CHAPTER XVIII.
“Grandma Elsie” sat by the bedside gazing with much motherly solicitude upon the sleeping face of her youngest daughter. She had sat thus for hours, sending up silent petitions on the child’s behalf, till now night’s shadows had fled away, the sun had risen above the tree tops, and a gentle breeze was stirring the lace curtains at the windows and wafting through the room delicious scents from the garden below.
Presently Rosie moved slightly, then opened her eyes and looked up into the sweet face bending over her.
“Mamma, I—I’m not going to die?” she queried in low, tremulous tones.
“I trust not; Cousin Arthur thinks the danger is past. My darling, thank God, as your mother does, for your spared life, and oh, devote it to his service.”
“I—I mean to, mamma. It was Lulu—Lulu whom I have sometimes treated so unkindly—who saved my life.” With the words tears rolled down Rosie’s cheeks. “Mamma, I want to see and thank her.”
“I will ask her to come to you after awhile,” Elsie said. “I think she has not eaten her breakfast yet. It is early, and I have not heard the bell.”
There was a gentle tap at the door. Violet had come to ask how her young sister was. Lulu was with her on the same errand.
“Better; I trust the danger is past,” Grandma Elsie said. “Come in and speak to her. Lulu, dear child, how shall I ever thank you? Cousin Arthur says we owe Rosie’s life to you.”
“I owe you a great deal more, dear Grandma Elsie,” responded the little girl, returning with ardent affection the warm embrace Mrs. Travilla had given her along with her grateful words.
“Lu,” called Rosie feebly from the bed, “O Lu, come here, won’t you?”
Lulu complied at once, saying, “I’m ever so glad you are better, Rosie.”
“If it hadn’t been for you I’d have been dead before this,” returned Rosie with a burst of tears. “And O, Lu, I didn’t deserve it of you. I want to kiss you, if you’ll let me.”
“Of course I will,” Lulu answered, bending down to give and receive a caress.
Rosie put her arms round Lulu’s neck, sobbing, “I haven’t always been kind to you, Lu, Please say that you forgive me.”
“Indeed I do; but don’t let us talk any more about it. I’m ever so glad to have had a chance to do you a kindness, though it wasn’t so very much after all.”
“Yes, yes, it was! I don’t believe I could have done it for anybody; and it saved my life. I love you dearly now, Lu, and I always shall. I’ve been a real Pharisee in my feelings toward you, but now I know and acknowledge that you are far better and nobler than I.”
“No, no,” said Lulu, “you are not passionate or wilful as I am. I wish I had as good a temper as yours.”
“You are both dear and lovable children,” interposed Grandma Elsie; “both have faults, and both virtues. We all love you both, and hope that hereafter there will be no lack of affection between you. But Rosie must not talk any more now.”
“Then I’ll run away, Grandma Elsie, till I’m told Rosie is able to see me again,” said Lulu, and hastened from the room.
In the hall she met Evelyn in a state of unwonted excitement.
“Oh, Lu!” she exclaimed, “what do you suppose happened at Fairview, last night? I have just had a note from Uncle Lester. He says a second little boy has come to them and they call him Eric, for my dear father. Isn’t it nice in them?”
“Oh, another baby?” cried Lulu. “That’s nice! Eric’s a pretty name too; and your father was Uncle Lester’s brother. I should think they would call the baby for him.”
“I wonder,” pursued Evelyn, “if Grandma Elsie and Aunt Vi have heard the news?”
“I don’t believe they have,” said Lulu, “but the breakfast bell rang a minute ago and here they come. So you can tell them.”
“No,” said Evelyn, “Grandpa Dinsmore and the doctor are coming up the stairs and they will tell them. Let’s wait a minute, and see how they look when they hear it.”
They stood aside as the gentlemen passed with a pleasant “Good morning, little girls,” then lingered to witness the interview between them and the ladies.
Mr. Dinsmore kissed his daughter and granddaughter, inquiring how Rosie was.
The doctor shook hands with both, saying, “We bring you pleasant tidings,” and signed to his uncle to give them.
“Elsie, my dear daughter,” the old gentleman said with a smile, “you have a second grandson, I a second great-grandson.”
“Ah, another treasure! another cause for gratitude to the Giver of all good!” she exclaimed. “And Elsie? is she doing well?”
“As well as possible,” answered the doctor,“and the child is as fine a little fellow as ever you saw.”
Both Eva and Rosie stayed the week out at Woodburn, the captain made it a holiday time to all his children, and all enjoyed themselves very much in a quiet way.
