is the matter? Where's Jo? Where's our darling little Jo?" heexclaimed.
"Oh, Master Ralph Grenville," exclaimed the poor woman, "you had better notcome near me; you had better not, sir, it mightn't be safe. I'm justdistraught with misery and terror. My little Jo, my little treasure, is tukaway from me; she's tuk bad with the fever, sir, and they've carried heroff to the hospital. She's there now; I 'as just come from seeing herthere."
By this time Waters, panting and puffing hard, had reached the room, andhad heard, with a sinking heart, the last of Mrs. Aylmer's words. Sheeagerly questioned the poor woman, who said that Jo had not been well fordays, and yesterday the doctor had pronounced her case one of fever andhad ordered her, for the sake of the other children, to be moved at once tothe nearest fever hospital.
"She was werry willing to go herself," continued the mother; "she wouldn'tharm no one, not in life, nor in death, would my little Jo."
"And Susy knew of this!" exclaimed Waters. "Oh, was there ever such a badgirl? Mrs. Aylmer, you'll forgive me if I hurries these dear children outof this infected air! I'll come back later in the day, ma'am, and do what Ican for you; and if Susy comes home, you might do well to keep her in, forI can't help saying she is no credit to you. It sounds hard at such amoment, but I must out with my mind."
"Susy!" here exclaimed Mrs. Aylmer, "I ain't seen nothing of Susy to-day."
"No, ma'am, very like; but it's my duty to tell you she has been after nogood. Now come away, darlings. I'll look in again presently, Mrs. Aylmer."
Maggie could never make out why her aunt turned so pale and looked soanxiously at her when the news of Jo's dangerous illness was told to her.The pity which should have been expended on the sick and suffering littlegirl seemed, in some inexplicable way, to be showered upon her. A doctoreven was sent for, who asked Maggie a lot of questions, and wasparticularly anxious to know if she held Susy's hand when she walked withher, and how long she and Ralph had been in the infected room. Inconclusion, he said some words which seemed to Maggie to have no sense atall.
"There is nothing whatever for us to do, Mrs. Grenville. If the childrenhave imbibed the poison it is too late to stop matters. We must only hopefor the best, and watch them. Nothing, of course, can be certainly knownfor several days."
Maggie could not understand the doctor, and both she and Ralph thought Mrs.Grenville rather wanting in feeling not to let them go and inquire for Joat the hospital. Under these circumstances the garden-party was a rathercheerless affair, and Maggie was glad to return home and to lay a verytired little head on her pillow.
She was awakened from her first sleep by her father bending over her andkissing her passionately. Never had she seen Sir John's face so red, andhis eyes quite looked--only of course that was impossible--as if he hadbeen crying.
"Oh, father, I am glad to see you," exclaimed Maggie, "only I wish you hadcome last night, for then I wouldn't have tried to sell my hat, and you'dhave given me the money for the tambourine. I wish you had come last night,father, dear."
"So do I, Mag-Mag," answered poor Sir John. "God knows it might have savedme from a broken heart."
Maggie could not understand either her father or aunt.
She began, perhaps, to have a certain glimmering as to the meaning of itall when, a few days later, she felt very hot, and languid, and heavy, whenher throat ached, and her head ached, and although it was a warm summer'sday, she was glad to lie with a shawl over her on the sofa. Then certainwords of the doctor's, as he bent over her, penetrated her dull ears, andcrept somehow down into her heart.
"There is no doubt whatever that she has taken the fever from Susy Aylmer.Well, all we have to do now is to pull her through as quickly as possible,and of course, Mrs. Grenville, as Ralph is still quite well, and as he wasnot exposed to anything like the same amount of infection as Maggie, youwill send him away."
Mrs. Grenville responded in rather a choking voice, and she and the doctorleft the room together.
A few moments later Mrs. Grenville came back and bent over the sick child.
"Is that you, Auntie Violet?" asked Maggie.
"Ye
s, my darling," responded her aunt.
"What's fever, auntie?"
"An illness, dear."
"And am I going to be very, very ill?"
"I hope not very ill, Maggie. We are going to nurse you so well that wetrust that will not be the case; but I am afraid my poor little girl willnot feel comfortable for some time."
"And did I take the fever that's to make me so sick from Susy--only Susywasn't sick, auntie?"
"No, dearest; but she carried the infection on her clothes, and there is nodoubt you took it from her."
"Then I'm 'fraid," continued Maggie, "you're very angry with her still."
"I cannot say that I'm pleased with her, darling."
"Oh, but, auntie, I want you to forgive her, and I want father to forgiveher, 'cause she didn't know nothing about 'fection or fevers--and--and--doforgive her, Auntie Violet."
