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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/19761-8.txt b/19761-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e89dcf9 --- /dev/null +++ b/19761-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7087 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Girl in Ten Thousand, by L. T. Meade + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Girl in Ten Thousand + +Author: L. T. Meade + +Release Date: November 11, 2006 [EBook #19761] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GIRL IN TEN THOUSAND *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +A GIRL IN TEN THOUSAND + +BY + +L. T. MEADE + +AUTHOR OF "BASHFUL FIFTEEN," "THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE," +"GIRLS NEW AND OLD," "RED ROSE AND TIGER LILY," ETC. + +NEW YORK + +HURST AND COMPANY PUBLISHERS + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +"You are the comfort of my life, Effie. If you make up your mind to go +away, what is to become of me?" + +The speaker was a middle-aged woman. She was lying on a sofa in a shabby +little parlor. The sofa was covered with horse-hair, the room had a +faded paper, and faded chintz covered the shabby furniture. The woman's +pleading words were emphasized by her tired eyes and worn face. She +looked full at the young girl to whom she spoke. + +"What shall I do without you, and what will your father say?" + +"I have made up my mind," said Effie. "I don't want to be unkind to you, +mother,--I love you more than words can say,--but I must go out into the +world. I must live my life like other girls." + +"You had none of these ideas until you met Dorothy Fraser." + +"Yes, I have had them for a long time; Dorothy has given them emphasis, +that's all. Dorothy's mother did not like her to go away, but now she is +glad. She says that nothing has made Dorothy into so fine a woman as +taking her life into her own hands, and making the best she can of it. +Before I go, mother, I will get Agnes to learn all my duties; she shall +help you. She is nearly fourteen; she ought to be of use to you, ought +she not?" + +"She would not be like you," replied Mrs. Staunton. "She is very young, +remember, and is at school most of the day. I won't argue with you, +Effie, but it tires me even to think of it." + +Effie sighed. She bent down and kissed her mother. Her words had sounded +hard and almost defiant, but there was nothing at all hard or defiant +about her sweet face. She was a dark-eyed girl, and looked as if she +might be any age between seventeen and twenty. There was a likeness +between her and her mother quite sufficient to show their relationship; +both faces were softly curved, both pairs of eyes were dark, and the +mother must have been even prettier in her youth than the daughter was +now. + +"As I say," continued Mrs. Staunton, "it fills me with terror to think +of doing without you." + +"Try not to think of it, mother. I am not going yet, I only want to go +very much indeed. I am going to talk to father about it. I want to have +the thing arranged while Dorothy is here." + +Here Effie went suddenly on her knees by the sofa and threw one young +arm protectingly round her mother. + +"You do not know what it means to me," she said. "When Dorothy talks of +the full life, the keen interest, the battle, the thrill of living, I +feel that I must go into it--I must." + +While Effie was speaking, Mrs. Staunton looked fixedly at her. There are +moments which all mothers know, when they put themselves completely out +of sight, when they blot themselves out, as it were. This time had come +to Mrs. Staunton now. + +After a pause, she said, and her words came out even without a sigh: + +"The question, after all, is this, Effie: What will your father say?" + +"When he thinks it out carefully he will be pleased," replied Effie. "He +must be interested in the profession I want to take up. How often--oh, +how often, mother--has he groaned and sighed at the bad nursing which +his patients get! You know you have always said, and he has said the +same, that I am a born nurse. Won't he be proud and pleased when I come +home and tell him all about the new ways in which things are done in +London hospitals? You know there are six of us, and Agnes and Katie are +growing up, and can take my place at home presently. Of course I know +that father is quite the cleverest doctor in Whittington, but nobody +gets ill here, and it is quite impossible to go on clothing and feeding +six of us with no means at all. I do not think I am vain, mother, and I +do not really care very much about dress, but mine is shabby, is it not? +I think I should look pretty--as pretty as you must have looked long +ago--if I were better dressed." + +"No dress can change your face," said Mrs. Staunton, with sudden +passion. "You have the sweetest and dearest face in the world to me. +When you go away the sunshine will go out of my life; but, my darling, +my darling, I won't--you shall never have it to say that your mother +stood in your way. I must think, however, of what your father will say +to this. I can only warn you that if there is one person your father +dreads and dislikes more than another, it is the modern girl. He said to +me, 'Thank God, Effie has none of that hideous modernity about her. She +is fairly good-looking; she does not think about Girton or Newnham, or +any of the women's colleges; in short, she has no advanced ideas.'" + +"That is all he knows," replied Effie. "The fact is, I must and will do +something to earn my living. You are sending George out into the world +to win his spurs, and I am going to win mine." + +"In what way?" asked Mrs. Staunton. "You know you are not clever." + +"Dorothy thinks I can be a nurse, mother. May she come and see you, and +talk it all over?" + +"There is no harm in talking it over," said Mrs. Staunton. "But now I +wish you would go upstairs and help Susan to put the children to bed. +You can bring baby downstairs if you like, and I will undress him. Run +along, Effie--run along, there's a good child." + +"Oh, yes, mother, I'll go; only just answer me one question first. May +Dorothy come here after supper to-night?" + +"What is the use of my seeing her? Your father is the one to decide." + +"I will ask father to stay in after supper." + +"I don't think he will. A message has come from the Watson people over +at the farm. Mrs. Watson was taken bad with a stitch an hour ago, and +they want your father as quickly as he can go." + +"Well, he will be back in time--he won't spend the whole evening there. +Anyhow, Dorothy can come and see you, and if father does come in before +she leaves, well and good. I may run and tell her to come, may I not?" + +"Won't you put the children to bed first, and bring me baby?" + +"Oh, yes, yes, if you insist." + +"I do, Effie; while you are at home you must help me all you can. I have +not had a bit of strength since baby was born. It is perfectly dreadful +to feel all your strength going and to know that things are at sixes and +sevens, and however hard you try you cannot put them right. Dear me, +Effie, I did think when you were grown up that you would stay at home +and be a comfort to me." + +"I shall be a greater comfort to you when I send you money from London. +Now, don't speak another word. I will put the children to bed, and I +will look after baby myself, while you close your eyes and go to sleep." + +Effie pressed her warm young lips on the older woman's brow, and then +ran out of the room. + +There was a large nursery upstairs, where everything at the present +moment was, as Effie's mother had said, at sixes and sevens. The +nursemaid, a young girl of seventeen, was not up to her duties--the +children ruled her, instead of her ruling the children. Effie, however, +could be masterful enough when she liked. She had a natural sense of +order, and she soon put things straight in the nursery. The children +were undressed quickly and put to bed; and then Effie, taking the baby +in her arms, asked Susan to go downstairs. + +"You can have your supper," she said. "I will look after baby." + +"I thought my missus would like me to take baby to her," said the girl. + +"No; I will look after him for the present," said Effie. "Mother is +tired, and she must sleep. Run away, Susan, and have your supper, and +come back here as quickly as you can." + +"Yes, Miss Effie; and I am sure I am very much obliged to you. You 'as a +wonderful way with the children, and I only wish I could learn it." + +Susan left the room. Pressing the baby's soft curly head against her +breast, Effie began to pace up and down with it. The baby was three +months old; he was fractious and disinclined to sleep, but when his +sister began to purr a soft song into his ear, an old nursery rhyme +which her mother had sung to her long ago, his wide-open eyes closed, +and he sank off into peaceful slumber. + +When she saw that he was quite sound asleep, Effie put him in his cot, +drew the cot near the crib where Philip, a dark-eyed little boy of five, +lay, and bending down to kiss Phil, said: + +"You are to be baby's nurse until Susan comes up; if he wakes or begins +to cry, just pat him on his back. I am most anxious that mother should +have a quiet time; she is just worn out, and if she hears baby cry she +is certain to send for him. Now, Phil, you are a very clever little man +when you like--I trust to you to keep baby from crying until Susan comes +back!" + +"'Es, that I will," replied Phil, in a voice of intense importance. "I +do love 'ou, Effie," he said. + +Effie kissed him, and softly left the room. She ran downstairs, and +began to help the servant to lay supper. + +No one could look more bright than Effie as she performed the thousand +and one duties which fell to her lot in this poor home. Dr. Staunton was +poor, there were six children, Effie was the eldest daughter; it needs +no more words to explain her exact position. From morning to night Effie +was busy, very busy, doing what she herself called nothing. She was +getting discontented with her life. A feeling of discontent had stolen +over her ever since her eldest brother George had gone to London, to +help his uncle in a large warehouse. For months the dream of her life +was to give up the little duties near at hand, and to take some great +duties which nobody wanted her to do, far away from home. She was quite +prepared for the advice which her friend Dorothy Fraser, who lived all +the year round in London, and only came home for the holidays to +Whittingham, was able to give her. Effie's conscience was not in the +least pricked at the thought of leaving her mother--it seemed to her +quite right. "Had she not to make the most of her youth? Why should she +spend all her young days in looking after the children, and making +things tolerable for her father and mother?" + +These thoughts kept swiftly passing through her brain, as she +noiselessly laid the table and made it look charming and pretty. When +all was done, she took up a little frock of one of the children's, and, +sitting down by the window, began to work. Her pretty dark head was bent +over her task; her thick curling lashes lay heavy on her rounded cheek. +Mrs. Staunton, who had been having a doze on the sofa, started up now +and looked at her. + +"Oh, Effie dear, I have had such a nice sleep," she said, with a little +sigh; "I am ever so much the better for it. But what have you done with +baby?" + +"I have put him to sleep, mother; he is in his cot now, as comfortable +as possible." + +"How good of you, Effie! What a comfort you are to me!" + +Effie smiled. "I think I hear father coming in," she said, "and supper +is quite ready." + +Mrs. Staunton started up from the sofa; she pushed back her tumbled +hair, and shook out her somewhat untidy dress. + +"Now let me make you trim," said Effie. + +She ran over to her parent, put back her gray hair with an affectionate +little touch, and then kissed her mother on her flushed cheeks. + +"You look better for your nice sleep, mother," she said. + +"So I am, darling, and for your loving care," replied Mrs. Staunton. + +Her husband came into the room, and she took her place before the +tea-tray. + +Supper at the Stauntons' was a nondescript sort of meal. It consisted of +meat and vegetables, and tea and cakes and puddings, all placed on the +table together. It was the one hearty meal Dr. Staunton allowed himself +in the twenty-four hours. At the children's early dinner he only +snatched a little bread and cheese, but at peaceful seven o'clock the +children were in bed, the house was quiet, the toil of the day was +supposed to be over, and Dr. Staunton could eat heartily and enjoy +himself. It was at this hour he used to notice how very pretty Effie +looked, and how sweet it was to see her sitting like a little mouse on +one side of the table, helping him and his wife in her affectionate way, +and seeing to the comforts of all. It did not occur to him as even +possible that Effie could carry such a dreadful thing as rebellion in +her heart. No face could look more perfectly happy than hers. Was it +possible that she was pining for a wider field of usefulness than the +little niche which she filled so perfectly in the home life? Dr. +Staunton never thought about it at all. Effie was just a dear little +girl--not a bit modern; she was the comfort of her mother's life, and, +for that matter, the comfort of his also. + +He looked at her now with his usual grave smile. "Well, Effie, useful +and charming as usual? I see you have not forgotten my favorite dish, +and I am glad of it, for I can tell you I am just starving. I have had +a hard day's work, and it is nice to feel that I can rest for this +evening at least." + +"Have you been to the Watsons', dear?" inquired Mrs. Staunton. "They +sent a message for you two or three hours ago." + +"Yes; I met the farmer in the High Street, and went straight out to the +farm. Mrs. Watson is better now, poor soul; but it is a bad case, the +heart is a good deal implicated. I shall have to go out there again the +first thing in the morning. It would be a dreadful thing for that family +if anything happened to her." + +"The heart--is it heart trouble?" said Mrs. Staunton. + +"Yes, yes! Don't you begin to fancy that your case is the least like +hers; yours is only functional, hers is organic. Now, why have I broken +through my rule of saying nothing about my patients? You will be +fancying and fretting all night that you are going to shuffle off this +mortal coil just as quickly as poor Mrs. Watson will have to do before +long, I fear. Why, Effie, what is the matter? Why are you staring at me +with those round eyes?" + +Mrs. Staunton looked also at Effie, and the sudden memory of her recent +conversation with her returned. + +"By the way," she said, "if you are likely to be at home this evening, +John, Effie would like to ask her friend Dorothy Fraser to come in for +an hour or two. She wants to introduce her to you." + +"She is one of those modern girls, is she not?" said the doctor. + +"Oh, father, she is just splendid," said Effie. "If you only knew her, +if you could hear her speak----" + +"Well, my dear, don't get into a state, and above all things, don't +learn that dreadful habit of exaggeration. I dare say Miss Fraser is +very well, but there are few prodigies in the world, my little Effie; +and, for my part, give me the home birds--they are the girls for my +world; they are the girls who will make good wives by and by. There, my +love, I shall be pleased to welcome any friend of yours, so ask her +over, by all means. She won't mind the old doctor's pipe, I hope?" + +"Oh, no, father!" Effie could not help smiling. She knew perfectly well +that Dorothy thought it no harm to indulge in a tiny cigarette herself, +not often, nor every day, but sometimes when she was dead beat, as she +expressed it. Effie had to keep this knowledge of her friend's +delinquencies to herself. If Dr. Staunton knew that Dorothy did not +consider smoking the unpardonable sin in woman, he would not allow her +inside his doors. "I will go and fetch her," Effie said, jumping up and +putting on her hat. "She is longing to know you, father, and you can +smoke two or three pipes while she is here." + +Effie left the room. Mrs. Staunton looked at her husband. "I doubt if +Dorothy Fraser is the best of friends for our Effie." + +"Eh!" said the doctor, taking his pipe out of his mouth for a moment. +"What ails the girl?" + +"Oh, nothing at all," replied Mrs. Staunton. "Effie is very fond of her, +and I believe she really is a fine creature. You know she is educating +her two brothers." + +"What is she doing--how does she earn her living?" + +"Oh, she is a nurse in a hospital. She has been in St. Joseph's Hospital +for years, and is now superintendent of one of the wards. She gets a +good salary." + +The doctor rubbed his hands together in a somewhat impatient way. "You +know my opinion of lady nurses," he said, looking at his wife. + +"Well, dear, make the best of Dorothy for Effie's sake. I hear the steps +of the two girls now. You will do what you can to be agreeable, won't +you?" + +"No," said the doctor; "I shall growl like a bear with a sore head, when +I see women who ought to be content with sweet home duties struggling +and pining to go out into the world." + +The last words had scarcely left the doctor's lips before the +dining-room door was opened, and Effie, accompanied by her friend, +entered the room. + +Dorothy Fraser was about twenty-eight years of age; she was tall; she +had a fair, calm sort of face; her eyes were large and gray, her mouth +sweet. She had a way of taking possession of those she spoke to, and she +had not been two minutes in the shabby little sitting-room before Dr. +and Mrs. Staunton were looking at her earnestly and listening to her +words with respect. + +Dorothy sat near Mrs. Staunton. + +"I am very glad to know you," she said, after a pause. "Effie has talked +to me over and over again about you." + +"May I ask how long you have known Effie?" interrupted Dr. Staunton. + +"Well, exactly a week," replied Miss Fraser. "I have been home a week, +and I am going to stay another week. I met Effie the night I came home, +and---- But one can cultivate a friendship in a week; don't you think +so, Dr. Staunton?" + +"Perhaps, perhaps," said the doctor in a dubious voice. "I am slow in +making friends myself. It is the old-fashioned way of country folk." + +"Oh, pray don't speak of yourself as old-fashioned, Dr. Staunton; and +don't run down country folk, I see so many of them at the hospital. For +my part, I think they are worth twenty of those poor London people, who +are half starved in body, and have only learned the wicked side of +life." + +"Poor creatures!" said Mrs. Staunton. "I wish you would tell us +something about the hospital, my dear. It is vastly entertaining to hear +all about sick people." + +"No; now pardon me," said the doctor; "you will do nothing of the kind, +Miss Fraser. There are not many sick folk about here, but what few there +are I have got to look after, and my thoughts are bothered enough about +them and their sicknesses, so I would rather, if you please, turn our +conversation to people who are not ill. The wife here is a bit nervous, +too, and she is never the better for hearing people talk about what they +call 'bad cases.' I think it is the worst thing in the world for people +to keep talking of their maladies, or even about other people's +maladies. My motto is this, 'When you are ill, try and see how soon you +can get well again, and when you are well, try to keep so. Never think +of illness at all.'" + +Miss Fraser looked fully at the doctor while he was talking. A slight +frown came between her eyebrows. Effie's bright dark eyes were fixed on +her friend. + +"Illness interests me, of course," Dorothy said, after a pause; "but I +won't talk of it. There are many other things, as you say, just as +vital." + +"Well, at any rate," said Mrs. Staunton, "Miss Fraser can tell us how +she came to be a nurse----" + +"For my part," interrupted Dr. Staunton, "I think it is a great pity +that girls like you, Miss Fraser, should take up that sort of life. Lady +girls are not suited to it; for one who is fitted for the life, there +are fifty who are not. If you could only guess how doctors hate to see +lady nurses in possession of a case. She is a fine lady through it all; +she thinks she is not, but she is. Do you suppose she will wash up the +cups and plates and spoons as they ought to be washed and kept in a sick +person's room? and do you fancy she will clean out the grate, and go +down on her knees to wash the floor? Your fine lady nurse won't. There +is a case of infection, for instance,--measles or scarlet fever,--and +the nurse comes down from London, and she is supposed to take +possession; but one of the servants of the house has to go in to clean +and dust and arrange, or the sickroom is not dusted or cleaned at all. +That is your lady nurse; and I say she is not suited to the work." + +Miss Fraser turned pale while the doctor was speaking. + +"You must admit," she said, when he stopped and looked at her,--"you +must admit, Dr. Staunton, that every lady nurse is not like that. If you +have an infection case in your practice, send for me. I think I can +prove to you that there are some ladies who are too truly women to think +anything menial or beneath them." She colored as she spoke, and lowered +her eyes. + +The conversation drifted into other channels. After a time Dorothy got +up and went away; and Effie, yawning slightly, went up to her room to go +to bed. She slept in a little room next to the nursery. Instead of +undressing at once, as was her wont, she went and stood by the window, +threw it open, and looked out. "What would father say if he knew my +thoughts?" she said to herself. "He despises ladies who are nurses; he +thinks it wrong for any lady girl to go away from home; but I am +going--yes, I am going to London. Dorothy is my friend. She is about +the grandest, noblest creature I ever met, and I am going to follow in +her steps. Mother will consent in the end--mother will see that I cannot +throw away my life. Dear mother! I shall miss her and father awfully, +but, all the same, I shall be delighted to go. I do want to get out of +this narrow, narrow life; I do want to do something big and grand. Oh, +Dorothy, how splendid you are! How strong you look! How delightful it is +to feel that one can live a life like yours, and do good, and be loved +by all! Oh, Dorothy, I hope I shall be able to copy you! I hope----" + +Effie's eager thoughts came to a sudden stop. A tall dog-cart dashed +down the street and pulled up short at her father's door. A young man in +a Norfolk suit jumped out, threw the horse's reins to his groom, and +pulled the doctor's bell furiously. Effie leaned slightly out of her +window in order to see who it was. She recognized the man who stood on +the doorstep with a start of surprise, and the color flew into her face. +He was the young Squire of the neighborhood. His name was Harvey. His +place was two miles out of Whittington. He was married; his wife was the +most beautiful woman Effie had ever seen; and he had one little girl. +The Harveys were rich and proud; they spent the greater part of their +time in London, and had never before condescended to consult the village +doctor. What was the matter now? Effie rushed from her room and knocked +furiously at her father's door. + +"Father, do you hear the night-bell? Are you getting up?" she called. + +"Yes, child, yes," answered the doctor. + +The bell downstairs kept on ringing at intervals. Effie stood trembling +on the landing; she felt positively sure that something dreadful must +have happened. + +"May I go down stairs and say you are coming, father?" she called again +through the key-hole. + +"Yes, I wish you would. Say I will be downstairs in a minute." + +Effie ran off; she took the chain off the heavy hall door and threw it +open. + +"Is Dr. Staunton in?" asked the Squire. He stared at Effie's white +trembling face. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair in disorder; he looked +like a man who is half distracted. + +"Yes," said Effie, in as soothing a voice as she could assume; "my +father will be down in a minute." + +Harvey took off his cap. + +"You are Miss Staunton, I presume? Pray ask your father to be as quick +as possible. My little girl is ill--very ill. We want a doctor to come +to The Grange without a moment's delay." + +"All right, Squire; here I am," said the hearty voice of Dr. Staunton on +the stairs. + +The Squire shook hands with him, made one or two remarks in too low a +voice for Effie to hear, sprang into his dog-cart, the doctor scrambled +up by his side, and a moment later the two had disappeared. Effie stood +by the open hall door looking up and down the quiet village street. The +great man of the place had come and gone like a flash. The thing Mrs. +Staunton had longed for, dreamed of, and almost prayed for, had come to +pass at last--her husband was sent for to The Grange. Effie wondered if +Fortune were really turning her wheel, and if, from this date they would +be better off than they had been. + +Dorothy Fraser's people lived in the house nearly opposite. From where +Effie stood she could see a light still burning in her friend's window. +The thought of Dorothy raised the girl's state of excitement almost to +fever pitch. She longed to go over and see her friend; she knew she must +not do that, however. She shut the hall door, and went slowly back to +her bedroom. She wanted to sleep, but sleep was far away. She lay +listening during the long hours of the summer night, and heard hour +after hour strike from the church clock close by. Between two and three +in the morning she dropped off into a troubled doze. She awoke in broad +daylight, to start to her feet and see her father standing in the room. + +"Get up, Effie," he said. "I want you; dress yourself as quickly as you +can." + +There was an expression about his face which prevented Effie's uttering +a word. She scrambled into her clothes--he waited for her on the +landing. When she was dressed he took her hand and went softly down +through the house. + +"I do not want your mother to be disturbed," he said. "There is a very +bad case of illness at The Grange." + +"What is it, father?" asked Effie. + +"Well, I fear that it is a complication of scarlet fever and diphtheria. +The child will have an awful fight for her life, and at the present +moment I am afraid the odds are terribly against her." + +"Oh, father, and she is the only child!" said Effie. + +"Yes, yes, I know all that; but there is no use in going into sentiment +just now--the thing is to pull her through if possible. Now, look here: +I can send to London, of course, for a nurse, but she would not arrive +for several hours--do you think your friend Miss Fraser would undertake +the case?" + +"Yes, I am sure she would," said Effie. + +"That's just like you women," said the doctor impatiently; "you jump to +conclusions without knowing anything at all about the matter. The +child's case is horribly infectious. In fact, I shall be surprised if +the illness does not run right through the house. The mother has been +sitting up with this baby day and night for the last week, and they were +so silly they never sent for a doctor, imagining that the awful state of +the throat was due to hoarseness, and that the rash was what they were +pleased to call 'spring heat.' The folly of some people is enough to +drive any reasonable man to despair. They send for the doctor, forsooth, +when the child is almost in the grip of death! I have managed to relieve +her a bit during the night, but I must have the services of a good nurse +at once. Go over and awake Miss Fraser, Effie, and bring her to see me. +If she has the pluck she gave me to understand she had, she will come in +as a stop-gap until I get somebody else. And now, look here: the case is +so infectious, and your mother is so weak just now, that I am going to +devote myself altogether to it for the next few days. I am going to take +up my abode at The Grange, and I shall wire to my old friend Edwards to +look after the rest of my patients. There are only half a dozen to be +seen to, and he will keep them quiet until I am free again. Now go over +and bring Miss Fraser for me to see. I have driven down on the Squire's +dog-cart, and will take her back with me if she will come. Run along, +Effie, and wake her up." + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +Dorothy Fraser was sound asleep when Effie rushed into her little room. + +"Get up!" said Effie, shaking her friend by the shoulder. + +As a nurse Miss Fraser was accustomed to unexpected disturbances. She +opened her eyes now and gazed at Effie for a bewildered moment, then she +sat up in bed and pushed back her heavy hair. + +"Why, Effie," she exclaimed, "what do you want? I fancied I was back at +St. Joseph's and that one of the nurses had got into trouble and had +come to me, but I find I am at home for the holidays. Surely it is not +time to get up yet?" + +"It is only five o'clock," said Effie. "It is not the usual time to get +up; but, Dorothy, father wants you. There is a bad case of illness at +The Grange--very bad indeed, and father is nearly distracted, and he +wants to know if you will help him just for a bit." + +"Why, of course," cried Dorothy. "I shall be delighted." + +"I knew you would; I knew you were just that splendid sort of a girl." + +Miss Fraser knit her brows in some perplexity "Don't, Effie," she said. +"I wish you would not go into such ecstasies over me; I am only just a +nurse. A nurse is, and ought to be, at the beck and call of everyone who +is in trouble. Now run away, dear; I won't be any time in getting +dressed. I will join you and your father in a minute." + +"Father will see you in the street," said Effie. "The fact is----" + +"Oh, do run away," exclaimed Dorothy. "I cannot dress while you stand +here talking. Whatever it is, I will be with your father in two or three +minutes." + +Effie ran downstairs again. Mrs. Fraser, who had let her in, had gone +back to bed. Effie shut the Frasers' hall door as quietly as she could. +She then went across the sunlit and empty street to where her father +stood on the steps at his own door. The groom who had driven the doctor +over was standing by the horse's head at a little distance. + +"Well," said Dr. Staunton, "she has fought shy of it, has she?" + +"No; she is dressing," said Effie. "She will be down in a minute or +two." + +"Good girl!" said Dr. Staunton. "You didn't happen to mention the nature +of the case?" + +"No, no," answered Effie; "but the nature of the case won't make any +difference to her." + +The doctor pursed up his mouth as if he meant to whistle; he restrained +himself, however, and stood looking down the street. After a time he +turned and glanced at his daughter. + +"Now, Effie," he said, "you must do all you can for your mother. Don't +let her get anxious. There is nothing to be frightened about as far as I +am concerned. If mortal man can pull the child through, I will do it, +but I must have no home cares as well. You will take up that burden--eh, +little woman?" + +"I will try, father," said Effie. + +Just then Dorothy appeared. She had dressed herself in her nurse's +costume--gray dress, gray cloak, gray bonnet. The dress suited her +earnest and reposeful face. She crossed the road with a firm step, +carrying a little bag in her hand. + +"Well, Dr. Staunton," she said, "I hear you have got a case for me." + +The doctor gazed at her for a moment without speaking. + +"Bless me," he exclaimed; "it is a comfort to see a steady-looking +person like you in the place. And so you are really willing to help me +in this emergency?" + +"Why, of course," said Dorothy. "I am a nurse." + +"But you don't know the nature of the case yet!" + +"I don't see that that makes any difference; but will you tell me?" + +"And it is your holiday," pursued the doctor, gazing at her. "You don't +take many holidays in the year I presume?" + +"I have had a week, and I am quite rested," said Dorothy. "I always hold +my life in readiness," she continued, looking up at him with a flash out +of her dark blue eyes. "Anywhere at any time, when I am called, I am +ready. But what is the matter? What do you want me to do?" + +"I want you to help me to pull a child back from the borders of death." + +"A child! I love children," said Dorothy. "What ails the child?" + +"She has acute scarlet fever and diphtheria. No precautions have been +taken with regard to sanitation. She is the child of rich people, but +they have been wantonly neglectful, almost cruel in their negligence and +ignorance. The mother, a young woman, is nearly certain to take the +complaint and, to complicate everything, there is another baby expected +before long. Now you understand. If you get into that house you are +scarcely likely to go out of it again for some time." + +Dorothy stood grave and silent. + +"Oh, Dorothy, is it right for you to go?" exclaimed Effie, who was +watching her friend anxiously. + +"Yes," said Dorothy, "it is right. They may possibly be obliged to fill +my place at St. Joseph's. I was only considering that point for a +moment. After all, it is not worth troubling about. I am at your +service, Dr. Staunton. We may require one or two other nurses to help us +if things are as bad as you fear." + +"God bless you!" said the doctor. Something very like moisture came into +his eyes. He began to blow his nose violently. "Now, Effie, you will do +your best at home," he said, turning to his daughter. "This way, please, +Miss Fraser." + +"Good-by, Effie, dear," said Dorothy. She kissed her friend. The doctor +and the nurse walked toward the dog-cart; he helped her to mount, and +then drove rapidly