Lulu and Grace were urgently invited to make a return visit to both Ion and Fairview, and their father gave permission for the next week to be spent by them at the former place, partly promising too, that some weeks later they should be allowed to pay a visit of equal length to the other, if they wished.
Grace was doubtful about wanting to go, but Lulu seemed delighted with the prospect. But something happened to prevent her from going to Ion at the appointed time.
On the morning of that day the captain came to the children’s sitting-room with a face even brighter and happier than its wont.
“Lulu,” he said, when he had kissed his little girls good-morning, “go up to Max’s door and tell him I want him. He will find me here; but if he is not quite ready for breakfast, I will wait a little for him.”
Lulu obeyed, wonderingly, but asking no questions, and returned almost immediately, bringing Max with her.
The captain held out his hand to his son with a pleasant “Good-morning, my boy.”
“Good-morning, papa,” returned Max, putting his hand into that of his father, and looking up into his face inquiringly and with some little surprise.
“Lu said you wanted me.”
“Yes,” the captain said. “I want you all to come with me to the nursery,” and taking a hand of each of the little girls he led the way, Max following, and all three wondering what it meant.
Little Elsie lay sleeping in her crib, but another crib was there, and to that the captain went, and, turning down the cover with gentle hand, brought to view a tiny pink head and face, and doubled up fist.
“Here, Max,” he said with a joyous smile, “is a brother for you, for Lulu and Gracie, too,” he added, glancing from one to the other.
“I’ve a warm welcome for him,” laughed Max, bending down to look more closely at the tiny face; “you couldn’t have given me a present I’d like better, papa. But dare a fellow touch the little chap?”
“Better not, just yet,” said his father. “But what have his sisters to say about him?” turning to them.
“I’m ever so glad to see him,” said Grace.
“He’s a darling, and I mean to love him dearly,” said Lulu.
There was no cloud on her brow as at the news of Elsie’s birth; no fear in her heart that her father would love her less for the advent of this new treasure.
“Papa,” asked Grace, “are you just as much his father as ours?”
“Just as much, daughter, no more no less,” answered the captain, laying his hand tenderly on her head, and smiling down into her eyes.
“So now we have two brothers; that’s nice!” she remarked with satisfaction.
“I have but one,” said Max.
“We will go down to breakfast now,” said the captain, carefully covering up the babe again; “I directed that the bell should not be rung for fear of disturbing your mamma, who is asleep,” and he led the way from the room, moving with care to make no noise.
“How strange it seems without mamma,” remarked Grace as they took their places at the table.
“O papa,” cried Lulu, “mayn’t I sit in Mamma Vi’s place and pour the coffee?”
“You may try,” he said, smiling kindly upon her; “that post of honor should be yours, as my eldest daughter, when there is no lady relative present. Grandma Elsie is in the house, but lying down just now, for a little rest and sleep.”
Lulu felt very proud of the permission and acquitted herself of the duties of her new positionquite to her own and her father’s satisfaction. He praised her warmly.
She colored with pleasure, then with a wistful look into his eyes, asked:
“Are we to go to Ion to-day, papa, just the same as if Mamma Vi hadn’t been taken sick?”
“Yes, if you want to,” he said; “her illness need make no difference.”
“But won’t you be lonely without us, papa?”
“No doubt I shall miss my dear little daughters,” he replied, with an affectionate look first at her, then at Gracie, “but it will give me much pleasure to think that you are enjoying yourselves.”
“I’d rather stay at home if you need me, papa.”
“I quite appreciate the offer, dear child,” he said, “but I shall do very well, and perhaps enjoy you all the more when you get back; so go and enjoy yourself.”
“I don’t believe you need worry about papa being lonely without you and Gracie, Lu,” remarked Max, a little teasingly. “You forget that he will still have more than half his children at home, at least, when I am here.”
“Why, so he will!” she exclaimed, as if struck by a new and not altogether pleasant thought. “But the others are only babies!”
“The little fellow won’t amount to much for company, I suppose,” laughed Max, “but Elsiecan afford one a great deal of sport sometimes, can’t she, papa?”
“Yes,” answered the captain. Then to Lulu, “A week will soon pass to an old man like your father, my child.”
“Papa, you’re not old at all! I won’t have you called old?” she cried indignantly.
He laughed at that. “All the same, a week will be but a short time to me,” he said.
“Papa, what is our new brother’s name?” asked Grace.
“Edward, for his mother’s father.”
“Another little Ned,” remarked Max.
“You are not an only son any longer, Maxie,” said Lulu.