Here poor sick little Maggie began to cry and Mrs. Grenville was glad tocomfort her with any assurances, even of promises of forgiveness for thenaughty Susy.
After this there came very dark and anxious days for the people who lovedthe little princess. Ralph was sent back to Tower Hill, where he wanderedabout and was miserable, and thought a great deal about Maggie, and foundout that after all he was very fond of her. He did not take the feverhimself, but he was full of anxieties about Jo and Maggie; for both thelittle girls, one in the fever hospital and the other in his mother'sluxurious home, were having a hard fight for their little lives.
Lady Ascot and Sir John were always, day and night, one or another of them,to be found by Maggie's sick-bed, and of course there were professionalnurses, and more than one doctor; but with all this care the sick child inthe home seemed to have as hard a time of it as the other sick child whowas away from those she loved and who was handed over to the tender merciesof strangers. It was very curious how, through all her ravings and throughall the delirium of her fever, Maggie talked about Jo. She had only seen Joonce in her life, but although she mentioned her mother and her father, andher old nurse and Ralph, there was no one at all about whom she spoke sofrequently, or with so keen an interest, as the lame child of the poorlaundress. From the moment she heard that Susy was to be forgiven, thatvery mischievous little person seemed to have passed from her thoughts; butwith Jo it was different, until at last Waters began to think that therewas some mysterious link between the two sick children.
This idea was confirmed, when one evening little Maggie awoke, cool andquiet, but with a weakness over her which was beyond any weakness she couldever have dreamed of undergoing. Her feeble voice could scarcely be heard,but her thoughts still ran on Jo.
"Mother," she whispered, very, very low indeed in Lady Ascot's ear, "Ithought Jo had got her day-dream."
"Try not to talk, my precious one," whispered the mother back in reply.
"But why not?" asked Maggie. "Jo often had day-dreams, Susy told me, and sodid Ralph. She wanted to be in a cool place, where beautiful things are, inthe country, or in--in heaven. And I want to be with Jo in the country--orin--heaven."
Maggie looked very sweet as she spoke, and when the last words passed herpale little lips, she closed her eyes with their pretty curly lashes. Thefather and mother both felt, as they looked at her, that a very, verylittle more would take their darling away.
"I wonder how the sick child in the hospital is," said Sir John Ascot tohis wife. "I must own I have had no time to think about her, and she andhers have done mischief enough to us; but the little one's heart seems seton her--has been all through. It might be a good thing for our littleMaggie if I could bring her word that the other child is better."
"It would be the best thing in all the world for Maggie," answered LadyAscot.
"Then I will go round to the fever hospital now, and make inquiries," saidSir John.
On his way downstairs he met Mrs. Grenville, and told her what he wasdoing. She said:
"Wait one moment, John, and I will put on my bonnet and go with you."
It was a lovely evening toward the end of July. The day had been intenselyhot, but now a soft breeze began to stir the heated atmosphere, a breezewith a little touch of health and healing about it.
"This night will be cooler than the last," said Mrs. Grenville, "and thatwill be another chance in our little one's favor."
At this moment the lady's dress was plucked rather sharply from behind, andlooking round Mrs. Grenville saw, for the first time since all theirtrouble, the excited and rough little figure of Susy Aylmer. Her firstimpulse was to shake herself free from the touch of so naughty a child, butthen she remembered her promise to Maggie, and looked again at the littleintruder.
A great change had come over poor Susy; the confidence and assurance hadall left her round face. It was round still, and was to a certain extentred still, but the eyes were so swollen with crying, and the poor faceitself so disfigured by tear-channels, that only one who had seen herseveral times would have recognized her.
"Oh, ma'am," she exclaimed, "I has been waiting here for hours and hours,and nobody will speak to me nor tell me nothing. Mrs. Cook won't speak,nor the housemaid, nor Mrs. Waters, nor nobody, and I feel as if my heartwould burst, ma'am. Oh, Mrs. Grenville, how is Miss Maggie, and is shegoing away same as our little Jo is going away?"
"Who is that child, Violet?" inquired Sir John. "Does she, too, know someone of the name of Jo, and what is she keeping you for? Do let us hurryon."
"She is little Jo Aylmer's sister," whispered back Mrs. Grenville. "Susy,it is very hard to forgive you, for through your deceit we have all gotinto this terrible trouble; but I promised Maggie I would try, and I cannot go back from my word to the dear little one. Maggie is a shade, just ashade better to-night, Susy, but she is still very, very ill. Pray for her,child, pray for that most precious little life. And now, what about Jo? Itis not really true what you said about Jo, Susy?"
"Yes, but it is, ma'am; they has just sent round a message to mother, andthey say that our little Jo won't live through the night. It's quite trueas she's going away to God, ma'am."