down the street. The vehicle was soon out of sight. + +"I wonder what father will think of Dorothy after this?" thought Effie +to herself. The feeling that her father would really approve of her +friend gave her much consolation. She went back into the house, and as +it was now half-past five, decided that it was not worth while to return +to bed. There was always plenty to be done in this little house with its +overflowing inhabitants, and Effie found heaps to occupy her until it +was time to go into the nursery to help the little nursemaid with her +various duties. + +The children always hailed Effie with a scream of delight; they were not +a bit afraid of her, for she was the most indulgent elder sister in the +world, but all the same she managed to make them obey her. + +Susan was sent downstairs to get her breakfast, while Effie saw the +elder ones safely through the process of dressing. She took the baby on +her knee, and, removing his night-clothes, put him into his bath, and +dressed him herself quickly and expeditiously. She then carried him into +her mother's room. + +Mrs. Staunton had spent a troubled night. + +"Is that you, Effie?" she exclaimed, looking at her daughter; "and oh, +there is baby--how sweet he looks! What a splendid nurse you are, my +darling, and what a wonderful comfort to me! Give me my dear little man. +I will take care of him while you see about breakfast." + +"How are you this morning, mother?" asked Effie. "Have you had a good +night?" + +"Yes, pretty well. I had one or two bad dreams. I could not help +thinking of poor Mrs. Watson and that heart-trouble your father spoke +about. I wonder how she is this morning." + +"Now, mother dear," said Effie, "you know father said you were not to +dwell upon that--you must turn your thoughts away from illness of every +sort. I thought we might go for a little drive in the gig this morning." + +"But your father will want the gig." + +"No, that's just it, he won't." + +"What do you mean? Surely he will go out as early as he can to see Mrs. +Watson?" + +"No, mother," said Effie, "he won't--not to-day. I have something to +tell you. Now, please don't be frightened; there is nothing to be +frightened about." + +Mrs. Staunton was half sitting up in bed; she had thrown a little pale +blue shawl round her shoulders, and held the pretty baby in her arms. +She was a remarkably good-looking woman, a really young-looking woman +for her age, but weakness was written all over her--the weakness of a +frail although loving spirit, and the weakness of extreme bodily +illness, for she was ill, far more ill than her children knew. The +greatest anxiety of the honest doctor's life was connected with his +wife's physical condition. Effie looked at her mother now, and something +of the fear which dwelt in her father's heart seemed to visit her. + +"I have something to tell you," she said, "but it is nothing that need +make you the least bit afraid. Father has left you in my charge. He says +I am to look after you, and to do all in my power to help you." + +"But what can you mean, Effie? Has your father gone away?" + +"Not really away," replied Effie, "for he is close to us, and can come +back if necessary at any moment; but the fact is this: If all is well, +father is not coming home for two or three days. In one way you will be +pleased to hear this, mother. You know how you have wished him to be +called in at The Grange." + +"At The Grange!" exclaimed Mrs. Staunton, starting up. "You don't mean +to tell me that the Harveys have sent for your father?" + +"Yes, mother, I do; and is not that good news? The little girl is very +ill, and Squire Harvey came over to fetch father last night--that time +when the bell rang so suddenly." + +"I remember," said Mrs. Staunton. "I made sure that someone came from +the Watsons'." + +"No; it was the Squire who called--Squire Harvey. Father went there and +found the little girl very ill. He came back again this morning, and +took Dorothy Fraser out with him as nurse, and he saw me, and he asked +me to tell you that he would stay at The Grange for a couple of days +until he could pull the child through, and you are on no account to +expect him home, but you are to keep as well and cheerful as possible +for his sake; and Dr. Edwards from Boltonville is to take father's work +for the time. So you see," continued Effie in conclusion, "that the +horse and gig will be at liberty, and we can go for a drive. I thought +we might go to Boltonville, and take baby, and buy some fruit for +preserving. There are sure to be heaps of strawberries at the Bolton +Farm if we drive over early." + +All the time Effie was speaking, Mrs. Staunton kept gazing at her. As +the eager words flowed from the young girl's lips, the heart of the +mother seemed to faint within her. + +"You," she said, after a pause; her voice trembled, no words could come +for an instant,--"you," she went on,--"Effie, you have not told me what +ails the child?" + +"She is very ill, mother; that goes without saying." + +"But what ails her? Why should not your father come home?" + +Effie thought for a moment. "I will tell about the scarlet fever, but +not about the diphtheria," she said to herself. "Mother is always so +terrified about diphtheria ever since poor little Johnny died of it, +long, long ago. She won't mind scarlet fever so much." + +"Why don't you speak, Effie?" exclaimed her mother. "You terrify me with +your grave and silent way." + +"There is nothing to be terrified about, mother, but you are weak, and +therefore you get unduly nervous. I was only thinking for a moment +whether you had better know; but of course, if you wish it, you must be +told. The child at The Grange is suffering from scarlet fever." + +"Do you think it will spread?" + +"Father is very anxious. I heard him telling Dorothy that Mrs. Harvey +had been very imprudent. You know how young she is, mother, and how +beautiful; and she has been with this dear little child day and night +from the beginning, not knowing in the least what ailed her, and Mrs. +Harvey is expecting another baby, and of course father is anxious." + +"I should think he is," cried Mrs. Staunton, drawn completely out of +herself by the tragedy conveyed in these words. "Oh, poor young thing, +poor young mother! I wish I were strong and well myself, that I might go +and help her. She will have a bad time. She will have an awful risk when +her baby arrives, Effie. Well, my darling, we can do nothing but pray +for them all. There is One who can guide us even through dark days. Go +down, Effie, and get breakfast, and then come back to me. I am very +tired this morning, and will lie still for a little, now that I have got +such a dear, useful daughter to take my place for me." + +Effie put on a bright smile, and turned toward the door. + +As she was leaving the room, her mother called out after her: + +"There is one good thing, there is no diphtheria in the case; nothing +terrifies me like that." + +Effie shut the door hastily without reply. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Meanwhile Dr. Staunton and Dorothy drove quickly to The Grange. It was +still very early in the morning, and when they arrived at the great hall +door it was opened by Squire Harvey himself. + +"That's right, Dr. Staunton!" he exclaimed. "I am so glad you have come. +Oh, and I see you have brought a nurse. What a blessing! Now, perhaps, +you will induce my wife to take some rest. How lucky that you were able +to find a nurse in a little place like Whittington!" + +"I am very fortunate indeed," replied the doctor in his hearty voice. +"Nurse Fraser has been trained at St. Joseph's, and happens to be +staying at Whittington for a brief holiday. She has most kindly +consented to undertake the case until we can get fresh assistance from +London." + +"I will stay as long as I am wanted," said Dorothy in her quiet voice. +"If I can be shown to a room for a moment to take off my bonnet and +cloak, I will go immediately afterward to the little patient." + +Dorothy's voice was perfectly cool and calm. She did not speak in the +constrained whisper which the poor Squire thought it right to use. There +was an everyday tone in her voice which at this moment was absolutely +refreshing, and the sympathy in her blue eyes just gave the right +quality to the cool tones. + +The doctor looked at her with unconcealed admiration. "That girl is one +in ten thousand," he said to himself. "She will keep us all on our +mettle, I can see, but there is plenty of heart underneath that cool +exterior." + +The great luxurious house looked neglected and wretched. Although the +father and mother were up, and one or two servants were assisting in the +sickroom, the greater number of the servants were still in bed. There +was no one to take Miss Fraser to a room, and the Squire looked round +him in hopeless bewilderment. + +Dorothy saw at a glance that she must take matters into her own hands. + +"I do not want to trouble you," she said. "I can put my cloak and bonnet +in here. I should like to put on my cap and apron before I go +upstairs." + +She opened a door as she spoke, and went into a room where all the +blinds were down, took off her outdoor things, and, taking a cap out of +her bag, slipped it over her hair, tied on a white apron, and then stood +ready and capable, and fresh and bright, before the Squire and the +doctor. + +"Now, come straight upstairs with me," said the doctor. + +They went up together; Squire Harvey followed them at a distance. When +the doctor reached the first landing, he opened a green baize door, shut +it behind him, and walked down a long, cool corridor which led in the +direction of the nurseries. + +"Now, look here," he said, turning and facing Dorothy, "the great thing +that we have both to do is to keep this terrible disease from spreading. +One or two of the servants have been with the case from the first; the +father and mother have been in and out of the room as freely and +unconstrainedly as if the child had only a cold the matter with her; if +they are likely to take the infection, the mischief is probably done +already; but, on the chance of this not being so, I shall beg of the +Squire to come into this part of the house as seldom as possible. And as +to Mrs. Harvey, she must be got away; that is your task, nurse. You will +allow me to call you nurse, won't you?" + +"Certainly. Call me Nurse Dorothy; I like that name best. I am called +that by the children at St. Joseph's." + +"Very well. I am sure you will be a blessing here; but a great deal of +tact must be used. The position of affairs is extremely difficult." + +"I will do my best," replied the nurse. The doctor gave her another look +of complete satisfaction, and they entered the room where the little +patient lay between life and death. + +A small cot had been drawn almost into the center of the room, the +blinds were down, there was a sense of desolation, and a heavy smell in +the air. + +"Who has shut these windows?" said the doctor in a voice of disapproval. + +He went straight across the room, drew up one of the blinds, and opened +the window two or three inches. A fresh current of air immediately +improved the close atmosphere. + +When he spoke, and when he and Nurse Fraser came into the room, a +fair-haired young woman, who was on her knees by the side of the cot, +started up suddenly, and gazed at them out of a pair of wide blue eyes. +Her cheeks were deeply flushed, her lips were parched and dry. + +"Oh, doctor," she said, staggering toward Dr. Staunton, "you have come +back. What a blessing! She is asleep now; perhaps she is better." + +The doctor went over and looked at the child. She was a little creature +of not more than five years of age. In health she may have been pretty, +she probably was; but now, the shadowy little face, the emaciated hands, +the hot, dry, cracked lips, were the reverse of beautiful. They were all +that was pathetic, however; and Dorothy's heart went straight out to the +baby who lay there in such suffering and weakness. + +The doctor looked at her, and gave a significant glance toward Mrs. +Harvey. + +Dorothy took her cue at once. + +"I have come to nurse your dear little girl, madam," she said. "Dr. +Staunton has brought me. I have a great deal of experience, as I am +superintendent of one of the children's wards at St. Joseph's Hospital. +I think you may trust your little girl to me; but first of all, let me +take you to your room and put you to bed." + +"Put me to bed!" said Mrs. Harvey, with a laugh which jarred on +everyone's nerves. "I have not been in bed for nights. I could not +sleep. When the doctor tells me that Freda is out of danger, then I may +be able to sleep, but not before--not before." + +"Whether you sleep or not," continued Dorothy, "you must come and lie +down. You are completely worn out, and can do no good whatever to the +child in your present condition. While she sleeps it is surely right +that you should sleep too. Come, I will promise to call you if you are +wanted." + +"Yes, dear madam, let me entreat of you to go to bed," said the doctor. + +The door was opened at this moment, and the Squire came in. + +"Now Elfreda," he said, coming up to his wife, "you will go and take +some rest, won't you?" + +She looked from him to the nurse, and from the nurse to the doctor, and +then her tired, bright eyes fell upon the little parched face lying on +the pillow. + +"I know she is going to die!" she said, with a kind of broken sob. "I +cannot leave her. How can anyone dare to ask me to leave my little child +just now?" Her agitation became more terrible each moment. She was +evidently on the verge of hysterics. + +Dorothy walked straight from the nursery to a sort of dressing-room +which lay beyond. There was a small bed there, which was sometimes +occupied by the under-nurse. A scared-looking, tired young woman was +standing in this room. Dorothy gave her quick directions. "Get clean +sheets, and make this bed up immediately," she said. + +The girl started, but looked relieved at having anything explicit to do. +She ran off to obey, and Dorothy came back to the sickroom. + +"Hush!" she said, going up to Mrs. Harvey, who was standing shaking from +head to foot with dry sobs. "You must not give way like this; it is very +wrong. Remember you have not only yourself to think of." She bent +forward and whispered a word in the young mother's ear. Mrs. Harvey +started, and with a violent effort controlled herself. + +"I see that you must not be separated from your child," continued +Dorothy--"at least, not at present. I am having a bed made up for you in +the dressing-room, where you will be within call." + +"Ah, yes, that's better," said the poor lady--"that's much better." + +"Come, then, at once," said Dorothy. She held out her hand. Mrs. Harvey +crossed the room. She and Dorothy disappeared into the dressing-room. + +In ten minutes the nurse came back to Dr. Staunton. "I have undressed +her, and she is in bed," she said. "She is very weak, and in a terribly +nervous condition; she ought to sleep for hours. Will you prepare a +composing draught for her it once?" + +"Yes," said the doctor; "I have brought some medicines with me." + +He went out of the room, and returned in a minute or two with a small +dose in a glass. + +Dorothy took it into the dressing-room. Mrs. Harvey's tired eyes were +shut already. + +"Now, you're to drink this," said Dorothy, raising her head slightly. +"Drink this--don't open your eyes. Trust. Lean on me, if you like. +Believe me, that nothing would induce me not to call you if your child +were in real danger, but you must sleep now--sleep, and try to believe +that all will be well." + +"You comfort me, nurse," said Mrs. Harvey. "You are strong. I somehow +believe in you." + +"You may do so," said Dorothy. She bent down and kissed the hot lips. +She absolutely forgot that she was only the nurse, and that the tired +woman in the bed was a lady of high position. At such a moment as this +they were only two women, two sisters. + +Dorothy waited for a moment to see the sleeping draught take effect, +then, drawing down the blind, she left the room, closing the door softly +behind her. + +When she returned to the nursery, Dr. Staunton was bending over little +Freda, who had opened her eyes, and was moaning in terrible pain. + +"The fever is better," he said, turning to the nurse; "the feverish +stage is over, and of course, although we may expect and must guard +against complications, there is no reason why the child should not do +well as far as that is concerned, but the state of the throat is the +real anxiety. I do not like to suggest such a terrible operation as +tracheotomy, but if the child does not get relief before long, I fear +there is no help for it, and it must be performed." + +Dorothy bent down and examined the little patient carefully. + +"I have had a good deal of experience in these cases," she said, after a +pause, "and have found "--she mentioned a certain remedy which could be +inhaled--"work wonders, especially in the cases of children." + +"I have not heard of it," said Dr. Staunton, knitting his brows in +anxiety, "but it sounds simple, and I see no harm in trying it." + +"It is very simple," said Dorothy. "I should like to try it." + +The child moaned and tossed on her pillow. + +The doctor went out of the room to prepare the medicine which the nurse +had recommended, and Dorothy called one of the frightened servants to +her side. She told her that she meant to take the child up and walk +about the room with her in her arms. + +"While she is out of bed I will have the windows closed," said the +nurse, "and of course she must be well wrapped up in blankets. She may +drop off to sleep again in my arms; anyhow, the change of position and +the slight movement will be most refreshing to her. Will you make the +bed and put on clean sheets while I am walking about with the child?" + +The girl promised to obey. + +"It is very infectious, ain't it, miss?" she said suddenly. + +"It is in God's hands," replied the nurse. + +There was a sound in her voice, a sort of thrill of strength, which +subjugated the girl at once, and made her forget her fears. She obeyed +the nurse's directions with a will; and when, in an hour's time, Dr. +Staunton returned with the remedy which Nurse Dorothy had suggested, he +scarcely knew the sickroom. + +The little child had been laid back again in bed. Her long hair was +combed away from her pale, worn face, Dorothy had plaited it neatly; the +little face was washed, and looked almost cool compared with its old +flushed and weary condition. The bed was neat, and in perfect order, +with snowy sheets. The tired little head rested on a cool pillow. +Dorothy and the maid had removed the carpets from the floor, and the +room was sprinkled with a disinfectant. Two of the windows were open, +and a faint sweet breath of air from the garden outside blew into the +room. + +"Why, nurse, this is an admirable change," said the doctor. + +"It is necessary," replied Nurse Dorothy. "There is no chance of +recovery without fresh air and a cool, quiet, calm atmosphere. I think +Rhoda"--she looked at the servant as she spoke--"will help me with this +case, and I should like as few other people as possible in the room. I +have promised Mrs. Harvey to call her if there is any change for the +worse in the child, but my impression is she will soon be better." + +"God grant it!" said the doctor. + +"What a blessing a good, properly-trained nurse is!" he thought, as he +went off to the room which had been prepared for him, and where he was +glad to take an hour or two of much-needed rest. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +All through the long hours of that day Dorothy watched by the sick +child. The child was on the Borderland. Her life hung in the balance--a +feather's weight on either side and she would go to the country from +which there is no return, or she would become well again. Dorothy's +efforts were directed to turning the balance in the scale toward life. + +Notwithstanding all her care, however, and all the alleviations which +she used, the sick child suffered and moaned terribly. The awful state +of the throat, the terrible prostration caused by this form of blood +poisoning, were no light foes to have to beat and conquer. But unceasing +care presently produced a happy result, and toward evening the high +temperature went down a couple of degrees, and the child's breathing +became less difficult. + +"I believe she will recover," said Dorothy, looking at Dr. Staunton, +who had just come into the room. "I hope you agree with me, doctor, in +thinking that she is rather better?" + +"Yes," replied the doctor, "she is better; she is less feverish, and her +breathing is easier. You have done wonders already." + +"What happy news for her poor mother! I am so glad that I can tell her +that the child is really better," said Dorothy. "I want to induce her to +give the little creature altogether into my care for the present, and +not to come near her again unless a change for the worse should set in. +I hear Mrs. Harvey stirring now in the next room, so she may be in at +any moment. May I speak to her, doctor? Do you give me leave to tell her +that her child is on the mend, and that you would rather she kept out of +the room?" + +"I would do anything in the world to keep her out of the room," said the +doctor. "Yes, I give you full leave to say what you please. You would +have more influence with her than I should have. I am almost as great a +stranger to her as you are. Use your strongest influence, nurse--do what +you can. I believe in you. I am sure she will do the same." + +"I'll go into the day nursery and wash my hands before I see Mrs. +Harvey," said Dorothy. + +She was scarcely a moment away. In a couple of minutes she was standing +by Mrs. Harvey's bed. + +Exhausted by her days and nights of watching, the tired-out mother had +slept all through the long hours of the day. She opened her eyes now +with a start. Healing sleep had done wonders for her--the dewy look of +youth had come back to her face; her beautiful blue eyes were fixed for +a moment on Dorothy with a puzzled expression of non-recognition. + +"Where am I? What has happened?" she asked in a startled voice. + +"You have just had a lovely sleep," said Dorothy. "You'll be all the +better for it." + +"And who are you? I cannot quite collect my thoughts--I know something +has happened. Who are you? I cannot remember you." + +"I am the nurse who is taking care of your dear little girl. She is +better." + +"Oh, yes, now I remember," said Mrs. Harvey. She sat up in bed and +clasped her hands tightly. + +"It was wrong of me to sleep so long," she said, "but I won't be a moment +getting dressed; I must go back to the child at once." + +"Will you come to your room?" said Dorothy. "You can change your dress +there. I know Mr. Harvey is most anxious that you should dine with him +this evening." + +"Dine with my husband!--have dinner? But Freda is ill; she is at death's +door." + +"She is ill undoubtedly, but she is better; she is on the mend. I am +taking good care of her. Don't you trust me?" + +"Oh, yes, I trust you; but I must go back to her. Don't talk to me of +dinner; I could not eat. Is it really evening? Oh, now I remember +everything--at last I remember! We have been in agony. We have lived +through such a week. We have been down in the depths, truly. Yes, yes, I +recollect it all--my little child, my only little child, my darling, my +treasure! Oh, nurse, you should not have allowed me to sleep on all day, +you should have called me; she may have been wanting me. But you say she +is better--better; but perhaps Dr. Staunton--oh, I am frightened! Are +you keeping anything from me? Oh, my head, my poor head! I shall go +mad; I shall lose my senses." + +"No, dear Mrs. Harvey," said Dorothy; "I have good news for you, not +bad. Freda is really better--she is less feverish, and her throat does +not hurt her so badly. I don't pretend that she is yet out of danger, +but if she continues to improve as she has done during the last seven or +eight hours, she will be out of danger before long. Now I want you to +take care of yourself and to trust your child to me." + +"Oh, I cannot give the child up to anyone. You must not keep me from her +another moment. I am not a bit hungry, but I'll have something to eat in +her room if you'll bring it to me. How awfully my darling must have +missed me!--she is such a child for her mother. Let me go to her at +once--my dear little treasure!" + +"Dr. Staunton is very anxious that you should not go to her to-night." + +"How can he dare to keep a mother from her child? Here, give me my +dress, will you? I tell you that nothing will keep me from the room. I +am sure you are deceiving me." + +"Do you really think I would deceive you?" said Dorothy. "Before you +went to sleep you promised to trust me. Look at me now--look into my +eyes. I have nursed a great many sick children--I have seen many mothers +in agony--I have never deceived one. When the truth was good I have told +it; when it was bad I have also told it. I am not deceiving you, Mrs. +Harvey." + +Poor Mrs. Harvey's dazed and frightened eyes gazed into Dorothy's strong +face. Its repose, its calm, impressed her. She was in an overstrung and +highly hysterical state. She burst into tears. + +"I do trust you, nurse," she said, with a great sob. "I trust you, and +I bless you. I know my dear little one is better. Oh, thank God; thank +the great and good God! But, dear nurse, I must go to her. You are +tired, and I am quite rested and refreshed. I'll spend the night with +the child, and you can go to bed." + +"No, dear madam; I cannot resign the care of the child to anyone. I am +using a certain remedy in the form of a spray which no one in this house +understands but me. If that remedy--which has made the child better--is +not continued unceasingly during the whole of this night, her throat +will get as bad as ever, and there will be no hope of her recovery. I +want you, Mrs. Harvey, to sleep to-night, and leave the child in my +care, I wish this, and the doctor wishes it, and I am sure, if you asked +your husband, he would tell you that he wished the same. You are not +required to do anything for little Freda, and it is your duty to take +care of yourself. If she gets worse, I promise to come for you--I +promise this, Mrs. Harvey. Now, will you go to your room and dress, and +then go downstairs and have some dinner? In the morning I expect to have +splendid news for you." + +Mrs. Harvey clasped her hands in perplexity and uncertainty. + +"It is dreadful to keep a mother from her child," she said; "and +yet--and yet----" + +"And yet in this case it is right," said Dorothy. "You must remember +that you have not only Freda to think of. There is your husband, +and----" + +"Oh, yes, I know; there is my poor little unhappy baby, but I cannot +love it as I love Freda." + +"Still you owe it a duty. It is not right of you to do anything to risk +its life or your own. When it comes to you, you will see how dearly you +love it. Now, please, let me take you to your room." + +"But may I not take one peep at my little treasure?" + +"She is asleep just now, and you may wake her. Please let me take you to +your room." + +Mrs. Harvey staggered to her feet. + +"I trust you, nurse," she said, with a wistful sort of look. "You will +remember your promise?" + +"I will; nothing in the world will make me go back from my word. Now, +come with me." + +Dorothy led Mrs. Harvey away. They walked down the corridor together. +The nurse opened a baize door, which shut away the nurseries from the +rest of the house, and a moment later found herself standing in Mrs. +Harvey's luxurious bedroom. Her maid was there, and Dorothy asked her to +help her mistress to dress. + +"What dress will you wear, madam?" asked the girl. + +"Anything--it doesn't matter what," replied Mrs. Harvey. + +"Yes, it matters a great deal," said Dorothy. "You ought to wear a +pretty dress; I think it is your duty to do so. You have got to think of +the Squire. Nothing will please him and reassure him more than to see +you coming down to dinner looking bright and pretty in one of your nice +dresses." + +"Really, nurse, you amaze me"--began Mrs. Harvey, but then the shadow of +a smile crept into her eyes. "I don't think you would talk like that if +you did not really think Freda would get well," she exclaimed suddenly. + +"My impression is that she will get well," replied Dorothy, "Now, please +put on one of your pretty dresses." + +"That pink dress with the lace ruffles, Martin," said Mrs. Harvey, +turning to the maid. She got up as she spoke, walked across the room, +and put her arms round Dorothy's white neck. + +"You are a very brave woman," she said. "You are someone to lean on. It +rests me to lean on you--I love you already." + +"And I love you," said Dorothy in her simple, direct fashion. "God has +given you to me to take care of just now, and I fully believe that your +sweet little girl will be spared to you. Now, I see you are going to be +very brave and good yourself, and I'll go back to the child. I ought not +to be too long away from her." + +All through the night that followed, the nurse persevered in the +remedies which were slowly but surely undermining the awful blood +poisoning. Slowly but surely, as the hours advanced, the fell disease +lost its power, the choking sensation grew less and less in the throat, +the horrible fungus-like membrane became absorbed, and the child, +exhausted, worn to a little shadow, dropped toward morning into a +peaceful and natural sleep. + +"From my heart, I believe I have conquered," thought Dorothy. She sank +on her knees by the bedside. She felt worn-out herself. Never before had +she nursed a case like this. Never before had she gone through such a +hand-to-hand fight with death. The child was far gone when she arrived. +The diphtheria was particularly acute, and the poor little frame was +already terribly weakened by the sharp attack of scarlet fever. + +"Another twelve hours, and nothing would have saved her," murmured +Dorothy. "Oh, I thank Thee, my God!--I thank Thee for this mercy! Oh, +what a joy it is to feel that I can give this child back to her mother!" + +Dorothy remained by the bedside. Her head was bowed on her hands. +Someone touched her on her shoulder--she looked up, and met the keen +eyes of Dr. Staunton. He was looking dreadfully pale and tired himself. + +"See," said Dorothy, rising and pointing to the child, "she is not +feverish now, she sleeps sweetly." + +"She will recover," said the doctor. "Thank the Almighty!" + +"I believe she will certainly recover," replied Dorothy. + +"It is your doing, nurse." + +"With God's blessing," she answered, bowing her head. + +The doctor asked her one or two more questions. + +"Now, the thing is, to keep up her strength," said Dorothy in +conclusion. "She must have every imaginable form of nourishment. But +that can be done, for I mean to undertake the management of her food +myself. Please, Dr. Staunton, will you tell Mrs. Harvey the good news +that her child is out of danger?" + +"Yes," said the doctor; "but ought not that to be your own reward?" + +"No, no; I don't want to go near her. I wish you to do all in your power +to keep her from the room. I believe that when she knows that her child +is really on the mend she will be guided by your wishes and those of her +husband. I have a kind of feeling,--I may be wrong, of course,--but I +have a kind of feeling that God will stay His hand in this matter, and +that the plague will not spread. Now, the thing is to think of the +mother. I suppose you will attend to her when her baby is born?" + +"She has asked me to do so." + +"Then, don't you think," said Dorothy, after a pause for +reflection,--"don't you think you might leave little Freda to me? I am +willing to be shut up in this part of the house with the child and one +of the maids, a girl called Rhoda, who has been most helpful to me +during the last twenty-four hours. If you are wanted, doctor, you are on +the spot; but, unless there is occasion, don't you think it would be +best for you not to come into this room?" + +"It would be certainly the safest course as regards the mother," pursued +the doctor in a thoughtful tone. "You are a wonderful woman, nurse. I'll +go and consult the Squire." