Heartsease; Or, The Brother's Wife. Yonge Charlotte Mary

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СКАЧАТЬ it was her querulous tone, perhaps a mere boyish dislike to being tied down, or even it might be mere hurry, that made him answer impatiently, ‘I can’t tell—as it may happen. D’ye think I want to run away! Only take care of yourself.’

      This was in his coaxing voice; but it was not a moment when she could bear to be turned aside, like an importunate child, and she was going to speak; but he saw the wrong fishing-rod carried out, called hastily to James, ran down-stairs, and was gone, without even looking back at her.

      The sound of the closing door conveyed a sense of utter desolation to her over-wrought mind—the house was a solitary prison; she sank on the sofa, sobbing, ‘Oh, I am very, very miserable! Why did he take me from home, if he could not love me! Oh, what will become of me? Oh, mamma! mamma!’

      CHAPTER 2

           What is so shrill as silent tears?

                      —GEORGE HERBERT

      Arthur came home late in the afternoon of the following day. The door was opened to him by his brother, who abruptly said, ‘She is dying. You must not lose a moment if you would see her alive.’

      Arthur turned pale, and gave an inarticulate exclamation of horror-stricken inquiry—‘Confined?’

      ‘Half-an-hour ago. She was taken ill yesterday morning immediately after you left her. She is insensible, but you may find her still living.’

      Nothing but strong indignation could have made John Martindale thus communicate such tidings. He had arrived that day at noon to find that the creature he had left in the height of her bright loveliness was in the extremity of suffering and peril—her husband gone no one knew whither; and the servants, too angry not to speak plainly, reporting that he had left her in hysterics. John tried not to believe the half, but as time went on, bringing despair of the poor young mother’s life, and no tidings of Arthur; while he became more and more certain that there had been cruel neglect, the very gentleness and compassion of his nature fired and glowed against him who had taken her from her home, vowed to cherish her, and forsaken her at such a time. However, he was softened by seeing him stagger against the wall, perfectly stunned, then gathering breath, rush up-stairs without a word.

      As Arthur pushed open the door, there was a whisper that it was he, too late, and room was made for him. All he knew was, that those around watched as if it was not yet death, but what else did he see on those ashy senseless features?

      With a cry of despair he threw himself almost over her, and implored her but once to speak, or look at him. No one thought her capable even of hearing, but at his voice the eyelids and lips slightly moved, and a look of relief came over the face. A hand pressed his shoulder, and a spoon containing a drop of liquid was placed in his fingers, while some one said, ‘Try to get her to take this.’

      Scarcely conscious he obeyed, and calling her by every endearing name, beyond hope succeeded in putting it between her lips. Her eyes opened and were turned on him, her hand closed on his, and her features assumed a look of peace. The spark of life was for a moment detained by the power of affection, but in a short space the breath must cease, the clasp of the hand relax.

      Once more he was interrupted by a touch, and this time it was Sarah’s whisper—‘The minister is come, sir. What name shall it be!’

      ‘Anything—John,’ said he, without turning his head or taking in what she said.

      The clergyman and John Martindale were waiting in the dressing-room, with poor Violet’s cathedral cup filled with water.

      ‘She does not know him?’ asked John, anxiously, as Sarah entered.

      ‘Yes, sir, she does,’ said Sarah, contorting her face to keep back the tears. ‘She looked at him, and has hold of his hand. I think she will die easier for it, poor dear.’

      ‘And at least the poor child is alive to be baptized?’

      ‘O, yes, sir, it seems a bit livelier now,’ said Sarah, opening a fold of the flannel in her arms. ‘It is just like its poor mamma.’

      ‘Is it a girl?’ he inquired, by no means perceiving the resemblance.

      ‘A boy, sir. His papa never asked, though he did say his name should be John.’

      ‘It matters little,’ said John, mournfully, for to his eye there was nothing like life in that tiny form. ‘And yet how marvellous,’ thought he, ‘to think of its infinite gain by these few moments of unconscious existence!’

      At the touch of the water it gave a little cry, which Sarah heard with a start and glance of infinite satisfaction.

      She returned to the chamber, where the same deathly stillness prevailed; the husband, the medical men, the nurse, all in their several positions, as if they had neither moved nor looked from the insensible, scarcely breathing figure.

      The infant again gave a feeble sound, and once more the white features moved, the eyes opened, and a voice said, so faintly, that Arthur, as he hung over her, alone could hear it, ‘My baby! O, let me see it!’

      ‘Bring the child,’ and at the sound of those words the gleam of life spread over her face more completely.

      He could not move from her side, and Sarah placed the little creature upon his broad hand. He held it close to her. ‘Our baby!’ again she murmured, and tried to kiss it, but it made another slight noise, and this overcame her completely, the deathly look returned, and he hastily gave back the infant.

      She strove hard for utterance, and he could hardly catch her gasping words, ‘You’ll be fond of it, and think of me.’

      ‘Don’t, don’t talk so, dearest. You will soon be better. You are better. Let me give you this.’

      ‘Please, I had rather lie still. Do let me.’ Then again looking up, as if she had been losing the consciousness of his presence, ‘Oh! it is you. Are you come? Kiss me and wish me good-bye.’

      ‘You are better—only take this. Won’t you? You need not move; Violet, Violet, only try. To please me! There, well done, my precious one. Now you will be more comfortable.’

      ‘Thank you, oh no! But I am glad you are come. I did wish to be a good wife. I had so much to say to you—if I could—but I can’t remember. And my baby; but oh, this is dying,’ as the sinking returned. ‘O, Arthur, keep me, don’t let me die!’ and she clung to him in terror.

      He flung his arm closer round her, looking for help to the doctors. ‘You shall not, you will not, my own, my darling.’

      ‘You can’t help it,’ sighed she. ‘And I don’t know how—if some one would say a prayer?’

      He could only repeat protests that she must live, but she grew more earnest. ‘A prayer! I can’t recollect—Oh! is it wicked? Will God have mercy? Oh! would you but say a prayer?’

      ‘Yes, yes, but what? Give me a book.’

      Sarah put one into his hand, and pointed to a place, but his eyes were misty, his voice faltered, broke down, and he was obliged to press his face down on the pillows to stifle his sobs.

      Violet was roused to such a degree of bewildered distress and alarm at the sight of his grief, that the doctors insisted on removing him, and almost forced him away.

      There СКАЧАТЬ