“Well, what need I care for that?” returned the lad. “Papa won’t prize me any the less; and I’ve always coveted a brother.”
“But you’re so much older that he won’t be any company for you,” pursued Lulu, as if bent on making Max discontented and jealous.
“No,” sighed Max, putting on a long face, “I presume he’ll regard me as quite an old man when he’s old enough to think any thing about such matters. But I mean to be very good to the little chap, any way, and see that no big fellow imposes on him,” he added brightening.
“I trust you will be a father to him, Max, in case any thing happens to me,” said the captain with grave earnestness.
“Yes, sir; I’ll do the very best I can,” returned Max, catching his father’s tone.
How those two sentences came back to the boy an hour later, as if they had been prophetic.
The little girls, especially Lulu, had built great expectations upon this proposed visit to Ion: it was their old home, and a beautiful place.
Rosie was now disposed to be very kind; Evelyn was to be her guest also for the week. She had lately received a pony from her uncle and aunt, and would have it with her, riding it from Fairview. Lulu and Gracie were to have theirs with them, also; so that each of the four little girls would be provided with a steed of her own, and they had planned to take a number of pleasant rides with Max as their escort.
He would not be at Ion all the time, but proposed to have his pony carry him over every day that he might give the girls the benefit of his protecting care when needed. He felt himself almost a man in looking forward to taking so great a responsibility.
Immediately after family worship the captain said cheerily to the children:
“You may get yourselves ready now, my dears. I am going to ride over to Union, but will be back within an hour if nothing happensto prevent, and will then take you to Ion myself.”
“I have no preparations to make for Ion, papa,” said Max; “mayn’t I ride Rex into the village along with you?”
“I shall be glad of your company, my boy,” was the kindly reply, and they went out to the veranda together.
Ajax was just leading up Rex and a larger horse, both ready saddled and bridled. The latter was a fiery steed, not yet well-broken, a recent purchase.
“You seem to have misunderstood your orders to-day, Ajax,” remarked his master with some sternness. “I did not intend to ride this horse this morning, but bade you saddle Lightfoot. However, as I am in some haste, I will ride Thunderer into the village; but see that you have Lightfoot ready for me on my return, for this fellow would not be safe to go with the young ladies on their ponies.”
With the last word he sprang into the saddle, but the horse instantly began to rear and plunge in a frightful manner, and in another moment the captain was lying motionless on the ground, while Thunderer dashed with lightning speed across the lawn, cleared the hedge at a bound, and disappeared from sight.
Max, who had not yet mounted his pony, ran to his father, and throwing himself on the grassbeside him, lifted his head, rested it on his knee, and began trying to loosen his necktie.
“The doctor!” he gasped, addressing the group of frightened servants gathered around, “he’s up-stairs. Call him; but don’t let Mamma Vi know. It would kill her.”
But he had hardly spoken before the doctor was at his side; Lulu too, both having seen the accident from the upper windows.
The captain’s eyes were closed; he neither moved nor spoke, and scarcely seemed to breathe. Both Max and Lulu thought him dead, and though they spoke not a word, nor made any outcry, their faces were full of agony.
“He lives,” Arthur hastened to say; “but the fall has stunned him.”
Under his direction the captain was gently lifted from the ground, carried into one of the lower rooms of the mansion, and laid upon a couch, while Christine came hurrying in, bringing restoratives and whatever else seemed likely to be needed.
Arthur ordered every one else out of the room; but Max and Lulu, who had stationed themselves at the foot of the couch, where they could watch their father’s face, stood still with such entreating looks, that he had not the heart to enforce his order so far as they were concerned.
“You two may stay if you will be perfectly quiet and still,” he said.
Max had his arms about his sister, and she was clinging to him, trembling with grief and affright, but uttering no sound.
“We will, doctor,” the boy promised in a hoarse whisper. “Only let us stay where we can see him.”
The next minute the captain sighed deeply, opened his eyes, and asked quite in his natural voice, “What has happened?”
“You were thrown,” replied Arthur, “stunned to insensibility. I hope that may be all. How do you feel? Any pain anywhere?”
“Yes; a good deal in my ankle; that old hurt, you know.”
The doctor examined it. “It seems to have had a terrible wrench,” he said. “You are in for fully six weeks of quietude. I don’t think I’ll allow you to so much as move about with a crutch before the end of that time.”
“A pretty hard sentence that, doctor,” replied the patient between a smile and a sigh.
“We may be thankful if that is all,” Arthur said, adding something in a lower tone about the possibility of internal injury.