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +One day, a week after the events related in the last chapter, Dr. +Staunton suddenly walked into the little parlor where Effie and her +mother were sitting together. + +Effie sprang up at sight of him. Some needlework over which she had been +busy fell to the floor. A rush of color came into her cheeks. + +"Oh, father, father!" she exclaimed, "how delightful it is to see you +again! Oh, how glad we are! Is little Freda really better? How is Mrs. +Harvey? And--have you come back to stay, father?" + +"I can't answer such a lot of questions all together, child," said the +doctor, with a smile. "Yes, I have come home to stay. The fact is, I am +tired out, and simply with doing nothing. Ever since that blessed angel +of a woman, Dorothy Fraser, came to The Grange, there has been little or +nothing for me to do. Yes, that's a fact; I am worn-out with doing +nothing. I should like a cup of tea beyond anything. Make it strong for +me, my dear--strong and fragrant." + +"The kettle is boiling," said Effie. "I won't be a minute. Oh, it is +delightful to have you back!" She ran out of the room, shutting the door +softly behind her. + +Dr. Staunton went over and sat on the sofa by his wife. + +"At last, my darling," he said, putting his arms round her, "I am safe +back again. You see that for yourself, thank God." + +"Thank God, John," replied Mrs. Staunton. "I have missed you," she +repeated. + +She held out both her thin hands. The doctor put his own strong, sinewy +hands round them. He clasped them tightly. + +"Oh, how hot you are!" she said, starting back and looking anxiously at +him. "Your fingers almost burn me." + +"I am simply tired, that's all," he replied,--"tired out with doing +nothing. I don't believe The Grange is a wholesome place; it is big and +grand and richly furnished, but the air does not suit me. I suspect +there is something wrong with the drains. The drains are probably at the +root of all this mischief to poor little Freda, but let us forget all +that now. Let me look at you, wife. How are you? Why, you look bonnie, +bonnie!" + +He stretched out his hand and passed it gently over his wife's faded +cheek. "I have been thinking of you morning, noon, and night," he said. +"You have never been out of my thoughts for a moment, you and the +children--that dear little Effie in particular, but the other children +too. I had time to pause and consider during those days of waiting at +The Grange, and I could not help remembering that, if anything happened +to me, there were five children unprovided for--five children, and you, +Mary, with the strength of a mouse in you." + +"That's all you know," replied Mrs. Staunton, with a little show of +spirit. "I am better; I have made wonderful progress during the last few +days. You can't think what a good nurse Effie has been--the most +considerate, the most thoughtful, the most kind and clever darling you +can possibly imagine. She manages the whole house; our servants would do +anything for her, and the children love her so much that it is a +pleasure to them to obey her. She has that wonderful and invaluable +knack in a woman, she never teases or worries; she just contrives to +turn people round her little finger, without their knowing anything +about it themselves. But now don't let us talk any more about Effie and +me. I want to hear your news. How is Mrs. Harvey? How has she borne the +death of her poor little baby?" + +"It lived just two hours after its birth," said the doctor, with a sad +look on his face. "The shock the poor mother underwent evidently had +some effect upon it. Well, she is getting on splendidly--she seemed to +know from the first that her poor little baby would not live, but as +Freda is doing so well, not a murmuring word has passed her lips. She is +a sweet young woman, and I am thankful to say I don't believe she took a +scrap of infection from poor little Freda." + +"And the little one; is she continuing to get better?" + +"She is doing magnificently--thanks to that fine creature, Dorothy +Fraser. I never came across such a woman. If you only saw, Mary, the +state of hopeless confusion, of pandemonium--for it really amounted to +that--of that wretched house the morning Miss Fraser arrived; if you +could only have seen the condition of the sickroom, and then have gone +into it two hours later, why, it was like stepping from the infernal +regions into paradise. The order of the sickroom seemed to affect the +whole house. The servants ceased to be in a state of panic, the meals +were properly cooked, the Squire came back to his normal condition, and +Mrs. Harvey became quite cheerful. In short, except for the loss of her +poor little one, she seems to have had no ill effects from the terrible +strain she has undergone. Little Freda is making rapid marches toward +recovery, and I do not at present see the slightest trace of the disease +spreading through the house." + +"Have you seen Freda often?" asked Mrs. Staunton. + +"No; that good soul simply forbade it--I was like wax in her hands. Of +course her reason was a very legitimate one, or I should not have +submitted to it, for it would not have been safe for me to have attended +to Mrs. Harvey coming straight from the child's room. All is now going +on well at The Grange, and I can come home and rest." + +"I wish you did not look so dreadfully worn out," said Mrs. Staunton. + +"Oh, the home air will soon pull me together. Heigh-ho! here you come, +my good angel, and the tea is more than welcome." + +The doctor sank back in his deep armchair. + +Effie placed the fragrant tea on the table, and, pouring out a cup, +brought it to her father. She had made crisp toast as well, but he did +not care to eat. + +"Thank you, child," he said; "I am not hungry. The meals up at that +place are preposterous--nothing short of preposterous. There is no doubt +whatever that far more people die from eating too much than from eating +too little. I wonder the Squire has a scrap of digestion left--heavy +meat breakfasts, heavy meat luncheons, and then a groaning dinner at the +end of the day. Such meals, and practically nothing to do for them!--for +what has a man of that sort to occupy his time beyond what one would +call fiddle-faddle? Well, this tea is refreshing; I will go for a walk +afterward. And now tell me, Effie, have you heard anything about my +patients?" + +"Mr. Edwards called this morning, and said they were all doing well," +said Effie. "The little Beels have got whooping-cough, but I do not +think anyone else is ill. Of course poor Mrs. Watson is much as usual, +but hers is a chronic case." + +"Ah, yes, poor soul,"--the doctor gave an apprehensive glance toward his +wife. "I cannot call to see Mrs. Watson for a day or two," he said; "not +that there is the least scrap of infection, for I changed everything +before I came home, but in her state it would not do to make her feel +nervous. Well, wife and daughter, it is good to see you both again; and +now I am going out for a stroll." + +The doctor left the room. Effie stood by the table. She was putting back +his empty cup on the tray, and preparing to take the things into the +kitchen, when her mother spoke. + +"What is the matter with your father?" she said in a husky voice. + +Effie slightly turned her back. "He is just tired," she answered; +"that's all." + +"Put down that tray, Effie, and come here," said her mother. + +Effie obeyed. + +"Yes, mother," she said. "Now, mother darling, you are not going to get +nervous?" + +"No, no, I am not nervous," said Mrs. Staunton,--her lips trembled +slightly,--"I am not nervous. Nothing shall make me show nervousness or +weakness of any sort in a time of real extremity. But, Effie, child, I +know something." + +"What in the world do you know, mother?" Effie tried to smile. + +"Your father is ill. The unimportant people have escaped, but he has +taken this complaint. He is ill, Effie--I know it." + +"Now, mother, is that likely?" said Effie. "Father comes home tired, he +has gone through a great deal of anxiety--has he not all his life been +exposed to infection of all kinds? Why should he be ill now? Besides, if +he were ill, he would say so. Mother, darling, I cannot listen to this +kind of talk." + +"All right, my dear, I will say no more. It sometimes happens so, Effie. +Lives we think of no account are spared--spared on indefinitely. The one +life on which so many others hang is taken." + +"Mother, I do not understand you." + +"I understand myself," said Mrs. Staunton. "I know what I fear. Nay, I +do not fear it--I rise up with strength to meet it. You will see, Effie, +dear, that your mother is no coward in any real danger." + +"You are a dear," said Effie. "You are the best and most unselfish +mother in the world. I feel ashamed of myself when I see how bravely you +struggle against the weakness and the anxiety which must be yours, more +or less, always. But now, mother, dear, you will not look trouble in +the face before it comes--you will not meet it halfway. If you are +really better, come out into the garden, and we will take a turn before +dinner." + +"Very well, my dear." + +"I want to show you the sweet-peas that have come up in the south +border," continued Effie. "Come, let us talk of pleasant things, and be +cheerful when father comes home." + +"Oh, I will be perfectly cheerful," said Mrs. Staunton. + +She went into the good-sized garden at the back of the little cottage, +and began with nervous, energetic fingers to pick some flowers, and to +arrange them in a big nosegay. + +"We will put these in the center of the supper-table," she said. "I +should like to have everything as bright and cheerful as possible for +your father to-night." + +"Yes, that's capital," said Effie. + +"We ought to have something particularly good for him to eat, Effie." + +"But, mother, he said he wasn't hungry. You remember how he complained +of having so many meals at The Grange." + +"Yes, yes, he always was a most abstemious man; but I know what he never +can resist, and that is cold raspberry tart and cream. There are plenty +of raspberries ripe in the plantation--I will gather some, and I'll make +the pastry for the tart myself." + +"Very well, mother; but is it well for you to fag yourself picking those +raspberries, and then making the tart?" + +"I want to make it--I should love to make it. I used to be famed for my +pastry. My mother used to say, 'You have a light hand for pastry, +Mary.' I remember so well when I made my first tart. I was just +fifteen--it was my fifteenth birthday. Mother showed me how to do it; +and I remember how the water ran all over the pastry-board. Afterward I +was the best hand at pastry in the house. Yes, I'll make the tart +myself. Here is sixpence, Effie; run to the dairy and get some cream. +And listen, love, as you go through the house you might tell Jane to get +the pastry-board ready." + +"All right, mother, I'll tell her to put it in the larder. You must not +go into the hot kitchen to make that tart." + +"Very well, child, I'll remember. Now run and get the cream." + +Effie left her mother standing by the raspberry plantation. She was +pulling the ripe raspberries and dropping them into a large cabbage leaf +which she held. Her slender but weak figure was drawn up to its full +height. There was a look of nervous energy about her which Effie had not +observed for many a long day. The curious phase into which her mother +had entered had an alarming effect upon the young girl. It frightened +her far more than her father's look of lassitude and the burning touch +of his hands. She tried to turn her thoughts from it. After all, why +should she become nervous herself, and meet trouble halfway? + +She went across the village street, and entering the pretty dairy, asked +for the cream. + +"Is it true, Miss Staunton, that the doctor has come back again?" asked +the woman of the shop, as she handed her the jug of cream across the +counter. + +"Yes, Mrs. Pattens, it is quite true," replied Effie. "There's good news +now at The Grange. Mrs. Harvey is doing splendidly, and little Freda is +nearly well again." + +"Well, it is a good thing the doctor can be spared," said the woman; "we +want him bad enough here, and it seemed cruel-like that he should have +been sort of buried alive at The Grange." + +"He is only able to be spared now," said Effie, "because he has secured +the services of a very wonderful nurse." + +"Oh, one of the Fraser girls," said the woman, in a tone of +contempt--"those newcomers, who have not been settled in the place above +a year. For my part, I don't hold with lady-nurses. I am told they are +all stuck-up and full of airs, and that they need a sight more waiting +on than the patients themselves. When you get a lady-nurse into the +house you have to think more of the nurse than of the patient, that's +what I am told." + +"It is not true," replied Effie, her eyes flashing angrily--"at least," +she continued, "it is not true in the case of Nurse Fraser. You must get +my father to talk to you about her some day. I am afraid I haven't time +to spare now. Good-evening, Mrs. Pattens." + +Effie went home with her jug of cream. Mrs. Staunton was still in the +larder making the raspberry tart. Effie went and watched her, as her +long thin fingers dabbled in the flour, manipulated the roller, spread +out the butter, and presently produced a light puff paste, which, as +Effie expressed it, looked almost as if you could blow it away. + +"That's the best raspberry tart I have ever made," said Mrs. Staunton. +"Now we will put it in the oven." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +The raspberry tart was put in the oven, and Mrs. Staunton went upstairs +to her own room. + +She was a woman, who, as a rule, utterly disregarded dress. She gave but +little thought to her personal appearance. Like many other women of the +middle class, she had sunk since her marriage from the trim, pretty girl +to the somewhat slatternly matron. + +Nothing could destroy the sweet comeliness of her face, however, but in +the struggle for life she and Fashion had fallen out--Fashion went in +one direction, and Mrs. Staunton strayed gently in another. She did not +mind whether her dress was cut according to the mode or not--she +scarcely looked at her faded but still pretty face. Now and then this +trait in her mother's character vexed Effie. Effie adored her mother, +she thought her the most beautiful of women, and anything that took from +her sweet charms annoyed her. + +This evening, however, Mrs. Staunton made a careful and deliberate +toilet. + +She removed her dowdy black dress, and, opening a drawer in her +wardrobe, took out a soft gray silk which lay folded between tissue +paper and sprigs of lavender. She put the dress on, and fastened soft +lace ruffles round her throat and at her wrists. The dress transformed +her. It toned with all her faded charms. She put a real lace cap over +her still thick and pretty hair, and, going down to the little parlor, +sat upright on one of the chairs near the window which looked into the +garden. + +Effie came in presently, and started when she saw her mother. + +"Why, mother," she said, "how sweet, how sweet you look!" She went over +and kissed her. Mrs. Staunton returned her embrace very quietly. + +"It is for your father," she said. "He would like me to look nice--I am +sure he'd like us all to look nice to-night. Go upstairs, Effie, dear, +and put on your pretty blue muslin. And you, Agnes, I wish you to wear +your Sunday frock." + +Agnes, who had bounded into the room at this moment, stopped short in +astonishment. + +"Are we all going to a party?" she asked, excitement in her tone. + +"No, no; but your father has come home." + +"Only father! what does that matter?" Agnes lolled on to the sofa and +crossed her legs. "I want to read over my lecture for the High School. I +can't be bothered to change my dress!" she exclaimed. + +"Yes, Aggie, go at once when mother wishes you," said Effie. "Go and put +on your Sunday frock, and tell Katie to do the same, and ask Susan to +put the younger children into their white dresses. Go at once; mother +wishes it." + +Agnes flung herself out of the room, muttering. + +Effie looked again at her mother. + +She did not notice her, she was smiling softly to herself, and looking +out at the garden. Effie felt her heart sink lower and lower. + +She went gravely upstairs, put on her blue dress, brushed out her bright +dark hair, and, looking her sweetest and freshest, came downstairs +again. Mrs. Staunton was still sitting by the window. Her cheeks were +flushed, her eyes were unusually bright. She looked twenty years younger +than she had done two hours ago--she looked beautiful. The soul seemed +to shine out of her face. When Effie came in, she stood up restlessly +and looked at the supper table. + +"Yes," she said, "it is just as he likes it--the fragrant coffee, the +raspberry tart and the jug of cream, the new-laid eggs, the brown loaf +and the fresh butter. A simple sort of meal--yes, quite simple and very +wholesome. Very homelike, that's the word. Effie, there never was such a +homelike sort of man as your father. Give him home and you fill his +heart. This supper table is just what he will like best. He does not +care for new-fangled things. He is old-fashioned--he is the best of men, +Effie, the best of men." + +"He will be glad to see you in your nice dress, mother--he is so proud +of you--he thinks you are so lovely." + +"So I am in his eyes," said Mrs. Staunton in a wistful voice. "I am +old-fashioned like himself, and this dress is old-fashioned too. It was +a pretty dress when it was made up. Let me see, that was twelve years +ago--we went to Margate for a week, and he bought me the dress. He took +great pains in choosing the exact shade of gray; he wanted it to be +silver gray--he said his mother used to wear silver gray when she sat in +the porch on summer evenings. Yes, this dress is like a piece of old +lavender--it reminds me of the past, of the sunny, happy past. I have +had such a happy life, Effie--never a cross word said, never a dour look +given me. Love has surrounded me from the moment of my marriage until +now. I feel young to-night, and I am going to be happy, very happy. The +children must look their best too. Run up, darling, to the nursery and +see that Susan is doing them justice--they are pretty children every +one of them, worthy of your father. Now, let me see, would not a few +roses improve this table? That great jug of sweet peas in the middle is +just what he likes, but we might have roses and mignonette as well. I'll +go and gather a bunch of those Banksia roses which grow in front of the +house." + +"You'll tire yourself, mother. Let me go." + +"No; I never felt stronger than I do to-night. I'd like to pick them +myself." + +Mrs. Staunton went out of doors. She cut great sprays from the Banksia +rose and brought them back with her. She placed them in a brown jug, and +stood the jug on the table. Then she opened both windows wide, and left +the door ajar. There was the sweetest smell wafted through the room--the +sweet peas, roses, mignonette, seemed to be floating in the air. + +The children all came down dressed in their Sunday frocks. They looked +puzzled, uncomfortable, awed. One and all asked the same question: + +"Is it a party, mother? Are any visitors coming to tea?" + +"No. No!" replied the mother to each in his or her turn. "It is only +your father who has come home, and it is right that we should give him a +welcome." + +When she had answered the last of the children, Dr. Staunton entered the +room. + +He started at the pretty sight which met his eyes. The room and the +temptingly laid out supper table--the children in their best +dresses--the old wife in her gray silk--looked to him the most beautiful +sight his eyes had ever rested on. + +What was all this festival about?--he drew himself up hastily--a sort +of shudder went through him. In spite of his efforts his voice was +terribly husky. + +"Are we going to have company?" he asked, with a twinkle in his eyes. +All the other eyes looked back at him--he knew perfectly well even +before the children burst out with the news, that he himself was the +company. + +"You have come back, father, and mother says we are to look our very +best," exclaimed little Phil. + +"All right, Phil, I am more than agreeable," replied the doctor. "Now +you must excuse me, good folk. I am bound in duty to do honor to all +this company splendor, by washing my hands and putting on my +Sunday-go-to-meeting coat." + +"Effie, you may fetch the coffee," said her mother. + +The supper that followed was a merry meal--Dr. Staunton told his best +stories--they were capped by his wife's. Effie laughed as if she had +never heard them before, and the children made themselves riotously +agreeable. + +When the meal was at an end, Dr. Staunton and his wife went out into the +garden at the back of the house. He drew his arm round her waist, and +they walked up and down together on the little rose path at the top of +the garden. + +Effie watched them from the parlor window. There was a queer lump in her +throat. She could not get over the strange sensation of nervousness and +coming disaster. The foreboding which filled her could not be fought +down. She had laughed almost against her will at supper-time, but now +she ceased to smile--she no longer made the faintest attempt to be +cheerful. She hated the pretty room, and the sweet-peas, and the roses +and mignonette. + +The children were idly lolling about. She turned, and spoke almost +crossly. + +"Don't you know, Aggie, that it is long past the younger children's hour +for staying up? Can't you make yourself useful for once, and go up and +put them to bed?" + +"Can't you come, Effie--we'd much rather have you," said little Phil and +Walter, the brother next in age. "Agnes is so cross, she pulls our hair +so when she combs it out." + +"I don't, you bad boys!" exclaimed Agnes, coloring high. "Won't I give +it to you next time we are alone for saying that!" + +"She does, Effie; she does indeed," said little Phil, running up to his +elder sister, and clasping his arms round her light blue dress. + +"Don't, Phil; you will spoil my pretty frock!" she cried. + +"Why, you are cross too," he answered, looking up at her. He was so +startled and amazed at this new tone in Effie's voice, that words failed +him altogether for a minute. It seemed to him as if a castle of cards +had tumbled all over his head, and as if he stood in the middle of the +ruins. If Effie were going to turn nasty, according to Phil's idea, +there was nothing further to be looked for in life. Walter, however, who +was older, had more discernment than his little brother. + +"Effie has a headache," he said; "can't you see that she has a headache? +We'll be very good indeed, Effie, if Agnes will put us to bed." + +"Come along, then," said Agnes, scuttling them out of the room in front +of her. "You must be quick about it, for I have not half prepared my +to-morrow's lessons. Now then, out you go." + +The children disappeared. + +The room was once more empty, except for the silent figure who stood in +the window. She could catch a glimpse of her father and mother walking +up and down in the garden. Presently the two approached the house. Mrs. +Staunton went straight upstairs to her room, and the doctor returned to +the parlor. + +"Your mother is very tired to-night, Effie," he said in a grave voice. + +He sat down in the armchair just where he could smell the sweet-peas and +the Banksia roses. + +"Yes," he continued, "I am anxious about her." There was not a trace now +of any of the jollity which had marked him at supper. His face was gray +and worn--his voice decidedly husky. That huskiness in her father's +voice went like a stab to Effie's heart. She shut the door and went and +stood by his side. + +"Don't you think you had better go upstairs and help your mother to get +to bed?" + +"No; she likes best to be alone," replied Effie. "I want to sit by you. +What is the matter with your throat?" + +"My throat!--why?" + +"You are so husky." + +"I am dead beat, that's the truth of it. I am as weak as a cat, and for +no earthly reason. Don't bother about my throat, it will be all right +after I have had a good night's rest. I tell you, Effie, I never saw a +child so ill as that little Freda Harvey. That woman who nursed her is +an angel--an angel." + +"I didn't say too much about her, father, did I?" said Effie, with a +little note of triumph coming into her voice even in the midst of her +anxiety. + +"That you didn't, my darling--she is one of God's angels and I say 'God +bless her!' Now I want to talk about your mother." + +"Yes, father," said Effie, laying her hand on his. She started back the +moment she did so. The evening was a very hot one, and touching the +doctor's hand was like clasping fire. + +"How you burn!" she exclaimed. + +"That's weakness," he said. "I shall take some bromide to-night; I am +completely worn-out, shaken, and all that sort of thing. Now, Effie, +don't interrupt me. I wish to talk to you of your mother. Are you +prepared to listen?" + +"Of course, father." + +"She has been talking of you--she says you have got an idea into your +head that you ought to make more of your life than you can make of it +staying at home, and being the blessing of the house, and the joy of my +life and of hers." + +"Oh, father, father, I did wish it," said Effie, tears springing into +her eyes. "I did long for it, but I'll give it up, I'll give it all up +if it makes you and mother unhappy." + +"But it doesn't, my dear. The old birds cannot expect to keep the young +ones in the nest for ever and ever. Your mother spoke very sensibly +to-night. I never saw any woman so altered for the time being. She would +not let me imagine there was a thing the matter with her, and she spoke +all the time about you, as though she wanted to plead with me, your +father, to give you a happy life. Do you think I would deny it to you, +my dear little girl?" + +"No, father; you have never denied me anything." + +"I have never denied what was for your good, sweetheart." + +Dr. Staunton clasped Effie to his breast. She flung her arms round him +with a sudden tight pressure. + +"Easy, easy!" he exclaimed; "you are half-choking me. My breathing +certainly feels oppressed--I must have taken a chill. I'll get off to +bed as fast as I can. No, child, you need not be alarmed. I have often +noticed this queer development of hoarseness in people who have long +breathed the poisonous air which surrounds diphtheria and scarlet fever, +but in my case the hoarseness means nothing. Now, Effie, let me say a +word or two to you. I don't know what the future has in it--it is +impossible for any of us to know the future, and I say, thank God for +the blessed curtain which hides it from our view; but whatever it has in +it, my child, I wish you to understand that you are to do your best with +your life. Make it full if you can--in any case make it blessed. A month +ago, I will admit frankly, I did not approve of lady-nurses. After my +wonderful experience, however, with Dorothy Fraser, I must say that I +have completely changed my opinion. The girl with heart and nerve, with +common sense, with an unselfish spirit, can be a nurse whatever her +station in life. If to these qualifications she adds the refinements of +good breeding and the education of a lady, she is the best of all." + +"Hurrah!" cried Effie--tears filled her eyes. "What a grand triumph for +Dorothy!" she exclaimed. + +"She deserves every word I have said of her. If she wishes to take you +back with her to London when she goes,--if that is what is now at the +bottom of your heart,--go, child, with my blessing. We shall miss you at +home, of course, but we are not worth our salt if we are going to be +selfish." + +"You never, never were that," said Effie. + +"Now I have one more thing to say--it is about your mother. I have never +really told you my true fears about her. You know, of course, that she +suffers from weakness of the heart. At present that weakness springs +from no organic source, but of late there have been symptoms which make +me fear that the functional mischief may be developed into the more +serious organic form of disease, should any shock be given her. It is +that fear which haunts my life--I could not live without your mother, +child. Effie, child. I could not live without her." + +The doctor's voice suddenly broke--he bowed his head on his hands, and a +broken sort of groan escaped his lips. + +"We'll take all possible care of her," said Effie. "She shall not have +any pain, nor fear, nor anxiety." + +"I know you will do your best," said the doctor; "but if you leave +her----" + +"I'll never leave her if it is to injure her--there, I have promised." + +"You are a good girl. I trust you. I lean on you. Your mother could not +live through an anxiety--a great fear, a great trouble would kill her." + +"It shan't come," said Effie. + +"God grant it may not come," said the doctor in his husky voice. + +He rose suddenly to his feet. + +"I must go to bed," he said. "I have not had a real proper sleep for +nights and nights. By the way, Effie, you know, of course, that my life +is insured for a thousand pounds. If--if at any time that should be +needed, it will be there; it is best for you to know." + +"I wish you would not talk about it, father." + +"Very well, I won't; but talking about things doesn't bring trouble any +nearer. I hold it as an article of faith that each man should arrange +all he can for the future of his family. Arranging for the future never +hastens matters. There is a God above. He has led me all my days. I +trust Him absolutely. I submit to His mighty will." + +The doctor left the room--his broad back was bowed--he walked slowly. + +Effie stood near the door of the little parlor, watching him, until his +gray head was lost to view. Then she went back and sat on the old +horse-hair sofa, with her hands clasped tightly before her. + +"My father is the best man in the world," she murmured under her breath. +"I never met anyone like my father--so simple--so straightforward--so +full of real feeling--so broad in his views. Talk of a sequestered life +making a man narrower; there never was a man more open to real +conviction than father. The fact is, no girl ever had better parents +than I have; and the wonderful thing is that they give me leave to go, +and take their blessing with me. It is wonderful--it is splendid. Agnes +must be taught to do my present work. I'll train her for the next three +months; and then, perhaps, in the winter I can join Dorothy in London. +Dear father, he is nervous about mother; but while he is there, no harm +can come to her. I do not believe one could live without the other. +Well, well, I feel excited and nervous myself. I had better follow +father's example, and go to bed." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +Effie's little room faced the east. She never drew down her blind at +night, and the sun was shining all over her face when her mother came in +the next morning to call her. + +Mrs. Staunton, standing in her nightdress in the middle of the room, +called Effie in a shrill voice. + +"What in the world is the matter?" said her daughter, sitting up, and +pushing back her hair from her eyes. + +"What I feared," said Mrs. Staunton. "I am not going to break down; +don't think it for a minute. I am as well as possible." She trembled all +over as she spoke. There was a purple spot on one cheek, the other was +deadly pale. A blue tint surrounded her lips. "I am perfectly well," +continued Mrs. Staunton, breathing in a labored way. "It is only that I +have got a bit of a---- Your father is ill, Effie. He has got +it--the--dip--dip--diphtheria. He is almost choking. Get up, child; get +up." + +"Yes, mother," said Effie. + +She tumbled out of bed. Her pretty cheeks were flushed with sleep; her +eyes, bright and shining, turned toward the eastern light for a moment. + +"Oh, mother," she said, with a sudden burst of feeling, "do, do let us +keep up our courage! Nothing will save him if we lose our courage, +mother." + +"We won't," said Mrs. Staunton; "and that's what I came to speak about. +He must have good nursing--the very best. Effie, I want you to get Miss +Fraser to come here." + +"Miss Fraser! But will she leave little Freda Harvey?" + +"She must leave her--the child is completely out of danger--anyone can +nurse her now. She must leave her and come here, and you must go and +fetch her. Your father may lose his life in the cause of that little +child. There is not a moment to lose--get up, Effie. You can go at once +to The Grange. Go, go quickly and bring Dorothy Fraser. We none of us +can nurse him as she will. She will do it. He has been murmuring in his +sleep about her, about something she did for little Freda, clasping his +throat all the time and suffocating. One glance showed me what ailed him +when I awoke this morning. He has a hard fight before him, but he must +not die--I tell you, child, your father must not die!" + +"No, no, mother! God will spare him to us," said Effie. Tears dimmed her +eyes, she got quickly into her clothes. + +"Now, I will go," she said. "I will bring Dorothy back with me." + +"If there is any difficulty," said Mrs. Staunton, "if she hesitates for +a moment, you must remember, there is only one thing to be done." + +"Yes, mother; what do you mean?" + +"You must offer to nurse Freda Harvey instead of her--do you +understand?" + +"And I am not to come back to father when he is ill?" said Effie, +aghast. + +"That is not the point," exclaimed Mrs. Staunton. "The only thing to be +considered is, what will save him, and you and I, and our feelings, are +of no consequence. His life is so valuable that no sacrifice is too +great to keep it. Go, child, go. If you can come back, come--if not, +stay." + +"And who will manage the children--they ought not to remain in the +house." + +"Don't worry about the children. Get Dorothy as quickly as possible." + +Effie buttoned her dress and pinned on her hat, and then went out on the +landing. + +"Where are you going, child? Why don't you go downstairs?" + +"I must kiss father first." + +"What folly!--why should there be this delay?" + +"I won't be a minute." + +Effie turned the handle of the bedroom door, and went softly into the +room. Her father was lying on his back--there was a livid look about his +face. Great beads of perspiration stood on his brow. His eyes were +closed. He did not see Effie when she came into the room, but when she +bent down and kissed his forehead, he opened his eyes and looked at her. +He said something which she could not distinguish--he was too hoarse to +make any words articulate. + +"I am going for Dorothy," she said, with a smile,--"she'll soon make you +better,--good-by. God bless you--father. I love you--father, I love +you." + +His eyes smiled at her, but his lips could not speak. + +She went quickly out of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +It did not take Effie long to harness the old horse to the gig. She had +often driven old Jock, and this part of her task did not put her out in +the least. She had a curious sense, as she was driving toward The Grange +in the fresh early morning air, of the complete change which was +awaiting her. She was quite certain that one door in her life was +shut--shut forever. She had longed for change,--it had come at last with +a vengeance; it was horrible,--it made her shudder. + +Effie was a thoroughly healthy girl, healthy both in mind and body, but +now a sick pain was over her. She did not care to think of the real +terror which haunted her. She arrived at The Grange between six and +seven o'clock. The woman at the lodge ran out and opened the gate for +the doctor's gig in some surprise. She thought something was wrong +again up at the house, but her surprise strengthened to astonishment +when she saw that Effie was driving the horse. + +"Why, Miss Effie, what is the matter?" she exclaimed. Everyone in the +place knew Effie, and loved her for her father's sake. + +"The doctor is ill, Mrs. Jones," said Effie, "and I have come to fetch +Miss Fraser." + +"Oh, God help us! he hasn't taken it?" said the woman, falling back a +step or two in horror. + +Effie nodded her head--she had no words to speak. She whipped up Jock, +and drove quickly down the avenue. + +A kitchen-maid was on her knees whitening and polishing the front steps. +Effie jumped from the gig, and asked the girl to call someone to hold +the horse. + +"There ain't any of the men round just now, it is too early," said the +girl. + +"Then take the reins yourself," said Effie. "Stand just here; Jock won't +stir if I tell him to be quiet. Hold the reins. I am in a great hurry." + +"You are Miss Effie Staunton, ain't you, miss?" + +"I am. My father is ill, and I want Miss Fraser." + +"God help us! the doctor ill!" exclaimed the girl. + +She stood where Effie told her, holding Jock's reins. + +"Be quiet, Jock; don't stir till I come out," said Effie. The old horse +drooped his head. Effie ran up the steps and into the house. She had +never been at The Grange before, but she had no eyes for the beauties of +the old place this morning. There was something too awful lying at the +bottom of her heart, for any external things to affect her. She went +quickly up the broad front stairs, and paused on the first landing. How +was she to discover the room where Dorothy and little Freda Harvey +spent their time together? She was about to turn back in utter +bewilderment, when, to her relief, she saw another servant. The servant +stopped and stared at Effie. Effie came up to her quickly. + +"You may be surprised to see me here," she said. "I am Miss Staunton, +Dr. Staunton's daughter. He is ill. I want to see Nurse Fraser +immediately. Take me to her at once." + +"We are none of us allowed near that part of the house, miss," replied +the woman. + +"You can take me in the direction, anyhow, and explain to me how I am to +get to Miss Fraser," said Effie. "Come, there's not an instant to +lose--be quick." + +"Oh, yes! I can take you in the direction," said the girl. + +She turned down a corridor; Effie followed her. The servant walked +rather slowly and in a dubious sort of way. + +"Can't you hurry?" said Effie. "It is a matter of life and death." + +The girl hastened her steps a little. Effie's manner frightened her. +Presently they reached a baize door--the servant pushed it open, but +stood aside herself. + +"It is as much as my place is worth to open this door," she said. "It is +here the infectious case is, and Miss Fraser's own orders are that the +door is not to be opened; but you frighten me somehow, miss, and I +suppose there's no harm in it." + +"No, of course there is no harm. Now, tell me which is Miss Fraser's +room?" + +"The nurseries are entered by the third door as you go down that +passage, miss." + +The servant banged to the baize door, and Effie found herself alone. +She ran down the passage, and opened the outer nursery door. It was +quiet and still, in perfect order, the blinds down, and the windows +open. Effie, in spite of all her agitation, walked on tiptoe across this +room. A door which led into another room was half open, and she heard +someone moving about. That step, so quiet and self-possessed, must +belong to Dorothy. + +"Dorothy! Dorothy! come here," called Effie. + +Dorothy Fraser, in her dressing-gown, came out to the other room at +once. + +"Effie!" she exclaimed. "Effie Staunton!" + +"Yes, it is I," said Effie; "it is I." She began to unpin her hat as she +spoke. "I have come here to stay; I am going to nurse little Freda, and +you are to go back to father. The gig is waiting outside, and you can +easily drive old Jock. Drive him straight home, and go as fast as ever +you can." + +"Is your father ill, Effie?" + +"Yes; he has taken the diphtheria. He is very ill. Mother sent me for +you. If father dies, mother will die. They love each other so dearly--so +very dearly. One couldn't live without the other. Go, and save them +both, Dorothy, and I will stay with Freda." + +"You are a dear, brave little girl," said Dorothy. + +She went and put her strong arms round Effie. + +"I will go at once," she said. "But are you prepared to take full charge +here, Effie?" + +"Yes; tell me quickly what is to be done!" + +"There's nothing to be done now but simply to see that Freda doesn't +take cold. She is not free from infection yet, but she is quite out of +danger, if she does not catch a chill. Treat her as you would any sick +child. Rhoda is here. She is a capital girl, and will help you with +Freda's food. Freda may come into this room for a little to-day, but +you must see that she keeps out of a draught. Good-by. Effie. I won't be +any time getting ready. I'll send you telegrams about your father. God +bless you, Effie." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +From the first it was a bad case. The throat was not so particularly +affected, but the weakness was extreme. All imaginable devices were +resorted to, to keep up the patient's strength. Notwithstanding all +human precautions, however, that strength failed and failed. + +In a few days the strong man was like an infant. He could not lift a +finger, he could scarcely turn his head, his voice was completely gone. +His stricken soul could only look dumbly into the world through his +eyes. Those honest eyes were pathetic. Dorothy was unremitting in her +attentions. She took complete charge from the very first. Dr. Edwards +came and went, but he gave the nursing to Dorothy. She had prepared +herself for a great fight. She had hoped to conquer, but on the third +day of the doctor's illness she knew that the battle was not to the +strong nor the race to the swift--in short, the good doctor was called +to render up his account, his short span of mortal life was over. + +One evening he had lain perfectly still and in a state of apparent +stupor for several hours. Dorothy stood at the foot of the bed. Her eyes +were fixed on the patient. + +"It is strange how much I admire him," she said to herself. "I never met +a nobler, truer-hearted man." + +"Dorothy, come here," said the doctor. + +She went at once, and bent over him. + +"I am going," he said, looking at her. + +"Yes, Dr. Staunton," she answered. + +He closed his eyes again for a moment. + +"The wife," he murmured--"does she know?" + +"I am not sure," said Dorothy in her quiet, clear voice, which never for +a moment sank to a whisper. "I think she must guess--I have not told +her." + +"She had better know," said the doctor. "Will you bring her here?" + +"Yes, I'll go and fetch her at once." + +Dorothy left the room. She stood for a moment on the landing. + +The task which lay immediately before her made her spirits sink. She +knew just as well as Dr. Staunton did how precarious was Mrs. Staunton's +tenure of life. She knew that a sudden shock might be fatal. Were those +children to lose both parents? The doctor was going,--no mortal aid now +could avail for him,--but must the mother also leave the children? + +"I do not know what to do," thought Dorothy. "She must see her +husband--they _must_ meet. He is the bravest man I know, but can he +suppress his own feelings now--now that he is dying? No, no, it is too +much to ask; but I greatly, greatly fear that if he does not, the shock +will kill her." + +Dorothy went slowly downstairs. She was generally decisive in her +actions. Now, she trembled, and a terrible nervousness seized her. + +When she reached the little entrance hall, and was about to open the +door of the parlor where she expected to find Mrs. Staunton, she was +surprised to come face to face with a tall, bronzed young man, who was +taking off his hat and hanging it on one of the pegs in the hat-rack. He +turned, and started when, he saw her. He was evidently unfamiliar with +nurses and sickness. His face flushed up, and he said in a sort of +apologetic way: + +"Surely this is Dr. Staunton's house?" + +"Yes," said Dorothy. + +"I am George Staunton. I--I came down on pressing business--I want to +see my father in a hurry. What is the matter?" + +He stepped back a pace or two, startled by the expression on Dorothy's +face. + +"Come in here at once," she said, seizing his hand. She dragged him into +the seldom-used drawing-room. The moment they got inside, she +deliberately locked the door. + +"You have come just in time," she said. "You must bear up. I hope you'll +be brave. Can you bear a great shock without--without fainting, or +anything of that sort?" + +"Oh, I won't faint!" he answered. His lips trembled, his blue eyes grew +wide open, the pupils began to dilate. + +"I believe you are a brave lad," said Dorothy, noticing these signs. "It +is your lot now to come face to face with great trouble. Dr. +Staunton--your father--is dying." + +"Good God! Merciful God!" said the lad. He sank down on the nearest +chair--he was white to the lips. + +Dorothy went up and took his hand. + +"There, there!" she said. "You'll be better in a moment. Try to forget +yourself--we have not, any of us, a single instant just now to think of +ourselves. I have come down to fetch your mother." + +"You are the nurse?" said George, glancing at her dress. + +"Yes, I am nursing your father. It has been a very bad +case--diphtheria--a very acute and hopeless case from the first. There's +a great deal of infection. Are you afraid?" + +"No, no! don't talk of fear. I'll go to him. I--I was in trouble myself, +but that must wait. I'll go to him at once." + +"I want you to go to your mother." + +"My mother! is she ill too?" + +"She is not exactly ill--I mean she is not worse than usual, but her +life is bound up in your father's. It would be a dreadful thing for your +sisters and yourself if your mother were to die. Your coming here at +this moment may mean her salvation. I have to go to her now, to tell her +that her dying husband has sent for her. Will you follow me into the +room? Will you act according to your own impulses? I am sure God will +direct you. Stay where you are for a minute--try to be brave. Follow me +into the room as soon as you can." + +Dorothy left the drawing room. As she went away, she heard the young man +groan. She did not give herself time to think--she opened the parlor +door. + +Mrs. Staunton was sitting in her favorite seat by the window. Her face +was scarcely at all paler than it had been a week ago. She sat then by +the window, looking out at her trouble, which showed like a speck in the +blue sky. The shadow which enveloped her whole life was coming closer +now, enveloping her like a thick fog. Still she was bearing up. Her eyes +were gazing out on the garden--on the flowers which she and the doctor +had tended and loved together. Some of the younger children had +clustered round her knee--one of them held her hand--another played with +a bunch of keys and trinkets which she always wore at her side. + +"Go on, mother," said little Marjory, aged seven. "Don't stop." + +"I have nearly finished," said Mrs. Staunton. + +"But not quite. Go on, mother; I want to hear the end of the story," +said Phil. + +Mrs. Staunton did not see Dorothy, who stood motionless near the door. + +"They got so tired," she began in a monotonous sort of voice--"so +dreadfully tired, that there was nothing for them to do but to try and +get into the White Garden." + +"A _White Garden_!" repeated Phil. "Was it pretty?" + +"Lovely!" + +"Why was it called a White Garden?" asked Marjory. + +"Because of the flowers. They were all white--white roses, white lilies, +snowdrops, chrysanthemums--all the flowers that are pure white without +any color. The air is sweet with their perfume--the people who come to +live in the White Garden wear white flowers on their white dresses--it +is a beautiful sight." + +"It must be," said Marjory, who had a great deal of imagination. "Are +the people happy?" + +"Perfectly happy--rested, you know, Marjory. They are peaceful as you +are when you are tucked up in your little bed." + +"I like best to play and romp," said Marjory in a meditative voice; "but +then, you see, I am never tired." + +"Dorothy is standing at the door," exclaimed Phil. "Come in, Dorothy, +and listen to mother's beautiful story." + +"Do you want me?" asked Mrs. Staunton, standing up. She began to +tremble--the children looked at her anxiously. + +Dorothy went straight up and took her hand. "Dr. Staunton wishes to see +you," she said. "Will you come with me?" She looked anxiously toward the +door. + +Mrs. Staunton put up her hand to her head. "Good-bye, my darlings," she +said, looking at the little pair, who were gazing up at her with puzzled +faces. "Go and play in the garden, and don't forget the White Garden +about which we have been speaking." She stooped down and deliberately +kissed both children, then she held out her hand to Dorothy. "I am quite +ready," she said. + +At that moment George entered the room. He put his arms round his +mother. He was a big fellow--his arms were strong. The muscles in his +neck seemed to start out, his eyes looked straight into his mother's. + +"You have got _me_, mother; I am George," he said. "Come, let us go to +my father together." + +Mrs. Staunton tottered upstairs. She was not in the least surprised at +seeing George, but she leaned very firmly on him. They went into the +sickroom, and when George knelt down by his father's bedside, Mrs. +Staunton knelt by him. + +The doctor was going deeper and deeper into the valley from which there +is no return. Earthly sounds were growing dim to his ears--earthly +voices were losing their meaning--earthly sights were fading before his +failing eyes. The dew of death was on his forehead. + +Mrs. Staunton, whose face was nearly as white, bent down lower and lower +until her lips touched his hand. The touch of her lips made him open his +eyes. He saw his wife; the look on her face seemed to bring him back to +earth again--it was like a sort of return wave, landing him high on the +shores of time. + +His impulse was to say, "Come with me--let us enter into the rest of the +Lord together;" but then he saw George. George had thrown his arm round +his mother's waist. + +"Let me keep her, father," said the young man. "Don't take her yet, let +me keep her." + +"Yes, stay with the lad, Mary," said the doctor. + +It was a final act of self-renunciation. His eyelids drooped over his +dying eyes--he never spoke again. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +George stayed at Whittington for a week; he followed his father to the +grave. Mrs. Staunton clung to him with a sort of feverish tenacity; +whenever he came into the room, her eyes followed him. A sort of +wistful, contented expression came into them when he sat down beside +her. During all the time George was in the house she never broke down. +At last, however, the time came when he must leave her. + +"I must go back to my work," he said; "but you are coming to London +soon, then I'll be with you every evening. You know my father has given +you to me to take care of. It will be all right when we are in London +together." + +"Yes, my boy," she replied, "it will be all right then. I don't +complain," she added; "I don't attempt to murmur. I shall go to him, but +he cannot return to me; and I have got you, George, and he gave me to +you. I am willing to stay with you just as long as you want me." + +It was late that night when George left his mother's room. Effie was +standing in the passage--the brother and sister looked at each other. +Effie had come home the day after Dr. Staunton's death. + +"Come out with me for a bit, Effie," said her brother. They went into +the garden, and she linked her hand through his arm. + +Dorothy Fraser had now returned to her duties in London; the Stauntons +were to go up to town as soon as ever the cottage could be sold. It had +belonged to the doctor. George was to live with them when they were in +town, and perhaps Effie would be able to follow the great wish of her +mind. There was just a possibility that she might be able to be trained +as a hospital nurse. She looked up at George now. + +"You have been such a comfort to us," she said. "Dorothy told me +everything; and I know that if you had not come just at the opportune +moment, we should have lost our mother as well as our father. I'll do +all in my power to hurry matters, so that we can come to London before +the winter." + +"Yes," said George. He was a finely built young fellow, with a handsome +face. He was not the least like Effie, who was dark and rather small, +like her mother. George had the doctor's physique; he had great square +shoulders, his eyes were frank and blue like his father's, but his mouth +wanted his father's firmness. + +"Effie," he said. "I don't know how I am to bring myself to confide in +you." + +"Confide in me?" she said, with a little start. "We always did tell our +secrets to one another, but all this terrible trouble seems to have put +childish things away. Have you really a secret, George, to tell me?" + +"I don't know how I can tell it to you," he replied; his lips +quivered--he looked down. Effie clasped his arm affectionately. + +"You know I would do anything for you," she said. + +"Yes; I know you are the best of girls, and you're awfully pretty, too. +I know Fred Lawson will think so when he sees you." + +"Who is he?" + +"A friend of mine--a right good fellow--he is a medical student at St. +Joseph's Hospital. I have often met him, and he has talked to me about +his own sisters, and one day I showed him your photograph, and he said +what a pretty girl you were. Somehow, Effie, I never thought of you as +pretty until Fred said so. I suppose fellows don't think how their +sisters look, although they love them very dearly; but when Fred said +it, it opened my eyes. Dear, dear, why am I talking like this, when time +is so precious, and I--Effie, when I came down that day to see my +father, I was in trouble--great trouble; the shock of seeing him seemed +to banish it from my mind, but it cannot be banished--it cannot be +banished, Effie, and I have no one to confide in now but you." + +"You must tell me of course," said Effie; she felt herself turning pale. +She could not imagine what George's trouble was. The night was dusk; she +raised her eyes to her brother's face--he avoided meeting them. He had a +stick in his hand, and he began to poke holes in the gravel. + +"How much money have we got to live on?" he asked abruptly. + +"How much money have we to live on?" repeated Effie. "I believe, when +all is collected, that there will be something like a hundred a year for +mother and Agnes and Katie and the two little children. Of course I am +going to support myself _somehow_, and you are naturally off our hands." + +"It's awful," said George; "it's awful to be so starvingly poor as that. +Why, I get a hundred a year now; fancy five people living on a sum on +which I never can make both ends meet!" + +"What is the matter with you, George? How queerly you speak! You knew we +should be awfully poor when father died. You are going to pay for your +board, are you not, when you come to us, and that will be a great help." + +"Yes, of course; I vow and declare that I'll give mother at least half +of what I earn." + +"Well, that will be fifty pounds--a great help. My idea for myself +is--but----" Effie stopped abruptly. She saw that George was making an +impatient movement. "I'll tell you another time," she said in a gentle +voice. "You have something now to tell me, have you not?" + +"I have--God knows I have. I want to get two hundred and fifty pounds +somewhere." + +"Two hundred and fifty pounds!" exclaimed Effie. George might just as +well have asked her for the moon. + +"I don't understand," she said, after a pause. + +"No, and I never want you to, Effie," replied the young man. "I can't +tell you what I want the money for, but it's a matter of life and death. +I thought I had made up my mind"--a husky sound came into his throat--"I +made up my mind to tell everything to my father when I came down that +night--I could have told him. It was not a sort of thing to talk to you +about, but I thought I could tell him; he died, and he gave me mother. +He left mother with me. You know perfectly well, Effie, that our +mother's life hangs on a thread. You know she must not have a shock, +and yet--Effie, Effie, if I don't get that £250, she will have such a +shock, such a terrible shock, that it will send her to her grave!" + +"I must think," said Effie. "I cannot answer you in a moment." + +"Is there no earthly way you can help me? I must be helped," said George +in a frantic voice. "I have got six weeks longer--I must get that £250 +in six weeks, or--no, I can't tell you." + +"Yes, you must try--I won't help you unless you try." + +"Well, then--here goes. If I don't get it, I shall have to go +to--_prison_." George's voice sank to a hoarse whisper. + +Effie could not suppress a cry. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +"Then you have done something wrong," said Effie, loosening her hold of +her brother's arm and backing to a little distance. He could scarcely +see her face in the ever increasing darkness, but he noticed the change +in her voice. There was an indignant note of pained and astonished youth +in it. Effie had never come face to face with the graver sins of life; +the word "prison" stunned her, she forgot pity for a moment in +indignation. + +"George," she said, with a sort of gasp, "father left mother to you,--in +a sort of way he gave her up to you,--and you have done wrong; you have +sinned." + +"You talk just like a girl," said George; "you jump at conclusions. You, +an innocent girl living in the shelter of home, know as little about the +temptations which we young fellows have to meet out in the world, as +you know of the heavens above you. My God! Effie, it is a hard world--it +is hard, _hard_ to keep straight in it. Yes, I have done wrong--I know +it--and father gave mother to me. If you turn away from me, Effie, I +shall go to the bad--I shall go to the worst of all; there will not be a +chance for me if you turn from me." + +The tone of despair in his voice changed Effie's frame of mind in a +moment. She ran up to him and put her arms round his neck. + +"I won't turn from you, poor George," she said. "It did shock me for a +moment--it frightened me rather more than I can express; but perhaps I +did not hear you aright, perhaps you did not say the word 'prison.' You +don't mean to say that unless you get that impossible sum of money you +will have to go to prison, George?" + +"Before God, it is true," said George. "I cannot, I won't tell you why, +but it is as true as I stand here." + +"Then you will kill our mother," said Effie. + +"I know that." + +"And father left her to you. George, it cannot be. I must think of +something--my head is giddy--we have not any money to spare. It will be +the hardest fight in the world to keep the children from starvation on +that hundred pounds a year, but something must be done. I'll go and +speak to the trustees." + +"Who are the trustees?" asked George. He rose again to his feet. There +was a dull sort of patience in his words. + +"Mr. Watson is one,--you know the Watsons, father has always been so +good to them,--and our clergyman, Mr. Jellet, is the other. Yes, I must +go and speak to them; but what am I to say?" + +"You must not betray me," said George. "If you mention that I want the +money, all will be up with me. In any case, there may be suspicion. Men +of the world like Mr. Watson and Mr. Jellet would immediately guess +there was something wrong if a lad required such a large sum of money. +You must not tell them that _I_ want it." + +"How can I help it? Oh, everything is swimming round before my eyes; I +feel as if my head would burst." + +"Think of me," said George--"think of the load I have got to bear." + +Effie glanced up at him. His attitude and his words puzzled and almost +revolted her. After a time she said coldly: + +"What hour are you leaving in the morning?" + +"I want to catch the six-o'clock train to town. This is good-by, Effie; +I shan't see you before I go. Remember, there are six weeks before +anything can happen. If anyone can save me, you can. It is worth a +sacrifice to keep our mother from dying." + +"Yes, it would kill her," said Effie. "Good-night now, George. I cannot +think nor counsel you at present; I feel too stunned. The blow you have +given me has come so unexpectedly, and it--it is so awful. But I'll get +up to see you off in the morning. Some thought may occur to me during +the night." + +"Very well," said George. He walked slowly down the garden, and, +entering the house, went up to his own room. Effie did not go in for a +long time. She was alone now, all alone with the stars. She was standing +in the middle of the path. Often and often her father's steps had +trodden this path. He used to pace here when he was troubled about a +sick patient, when his anxiety about her mother arose to a feverish +pitch. Now his daughter stood on the same spot, while a whirl of +troubled thoughts passed through her brain. It had been her one +comfort, since that awful moment when Dorothy had told her that her +father was gone, to feel that George, in a measure at least, took that +father's place. + +George had always been her favorite brother; they were very nearly the +same age--Effie was only two years younger than George; long ago George +had been good to the little sister--they had never quarreled, they had +grown up always the best and warmest of friends. Their love had been +true--as true as anything in all the world. + +George had gone to London, and the first tiny spark of discontent had +visited Effie's heart. She would be so lonely without her brother. It +was so fine for him to go out into life, her own horizon seemed so +narrow. Then Dorothy came, and they had made friends, and Dorothy told +her what some women did with their lives. + +Effie had been fired with a sudden desire to follow in Dorothy's steps; +then had followed the dark cloud which seemed to swallow up her wishes, +and all that was best out of her life. George, at least, remained. Dear, +brave, manly George! The brother who had passed out of childhood, and +entered man's estate. + +Her father's last message had been to George--he had given her precious +mother into George's care. + +It seemed to Effie to-night, standing out under the stars, as if George, +too, were dead. The old George was really dead, and a stranger had taken +his place. This stranger wore the outward guise of her brother--he had +his eyes, his figure; his voice had the same tone, he could look at you +just in George's way, but he could utter terrible words which George had +never known anything about. He could talk of _sin_ and _prison_. He +could propose that Effie should rescue him at the risk of her mother's +livelihood. Oh, what did it mean? How was she to bear it?--how could she +bear it? She clasped her hands, tears filled her eyes, but she was too +oppressed, too pained, too stunned to weep long. Presently she went into +the house, and lay down on her bed without undressing. + +During the whole of that terrible night Effie scarcely slept. It was the +worst night in all her life. Toward morning she dozed a little, but +sprang up with a start, fearing that George had gone to London without +seeing her. For her mother's sake she must see him. Whatever happened, +her mother must never know of this calamity. Effie got up, washed her +hands and face, smoothed out her hair, and went downstairs. George was +already up, he was standing in the little parlor. He turned round when +he heard his sister's footsteps, and looked anxiously at her. + +"What a brute I am!" he said, when he saw the expression on her face; +"but I swear before God, Effie, if you will help me, I'll turn over a +new leaf; I'll never do a wrong thing again as long as I live--I swear +it." + +"Don't swear it," said Effie; "it seems to make it worse to do that. If +you did wrong once, you may again. Don't swear. Ask God to help you. I +don't know that I have been praying all night, but I have been trying +to." + +"Well, Effie, what have you determined to do?" he asked. + +"Is there no one else who can help you, George?" + +"Not a soul; I have only one friend, and that is Fred Lawson." + +"Oh, yes! I remember you spoke of him last night. Would he help you?" + +"He help me!" said George, with a hysterical laugh. "Why, he is the chap +I have wronged. There, don't ask me any more. If you can help me, I am +saved; if you can't, say so, and I'll go straight to destruction." + +"No, you shan't do that, George. I have thought of something--nothing +may come of it, but I'm going to try. It is terribly repugnant to me, +but I would sacrifice much to save my mother. If it fails, all fails." + +"I have thought," said George eagerly, "that, as the case is such an +extreme one, we might take some of the capital. There is a thousand +pounds; a quarter of that sum would put me right." + +"It cannot be done for a moment," said Effie, her face flushing hotly. +"That money must under no circumstances be touched; my mother and the +children depend on it for their bread." + +"I don't know what is to be done, then," said George in a hopeless +voice. + +"You must trust to me, George; I am going to try to help you in my own +way. If I fail, I fail; but somehow I don't think I shall. If I have any +news I will write to you soon; and now good-by, good-by." + +George turned and kissed Effie; she gave him her cheek, but her lips did +not touch his. She was willing to help him, but her love for the time +was dead or dying. + +The young man walked hurriedly down the village street. Effie stood in +the porch and watched him; his shoulders were bowed, he stooped. George +used to have a fine figure; Effie used to be proud of him--she was not +proud of her brother now. + +She went back to the house, and sat down listlessly for a time in the +little parlor--her hands were folded in her lap. It seemed to her as if +the end of all things had come. + +Presently the sound of the children's voices overhead aroused her; she +went upstairs, and helped Susan to dress them. Returning to the everyday +duties of life had a soothing effect upon her. She made a violent effort +and managed to put her trouble behind her for the time being. Whatever +happened, her mother must not see any traces of it. + +When the baby was dressed, she took him as usual to her mother's room. + +Mrs. Staunton sat up in bed and stretched out her arms to receive him. +Effie gave him to her mother, who began to kiss his little face +hungrily. + +"Has George gone, Effie?" said the mother. + +"Yes, mother, dear." + +"Did anyone see him off--did he have his breakfast?" + +"Yes, he had a good breakfast; I got it ready for him last night." + +"But did anyone see him off?" + +"I did." + +"That's right; I should not have liked him to have had his last meal by +himself. I miss him awfully. Effie, dear, how soon do you think we can +go to London?" + +"As soon as possible, mother--in about six weeks." + +"Six weeks!" exclaimed Mrs. Staunton. "I can't live without George for +six weeks." + +"Oh, yes, you can, mother--at least you'll try." + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +When Effie had finished the many small duties which fell to her share in +the household economy, she went up to her bedroom and hastily changed +her everyday dress for her best one. She did not take long about this +task. Her small face looked very pale and thin under the heavy crêpe on +her hat. Taking up her gloves she ran down to the parlor where her +mother was sitting. Mrs. Staunton was busily mending some stockings for +George. A pile of his clothes lay on the table by her side. + +"I thought we might send these to London next week," she said, looking +up as her daughter entered the room. "George will want a really warm +greatcoat for the winter, and this one of your father's--why, Effie, my +dear----" She stopped abruptly, and gazed up at Effie's best hat. "Where +are you going, my love?" she said. "I thought you could help me this +morning." + +"I am going out, mother, for a little." + +"But where to? Why have you your best things on?" + +"I am going to the Harveys'." + +"To the Harveys'--to The Grange?" + +Mrs. Staunton shuddered slightly; she turned her head aside. "Why are +you going there?" she asked, after a pause. + +"I want to see them--I won't be long away. Please, mother, don't tire +yourself over all that mending now." + +"It interests me, my dear; I find it impossible to sit with my hands +before me. I am stronger than I used to be. I have got to live for +George; and George is young, he is entering life, he must not be saddled +with an old, ailing mother. I must get strong, I must get back my youth +for his sake. Don't be long away, Effie, dear. I wonder you like to go +to the Harveys' under the circumstances, but you know best. Children are +very independent nowadays," concluded Mrs. Staunton, with a sigh. + +Effie went up to her mother and kissed her, then she softly left the +room. + +The day was a particularly fine one, the sun shone brightly upon