“You can not tell yet?” was the response in an enquiring tone.
“Not certainly; yet I am strongly in hopes time will prove that there has been nothing moreserious than the wrench of the ankle and the jar to the whole system—quite enough, to be sure.”
“Quite! Ah, Max and Lulu,” as his eye fell upon them. “What, crying, my dear children? You should rather rejoice that your father is alive and able to speak to you.”
“But you are in pain, papa,” sobbed Lulu. “Oh, I wish I could help you to bear it!”
“Ah, my darling, I shall expect a good deal of help from you and the rest while serving out the doctor’s hard sentence,” he said, with an attempt at pleasantry that was almost a failure, his features contracting with pain as he spoke.
“No more talking for the present,” said Arthur.
“My wife—does she know? Keep this from her as long as you can,” said the captain.
“Of course,” returned the doctor; “but it will not be possible to conceal from her that something has happened to you. I hope to be able to tell her shortly that it is nothing more serious than a sprained ankle.”
“Max, you may take your sisters to Ion, if—” began the captain, turning his eyes on his son.
But Lulu interrupted with an earnest protest, “O papa, please don’t say we must go! I can’t bear to! I want to stay at home and nurse you!”
“So you shall, dear child; but go now and take the air for awhile.”
“Yes,” said the doctor, who was busily engaged in dressing the wounded limb; “you three may as well ride over to Ion with the news.”
“And come back as soon as you please,” added their father. “Tell Gracie not to be distressed; papa is not nearly so badly hurt as he might have been.”
“Oh, please let me stay right here beside you, papa,” pleaded Lulu.
“No, Lu,” said Dr. Conly, with mingled authority and playfulness. “I shall not allow you to be installed as nurse here, unless you hold yourself in readiness to obey orders; and I know the captain will agree with me that you must take exercise in the open air every day.”
“Certainly she must,” her father assented.
Then turning to Max, “My son, I shall have to entrust my errand to the village to you; you know what it was. Take your sisters to Ion first, then do your errand, and call for them as you come back.”
“Yes, sir; I will,” answered the lad promptly, moving toward the door as he spoke.
Lulu was about to accompany him, but turned suddenly, sprang past the doctor, and dropping on her knees by the side of the couch, seized her father’s hand, and lifting it to her lips, kissed it with passionate fervor.
“My little girl’s love is a great comfort tome,” he said in a low tone; “but go now, darling. You may come to me again when you return from Ion; unless the doctor forbids.”
“Which I think the doctor will not,” said Arthur. “Now run away like a good child.”
Max found Grace in the hall crying as if her heart would break.
“Oh, Maxie, tell me ’bout papa!” she sobbed; “is he—is he ’most—’most killed?”
“No, Gracie; he knows every thing, and is able to talk; but his ankle is badly hurt and pains him a good deal,” answered Max, speaking as cheerfully as he could, to relieve the fears of his little sister.
“Oh, can I go and see him?” she asked.
“No, not just now; the doctor is dressing his ankle, and papa says we must ride out for air and exercise, go over to Ion for just a little while, and when we come back, I think they’ll let you see him.”
At this moment Lulu joined them. “Don’t cry, Gracie, dear,” she entreated, taking her in her arms. “You and I are going to nurse papa and make him well again.”
“You may as well include me in that; I’m the eldest,” said Max. “We will all three do every thing we can for him. Now go and get your things on—the ponies are at the door waiting—and we’ll ride over to Ion at once. That’s papa’s orders, and I know he would say the firstand best thing is to be obedient, if we want to make him happy and help him to get well.”
“Yes, we will,” said Grace. “But oh,” she sobbed, “it’s so very dreadful that papa is hurt so!”
“But it might have been a great deal worse, Gracie,” said her brother, with a tremble in his voice. “I thought at first that papa was dead; he was so still and white, and didn’t know any thing at all.”
“Max,” exclaimed Lulu, sobbing bitterly as she spoke, “I wish you’d take your gun along, and if we meet Thunderer shoot him right down dead.”
“Why no, Lu! I wouldn’t dare do such a thing without papa’s leave; the horse belongs to him and is worth a great deal of money; so I wouldn’t have any right to kill him. Beside, papa has forbidden me ever to handle my gun when you girls are by: because accidents with firearms happen so often, even when they’re in the hands of men.”
“Well, I just hope he’s broken his neck before this, jumping a hedge or something,” cried Lulu fiercely. “Come, Gracie, we’ll go up-stairs now and put on our hats and habits.”