the +little High Street. Effie walked quickly; she soon turned into a shady +lane, the lane led her into the highroad. By and by she stopped at the +gates of The Grange. + +The woman of the lodge came out when she saw her. This woman had been +fond of Dr. Staunton, and she recognized Effie. + +Effie's little figure, her heavy black dress, her crêpe hat, her white +cheeks and dark eyes, all appealed with great pathos to the woman. She +ran towards her with outstretched hands. + +"Miss Effie, my dear, you're welcome," she said. She caught Effie's +little white hands in her hard, toil-worn ones. "You are welcome, Miss +Effie," she repeated; "it is good of you to come. Eh, dear, but it goes +to the heart to see you in that deep black! Come in and rest, my dear +young lady--come in and rest." + +"I cannot just now, Mrs. Jones," replied Effie. "I am in a hurry--I want +to go up to see the Squire on business." + +"And how is your mother, poor lady--how is she bearing up, my dear?" + +"Wonderfully," said Effie. "I'll come and see you another day, Mrs. +Jones." + +"Eh, do! you'll be more than welcome. I long to hear all about the +doctor, poor man, and how he went off at the end. The last words of the +pious are always worth listening to. I'll be glad to hear particulars, +if you can give me half an hour some time, Miss Effie." + +"Some time," said Effie. + +She walked on, trembling a little. The woman's words and her eager look +of curiosity were dreadful to her; nevertheless, she knew that her +father, under similar circumstances, would have been very patient with +this woman. + +By and by she arrived at the heavy front door of the old Grange. She +walked up the steps and rang the bell. + +The door was opened almost immediately by a servant in livery. He knew +Effie, and asked her in. + +"Is the Squire at home?" she asked. + +"I am not sure, miss, but I'll inquire. Will you step in here while I go +to ask?" + +The man opened the door of a little sitting room. Effie went in, and he +closed it softly behind him. + +After what seemed a very short time, she heard eager steps coming along +the hall--the room door was flung open, and Squire Harvey, accompanied +by his wife, came in. + +Mrs. Harvey looked like a shadow--but her sweet face had a tender +blush-rose color about it, her eyes had the intensely clear look which +long illness gives; she was better, but she looked so frail and delicate +that Effie's heart went out to her. + +"My dear child," said Mrs. Harvey, "how good, how very good of you to +come! I am only just downstairs. Dr. Edwards only allowed me down +yesterday, but I could not resist coming to welcome you myself. Won't +you come into my sitting room? It is just at the opposite side of the +hall. I'll send Rhoda upstairs to fetch little Freda. She will be so +enraptured at seeing you. Come, my dear. Now that we have got you, we +won't let you go in a hurry. I think it so sweet of you to come to see +us, and under the circumstances. Don't you think it is sweet of her, +Walter, dear?" + +Squire Harvey had more perception of character than his wife. He noticed +how white Effie's face grew; he noticed the pathetic trembling of her +hands. + +"My dear," he said, "perhaps Miss Staunton wishes to see me by herself. +I understood from the servant that she had asked for me." + +"Yes, I did want to see you very much," said Effie. + +"Of course, dear little thing," interrupted Mrs. Harvey; "but I'll stay +while you talk to her. I am immensely interested in you. Miss Staunton. +I can never forget, as long as I live, what you and yours have done for +us." + +"Please don't talk of it now," said Effie. "I mean--I know how kindly +you feel, and indeed I am not ungrateful, but I cannot bear to talk it +over, and I want very badly, please, to say something to the Squire." + +"Come with me to my study, Miss Staunton," said the Squire. + +He opened the door, and Effie followed him. + +"Be sure you make her stay, Walter, when your business is over," called +Mrs. Harvey after him. "I'll send for Freda to my boudoir. Miss Staunton +must stay to lunch. It is delightful to see her again, and it is so +sweet of her to come to see us." + +The thin, high voice kept calling these words out a little louder and a +little louder as Effie followed the Squire down one long corridor after +another, until at last they entered his special study. + +He shut the door at once, and offered her a chair. + +"If I can do anything for you, you have but to command me," he said. + +"I see you are in great trouble," he continued. "Pray take your own +time. I have nothing whatever to do--I can listen to you as long as ever +you like." + +Poor Effie found great difficulty in using her voice. For one dreadful +moment words seemed to fail her altogether. Then she gave a swift +thought to her mother, to George, and her resolve was taken. + +"I want to make a very queer request of you, Mr. Harvey," she said. "It +may not be possible for you to grant it. For my father's sake, will you +promise that you will never tell anyone what I am now asking you, if you +don't find it convenient to grant it to me?" + +"I'll keep your secret, of course," said the Squire. "But permit me to +say one thing before you begin to tell it to me: there's not the +slightest fear of my not granting it. There is nothing that you can +possibly ask of me, that, under the circumstances, I should think it +right to refuse. Now, pray proceed." + +"I want you," said Effie--she gulped down a great lump in her throat, +and proceeded in a sort of desperation--"I want you to lend me 250 +pounds. I'll pay you interest--I think five per cent. is fair +interest--I'll pay you interest on the money, and return it to you by +installments." + +There was not the least doubt that Effie's request startled the Squire. +The amount of the money required was nothing to him, for he was a very +rich man; but the girl's manner, her evident distress, the look of +shame and misery on her face, surprised him. He guessed that she was +borrowing the money for another, but for whom? + +"I can see you are in trouble," he said in his kindest tone. "Why don't +you confide in me? As to the money, make your mind easy, you shall have +it; but girls like you don't as a rule borrow a large sum of money of +this kind. Do you want it for yourself?" + +"No." + +"You won't tell me who it is for?" + +"I cannot, Mr. Harvey. Please don't ask me." + +"I won't ask you anything that distresses you. As you are talking of +money, you will forgive me for saying that I am told that your mother is +left badly off." + +"No; that's a mistake," said Effie. "She has money. My father left her +very well off for a man in his position. He insured his life for a +thousand pounds, and my mother had a little fortune of her own, which +brings in about sixty pounds a year." + +"And you think your mother well off with that?" said the Squire in a +tone of almost amused pity. + +"Yes, for a woman in her position," said Effie in almost a proud tone. +"Forgive me," she said; "I know that, after the request I have just +made, you would be justified in asking me any questions, but I would +rather not say any more about my mother. If you'll lend me the money--if +indeed you will be so good, so noble--when can I have it?" + +"When do you want it?" + +"I must have it before six weeks are up, but the sooner the better." + +"You shall have it in a week. Come here this day week and I'll give you +a check for the amount."' + +"A check!" said Effie; "but I would have to pass that through mother's +bank--and--and she might know." + +"Are you really asking for this money without your mother's knowledge, +Miss Staunton?" + +"Yes; my mother is not to know. Mr. Harvey, the object of our lives is +to keep all anxiety from our mother--she must never know." + +"Forgive me," said the Squire, after a pause. "I know a great deal about +business, and you very little. Would it not be best to open an account +in your own name? I am told that you propose soon to go to London. I +would introduce you to my bankers there, who would be very glad to open +an account with you; and if at any time you should have need of +assistance, Miss Staunton, you would give me the privilege of helping +you. Remember, but for me and mine you would not now be fatherless. You +must see that you have a claim on me. Allow me to fulfill that claim in +the only possible way in my power." + +"You are good, you are more than good," said Effie, rising. "But this is +all I really need. I'll pay you the interest on the money every half +year." + +"Oh, that doesn't matter. I earnestly wish you would take it as a gift." + +"Thank you, but that is impossible." + +Effie stood up; she had nothing further to say. + +"May I take you to my wife's room now?" said, the Squire. "I know she is +waiting to see you, she is longing to be friends with you. Her recovery +has been wonderful; and as to little Freda, she is almost herself again. +You would like to see Freda, would you not?" + +"Yes," said Effie, "but not to-day--I must hurry back to my mother. I +don't know how to thank you, Mr. Harvey. Will you please tell +your--your wife that I cannot stay to-day?--my mother wants me. Thank +you--thank you." + +The Squire himself showed Effie out. He stood for a moment by his open +hall door, watched her as she walked slowly down the avenue. + +"That is a plucky little thing," he said to himself. "Now, what in the +world does she want that money for? Not for herself, I'll be bound. I do +hope she has got no disreputable relations hanging onto her. Well, at +least it is my bounden duty to help her, but I wish she would confide in +me. She is a pretty girl, too, and has a look of the doctor about her +eyes." + +"Where is Miss Staunton?" asked Mrs. Harvey, coming forward. + +"Vanishing round that corner, my love," returned the Squire. "The fact +is, the poor little thing is completely upset, and cannot face anyone." + +"But her business, Walter--what did she want?" + +"Ah, that's the secret--she made me swear not to tell anyone. It is my +opinion, Elfreda, that the child has got into trouble. We must do what +we can for her." + +"I wish she would come here and be Freda's governess," said Mrs. Harvey. + +The Squire looked at his wife. + +"That's a good thought," he remarked; "and we might give her a big +salary--she is so innocent, she would not really know anything about it. +We might give her two hundred a year, and then she could help her +mother; but I doubt whether she would leave her mother--she seems simply +bound up in her." + +"It is our duty to help her," said Mrs. Harvey, "whatever happens. If +she won't come to us, we must think of some other way." + +"Yes we must," said the Squire. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +In less than six weeks the Stauntons were settled in London. George had +taken lodgings for them in a cheap part of Bayswater. The rooms were +high up in a dismal sort of house. There were a sitting room and three +small bedrooms. George occupied one--Effie and the girls another--Mrs. +Staunton, the baby, and little Phil the third. It seemed to Effie as if +they had always lived in this uninteresting house, looking out on that +narrow dismal street. They knew nobody. Their lives were very dull. Mrs. +Staunton occupied herself over George, morning, noon, and night. She +mended his clothes with scrupulous care; she washed his shirts herself, +and took immense pride in bringing the fronts up to a wonderful polish. +There was not a young man in the City who went to his daily work with +such snowy collars as George, such neat cuffs, such a look of general +finish. This work delighted Mrs. Staunton--it brought smiles to her eyes +and a look of satisfaction to her face. + +Effie had got the money from Mr. Harvey, and had handed it without a +word to George. + +He took it; his face flushed all over--tears filled his eyes. + +He said, "God bless you, Effie; you are the bravest, best sister a man +ever had"; and then he went out of the room and out of the house. + +"He never asked me where I got it," thought poor Effie; "and now there's +the interest to pay, and how can it possibly be taken out of our hundred +a year? Mother must never, never know; but how is that interest to be +paid?" + +The Stauntons had been settled about a fortnight in their new home, when +Dorothy came to pay them a visit. + +She was very busy in her hospital life. She came in with her accustomed +eager, purposeful walk. She sat down on the nearest chair, and began to +talk cheerfully to the children and sympathetically to Mrs. Staunton. + +As soon as she had an opportunity, however, she drew Effie aside. + +"Now, my dear," she said, looking straight into Effie's brown eyes, +"when are you coming to us?" + +"Oh, if I could come," exclaimed Effie, "I should indeed be happy, but I +don't see any chance of it." + +"I do. You are not really wanted here; Agnes is growing a big girl. Your +mother is devoted to your brother George; provided he comes home every +evening, she scarcely gives a thought to anyone else. You can be spared, +Effie, and it will be good for you. You do not look a bit the same girl. +You have lost your 'go' somehow. You are very young. It is wrong to have +a look like that when one is only twenty. You ought to come to the +hospital, and there is a vacancy now for a probationer, if you can take +it." + +"If I dare to," said Effie, "but it does not seem right." + +"Yes, I believe it is right. I know the matron of St. Joseph's Hospital +so well that I think I can arrange with her that you should spend a part +of every Sunday at home--at least, while you are training Agnes. The +fact is, Effie, you are a born nurse, and it is a sin to lose you to the +profession." + +"I should like to come beyond anything," said Effie. "It is the very +highest wish of my heart. The last night that I ever saw my dear father +he spoke to me on this subject. He used to hate lady-nurses, but you won +him over, Dorothy, and he said, if the time came, I could go with his +blessing." + +"Then surely that settles the matter," exclaimed Dorothy. "I'll speak to +Mrs. Staunton before I leave to-day." + +"Oh, no; don't! Mother seems quite happy and comfortable. I would not +for the world do anything to upset or distress her." + +"If it upsets and distresses her, you must give it up, that's all," said +Dorothy, "but it is worth sounding her on the subject. Don't say a word, +Effie, I'll speak to your mother about it." + +Effie looked puzzled and anxious. + +"I would give anything to go," she murmured to herself. "It is torture +to live on here, thinking of nothing but how to make a hundred pounds a +year pay everything that is expected of it. Then I should be one off the +family purse, for all my expenses would be paid by the hospital. Yes, +surely it must be right. At any rate, I'll allow Dorothy to speak." + +When tea was over, George, who had come in, and was as usual devoting +himself to his mother, tried to coax her to come out with him a little. + +"No, not to-night," said Dorothy suddenly. "I have something very +special to say to Mrs. Staunton--perhaps you would stay and listen too, +George?" + +George did not mind being called by his Christian name by Dorothy. She +was regarded by the Stauntons as part and parcel of the family. + +"I'll do anything to oblige you," he said, giving the handsome nurse a +look of genuine admiration. "Come, mother, if we are not to go out, we +can at least sit near each other." + +He drew up a chair close to his mother as he spoke, and put one of his +arms round her neck. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and sat there +in perfect content. + +After a time one of his strong hands closed over hers. She had never, +even in the doctor's time, felt more warmly and happily protected. + +"Yes, Dorothy, what have you to say?" she remarked. "George and I are +all attention." + +"George and you!" laughed Dorothy. "I never saw such a devoted pair. +Why, you are just like a pair of lovers." + +"Well, we are lovers, aren't we, mother?" said the son. + +"Yes, my boy," she replied. "No love was ever stronger than that which +binds us together." + +"I love to hear you say that," remarked Dorothy; "but now I want to talk +on quite another matter. I am very anxious about Effie." + +"Effie!" said Mrs. Staunton, just glancing at her daughter. "What about +her? She seems quite well. Are you well, Effie?" + +"Yes, mother, I am perfectly well," replied Effie. + +"Oh, it is not that," said Dorothy, a touch of scorn coming into her +voice. "Effie may be well in body, but she is just starved in soul." + +"Starved!" said Mrs. Staunton, with a start "What do you mean, Dorothy?" + +"Oh, never mind her, please, mother," said Effie in distress. "I am all +right, really." + +"No, she is not," continued Dorothy. "She is not right in the way I +should like to see her right. The fact is, she wants a change." + +"Poor child!" said Mrs. Staunton. "We are not rich enough to think of +changes." + +"The sort of change she wants will not cost you any money. The fact is, +I want her to become what Heaven has intended her to be, a thoroughly +trained hospital nurse. There is a vacancy now for a probationer at St. +Joseph's, and I can get her admitted at once. May she come? That's the +main point to consider." + +Mrs. Staunton looked at Effie. Effie looked back at her mother. + +It seemed to Effie at that moment as if she would have given anything +for her mother to say, "No, I cannot spare her." On the contrary, Mrs. +Staunton said in a calm voice: + +"I leave the choice entirely to Effie herself. If she thinks she can be +spared, she may go. The fact is, Effie, my love, your--your dear father +spoke to me on this subject the very night he was taken ill. He seemed +to wish it then; that is, if you cared for it yourself. If you are still +of the same way of thinking, I for one should not think it right to make +the slightest opposition." + +"But how are you to do without her?" asked George in some dismay. + +"Oh, I can manage--I am not the helpless old woman you seem to consider +me, George. I really feel better and stronger every day. The more I do +for you, the less of an invalid I seem to be. Effie has been quite +tiresome lately, trying to manage the money, and taking all care off my +hands, but I am quite capable of seeing to matters myself; and then +Agnes is growing a big girl, she can go out to buy what I shall order." + +Effie looked very pale. She sat perfectly still for a moment. Then she +stood up. + +"Very well, mother, I'll go," she said in a subdued voice. "When can you +be ready for me, Dorothy?" she continued. + +"In a week's time," said Dorothy. "There are certain preliminaries to be +gone through, but I will send you a paper of our rules. You must fill up +a form--in short, you must do exactly what you are instructed to do on +the paper. You will probably be admitted before this day week." + +Dorothy said a few more words, and then took her leave. Effie +accompanied her out on the landing. + +"I think you make a mistake in letting Effie go, mother," said George, +when he was alone with his mother. + +"Not at all, my son. The fact is, fond as I am of my dear Effie, she +takes almost too much control lately of our money affairs--I shall be +glad to get them into my own hands. There are very many comforts which I +could give you, darling, which are simply put out of my power by Effie's +determination to keep the family purse." + +George said nothing. He stooped to kiss his mother's cheek. + +He had not looked at matters from that point of view before. He allowed +his mother fifty pounds a year, which was half his present income, and +it suddenly occurred to him that he was making a very generous +allowance, and that he should have a full share of the benefit. + +"What I have been thinking is this," said Mrs. Staunton. "Out of the +fifty pounds a year which you, dear boy, give us, we ought to provide a +certain portion of your wardrobe. You really want new shirts. I +suggested to Effie a week ago that I should like her to buy some fine +lawn, as I wanted to make them for you, and she said at once that we +could not afford it. But never mind, dearest; when mother is put into +her own position again, you shall have the best shirts of any young man +in the City." + +Now, George was really satisfied with his present shirts, but if his +mother chose to make him better ones he did not care to oppose her. He +hoped that he would be asked out a little in the evenings during the +coming winter, and he wondered if his mother could possibly squeeze an +evening suit for him out of the allowance he gave her. He did not +express this thought, however, at the present moment, and as Effie +re-entered the room the two changed the conversation. + +George went out for a little, and Effie took up some needlework, sitting +where the lamp in the center of the table fell full upon her bright +brown hair. + +"I wonder, Effie," said Mrs. Staunton in a tone of almost discontent, +"that you did not speak to me before now on this subject. I cannot bear +to think that a child of mine does not give me her full confidence. You +know I am the last person in the world to keep you drudging and toiling +at home when you yourself long for a wider field of usefulness." + +"Yes, mother, I know that," said Effie in a grave voice "The fact is," +she continued, "I did not think it would be possible for you to spare +me; but if you can, and you think it right for me to go, I shall of +course be delighted, for I have long had my heart in this work." + +"You are like all other modern girls," said Mrs. Staunton in that +provokingly inconsistent way which characterized her; "you are not +satisfied in the home nest. Well, well, I have got my boy, and I must +not complain." + +"Oh, mother, dear mother, you have got us all." Effie rose from her +chair, went over and knelt by her mother's side. + +"I would give anything in the world," she said, looking full at Mrs. +Staunton, "for you to say that you are going to miss me awfully." + +The sight of her pretty face softened the mother's heart. + +"Of course I shall miss you, my darling," she said, "You always were the +best of girls; but I don't wish to stand in your way. I know you will be +happy where your heart is, and your father wished it. That, in my +opinion, settles the matter." + +"Well, I have a week," said Effie more cheerfully, standing up as she +spoke. "I must do all in my power to instruct Agnes. I must teach her +the little economies which I have been trying to practice." + +"No, you need not do that, Effie. When you go to the hospital I intend +to resume full control of the family purse." + +Effie hesitated, and looked anxiously at her mother as she said this. + +"I wish it, my love, so there's no use in discussing the matter," +continued Mrs. Staunton. "I know exactly what we have got to spend--£150 +a year. It is very little, indeed, but I rather fancy I am as good a +manager as my child. I have at least a wider experience to guide me. Out +of that income dear George provides a third. It seems to me, Effie, that +we should give him rather more comforts than he has had lately for this +generous allowance." + +"Oh, mother! George really wants for nothing." + +"I cannot agree with you. I should wish him to have beer at supper every +night." + +"I do not think it can be managed. There is not a penny to spare." + +"Well, my dear, we will see. It is also only just that a proportion of +his money should be devoted to providing him with suitable +underclothing." + +"Oh, mother, mother, have you thought of the thousand and one things +which are required for the children and yourself? Surely George can +manage to buy his own clothes out of the fifty pounds which he reserves +for his personal expenses." + +"That's so like a girl," exclaimed Mrs. Staunton, clasping her hands. +"She knows about as little of a young man's life as she does of his +Greek and Latin. Well, my love, we will propose no changes while you are +at home. You must go to the hospital with a light heart, taking your +mother's blessing with you." + +"A light heart, indeed!" thought poor Effie when she reached her room +that night. "A light heart, with mother spoiling George as hard as ever +she can! I wonder how the others are to fare when George is to be +treated like a prince in every way, and I wonder how that interest is to +be met. Oh, dear! oh, dear! but it shall be paid somehow. Well, I +suppose I am doing right. Mother would not have been content with this +state of things much longer, that's more than evident, and then my dear +father wished it. Yes, I'll take up my new life--I trust it will bring a +blessing with it--but oh, mother, how anxious you make me!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +In a week's time Effie found herself an inmate in the great hospital +which, for present purposes, we will call by the name of St. Joseph's. +It was situated in the east of London. Dorothy had been trained here, +and was now superintendent of one of the wards. + +Effie was to go up for a month's trial. At the end of that time she +would be paid at the rate of twelve pounds the first year, and twenty +pounds the second. Her training would take two years. A certain amount +of her uniform would be also provided, and everything found for her with +the exception of washing. + +She did not soon forget the evening of her arrival. She had said good-by +to her mother, had kissed the children, had given Agnes all final +directions, and at last found herself in the cab which was to take her +to St. Joseph's. It drew up presently outside one of the large entrance +doors. + +A lady, who was called the Home Sister, received Effie very kindly, and +offered her a friendly cup of tea. The hour of her arrival was about +four in the afternoon. She was then taken up to her own room, and +instructed how to put her cap on, and how to wear her new uniform in the +neatest and most compact way. Her dress was a pretty lilac check, and +she wore a cap with a frill round it, and long tails at the back. Her +apron bib was high to the collar in front, and fastened with straps +which crossed at the back. Nothing could be neater and more serviceable +than the dress. + +The kind Sister, having seen that Effie was all right, gave her a +friendly smile, and then led her along several dim passages, up and down +many stairs, until she finally found herself in a long, light ward, +where from thirty to forty women were lying in bed. The Home Sister +introduced Effie to the Sister of the ward, who went by the name of +Sister Kate. Sister Kate nodded to her, said a word or two in a very +busy voice, and then Effie found herself practically on the threshold +of her new life. The Sister who had been kind to her during tea, who had +shown her to her room, and instructed her how to dress, had vanished. +Sister Kate looked far too busy and anxious to be worried by questions; +and Effie, capable and active as she always was, found herself, for the +first time in her life, with nothing to do, and overcome by strange +nervousness. She was too much embarrassed to be of real use. Her face +was burning with blushes. Sister Kate was tired with her long day's +work. There was a great deal to be done to put the ward straight for the +night, and she really had no time to devote to the probationer. The +women lying in their beds seemed to have eyes and ears for no one but +Effie. Between sixty and seventy eyes turned on her wherever she moved, +whatever she looked at, whatever she did. Some of the eyes in the pale +and harassed faces looked kindly and interested, some of them merely +amused, some of them cross and discontented. Effie knew that these women +would be querulous and even rude under the touch of strange and +untutored hands. + +At last the night nurses arrived, the bell rang, and Sister Kate came +forward to show the new probationer the way to the dining hall. + +Here were several long tables, where the nurses, all dressed exactly +alike, sat down to supper. Effie took her place, and quickly discovered +that the others were far too tired and hungry to pay any attention to +her. She felt too excited to eat, and sat watching the faces of those +around her. + +Supper was immediately followed by prayers, and then came bed. Effie's +first evening as a probationer was over. + +She did not know whether to cry or to laugh as she laid her head on her +pillow. The reality was so different from anything her fancy had +painted. The practical character of the work, the absence of all +sentiment, the real illness, the real burden of humanity, seemed to +press down upon her. + +She had thought, a week ago, when Dorothy proposed that she should come +to St. Joseph's, of the delight of being in the same hospital with her +friend, but she now discovered that she was unlikely to see much of +Dorothy even though she lived under the same roof. Dorothy was Sister of +a ward, and that ward was not the one where Effie was to serve her +probationership. She had the comfort of a very small room to herself, +and was just closing her eyes in sleep, when the handle of the room door +was softly turned, and Dorothy, looking beautiful in her Sister's dress +of soft navy serge, came in. + +"So here you are, you poor little thing," said Dorothy, bending over +Effie and kissing her. "I have just come in for one minute to say God +bless you. You have come, the ice is broken. You have a fine career +before you. Don't be discouraged by what you saw to-night." + +"Oh, I am so lonely!" said Effie, with a quiver in her voice. "I was +sure when I came here that I should be in the ward with you, Dorothy." + +"No, my dear, that was not possible," replied Dorothy. "Of course I +should have been very glad if it could have been arranged, but I had no +voice in the matter. As it cannot be, dearest, try to believe that this +is just the best thing that could have happened to you, to be flung at +once, as it were, on your own feet. You will thus gain experience +without having a crutch like me to lean upon. I know the first night is +very bad, but you will soon learn your duties and become intensely +interested in the life. You are with Sister Kate, are you not?" + +"Yes," said Effie. "She scarcely spoke to me--I never felt so awkward in +my life, and I know that I was never half so clumsy." + +"Of course," said Dorothy, with a smile. "Don't I know the feeling well? +It all passes over, my love, and far more quickly than you have the +least idea of. Remember you have got the power--those little hands are +capable, that head holds a steady and sensible brain. Why, Effie, you +have gone through far worse times than this without flinching. Surely, +surely you are not going to break down now?" + +"Oh, I won't, I won't!" said Effie, with a sob; "but I felt lonely, very +lonely, and it was so very kind of you to come to see me." + +"Of course I have come to see you--I am only too delighted to do +anything in my power for you. I would have rushed down to share your cup +of tea on your arrival, but a bad case was just being brought into the +ward, and I could not leave. Now, I must go to bed myself, or I shan't +be fit for work to-morrow. Good-night, Effie. I have arranged that you +are to spend every second Sunday at home." + +"Oh, how good you are--how thankful I am!" exclaimed Effie. + +Dorothy was leaving the room, when she turned back. + +"I forgot to tell you that you are very lucky to be under Sister Kate," +she said. "There is not a nurse in the whole hospital who trains as she +does, and her probationers always get the best certificates at the end +of the two years of training." + +"She looks so severe and hard," said Effie. + +"She is a little severe, and some people may call her hard, but she has +a tender heart under all that strict, somewhat cold manner, and then +she is so just. My dear, when you know more of hospital life you will be +thankful that you are with a just and patient Sister. Sister Kate is +both. She will soon recognize you, Effie, for what you are. Now +good-night, my love." + +Dorothy went away, and soon afterward Effie fell asleep. + +The next morning she was awakened by a bell, at what seemed to her +something like the middle of the night. She had to dress herself +quickly, and then go into the ward and begin her duties. + +She found, somewhat to her surprise, that she had to begin her nurse's +life as a sort of maid-of-all-work; she had to scrub floors, to clean +grates, to polish handles--it seemed to her that she never had a moment +to herself from morning till night. Her feet felt very sore, her back +ached. Once or twice she felt so dreadfully fagged that she wondered if +she could keep up. But through it all, growing greater and greater as +the days went on, there came a sense of full satisfaction, of something +accomplished, something done, of the feeling that she was being trained +thoroughly and efficiently, so that at the end of her time of probation +she might be able to say, "There's one thing which I can do _well_." + +When the first Sunday came she was glad to hurry home. She went back +brimful of news, and looked forward to the quiet time in her mother's +little parlor with great delight. + +Mrs. Staunton was glad to see her. The children were all dressed in +their black frocks, and looked neat and comfortable. George was in the +room. It seemed to Effie as if she did not recognize his coat--she +wondered if it could possibly be a new one. + +She arrived at home a little before the midday dinner, and presently the +landlady came in to lay the cloth. This used to be Agnes' occupation. +Effie did not say anything while the woman was in the room, but when she +went out she remarked on this change. + +"Oh, it's all right," said Mrs. Staunton. "I pay half a crown a week +extra, and the landlady now waits on us. It is much more comfortable, I +assure you, Effie, and worth the extra bit of money." + +Effie colored; she gave Agnes a reproachful glance, but did not say +anything. + +Agnes turned her back with a little sniff. + +"Why, Effie," she said suddenly, "How coarse your hands have got! What +in the world have you been doing?" + +Effie laughed. + +"Polishing, cleaning, and scrubbing," she said. "In short, doing very +much what Mrs. Robinson's little maid of all-work does down in the +kitchen here." + +"Oh, dear, dear!" exclaimed Agnes; "if those are a nurse's duties, you +won't catch me going in for that sort of profession." + +"It's awfully interesting," said Effie. "I have, of course to begin at +the bottom, but I like it very much." + +While she was speaking, there came a knock at the door. George went to +open it, and a young man came in. George brought him up to introduce him +to his mother. + +"This is my great friend, Fred Lawson, mother," he said. "Effie, let me +introduce you to Lawson--Lawson, this is my sister Effie." + +Effie bowed. She felt the color rushing all over her face. Lawson was +the man whom George had wronged in some mysterious way. Lawson was the +man for whom that dreadful £250 was required. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +They all sat down to dinner, which Effie further noticed was a great +deal more luxurious than when she held the purse strings. There was a +nice little joint of roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, and one or two +vegetables. This course was followed by an apple tart and custard; and +then the board was graced with some russet apples and walnuts and a +bottle of port wine. + +Effie felt such a sense of consternation that she could scarcely eat +this pleasant food. But Mrs. Staunton, George, Lawson, and the younger +children enjoyed the dinner thoroughly. When the beef was taken away, +there was very little left on the joint; and as to the fruit tart, it +vanished almost as soon as it was cut. Effie could not help wondering to +herself how £150 a year could meet this lavish style of living. + +Lawson talked very pleasantly during dinner. After glancing toward Effie +several times, he suddenly remarked: + +"I cannot help feeling that I know your face," said he. "Where and when +have we met before?" + +"I saw you last night," said Effie, with a smile. + +"You saw me last night! What in the world do you mean?" + +"Yes," said Effie. "Don't you remember No. 17, in B Ward? You came in to +stop that terrible hemorrhage from the lungs from which she was +suffering." + +"B Ward at St. Joseph's?" exclaimed Lawson. + +"Oh, my dear Effie, now I beg of you not to allude to horrible things at +dinner," exclaimed Mrs. Staunton. + +"No, mother; I am sorry I mentioned it." Effie colored up. + +"What have you to do with St. Joseph's?" said Lawson. + +"I am a probationer in B Ward, under Sister Kate." + +"Never! how extraordinary! Now I remember, you are the girl who held the +basin. So you really are a probationer! A fresh one! Have you been there +long?" + +"Just a week." + +"Well, let me congratulate you on one thing, you held that basin without +shaking it; I expect you have got plenty of nerve. Of course, I knew I +must have seen you before; I never forget a face." + +Lawson presently went out with George for a walk. Agnes dressed the +children and took them with her to the Sunday school, and Effie was +alone with her mother. + +"Come and sit by me, darling," said Mrs. Staunton. "It is so very nice +to have you home again; I miss you very much, my dear daughter. But I am +really getting better. George wants me to consult Dr. Davidson at St. +Joseph's Hospital. He thinks that your dear father may have been +mistaken about my heart, and that it may get quite strong and well +again." + +"If you feel better, I don't think I would consult anyone," said Effie, +trembling a little. + +"Well, dear, well, there's no hurry about it. But I always notice, +Effie, and it distresses me not a little that any suggestion of +George's you are likely to pooh-pooh; now, surely that is scarcely fair +to him, dear fellow? You must notice, my love, how cheerful and pleasant +we have made this room. George insisted on my getting new curtains--only +white muslin, you careful child. They cost really very little, but they +do make such a difference in the effect. Then he has also determined +that I shall live better, plenty of meat and a little port wine. It is a +most _false_ economy, my dear, not to attend to one's diet. There's +nothing else keeps up the health." + +"Yes, mother, I know all that; but good, expensive, nourishing things +have to be paid for." + +"Now, Effie, don't let me hear you begin that dismal plaint. Do you +really mean to insinuate that I, your mother, would go into debt for +things?" + +"Oh, no, dear mother! how could I think that?" + +"You imply it, my love, by your manner." + +Effie sighed. + +It was hopeless to argue or remonstrate. She felt as if the little home, +so different from the beloved one in Whittington, was in reality +constructed over a volcano--any day it might collapse. The weight of +sorrow which pressed against her heart as she thought of this, of her +father, of the old life, quite crushed the brave spirit for the moment. +Where was George's honor? How dared he lead his mother into these +extravagances, when he knew, too, when he knew---- + +Effie clasped her hands tightly together. She restrained her emotions +with an effort, and turned the conversation to indifferent matters. + +Mrs. Staunton was certainly in better spirits. There was a little color +in her cheeks, and some of the old sweet brightness in her eves. + +When George had been absent about an hour, she grew restless and +_distraite_; she left her seat by Effie's side, and, going to the +window, looked up and down the street. + +"I hope the rain isn't coming on," she said; "he forgot to take an +overcoat." + +"Who, mother?" + +"George." + +"But really, mother dear, he isn't sugar; he won't melt." + +"There you are again, Effie, making little of your brother. It so +happens that he has a nice new coat on to-day, and I don't want it to +get shabby at once." + +"A new coat! How did he buy it?" + +"I lent him a little money for the purpose; he didn't go into debt, so +you need not think it." + +"I wonder you were able to spare the money." + +"Oh, yes; some of my dividends fell due, and were paid on Monday. I lent +George three pounds; I think he has got a wonderful coat for the money. +He will pay me back as soon as he gets his own salary. Ah! and there he +is, dear fellow, and that nice-looking young man, Mr. Lawson. Effie, now +do ring the bell; Mrs. Robinson ought to have tea on the table." + +With a great effort Effie kept from making remarks which she knew would +only irritate her mother. + +She said to herself, "There's no help for things to-day. The person to +talk to is George; he ought not to allow mother to rush through her +money in this way. I wonder if I am doing wrong in giving up my +home-life to the hospital; but no, I don't think I am. Mother would have +insisted on managing the money in any case." + +Mrs. Robinson appeared with the tea-tray. There was a little jug of +cream and a shilling Madeira cake; there was also a great plate of +thick bread and butter for the children. The tea-tray was placed on the +table, and George and Lawson took their tea standing. Effie helped them. +Lawson looked at her once or twice, and thought what a wonderfully nice +face she had, how true her eyes were, how good she seemed altogether. + +"She's altogether of different metal from her brother," thought the +young man. "I wish with all my heart he were like her; but although +there is something lovable about him, and we are chums, of course, yet I +never feel quite sure of myself when in his company." + +The meal which followed was quite merry. Phil and Marjory had gone up to +the top of their class in Sunday school; Agnes was promoted to teach a +class of very little children; Katie was going in for the Junior +Cambridge Examination, and eagerly consulted Effie about some books +which she was obliged to procure. Effie promised to give her the money +out of her first month's salary. + +"But that will be some time off," she said, "for I am only going through +my month's trial now, so you must be patient, Katie." + +"I'll lend you the money," said George, stroking his sister's hair. + +He looked so affectionate and handsome, and so manly and good-humored, +that it was impossible not to feel pleased with him. Mrs. Staunton's +eyes quite beamed as she glanced at her eldest son. + +"Now, mother, I am going to sit near you," he said. He drew his chair +close to his mother, and began to talk to her in a low tone. + +Effie and Lawson exchanged a few words over hospital work. He would make +an enthusiastic doctor some day! he loved the profession and thought it +the noblest in the world. He reminded Effie a little of her father. + +The quick hours flew all too fast. Effie's time was up. She went back to +the hospital with a curious sense of uneasiness, but equally also of +rest and refreshment. It was nice to think that George had such a good +friend as Fred Lawson. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +Two months passed away without any special incident. Effie's month of +trial being over, she was now established at St. Joseph's as a regular +probationer. Her salary of twelve pounds a year began from the day her +second month commenced. All those qualities which Dorothy was quite sure +that Effie possessed were coming abundantly to the fore. She had tact, +she had courage, she had nerve. She was also absolutely unselfish. Self +was not in the foreground with her; the work which she had to do, the +work which she meant to carry through in the best possible manner, in +the bravest spirit, with the most conscientious sense of duty, ever +filled her mental horizon. Sister Kate began to trust Effie. She began +to smile at her now and then, and to give her not quite so much +floor-scrubbing and grate-polishing, and a little more work to do for +the patients themselves. + +The patients liked to call Effie to smooth their sheets, to turn their +pillows, to give them their drinks. One or two of them, when they had an +odd moment, began to make little confidences to her. She learned their +histories almost at a glance. She also studied their fancies; she began +to find out the exact way Mrs. Robinson liked her gruel flavored, and +how Mrs. Guiers liked her pillows arranged. Effie made no fuss over the +patients,--fuss and favoritism were strongly against the rules,--but +notwithstanding, she was a favorite herself. + +More than one pair of tired eyes looked at her with longing and +refreshment as she passed, and more than one pair of wearied lips smiled +when she came near. + +Two months went by in this fashion--very, very quickly, as such busy +months must. It was found impossible to allow Effie to go home every +Sunday, but she went, as a rule, every second one. + +Things seemed to be going fairly straight at home. The extravagance she +had noticed on her first Sunday was not repeated to the same extent. +Mrs. Staunton seemed decidedly better, and Effie gave herself up with a +thankful heart to her work. + +It was now the middle of winter, close upon Christmas-time. The weather +outside was bitterly cold, although, in the ward, Effie scarcely felt +this. She wore her neat lilac print dress just the same in winter as in +summer. + +One day, about a week before Christmas, when a thick yellow fog was +shutting out all the view from the high ward windows, Effie was doing +something for No. 47, a poor, tired-looking woman of the name of Martin, +when Lawson, the young medical student, came suddenly into the ward. He +had been sent by the house physician to take notes on a certain case. +This case happened to be the very one which Effie was attending. When he +saw Effie a peculiar expression passed over his face. It was against the +strictest of all rules for the medical students ever to address a word +to the probationers; even the necessary duties required of them had to +be conveyed through a Sister or a ward nurse. Effie was helping poor No. +47 to drink a little milk and soda water. As she put the glass back in +its place, Lawson came close to her. He said abruptly: + +"I am very anxious to have a conversation with you about George." + +She colored crimson when he addressed her. + +"Yes," she said. + +"Nurse!" exclaimed Sister Kate's voice at that moment, in a harsh, sharp +tone, "go at once and make up the fire at the other end of the room." + +Effie went off, trembling and disturbed. + +The fact of Lawson having specially addressed her passed out of her mind +immediately, but the mention of George's name filled her with fear. + +It was the first time in her hospital life that she absolutely forgot +the rules laid down for her conduct. Sister Kate, who had the eyes of a +hawk, noticed when Lawson bent over to speak to the pretty little +probationer. It was her duty to correct the faintest attempt at flirting +on the part of the probationers and medical students. She felt shocked +at Effie, who was fast becoming a favorite of hers, permitting such a +thing for a moment, and, when next Effie had anything to do for her, +quite resumed her icy manner toward her. + +No. 47 required some special attention again that evening--she was +feverish, and not going on well. She called Effie to her side in an +eager voice. + +"You might turn my pillow again for me, dear," she said. "You know how +to hitch it right under the small of my back, better than any of those +other nurses. There now, that's better. Stoop your head a bit, love. I +believe if you go downstairs into the hall near the surgery, you are +safe to see that young doctor; he is sure to be in the dispensary about +this time, and you might catch him when he is going out." + +"Hush!" said Effie. "I know you mean kindly, but you ought not to talk +like that." + +"Oh, my love, I know, I know," said the woman, with a wink. "We was all +young once--I am three-and-forty, and have never had a mate. I missed my +chance when I was young. Don't you miss yours, nurse." + +Effie turned pale with indignation; but then, seeing that the woman +meant kindly, she tried to smile. + +"I am very much obliged to you," she said, "but things aren't a bit the +way you think." She then went off to perform her other duties. + +Sister Kate spoke to her sharply. + +"Nurse," she said, "I hope you remember the rule which forbids +favoritism--I noticed that you stayed longer than was necessary with No. +47." + +"She complained a good deal of her back, Sister, and I was arranging her +pillows for her." + +"Don't try to deceive me," said Sister Kate. "You know perfectly well +that you did not spend all that time arranging a pillow. Now, go and +help to bring up the teas." + +Effie turned to her duties with a tingling sensation in her eyes. + +It was the first time since her arrival at St. Joseph's that her work +seemed almost impossible to her. Her heart quite ached with longing to +know what Lawson had meant. What had he to tell her about George? As she +thought, her fears grew greater and her memory of the hospital rules +less and less. + +She determined at any risk to try and see Lawson that evening. It would +be impossible for her to venture down into the central hall of the +hospital, but she knew for certain that he would come into the ward +again late that evening. + +Sister Kate would be off duty at nine o'clock, and Sister Alice, the +night superintendent, was not nearly so strict. Effie hovered about near +the door; she knew she was disobeying rules, for she ought to have gone +to bed soon after nine o'clock. No one noticed her, however. The night +nurses were all busy taking up their different duties, and Sister Alice +was talking to the house physician at the farther end of the ward. + +Suddenly Effie, standing near one of the doors, saw Lawson coming +upstairs; she ran to him without a moment's hesitation. "What have you +to tell me about George?" she said. + +He colored, and looked almost annoyed when she spoke to him. + +"I cannot tell you here," he said in a hasty voice. "Are you going home +next Sunday?" + +"No; it's my Sunday in--unless I could get one of the other probationers +to change with me." + +"I wish you would manage to do that; I really want to see you very +badly. If you'll go home on Sunday, I'll call in the course of the +afternoon, and then I can walk back with you to the hospital. Now, go at +once--you must not be seen talking to me." + +Effie flew down the corridor to her own little room. + +That night she could scarcely sleep; she felt oppressed with all kinds +of forebodings. The idea of her having broken one of the rules, and, in +fact, laid herself open to dismissal, never once entered into her head. + +She was still the faithful nurse--the earnest-minded, gentle, good girl, +who would give up her whole life to the alleviation of the sufferings of +others. The fact of Effie having a dual life, of having a nature which +could not forget the old home ties, was not likely, however, to be +recognized in the hospital. + +The next morning at breakfast she noticed that one or two of the +probationers giggled a little when they saw her. She sat down in her +usual seat, and one of the girls nudged her elbow. + +"Well," she said, "you're no better than the rest of us." + +"What in the world do you mean?" said Effie, coloring scarlet. + +"Oh, don't be so sly!" said the girl, with a poke which she intended to +make playful. "He is a very good-looking young fellow, too; only, if you +don't want to get into mischief, don't let Sister Kate see it." + +"I know what you mean," said Effie in a steady voice; "but you are +altogether mistaken. I scarcely know Mr. Lawson; he only spoke to me +yesterday because he happened to be a great friend of my brother's." + +"Oh, the usual thing," laughed the girl. "It's so very convenient to +have brothers; is it not, Lucy?" + +The girl addressed as Lucy grinned, and Effie felt very uncomfortable. + +At dinner that day, it suddenly passed through her mind that she must, +by hook or by crook, induce one of the probationers to change Sundays +with her. Lucy was usually a good-natured girl. Her people did not live +in town; as a rule she spent her Sundays out with her aunt-in-law. +Effie went up to her when she had a moment to spare. + +"Lucy," she said, "I wish you would do something for me." + +"To be sure I will, Effie," she replied--"anything in my power." + +"I want to go home very badly next Sunday; do you think it would be +possible for me to change with you?" + +"Heigh-ho!" said Lucy, "You want to meet Mr. Lawson; I know your sly +little ways." + +"No, indeed, it is not true," began Effie; but then she stopped, for she +knew it was true. She would meet him. "Oh, how little Lucy knows the +burden that is pressing on me!" thought the poor girl. + +Tears suddenly rose to her pretty brown eyes. + +"I cannot explain things to you," she said; "I would if I could. You +must believe in me and trust me. I have a great deal of anxiety. Oh, it +has nothing to do with the hospital; it is about my home life. There is +a great burden laid upon me. I want very much to go home on Sunday. +Indeed, Mr. Lawson has little to do with the real burden, only I believe +he can tell me something." + +"I know you are a good girl," began Lucy, who became grave on the spot. +"Of course you shall take my turn if Sister Kate will allow it." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +Sister Kate made no objection, and Effie hurried home in a state of +excitement which she could scarcely restrain. Mrs. Staunton did not +expect her, and the poor girl felt her heart sink low in her breast when +she saw that her unexpected arrival scarcely gave satisfaction. There +was a nice white cloth on the table, and a large bunch of flowers in a +pretty cut-glass jug stood in the center. An attempt at dessert again +graced the board, and Effie noticed that a bottle of sherry and a bottle +of port stood on the little sideboard. + +She felt a sense of dismay. + +"Even mother is beginning to keep things from me," she said to herself. +"It is all George, of course! They did not expect me home to-day, so +they are having a particularly good dinner. Is it possible that even +mother would try to deceive me? Oh, dear, dear! how changed all our life +is, now that father is no longer here!" + +There had never been the faintest shadow of concealment about the honest +doctor, and while with her husband Mrs. Staunton was the most +straightforward woman imaginable; but, alas! her character was a weak +one--she was now completely under George's influence, and George had +learned to walk in those crooked paths which those who begin to do wrong +are always tempted to follow. + +He came in presently, looking particularly handsome and manly. He had on +a nice new coat; and his beautifully got-up collar showed off his fresh +young face to the best possible advantage. + +Mrs. Staunton called him up at once for Effie to criticise. + +"Doesn't he look well in a white silk tie?" she said. "I like white ties +better than colored ones for him, and they are not so expensive either, +for I can wash them myself." + +"I wonder all that washing does not fag you, mother," said Effie. + +Before Mrs. Staunton could reply, Mrs. Robinson appeared with the +dinner, and the family sat down to an excellent meal. + +Effie saw quite plainly that it would be useless for her to attempt to +expostulate. Mrs. Staunton, after her first start of unconcealed dismay, +was very affectionate to her daughter. She told Effie that she thought +she looked a little pale, and wondered whether all that nursing was not +too much for her. + +"No, mother, I love the work," said Effie. + +"But that is not the question, my love," said Mrs. Staunton, shaking her +head. "The question is this: is it undermining your health?" + +"Well, in any case I should have to earn my living," said Effie. "I +could not possibly afford to do nothing at home. As well earn it as a +nurse as in any other way, and I love nursing beyond anything else in +the world." + +"You always were an obstinate dear little girl, was she not, George? +But, after all, Effie----" Here Mrs. Staunton paused and looked at her +son. "I think I might tell Effie?" she said, giving him a bright nod. + +"Oh, I don't suppose there is anything to make a fuss over," replied +George. He colored as he spoke, and looked out of the window. He could +easily hoodwink his mother, but it was difficult to meet Effie's clear +eyes and not to feel sure that she was reading him through, and seeing +him as he really was. + +Agnes jumped up, saying it was full time to go to Sunday school; she +carried off the children with her, and George, his mother, and Effie +were alone. + +"Sit down in your usual chair, George," said his mother. He did so, +bringing up the port wine as he spoke, and pouring out a glass, which he +insisted on his mother drinking. He tossed off one or two glasses +himself, after which his eyes grew bright and steady, and a color came +into his cheeks. + +"Yes, tell Effie," he said. + +"I think you might do so, George; I am so proud of you." + +"No, mother. I like to hear you describing me; you make me feel such an +awfully fine fellow." + +George laughed as he spoke. + +"Well, then, Effie," said his mother, "you will in future learn to +appreciate our dear George as he deserves. The fact is this: he has just +got a rise in his salary of a whole hundred a year. George is now +earning two hundred a year; and he has arranged, dear fellow, to give me +one hundred a year, in order that I may have those little comforts which +he thinks I require." + +"Is that really true?" said Effie, coloring. "Oh, what splendid news!" +She looked eagerly at George as she spoke. She longed to jump up, throw +her arms round his neck, and kiss him. + +"Is this true?" she repeated. "Oh, I am so glad! We do want the money so +badly." + +George stooped to flick off a speck of dust which had settled on his +immaculate shirt-cuff; his eyes would not meet Effie's. + +"Of course it is true," he said in a bravado sort of voice. "You don't +suppose I would tell mother a lie, do you?" + +"Oh, Effie! how could you doubt him?" said Mrs. Staunton, almost crying. + +"No, mother, I don't doubt him," Effie replied. She walked to the +window. Her momentary pleasure was over; she knew, just as well as if +George had told her, that the whole thing was a fabrication. If he had +more money, he was not getting it in his situation. His look, his +attitude, joined to the few words Lawson had said to her, made Effie +quite certain on that point. Burning words half rose to her lips, but +she checked them. She did not doubt George. She read the truth in his +eyes; what fell from his lips was nothing. + +Mrs. Staunton kept on talking. "We shall have real comforts at home +now," she said. "I am, as my boy says, a wonderful manager." + +"The best in all the world," interrupted George; "there never was such a +mother." + +Mrs. Staunton's eyes quite shone with pleasure. + +"What I was thinking was this, Effie," she continued, "that if you +really are not strong enough to go on with your work, we can now afford +to keep you at home." + +"Of course we can," said George. + +He had scarcely said these words, half turning his back on Effie as he +spoke, when the room door was opened by Mrs. Robinson, and Lawson was +announced. + +When he saw his friend, George suddenly turned pale. He recovered +himself in a moment, however, and went forward to meet him, speaking in +a loud and bragging voice. + +"Is that you, Lawson? Welcome, old chap. We did not expect you to-day, +but we are right glad to see you, of course." + +"You will stay and have tea with us, won't you, Mr. Lawson?" said Mrs. +Staunton in her sweet voice. + +"Yes, certainly," said Lawson. + +He had given Effie his hand when he came into the room, but he scarcely +looked at her. + +He sat down near Mrs. Staunton, and began to talk to her in his usual +bright way. She yielded after a moment to his charm. Lawson was a young +fellow with a great amount of general information; he had also abundance +of tact, and he knew how to suit his words to Mrs. Staunton's +requirements. + +When George saw his friend talking to his mother, he went up to Effie +and stood near her. + +"Come to this end of the room," he said abruptly. + +Effie followed him. + +"I am likely to make quite a pile of money," he said, speaking in a low +voice and glancing toward his mother. "I know you think badly of +me,--it's awfully hard on a fellow when his sister thinks badly of +him,--but, nevertheless, I am likely to be in a real good way of +business soon. And what I want to say now is this, Effie. I am anxious +to pay back that £250 which you borrowed for me." + +"I wish you would," said Effie. + +"Well, I dare say I can give you fifty pounds toward it this week. +Squire Harvey won't require the whole of the money back at once." + +"Oh, he doesn't require it at all," said Effie. "It is I who require it. +It is my honor and the honor of my dead father that demands it. It ought +to be paid back, and you ought to do it." + +"Don't speak so loudly--you do get so excited about things," said +George. + +Effie lowered her voice. Lawson, as he talked to Mrs. Staunton, glanced +sharply at her. + +Tea was brought in, and Effie had to take her place at the tea-tray. +George's words had made her feel more uncomfortable than ever. It was +absolute nonsense to suppose that he could be earning money at this +rate. + +After tea, Effie had to go back to the hospital. + +"Good-by mother," she said. "I won't see you now for a fortnight." + +Mrs. Staunton got up and put her feeble old arms round her daughter's +neck. "Good-by, my darling," she said. "Take care of yourself; don't +overwork yourself. Remember it is unnecessary. You have got a home, and +a dear, noble, faithful brother to provide for you." + +"Yes, Effie, you are heartily welcome to all that I can give you," said +George in a lofty tone. + +Effie pressed her lips to her mother's, kept her arms for one moment +round her neck, and then turned away with tears in her eyes. + +"Good-by, George," she said, holding out her hand. + +"I'll see you back to the hospital," said George. + +"Don't do that. It is a beautiful evening; mother would like you to take +a walk with her." + +"And I'd have the greatest pleasure in seeing Miss Effie home, if she +would let me," said Lawson. + +George hesitated for a moment. For some reason, which was more than +evident, he did not want Effie to be alone with his friend. + +He looked at his mother. She did not catch his eye, or she would have +read his wish by instinct. The evening was really very fine, and she +liked to walk round the square leaning on George's arm. When well +enough, too, she liked him to take her to church. + +"I think I'd enjoy a little walk with you, George," she said. "The +evening is quite like spring--Wonderful weather for so near Christmas; +the air is as mild and soft as milk; and as Mr. Lawson has so kindly +promised to see Effie back, perhaps you'd come?" + +"All right," said George. "By-by, Effie; you'll hear from me, perhaps, +in the course of the week." + +Effie went downstairs, followed by Lawson. As soon as ever they got out, +he looked her full in the face. + +"You must be greatly amazed," he said, "at my presuming to bother you +about your family affairs." + +"Oh, no!" she replied. "I think you are kind, but your words have made +me very anxious." + +"Then," said Lawson, "you see for yourself that things are not all +right." + +"I have known that for some time." + +"George is a great friend of mine," continued Lawson. "We saw a good +deal of each other when he first came to town--he was a right jolly sort +of fellow then; it was only about six months ago that, all of a sudden, +he seemed to change. I suppose he took up with some bad companions, but +I really can't say for certain." + +"But what about him now?" said Effie, in a voice almost irritable with +anxiety. "Have you anything fresh to tell me?" + +"You heard him, probably, say to your mother that he had a rise of +salary?" + +"Yes." + +"The fact is," continued Lawson, "I know that not to be true." + +Effie also in her heart of hearts knew it not to be true, but she could +not bear to hear a stranger abuse her brother. + +"How can you be sure?" she said, somewhat inconsistently. + +"How can I be sure?" he retorted. "This is not a matter of sentiment, I +happen to know. George is working with a relative, it is true, but Mr. +Gering is one of the hardest men in the City. Everyone who understands +him knows the system on which he works, and a relative has no more +chance with him than another. George will have to take his rise step by +step at something like the rate of ten pounds a year. Perhaps he has +told your mother that he has had quite a large rise." + +"He said a hundred a year; he said he was now receiving two hundred a +year." + +"What is to be done?" said Lawson, "Something ought to be done to stop +it. Your mother will certainly live beyond her means, and then you will +all get into no end of a mess. Do forgive me for taking an interest; the +fact is, George was a great friend of mine once." + +"Oh, please don't give him up!" said Effie. "If good men turn against +him, what chance has he, poor fellow?" + +"I won't, if you wish me to look after him," said Lawson, giving her a +quick glance. + +At this moment two nurses from St. Joseph's Hospital, who were crossing +the street, saw Effie. They noticed her earnest face, the sparkle in her +eyes; they also observed the glance which the handsome young medical +student gave her. The women nudged one another, smiled, and went on. + +Effie never saw them. + +"Let us walk a little faster," said Lawson, who was not so unobservant. +He felt vexed that the women should see him with Effie, but now that he +was with her he must at least unburden his mind. + +"George told me," said Effie,--"perhaps it is not wrong to repeat it to +you,--that he is likely to make a great deal of money." + +"Did he? Did he tell you that--did he happen to say how much?" + +"Well, he spoke as if money were very easily earned," said Effie. "He +said something about getting fifty pounds this week." + +"I must tell you the truth," said Lawson. "There's no help for it. Your +brother will go straight to the bad if he is not rescued, and that at +once." + +"What do you mean? Oh, how you frighten me!" + +Effie's face was as white as a sheet. + +"I am ever so sorry," said Lawson; "but what is the use of keeping back +the truth? George has had no rise of salary--indeed, if he is not +careful, he is mother has gone far beyond our means. She hasn't +[Transcriber's note: text of this paragraph in original is as shown and +ends abruptly at this point.] + +"Then how does he get his money?" + +"He gets it by gambling." + +"Gambling! Oh, no! oh, no!" said Effie. + +She had the horror of that vice which a pure-minded, well-brought-up +girl must ever have. + +"It is true," said Lawson; "it gives me the greatest pain to tell you +anything so bad of your brother, but there's no help for it." + +"But how do you know?" interrupted Effie. + +"I know by the best of evidence. I have had my suspicions for some time, +but I happened to see him coming out of one of those places last +week--yes, I must tell you, I saw him coming out of a gambling den. I +think he goes night after night. At present he is winning more than he +loses, but that is always the game for drawing fellows on." + +"It must be stopped," said Effie. She felt quite faint and sick. If her +mother knew this it would kill her on the spot. + +They had nearly reached the hospital, and Effie turned and faced +Lawson. + +"You don't half know what this means to me," she said. "George is not +exactly like an ordinary brother. When my father died quite suddenly of +diphtheria some months ago, he left my mother in George's care. If +George goes to the bad now, she will certainly die; you must have +noticed for yourself how she is wrapped up in him." + +"Yes; no one could fail to notice it. I think her love for him +beautiful; and he loves her, too. Poor fellow! that is his great +redeeming point." + +"Oh, I don't call it real love," said Effie, almost with passion--"to +deceive her as he does--to do wrong, and that sort of wrong. Oh, I think +my heart will break!" + +Tears choked her voice, she had the greatest possible difficulty in +keeping them back. Lawson took out his watch. + +"You are not late," he said. "Let us take a turn round this square." + +They had entered an old-fashioned square where there were very few +people. They walked round and round the dismal central garden for some +time. Lawson talked, and Effie listened. After a time they decided that +George's perilous downward career must be stopped at any cost. Lawson +said he would make it his business to see George the following evening, +to tell him quite frankly what he knew, and, in short, to compel him, if +necessary, to do what was right. + +"He'll be obstinate," said Effie--"I know he'll be hard to deal with. +Oh, what shall we do?--what shall we do? I am quite certain that already +my mother has gone far beyond our means. She hasn't been half careful +enough since I left her. If George stops getting money in this way +she'll wonder and question. I doubt very much whether you can have the +least influence over him. What is to be done?" + +"Don't be so down-hearted," said Lawson. "He requires a man to tackle +him--a man who really knows the temptations young fellows meet. If +you'll allow me to say so, Miss Staunton, I don't think the case quite +hopeless; anyhow, you may be quite sure I'll do my best for him." + +"Thank you," said poor Effie; "you are more than good, and I do trust +you." She hurried back to the hospital; but, to her dismay, when she got +there, found that she was a quarter of an hour late. + +Absolute punctuality in returning from any outdoor pleasure is expected +from all nurses. She hurried upstairs, hoping that she might gain her +room, put on her cap and apron, and return to the ward before Sister +Kate had time to miss her. This might have been the case--for Sister +Kate had been very much occupied with some anxious cases during the +afternoon--had not one of the nurses, who had a spite against Effie for +being prettier and cleverer than herself, drawn Sister Kate's attention, +to the fact that the young probationer was behind her time. This nurse +had seen Effie walking with Lawson. Immediately her spirit of jealousy +and envy was up in arms; she did not for a moment consider what injury +she might do the poor girl by her false and unkind words. + +"Nurse Staunton is late," she said. "I don't know how I am possibly to +get the ward in order for the night unless I have some help." + +"I must speak to her," said Sister Kate, glancing at the clock, and +looking a little annoyed. "This wasn't her Sunday to go out, either. I +cannot let the rules be broken in this way. Let me know as soon as ever +she comes in." + +"I suppose there's some excuse to be made for her," said the nurse, +speaking in a knowing way. "She's a very careful, good sort of girl, but +there _are_ times when the best of us forget ourselves." + +The woman knew that Sister Kate would interpret her words as she wished +her to do. She went off in a hurry to perform her duties, and when Effie +entered the ward, Sister Kate received her with marked coldness. + +"You are very late, nurse," she said. "Where have you been?" + +"I have been at home with my mother." + +"Was your mother ill? Is that your excuse for being behind your time?" + +"No; mother was well--better than she has been for some time." + +"Then why are you late?" + +"The fact is, I was walking with a friend, and forgot to notice the +hour." + +"That's no excuse. You have certainly behaved very carelessly, and have +put the other nurses out by not being in time to take your duties. Who +was the friend with whom you were walking?" + +Sister Kate had no right to ask this question, but she felt much +provoked at the moment, and the color which rushed all over Effie's face +excited her curiosity. + +"Perhaps you'll think I did wrong," said Effie, looking up at her almost +defiantly. "The friend was Mr. Lawson. He knows my brother very well; he +was talking to me about him. I cannot refuse to speak to him when I see +him out of doors, can I?" + +"Don't be pert, nurse! You know it is one of the strictest rules of the +hospital that none of the nurses are to speak to the medical students." + +"I know; and I don't wish to speak to him in the hospital." + +"See you don't, or you'll be dismissed at once; in fact, the less you +know of any of the medical students, the better for you. I am very sorry +that this young man knows your brother. I should not have had anything +to do with you, had I been aware of this fact." + +"How absurd and unjust!" murmured Effie under her breath. She turned +away--she felt absolutely cross. + +Sister Kate called her back. + +"Now, bustle about," she said. "The supper-trays want to be taken away; +the women are perfectly tired of waiting to be settled for the night." + +Effie moved mechanically about her duties. Her heart felt sick. She did +not think she could remain much longer under Sister Kate's care. "If she +treats me like this," thought the proud girl, "I cannot endure it. Mr. +Lawson is nothing to me--he is only my brother's friend. He is good, and +wants to help us in an hour of great perplexity. What shall I do? I feel +tied and fettered in every way." + +She laid her head on her pillow only to burst into tears. She cried +herself to sleep. All the world seemed black to her. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +Effie saw very little of Dorothy Fraser, but on the following day, to +her great surprise and pleasure, as she was leaving the dining-hall, +Dorothy came up and spoke to her. + +"You have a minute to spare," she said; "just come out on this balcony +and talk to me." + +Effie obeyed her. + +"What do you want with me, Dorothy?" she asked. + +"I wish to know why you look so pale and worried--you seem to have +displeased Sister Kate, too." + +Effie very nearly burst into tears, but she restrained herself. + +"I'll tell you what it is," she said. "It is the most unjust thing!" + +She then mentioned in as few words as possible the circumstance of +Lawson having spoken to her--of her great anxiety about George--and of +her having walked back with the young medical student from her home on +the previous evening. + +Dorothy looked very grave while Effie was speaking. + +"It is unfortunate," she said. "This is just the sort of thing that +injures a girl at the commencement of her hospital life." + +"But it is so ridiculous and unjust," said Effie. "What in the world can +Mr. Lawson be to me?" + +"Oh, nothing, of course, my dear," replied Dorothy. "But still the rules +cannot be too strict on this point. You know I am not a prude, but all +girls are not like you, Effie; and, in short, Sister Kate is in the +right. Someone must have seen you walking back with Mr. Lawson, and must +have told her, or hinted, at least, at the state of the case. Nothing +else would have induced her to question you." + +"She had no right to speak to me about acquaintances that I meet out of +the hospital." + +"Strictly speaking, she has no right; that's why I say she must have got +a hint." + +"Oh, well, never mind her," said Effie. "I won't speak to Mr. Lawson +again, unless I meet him out of doors, where I can, and shall, whatever +Sister Kate may say." + +"Effie, you must be careful." + +"I don't want to think of myself at all. Can't you see how miserable I +am about my mother and about George?" + +"Yes; it is a most wretched business. I am more sorry for you than I can +say." + +"Oh, I wish something could be done," said Effie. "I feel tired and +fettered here--I feel almost wild. I cannot devote myself to my +necessary duties." + +"Poor child," said Dorothy in her caressing voice. "Let me think: I must +help you in some way. Suppose I go to-day to see your mother? I had a +chance of having the whole afternoon to myself, but, as I had nowhere in +particular to go, was determining not to avail myself of it, but now I +can be of use to you." + +"Oh, Dorothy! would you really go to see mother? It will be of the +greatest possible use. You have such tact--you can say things that no +one else would venture to say; and then if only you could see George!" + +"I'll take the thing up somehow," said Dorothy; "you shan't be dragged +and worried to death, you dear, brave little girl. Give me a kiss, +Effie, and go back to your work. Between Mr. Lawson and me, we will +pull you through this trouble, see if we don't!" + +"Do you know Mr. Lawson, Dorothy?" + +"Know him! Of course I do. He is one of the very nicest fellows here--as +good as gold and as steady as a rock, and with such a beautiful +enthusiasm for his profession--he'll make a splendid doctor by and by. +Yes, Effie, don't mistake me: it is not the man I object to, it is the +fact that he is a medical student, and that you are a nurse. So many bad +things have been said about nurses and medical students that all nurses +worthy of the name have to make up their minds to show the world that +they can and will nurse without even the thought of flirtation coming +into their head." + +"You're right, of course," said Effie, with burning cheeks. "But it's a +shame, it's horrible! How can anyone think I wish to flirt?" + +She turned away--she was obliged to go back to her duties; but her heart +felt much lighter after her conversation with Dorothy. + +That afternoon Sister Kate, watched Effie as she would, could find no +fault with her. She was attentive, tactful, kind, and considerate; a +little bit of her old pleasant cheerfulness had also returned to +her--her face looked less careworn. + +The fact is, she was leaning on Dorothy, and felt the comfort of +Dorothy's strong support. + +The patients were only too glad for Effie to do things for them; and No. +47, who was very weak and low, smiled whenever the girl approached her +bedside. + +"Hold my hand, love, whenever you have a minute to spare," said the poor +creature. "I feel low like, awfully low; I am going down--down, and it +supports me to hold your hand; you're a good girl, anyone can see that." + +"I try to be," said Effie, tears springing to her eyes. + +"Ah, it's well to be good," continued the woman. "When we come to lie as +I'm lying now, we think a sight of goodness." + +"I hope you'll soon be better," said Effie. + +"Never, my love, never again. I'm going out--that's what is happening to +me; it's a lonesome thing to die, but I don't feel so lonesome when I'm +holding your hand." + +Effie came to the poor creature as often as she could. Once again the +fascination of the life she so dearly loved drew her out of herself, and +enabled her to forget the heavy home cares. + +In her bedroom that night Sister Dorothy paid her a visit. + +"Well, Effie," she said, "I've news for you. Mr. Lawson saw George last +night. He spoke to him quite frankly, and said that, if he did not +immediately give over this awful gambling, he'd go and see his cousin, +Mr. Gering." + +"And what did George say?" asked Effie. + +"Oh, he promised as faithfully as possible that he'd give it up. Mr. +Lawson seemed quite pleased with him, and said he didn't think he'd have +been so penitent and so easily influenced as he has been." + +"But will he give it up?" questioned Effie. + +"He promised to. Of course he is anxious at not being able to earn more +money, for the foolish fellow encouraged your mother to be extravagant, +and now there are several debts which must be met somehow. What's the +matter with you, Effie? Why do you start?" + +"How can I help it? Debts would kill mother. Perhaps I ought to tell +you, Dorothy--you have been so good to me, and I trust you so much that +I don't think it can be wrong to tell you any trouble which concerns +me." + +"No, of course it isn't. Speak out what is in your mind, Effie." + +"Well, George was in trouble that time he came to see father--that time +when father was dying. He owed Mr. Lawson--I can't tell you how, I +can't tell you why--£250. He said that if the money were not paid back +within six weeks, that he, George--oh, Dorothy, how can I say it?--that +he'd have to go to--to _prison_! He said he must have the money; I felt, +too, that he must have the money; for our mother's sake. So I went to +see Squire Harvey, and he--he lent it to me." + +Dorothy sat down on the side of the bed. Effie's story made her feel +very grave. She paused for a moment, puzzled what to say. + +"He lent me the money," continued Effie, looking straight at her friend +with her bright eyes. "I know he never wants it back again, but he must +have it back." + +"Oh, yes! he must have it back," exclaimed Dorothy. + +"Well, he lent it to me," continued Effie, with a sigh; "and I thought, +of course, that George would be all right after that, and I arranged +that the Squire should have his interest regularly. I thought my own +salary would nearly cover that." + +"It can't be done," interrupted Dorothy. "Your salary barely pays for +your washing and your few out-of-pocket expenses. It's absolutely +impossible that you can live here without a penny; the little you earn +must go to yourself." + +"Then there's nothing for it," said Effie; "I must go where I can earn +more. I hate the thought beyond all words, but I must--I must do it!" + +"You don't mean to tell me that you would give up your life as a nurse?" + +"Do you think for a moment, Dorothy, that I'd give it up willingly? It +makes me sick to think of relinquishing what has been my dream ever +since I was a little girl; but I see plainly that I must do something to +earn money to help mother; and then, if George does keep straight, +perhaps we may all be happy some day." + +Tears choked Effie's voice, her eyes grew dim. + +"What do you think of doing, dear?" said Dorothy in a gentle voice. + +"I'll go to the Harveys and ask them to take me as a governess for +Freda. I fancy, somehow, that they might be induced to give me a good +salary--something like fifty or sixty pounds a year, and I can teach a +child like Freda very well indeed, for her father saw that I was well +educated. There's nothing else for it, I can see that; but it breaks my +heart all the same." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +Dorothy talked a little longer to Effie. When at last she left her, the +poor girl felt soothed and strengthened. She dropped off to sleep, to +dream of the old days when she was living in the pretty little cottage +in Whittington, and when she longed so earnestly to go out into the wide +world. Effie woke long before it was time to get up. She thought of her +dream, and sighed heavily to herself. She was in the wide world now with +a vengeance. Did it look as fair, as rose-colored, as fascinating, as it +used to look in her early dreams? No; the reality was bitter enough. She +would have given a great deal at that heavy moment of her life to turn +back the page and be a child at home again. + +The nurses' bell rang, and she got up quickly. Next week she was to take +her turn at night-nursing. She was getting on well, and, notwithstanding +the small cloud which now existed between her and Sister Kate, Sister +Kate knew Effie's value. There are nurses and nurses. Many girls who go +as probationers to the great hospitals are thoroughly unsuited to the +life; their qualifications are not those essential to the good nurse; +they are destitute of tact, of presence of mind, of that tenderness +which can be firm as well as gentle. But Effie was an ideal nurse; her +soft and gentle ways, her kind yet firm glance, the cleverness she +showed, the tact she displayed, all proved to Sister Kate that the young +probationer might one day be a valuable help to her. She was angry with +Effie at present, but she was determined to leave no stone unturned to +help the girl and train her thoroughly in her noble profession. + +During that night Sister Kate had thought of Effie. She had noticed her +pale face during the past day, the sadness in her eyes, the heaviness in +her steps, and her heart smote her a little, a very little. + +"I don't believe that girl could do anything mean or underhanded," she +reflected. "Of course it is tiresome that she should know any of the +medical students, but I believe I can trust her word that she will never +speak to this young man except out of the hospital." + +Accordingly, Sister Kate met Effie the next morning with much of her +old pleasantness. Effie's sad heart bounded again in her breast when +Sister Kate spoke kindly to her, and she went about her duties with the +determination not to leave even the smallest matter undone. Thoroughly +but carefully she went through all the minutiæ of those everlasting +cleanings and brushings. + +At last her morning's work was over, and now came the crucial moment +when she must speak to Sister Kate. The doctors had gone their rounds, +the patients were all settled for the morning. Effie came up to Sister +Kate in one of the corridors. + +"Can you spare me a few moments of your time?" she asked. + +The Sister looked up at the tall clock in the passage. + +"Do you want to see me about anything important?" she asked. + +"Yes, it is something important." + +"Well, come into my private room; I can give you five minutes." + +Sister Kate sat down--Effie stood before her. + +"I'll try and tell you what I want as briefly as possible," she said. "I +wish to know if I can be spared to go out this afternoon?" + +"It is not your afternoon out. What do you mean?" + +"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't necessary. The fact is, there's great +trouble at home, and I--I must see my mother, and perhaps I may have to +make another visit." + +Sister Kate frowned. + +"I don't wish not to sympathize with you, of course," she said, after a +pause, "but the fact is, nurses should detach themselves as much as +possible from home-life. The nurse who really gives herself up to her +splendid calling has to try to forget that she has a home. She has to +remember that her first duties consist in taking care of her patients +and in learning her profession." + +"Then I can't be a nurse," said Effie, the color rushing into her face. + +Sister Kate looked at her and shook her head. + +"I am very sorry," she said, after a pause. "The fact is, I had great +hopes of you--you have many of the qualifications which go to make a +splendid nurse; I won't recount them here. I had, as I said, great hopes +of you, but your words now make me fear that, excellent as those +qualifications are, they are overbalanced." + +"By what?" asked Effie. + +"By sentimentality--by nervous overworry about matters which you should +leave in other hands." + +"I have no other hands to leave them in; the fact is, home duties must +always be first with me. I've got a mother and several young brothers +and sisters. I am the eldest daughter. I cannot let my mother suffer, +even to indulge what has been for a long time the great dream of my +life. It is very probable that I shall have to give up being a nurse." + +"How can you? You are engaged here for three years." + +"I must beg of the Governors of the hospital to let me off; the case is +a special one--the trouble under which I am suffering is most +unexpected. I fear, I greatly fear, that I shall be obliged to leave the +hospital for a time." + +"I am truly sorry to hear that," said Sister Kate. "Does your friend +Miss Fraser know of this?" + +"Yes." + +"I hope it may not be necessary. As I said, you have the making of a +good nurse in you. You want to go away for a few hours? Well, I'll try +and manage it. Perhaps when you go home and see your people, you will +find that it is unnecessary for you to sacrifice yourself to this +extent. Anyhow you can have from two till five to-day. Now go and much +in train for the afternoon as you can. You can stay out from two till +five. I hope you'll have good news for me when you return." + +"I hope I shall," said Effie; but her heart felt low. She had little +expectation of being able to continue the life which she longed to +perfect herself in. At two o'clock she went out, and did not take many +minutes in reaching her mother's door. + +Mrs. Staunton looked surprised to see her. + +"What is the matter. Effie?" she said. "How white and worn you look! Why +have you come back to-day?" + +"I wanted to see you, mother, so I got an afternoon off duty. Sister +Kate was kind--I begged of her to let me come. I have a great longing to +see you." + +"Well, my dear, I'm all right. The fact is, I get better and better." + +Mrs. Staunton was seated by the window. She was making a pinafore for +little Marjory--her needle flew in and out of the stuff. She was +trimming the pinafore with narrow lace. Effie took it up and sat down by +her mother. + +"Your hands tremble, mother; are you really well?" + +"Oh, yes, my love; yes! You look at me as if you thought there was +something the matter. Have you--Effie, your looks frighten me." + +"Don't let them frighten you, dear mother. You know the greatest longing +of my heart is to help and serve you. If there is anything worrying +you, you'll tell me, won't you?" + +"I will," said Mrs. Staunton. She paused and looked at her daughter. +"There's nothing _exactly_ worrying me," she said, after a pause, "but +still I feel a little bit anxious." + +"You'll tell me, won't you?" + +"You won't scold me, Effie?" + +"As if I could, mother darling!" + +"Well, perhaps I did a rash thing--poor dear George!--You know how +devoted I am to him, Effie?" + +"Oh, yes, mother darling, anyone can see that." + +"Well, the fact is, I--I yielded to his entreaties. Perhaps I ought not +to tell you, Effie--perhaps it will displease him." + +"Yes, do tell me," said Effie. "There ought not to be any secrets in +one's family. I ought to know--I will know. You are worried about +something, and I will know what your burden is. What is it, mother?" + +"I'll tell you in a few words. There's nothing in it, after all. Shortly +after you left us, George persuaded me to put my money into the City +Bank in his name. He said it seemed such folly to have two accounts for +such very small sums." + +"You did it?" said Effie, her face turning white. + +"Yes, yes, I knew you would reproach me. I won't be reproached--I +won't!" + +"I will not say a word, dearest, dearest mother. Take my hand--your hand +does shake so. Now tell me all about it." + +"Oh, it's nothing, my love, really, only----" + +"Yes, mother--only?" + +"Only this morning I asked George to fill in a check for me before he +went to town. He did so. It was for five pounds. He seemed vexed at my +requiring so much, but I said I couldn't do with less, for there was the +landlady to pay, and the butcher has been so troublesome with his bills. +I couldn't do with less than five pounds, and George drew a check for me +for that amount. I sent Aggie with it straight to the bank, and----" + +Mrs. Staunton's face became very pale, her hand shook more violently +than ever. + +"Yes, mother?" said Effie. + +"They sent it back. Effie, with 'No _effects_' written across the back. +I am sure there must be a mistake, but they told Aggie that George had +overdrawn his account, and that they couldn't cash this check--there +were no effects, that was it." + +"No effects!" said Effie, her face scarlet. "But hadn't you some of your +money still left in the bank?" + +"Yes, I had over fifty pounds. I put the money into the bank in George's +name over a week ago. It was to last us for some time. Oh, Effie, don't +look at me with those reproachful eyes! I feel faint." + +Effie got up quickly; she poured some sal-volatile into a wineglass, +and, filling it up with water, brought it to her mother to drink. + +Mrs. Staunton was soon better. The passing weakness went off quickly. + +"What is to be done?" she said, raising her eyes to her daughter. "Oh, I +am so glad you don't scold me, Effie." + +"Of course I don't, mother darling. You must have money, you can't get +on without it." + +"That's just what I say. I am sure I am as saving as woman could be, but +the expenses are so heavy." + +"Yes, of course." + +"I'm expecting George in every minute," said Mrs. Staunton. "He has very +likely put the money back into the bank now. He is doing such a splendid +business that perhaps he drew the fifty pounds--meaning to return it at +once. He has such a capital head for making money--really, I never knew +such a boy. I dare say he has put it back _doubled_." + +"Oh, mother, don't you know better?--how can he do that? But now let us +talk of something else. Here's Agnes, that's right. Agnes, will you get +some tea for mother? She's quite weak and upset. I'm going out. I must +hurry, for I've to be back at the hospital at five. I'm going out, but +I'll come to see you mother, before I return to the hospital. Get the +tea, Agnes; don't be long about it." + +Agnes put a little kettle on the fire. + +"Do you know about--about the check?" she asked Effie in a whisper. + +"Oh, yes; don't make a fuss over it--it will be all right." + +"Mrs. Robinson says she must be paid--she is owed four weeks' rent, and +she won't let it go on any longer." + +"I'll see her when I come back," said Effie. "Now, do take care of +mother. I won't be away a minute longer than I can help." + +"Won't you have a cup of tea first, Effie?" + +"No, no; I've no time." + +Effie ran downstairs, and went out into the street. She felt nerved and +braced now. The moment of indecision was past--the moment for definite +action had arrived. There was no question with regard to her duty. It +lay plain and straight before her. + +She happened to know that the Harveys were in town. They were staying in +Eaton Place. She took an omnibus, which presently brought her into the +neighborhood of Victoria; a few minutes afterward she rang the bell at +their hall door. + +A man-servant, whom she did not know, opened it. + +"Is Mrs. Harvey at home?" asked Effie. + +"I believe so," he replied, "but I'm not sure if she can see anyone." + +"Perhaps she will see me if you give her my name," said Effie in a +gentle voice. "Say Miss Effie Staunton, please, and that I am anxious to +see her on pressing business." + +The man withdrew, inviting Effie as he did so into the hall. + +"He takes me for a servant," she said to herself. "Well, what matter? +That truly is only a pinprick." + +In a minute or two he returned, with a changed expression on his face. + +"Follow me upstairs, please, miss," he said. "My mistress will see you." + +Effie followed him up some low stairs--her feet sank into the rich +carpets. The contrast between this luxurious house and the severity of +the hospital sickened her. + +"I shall choke if I live here," she said to herself. But then she +crushed all thought of self. + +The men led her up two or three short flights of stairs. At last he +knocked at a door, before which a rich curtain hung. A voice said "Come +in," and Effie found herself in Mrs. Harvey's presence. She was seated +in a deep armchair; her maid stood before her, holding out different +rich brocades and silks which had just been sent round for her to see. + +"That will do, Carey," she said, when she saw Effie. "You can take all +those things away. Tell Madam Miller that I have decided on this blue +silk crépon, and this rose-colored silk. I'll call round to be fitted +to-morrow morning. Now, Miss Staunton, I'm sorry to have kept you +waiting. How do you do? I am so glad to see you." + +Mrs. Harvey was not so impulsively glad as she had been the last time +she saw Effie. The doctor's death--the death he had died for her--seemed +removed into the background; her existence was absorbed in pleasure, in +gayety and excitement. She had an affectionate, kindly nature, however, +and one glance into Effie's sad eyes softened her toward the poor girl. + +"Well, what can I do for you?" she said. "How are you? Why, you are a +nurse--you are in nurse's dress--how capital! What a splendid idea!" + +"Yes, I am a probationer at St. Joseph's," said Effie. + +"Oh my dear child, that's splendid for you, of course; but I trust you +have brought no infection in your clothes." + +"No," said Effie, with the faintest of smiles. "I have nothing to do +with any of the infectious wards. I am quite safe. I want to speak to +you." + +"I shall be very glad to listen to you, my dear. You know, of course, +that the Squire and I take the deepest interest in you and in your +family. By the way, how is your dear mother, and how are all those +pretty girls and boys getting on?" + +Effie could not remember that Mrs. Harvey had ever seen her mother--why, +therefore, should she speak of her as "dear"? and as to the boys and +girls, they were not specially remarkable for their good looks, and if +they were, Mrs. Harvey knew nothing about it. She answered these +conventional inquiries in a quiet voice. + +"I hope you'll forgive me," she said, at the first possible pause, "but +I am in a very great hurry. I have promised to be back again at St. +Joseph's at five o'clock, and it's nearly four now. May I tell you what +I really came about?" + +"Oh, yes, of course, of course!" + +"Do you remember, before I came to London, the very kind offer you and +the Squire made me?" + +"Of course," said Mrs. Harvey, "if you mean our wish that you should +become governess to little Freda. But Freda goes to a kindergarten now. +Carey takes her around every morning, and Rhoda goes to fetch her at +dinner time. The life seems to suit her very well. Of course we did wish +for you very much, but as you could not come--oh, no doubt you have +chosen wisely." + +Mrs. Harvey yawned; she stretched out her hand and rang the bell. The +servant appeared almost immediately. + +"Tea for two," she said, "and be quick, Andrews." + +"I can't wait for tea," said Effie, rising. "I am very much obliged. I +only came to say that circumstances would make me inclined to accept +your offer now, but as you don't want a governess there's nothing more +to be said." + +"Oh, it's so sweetly good of you, Miss Staunton, and had matters been +different we should have been pleased. Well, good-by, if you must go. +Where did you say your mother lived?" + +"A long way from here." + +"But do give me her address. I should be so pleased to drive round and +see her some day. Perhaps she would go for a drive with me. What a good +idea! Yes, I'll come. Where did you say you lived?" + +Effie had not said anything. + +Mrs. Harvey held out her limp, long hand. "Good-by, Miss Staunton. You +know I take a great interest in you," she exclaimed. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +Just at this moment the door was opened, and the Squire came in. He was +of different stuff from his wife. When he saw Effie, his face beamed +with pleasure, and he held out a big, hearty hand. + +"Miss Staunton!" he exclaimed. "Why, this is a pleasure! Oh, you must +not run away; you must sit down and tell me all about yourself--I've +been longing to hear about you. How is your brother in the City, and +your mother? I do hope she is a little better. And all those other lads +and lasses? Sit down, my clear child, I insist on it--I have lots of +things to say to you." + +Mrs. Harvey, who was standing near the mantelpiece, came gently forward +when the Squire began to speak. She looked at Effie with new interest. +Her face was long and pale, she had no color in her lips, her light hair +was very fashionably dressed. She wore a dress of the latest mode, and +her thin fingers were loaded with rings, which flashed and shone +whenever she moved her hand. + +Effie hated those flashing rings--she turned her head so that she need +not see them. + +Mrs. Harvey began to talk in a high falsetto voice to her husband. + +"Do you know, my dear," she exclaimed, "that Miss Staunton has just been +so kind? She came here to offer her services for Freda; but you know +dear Freda is getting on so capitally at the kindergarten, that---- Why, +what in the world is the matter, Walter?" + +"Matter!" exclaimed the Squire in his hearty voice. "Why, that we won't +be such fools as to reject Miss Staunton's offer. I was told only a few +minutes ago that that kindergarten is simply full of whooping-cough and +measles--children sickening with them and going home almost every day. I +was going to say that Freda must be moved." + +"Oh, I should think so, indeed," said Mrs. Harvey. "Whooping-cough and +measles! how terrible! and I never had whooping-cough--why, I shouldn't +be able to go out for the whole season. I do hope and trust the dear +child hasn't contracted the infection. Dear Miss Staunton, of course +you'll come. It is exactly what we'd like best. How soon can you +come?--to-morrow?--to-night?" + +"Neither to-morrow nor to-night," said Effie. "But if you really wish +for me, and if we agree as regards terms, the day after to-morrow." + +"What do you mean by saying if we agree as to terms?" asked Mrs. Harvey. + +"I want a big salary," said Effie, looking up bravely at the two, who +were watching her with half-amused, half-anxious expression. "I want to +come to you, and to leave the work which I love best, because I hope you +may be induced to give me an exceptional salary. I want the money +because my mother and my--my young brothers and sisters are almost--at +least they will be, if I don't get it, almost starving." + +Effie spoke in jerks. She had the greatest difficulty in keeping back +her emotion. It was dreadful to have to plead with these rich +people--these people who knew nothing whatever of her sore need--to whom +money was so plentiful as to have lost its freshness, its desirability, +its charm. It was awful to look into their faces--to see the blank, +non-comprehending stare which came into Mrs. Harvey's pretty blue eyes, +and to notice the puzzled expression on the Squire's face. + +"You can't mean that?" he exclaimed. "You can't mean there's any chance +of that?" + +"There is a chance of it, but not if I come here. I know how kind you +are, how noble you have been to me. I'll come to Freda. I'll do +everything for her; I'll teach her, and I'll play with her, and I'll +love her, and I'll nurse her if she is ill, but oh, do please be +generous and give me as big a salary as you can." + +"What do you expect--what do you think fair?" asked the Squire. + +"I thought--I know it seems a great deal, but I thought you might be +willing to give me sixty pounds a year." + +"Bless you, my dear child!" exclaimed the Squire; "if you'll accept it, +we'll give you a hundred and fifty." + +"No, I couldn't accept that," said Effie. "It is not fair." + +"Why not? We couldn't get anyone else to exactly take your place for the +money; and remember we have plenty of money." + +"I'll take a hundred a year, because I am in sore distress," said Effie, +after a brief pause; "and--and will you pay me monthly, and may I have +my first month's salary in advance? I wouldn't ask it if they didn't +want it _terribly_ at home. Will you do this?" + +"Yes, with pleasure," said the Squire. "I insist on your accepting ten +pounds a month--that will be one hundred and twenty a year. Now, will +you have a check, or shall I give you the money in gold and notes?" + +"The gold will be the most acceptable," said Effie. "Oh, I feel so +ashamed!" she added. + +"Why should you? You give us an equivalent. Besides, it makes matters +more tolerable. I cannot forget----" + +"Oh, don't, Walter--don't allude to that awful time!"--cried Mrs. +Harvey. + +The Squire shut up his lips. He took a little bundle of gold out of one +of his pockets and put ten sovereigns into Effie's hand. + +"It is a bargain," he said. "I cannot tell you how relieved we are. +You'll be with us the morning after next? Elfreda, my love, we must tell +our little Freda what a pleasure is in store for her." + +"Yes, I am more than delighted," exclaimed Mrs. Harvey. "This plan suits +me in every way. You won't fail us, Miss Staunton? for, in case Freda by +any chance has taken that awful whooping-cough, you can keep her in +isolation from the very first." + +"Oh, yes!" said Effie, smiling; "but I dare say she is all right." + +She shook hands with her new employers and left the house. + +The gold was in her pocket. She felt that she had sold herself and her +mission in life for ten sovereigns. "It is the present need which makes +the thing so desperate," she said under her breath. "If George has drawn +all the money, they have absolutely nothing to live on; but more will +come in, and there's this to go on with. We'll manage somehow now." + +She returned to the lodgings, but before she went upstairs she had an +interview with the landlady. + +"What do you charge my mother for rent?" she asked. + +"Well, Miss Staunton," exclaimed the woman, "with the dinners and one +thing and another, I am obliged to make it a pound a week." + +"That is a great deal too much," said Effie. "I don't suppose it is too +much for your rooms, but it is more than we can afford just now. When we +first came to you, you agreed to let us the rooms without attendance for +fifteen shillings a week. We cannot by any possible management afford to +pay more." + +"But Mrs. Staunton wished for attendance, miss--she said it made all the +difference; there was half a crown for attendance and half a crown extra +for kitchen fire." + +"But the kitchen fire was included in the fifteen shillings a week." + +"Then there wasn't late dinner." + +"Surely there is no late dinner now?" exclaimed Effie. + +"Oh, yes, miss; every evening Mr. Staunton requires a nice little bit of +dinner sent up when he comes home. You see, miss, it is quite impossible +for me to have extra fires without charging for them." + +"Certainly. Well, I don't think there will be any extra dinner in +future. And now please tell me exactly how much is due to you." + +"Four pounds, miss; but if I'm paid one, on account, I shan't mind +waiting. I'd be really sorry to dislodge such a nice lady as your +mother, Miss Staunton." + +"Here is the money in full," said Effie. "Will you give me a receipt?" + +"Oh, with pleasure, miss. Won't you sit down? I hope, Miss Staunton, +nothing will induce your good mother to move from here. I will do +everything in my power to make her comfortable." + +"You must understand," said Effie, "that in future she only pays fifteen +shillings a week without extras. My sisters Agnes and Katie are quite +old enough to do all the waiting which my mother requires. In fact they +must do so, for we can't afford to pay a penny more." + +"Am I to understand, miss, that there's no late dinner?" + +"Certainly not." + +"Very well; I am sure I'll do all in my power to oblige." + +Effie left her, putting her receipt carefully in her pocket as she did +so. She went upstairs and entered the little sitting-room where her +mother was now pacing quickly and restlessly up and down. There was a +deep flush on her cheeks, and a look of despair in her eyes. + +"Oh, Effie, you've come!" she exclaimed, the moment she saw her +daughter. "George has been in. There's something wrong, I know--I know +there is. He came in just for a minute and he kissed me, and said he +wasn't coming home to-night, and he--he looked _wild_. He stuffed a few +things into a bag, and said I wasn't to expect him back to-night. I +didn't dare ask him about the money. What--what can be the matter, +Effie?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +Effie did all in her power to soothe her mother. It was past the hour +for her return to St. Joseph's, but under the present circumstances she +could not give this matter a thought. Mrs. Staunton was strung up to a +terrible condition of nervousness. She walked faster and faster about +the room; she scarcely spoke aloud, but muttered words under her breath +which no one could hear. At every footfall on the stairs she started. +Sometimes she went to the door and flung it open--sometimes she went to +the window and pressed her face against the glass. Darkness set in, and +the lamps were lit in the street. Katie went to the window to pull down +the blinds. + +"No, don't touch them," said Mrs. Staunton fretfully--she still kept +staring out into the street. Presently she called Effie to her. + +"Doesn't that man turning the corner look something like George?" she +exclaimed. + +Effie looked eagerly. + +"No, that's not George," she said. + +"Agnes, you have better sight," called Mrs. Staunton to her next +daughter; "come and watch with me--we are sure to see him soon. It can't +be that he has gone away for the night--for the whole night. Isn't that +him? Look at that man,--that one crossing the road--that one in the +waterproof. Oh, how hard it is raining! If George is out much longer, +he'll be drenched to the skin. Aggie, look; and you, Katie, can't you +watch? Now, _that_ man, isn't that George?" + +"No, no, mother!" answered the poor children, in affright. + +Mrs. Staunton kept on making exclamations. Again and again she cried out +hopefully that surely George was coming now; but George himself never +really appeared. Effie knew that she would get into hopeless disgrace at +St. Joseph's. No matter! she could not leave her mother at such a +moment. Each instant she became more anxious about her. She called Agnes +aside, and told her that she had put a stop to the late dinner, and also +to the extra attendance, but as probably some dinner had been ordered +for that evening, she had better go down and bring it up, as Mrs. +Staunton must be forced to eat at any cost. + +Agnes tripped out of the room, and presently returned with a couple of +pork chops and some baked potatoes. She flung them down on the table, +exclaiming that the tray was heavy. She looked cross, and evidently +seemed to think that Effie was making a great fuss over nothing. + +"Why can't George be away for a single night without everyone getting +into such a state?" she murmured. + +Effie took the tray from her and gave her a look of reproach. She laid +the cloth herself, and made the table look as pretty as she could. She +then went to her mother, drew her gently but firmly away from the +window, and, making her sit down, tried to coax her to eat. + +Mrs. Staunton looked at the chops with dazed eyes. + +"Those were for George," she exclaimed. "What a shame to bring them up +before he has come into the house! They'll be cold and sodden, and he +hates his food sodden. You don't suppose I'm going to touch my boy's +dinner? No, not I! Put the chops down in the fender, Aggie. When George +comes in, I always ring the bell twice. How careless of Mrs. Robinson! +Effie, my dear, I don't think we can stop with her if she treats us in +this fashion. It's perfectly disgraceful to cook George's food before he +is ready for it." + +Agnes began to explain that George was not coming home, but Effie +silenced her with a look. She saw, to her horror, that her mother's mind +was beginning to wander. She was really expecting George--who had not +the faintest idea of coming back. Poor Effie saw there was nothing for +it but to humor her mother. She put the food inside the fender, and +then, going to a davenport in a corner of the room, wrote a hasty letter +to Dorothy Fraser. + +"We're in great trouble," she wrote. "I know you can't come. I know it +is absolutely impossible for you to come, but neither can I go back to +St. Joseph's this evening. Please tell Sister Kate, make any excuse for +me you like--say anything that comes into your head. My career as a +nurse is ended." + +A big tear dropped from Effie's eyes as she wrote these last words. She +folded up the letter and gave it to Agnes. + +"Agnes," she said, "you must take this at once to St. Joseph's +Hospital." + +"Oh, I don't know how to get there," said Agnes, "and I was never out so +late before in the evening." + +"I am sorry to have to send you--stay, you had better take Kate with +you. It would be better for the two of you to be together. Put on your +hats and your warm jackets; don't be longer away than you can help--you +have just to give this note to the hall porter and come straight back. +You must take the red omnibus that goes along Oxford Street, and----" + +Effie added a few more practical directions. Agnes' eyes sparkled at the +thought of a little variety in her dull life. Katie ran willingly into +her room to fetch her own and her sister's hats and jacket's. They were +dressed in a very short time. Effie heard them running downstairs, and +listened to the slam of the hall door. She had now set the irrevocable +seal to her own act. She had deliberately turned her back on the life +that she loved. She stood for a moment with a dizzy feeling in her +head; then, with a little prayer which she sadly needed, to help her, +she put aside all regret, and turned with a brave heart to face the dark +present and the gloomy future. + +Mrs. Staunton stood near the window, with her back to her daughter. +Effie listened with a sick heart to her mutterings. She knew that her +mother could not possibly get better if she refused to eat. + +She was wondering what to do, and how she could dare to leave her, when +a quick step was heard running up the stairs, and the next moment Fred +Lawson came in. + +Effie never to her dying day forgot the feeling of relief, of almost +joy, which ran through her heart when she saw his clever, resolute face. +He came in, in his usual quick, brisk, determined way--stopped short a +little when he saw her, and then glanced significantly at her mother. + +Mrs. Staunton had turned as eagerly as Effie when she heard the quick +footsteps. Now her face was an absolute blank--she had come a step +forward,--her hands suddenly fell to her sides. + +"My mother is not well," said Effie. "She's upset." + +"No, I'm not upset; you're greatly mistaken," said Mrs. Staunton. "Why +should I be upset? There's not a happier woman in Christendom than I am. +It's true my beloved husband has left me, but then I have got my +boy--there never was a braver boy. How do you do, Mr. Lawson? Pray +forgive me for not shaking hands with you when you came into the +room--the fact is, I have been expecting George. His dinner is in the +fender. The landlady did very wrong indeed to send it up before I rang +for it. I always ring twice for George's dinner, don't you understand? +It is a good plan. George likes his meals hot and tasty. No wonder--he +earns them; he is a dear, good, _clever_ fellow--he is getting a fine +salary. Did you happen to meet him on the stairs? Perhaps you passed +him--he is a little late, just a little late. Effie, can you tell me if +Mr. Lawson has good sight? If he has, perhaps he'll come and watch by +the window. I'm watching, but my eyes are a little weak at times. I +might not see George when he is really there. Will you come and see, Mr. +Lawson? He ought to be coming now, my dear boy,--my dearest,--my boy!" + +Lawson gave Effie a glance. In a moment he read the true position. The +poor weak brain had suddenly given way. He went up gently to Mrs. +Staunton, and took one of her hot hands in his. + +"When George comes in," he said, "I'll be here, and I'll tell him about +his dinner. I know he'll be late to-night, and you mustn't wait up for +him any longer. Come, Miss Effie will put you into bed. When you are in +bed I'll give you something to make you sleep. Come now, don't delay; +you're quite worn out. If you don't go to bed you'll be ill, and then +you'll be of no use to your son." + +"Do you really think so?" said Mrs. Staunton. "Yes, I mustn't be ill; +George doesn't like it--it quite frets him. He is not like his dear +father. He wants a cheerful home--no wonder, he is young, dear lad, he +is young. Yes, I'll go to bed, and then I'll be all right in the +morning. Come, Effie, help your mother to bed." + +Effie took the poor woman out of the room. They went into the little +bedroom. She helped her mother to undress. When she saw her lay her head +on the pillow, she went back to the sitting room, where Lawson was +quietly standing. + +"I happened most fortunately," he said, the moment he saw her, "to have +some packets of bromide in my pocket. There is sal-volatile in the room. +I have made up a rather strong composing-draught for your mother. If she +takes it, she will sleep peacefully and will not be likely to wake until +the morning. Give it to her at once, and then come back to me--I have +something to tell you." + +Effie's trembling knees could scarcely support her as she went back to +the next room. + +"Has George come yet?" asked the mother. + +"Not yet, mother; won't you take this medicine, please?" + +"Yes, my love, yes. Effie, you are a very good girl--a great comfort to +me, my darling. I'm glad you never went to the hospital; it was a mad, +foolish scheme, and George never liked it. You are a great comfort to +me, and a great comfort to your dear brother. You'll be sure to give him +his dinner comfortably when he comes back, Effie?" + +"Yes, mother, yes. Now do go to sleep, dear mother." + +Mrs. Staunton drank off the medicine, laid her head on her pillow, and +closed her dim, dark eyes. Effie watched by her until she thought she +was dropping asleep. Pretty little Marjory was lying sound asleep in the +same bed. Phil opened his big eyes as his sister passed. + +"Is anything the matter?" he whispered. "Is anything wrong with George?" + +"Pray for him, Phil," said Effie, tears suddenly filling her eves. + +"Yes, yes," said the little fellow. "I always do." + +Effie went into the next room. + +"You have plenty of pluck, haven't you?" said Lawson, when he saw her. + +"I hope so--I had need to have." + +"Yes, I know that. Well, that unfortunate boy has put his foot in it at +last,--he is in trouble,--detectives are after him." + +"Detectives after George!" exclaimed Effie. "What can you possibly mean? +Oh, do tell me at once--don't leave me in suspense." + +"Sit down and I will tell you. Try not to agitate yourself, try to +listen to me quietly. Remember that a brave woman can always control her +nerves." + +Effie sat down when Lawson bade her. Something in his quiet but resolute +voice soothed her impatience; she looked up at him as he stood by the +mantelpiece, resting one arm on it. + +"The facts are these," he began at once; "Staunton has been going wrong +for a long time----" + +"I know it--I know it well," interrupted Effie. + +"Yes, I feared that you knew it. Poor fellow, soon after his arrival in +London he got with bad companions. He has naturally extravagant +tastes--they introduced him to some of those gambling saloons. Given a +weak nature, the love of money for the pleasure it can give, a will +weakened with self-indulgence, and the result is easy to forecast. +George has been going from bad to worse for months past. He has +sometimes won considerable sums of money, and these successes have +excited him to try again--with this devil's luck, as the saying is. Of +late, however, that luck has turned against him, and the events which +took place to-day are only the natural consequences." + +Effie rose slowly from her seat. + +"Go on," she said, coming up to Lawson. "What took place to-day? Go on, +please,--I am quiet,--I am prepared for anything." + +Lawson gave her a look of admiration. + +"You are a brave girl," he said briefly. "The world would be a better +place if there were more like you in it. Well, what took place is this. +Staunton won heavily at cards the night before last. Not content with +his gains, however, he persevered until the luck turned against him. +Before he left the gambling saloon he had lost all his gains, and was in +debt fifty pounds. To meet that debt he drew your mother's money from +the bank yesterday morning." + +"I know," said Effie, with white lips--"mother told me. She sent Agnes +to the bank to cash a small check. Agnes was told that George's account +was overdrawn. Yes, I know that. Is there more behind? Surely that must +be the worst." + +"Alas! I wish it were. This morning the poor fellow, while engaged in +his duties at Gering's office, met with the temptation for which he was +so ripe. It was a horrible one. He knew that your mother had not a +penny. His feeling for her I need not enter upon. He found himself in +the room with an open till, and took fifty pounds out of it. Soon +afterwards, he made an excuse to leave the office. He wandered about all +day in an indescribable state of misery. At last he summoned courage to +go to the bank and deposit forty-five of the fifty pounds. He then +rushed home, and, packing his things, prepared to run away. He said he +was certain to be taken if he stayed, and simply could not bring himself +to face the risk. He went to Waterloo, and to his horror discovered that +he was watched. A man, undoubtedly a detective in plain clothes, was +following him from place to place. The man watched him take his ticket +for Southampton, and noticed the corner in which he deposited his bag in +a third-class carriage. George seemed to lose his head at this crisis. +He managed to elude the detective, slipped out of the station, took a +hansom and drove straight to my rooms. Luckily I was at home. He made a +clean breast of everything to me. He is in my rooms now, and safe for +the time being, for no one will think of looking for him there. I want +you to come with me at once to see him, for there is not a moment to be +lost in deciding what is best to be done." + +"Yes," said Effie, "I will come." + +She felt stunned--her keenest feelings of anguish were lulled into +momentary quiet by the greatness of this blow. + +"I will write a note to Agnes," she said; "she is out--I had to send her +to the hospital to say that I could not return there to-night." Then she +added, her face turning whiter than ever, "If my mother knows of this, +it will kill her." + +"Your mother is the person to be considered, of course," said Lawson. +"But for her, I should say that the best thing possible for George would +be to undergo the punishment which he merits. As it is, however, matters +are different. Well, write your note, and let us be quick. That strong +opiate will keep your mother sleeping quietly until the morning. All +your sister has to do is to watch her." + +Effie drew a sheet of paper toward her, scribbled a few hasty lines on +it, folded it up, and left it where Agnes could see it the moment she +returned; then she followed Lawson into the street. + +He hailed a passing hansom, and they drove straight to his rooms on the +Embankment. + +The feeling of a dream remained with Effie all during that drive; she +kept rubbing her eyes and saying to herself, "It's only a dream--I shall +awaken presently and find myself back at St. Joseph's." + +The hansom drew up at the lodgings, and Lawson preceded Effie upstairs. +He threw open the door of his little sitting room. + +"Come in," he said. "Here is your sister, Staunton," he sang out. + +Effie entered. She found herself in a small bright room. The gas was +turned full on; one of the windows was open--a fresh breeze from the +river came in. George was seated on a horse-hair sofa at the farthest +end of the room. He held a small walking-stick in his hand, and was +making imaginary patterns with it on the carpet. His shoulders were +hitched up to his ears, his eyes were fixed on the ground. Effie looked +at him. She said: + +"George, I am here--I have come." + +He did not make any response. She gave a little cry when he took no +notice of her, and sank down helplessly on the nearest chair. + +Lawson strode across the room and grasped George's shoulder. + +"Look here, Staunton," he said; "you have got to pull yourself together. +I have brought your sister here to consult what is best to be done. Look +up, old chap! Take courage--all isn't lost yet. Now try and tell your +sister everything." + +"I have nothing to tell her," said George--he raised two lackluster eyes +and fixed them with a sort of dull stare on Lawson's face. + +"Don't talk folly--you have to tell her what you told me. You know the +position you are in--you may be arrested at any moment. No one can help +you but your sister; don't turn away from her." + +"Oh, I understand all that," said George, shrugging his shoulder out of +Lawson's grip. "I know well enough what has happened--I have gone under. +I'm only one more. I--I can't help it--I have nothing to say." + +Lawson looked at the big fellow almost in despair. He was really puzzled +what to do. This was the moment, however, for Effie to take the +initiative. She sprang suddenly to her feet, dashed the tears from her +eyes, and went up to her brother. She fell on her knees by his side, and +put her soft arms round his neck. + +"Think of the old days, Geordie," she said, "when we were both little +children. Think of mother and father, and the little old house, and the +apple tree in the garden. Don't you remember the day when that ripe red +apple fell, and we ate it bite about?" + +When Effie began to speak, George trembled. He avoided her eyes for a +moment longer, then he gave her a quick, furtive glance. + +changed voice. "Before God, I couldn't help it." +a changed voice. "Before God, I couldn't help it." +[Transcriber's note: These two fragmented lines appear, as shown, +at this point in the original text.] + +Lawson stepped softly out of the room. + +The moment he had done so, George said eagerly: + +"He has told you, hasn't he?" + +Effie nodded. + +"Then I needn't go over it. Let's talk of something else. How is +mother?" + +"She is very ill indeed--she watched for you all the evening." + +"Watched for me? But I told her I shouldn't be back to-night." + +"Yes; but she didn't believe you, or she forgot it--anyhow, she watched +for you, and when you didn't come, her mind began suddenly to wander; +she is in bed now--she is very, very ill." + +"Go on," said George; "hammer it in hard--I deserve it all." + +"Oh, George, why will you talk like that? Don't you believe in my love +for you?" + +"I believe in mother's love. It's the only thing I have left to cling +to. I believe she'd go on loving me even after this--I do truly." + +"Of course she would--nothing could turn her love from you. Now, won't +you let us consult together when Mr. Lawson comes into the room?" + +"There's nothing to be done--nothing; I'm perfectly safe to be committed +for trial, and then I shall get at least two years. Mother will die. And +I shall have gone under forever." + +"Nonsense! I have a thought in my head." + +"You?" George spoke with almost contempt. "You always thought a great +deal of yourself, Effie, but even you can't pull the ropes on the +present occasion. I'm a thief, and I must suffer the penalty. That's the +long and short of it." + +Effie rose suddenly and walked to the door. She called Lawson--he came +in at once. + +"I think George will talk over matters now," she said. "But before we +begin any discussion, I wish to say what I have made up my mind to do. I +don't know Mr. Gering, but that does not matter. I mean to go to see him +the first thing to-morrow morning, and beg of him not to prosecute +George. That is the only chance for mother's life, and I mean to try +it." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +When Effie said these words, Lawson gave her a startled glance, and +George's sulkiness seemed to vanish magically. He opened his lips as if +to speak, then closed them again; a rush of color spread over his face, +and he turned his head aside. + +"I fear it is impossible that you can do the least vestige of good, Miss +Staunton," said Lawson. "All the same it is a brave thought, and worthy +of you." + +George looked round when Lawson said this; he fully expected Effie to +explain herself more fully, to argue the point, and to give her reasons +for approaching Mr. Gering. To the surprise of both the men, however, +she was silent. After a little pause, she said, turning to Lawson: + +"Do you think George will be safe here until the morning?" + +"I do--perfectly safe," answered Lawson. + +"Then I will say good-night. I will come to you, George if I have news, +in the morning." + +"Oh, you won't have news," replied George; "there never was such a hard +nut to crack as old Gering." + +Effie made no reply. + +"Good-night," she said to her brother. + +He did not offer to kiss her, but he took her hand and gave it a silent +squeeze. It seemed to Effie then that she got near his heart. + +Lawson took her downstairs and put her into a cab. + +"You are only wasting your time in going to Mr. Gering," he said, as he +stood for a moment at the cab door. + +"I must waste it, then," replied Effie; "for, whatever the consequence, +I am going." + +"Then, if you will go, you had better do so early. Gering is always at +his office by nine o'clock. George may quite possibly be arrested +to-morrow morning, and brought before the magistrates at Bow Street at +ten or ten-thirty. When once he is arrested, Mr. Gering can do nothing. +The law then takes up the case, and prosecutes on its own account. You +will see, therefore, that if you wish to save your brother you must be +astir betimes." + +"I quite see, and thank you very much," said Effie. + +Lawson said good-by, the cab rolled away, and Effie soon found herself +back again at her own lodgings. + +She ran upstairs, to find that her mother was still sound asleep. She +sent the two tired girls to bed, and, lying down on the sofa in the +sitting room, tried to sleep. She had left her mother's door slightly +ajar, and knew that she would hear the least movement in the room. All +was perfect stillness, however, and presently Effie fell into a light +doze. + +She awoke long before the dawn of day, thought carefully over the whole +complex situation, and then rose and dressed herself. She slipped softly +into her mother's room. The opiate was still taking effect. Mrs. +Staunton's face looked pinched and drawn as it lay on the pillow, there +were blue lines under the eyes, and a blue tint round the lips which +spoke of heart trouble; but just at the present moment the spirit was at +peace, and the body resting calmly. + +"Poor mother!" murmured Effie; "poor, tried, faithful heart! If you +really knew what I know, you could not survive the shock. Oh, George! +who could have thought of this who remembered you in the old days? Yes, +I will do what I can to save mother and to rescue you. It is true that I +am only a weak girl, but sometimes girls like me have power. I will not +be afraid; I will go now to exercise all the power that is in me." + +Effie left the room; she went to the one where her sisters slept, +changed her dress and washed herself, and then waking Agnes, to tell +her to be sure to look after her mother, she ran downstairs. + +The landlady, Mrs. Robinson, met her in the passage. + +"Why, surely, Miss Staunton," she said, "you are not going out on a raw, +foggy morning like this without breakfast?" + +"Oh, I can't wait for breakfast," exclaimed Effie. + +"I have some tea in my sitting room--do come in, and let me give you a +cup, miss. Do, now--you're so white, you look as if you'd drop." + +"Thank you," said Effie, after a little pause. "I should be very glad of +a cup of tea," she added. + +The landlady bustled her into her little sitting room, seated her by the +fire, and would not leave her alone until she had swallowed a cup of tea +and a piece of toast. + +"I'm all the better for the tea," said Effie; "thank you very much." + +The unlooked-for kindness cheered the poor girl; she looked upon it as a +good omen. She walked quickly up the narrow street which led into the +larger thoroughfare, and was soon on her way to Mr. Gering's office in +Leadenhall Street. + +She arrived there just as the clock was striking nine. She did not allow +herself even to feel nervous, but, walking boldly in, asked to see Mr. +Gering at once. + +"Have you an appointment with him?" asked the clerk whom she addressed. + +"No; but I hope he will see me without that; my business is very +pressing." + +"What is your name, miss?" + +"Staunton." Effie hesitated for a minute, then she said abruptly, "I am +the sister of George Staunton, who is a clerk here." + +The moment she uttered the words every clerk in the place looked up with +interest, and one, coming up in a somewhat familiar way, said +cavalierly: + +"I don't think there's the least use in your troubling Mr. Gering; I may +as well tell you beforehand that he certainly won't see you." + +At this moment a man came out of an inner room. He spoke to the head +clerk, who gave him a bundle of letters. + +"Take these to Mr. Gering at once," he said. + +Effie followed this man with her eyes. + +The other clerks stared at her, expecting her to go. + +She looked at the one to whom she had first spoken. + +"Will you take my message to Mr. Gering?" she said. "Will you tell him +that Effie Staunton--George Staunton's sister--wishes to see him on most +important business?" + +There was much distress in her tone, but withal such firmness that the +clerk could not help looking at her with admiration. + +"I would gladly take your message, Miss Staunton, but it would be +useless. I know beforehand that nothing will induce Mr. Gering to see +you." + +"He must see me," replied Effie in a firm voice. "If no one here will be +polite enough to take him my message, I will go to him myself." + +Before one of the clerks could prevent her, Effie walked across the +large room, opened the door where the clerk who took Mr. Gering his +letters had vanished, and found herself the next moment in a handsomely +furnished room, where a portly old gentleman was seated at a desk. + +He looked up in unfeigned astonishment when he saw a pretty girl +standing near the door. + +As she did not speak for an instant, he raised his voice with an +inquiry. + +"May I ask what you are doing here?" he said. + +"I have come to speak to you about my brother," said Effie. + +"Your brother! What do you mean? Who is your brother?" + +"George Staunton." + +"Then, Miss Staunton, let me tell you that you have taken a great +liberty in coming to see me. You have forced your way into my room +unannounced. I must ask you to have the goodness to retire as quickly as +you came. If you do not leave my room this moment, I shall be forced to +compel you to go." + +"No, you will not," said Effie--"no, that is not like you. You would not +willingly be unkind to a suffering and innocent girl, when she forces +herself, against her true inclinations, against her real modesty, to +seek an interview with you. I come in great sorrow and despair, and you +are not the man who will treat me roughly--I don't fear it. You like to +say harsh words, but your heart is not harsh. I beg of you, therefore, +to listen to my story. I will not keep you long." + +"You are a very queer, courageous sort of girl," said Gering, after a +pause. "As you have come, I suppose I may as well listen to you; but +please understand at once that I have no mercy for your brother; that +his career here is ended." + +"That is only just and right. I have not come to plead with you to take +George back--I know that that would be asking too much. What I have come +to say I can say in a very few words." + +"They must be very few if you expect me to leave my business to attend +to them." + +Effie came close to where Mr. Gering was seated; he did not rise, nor +motion her to a chair. At this moment the clerk who had refused to take +her message entered the room. + +"Leave us for a moment, Power," said Mr. Gering. The man withdrew +immediately. + +"Thank you," said Effie. Then she added abruptly, "I won't keep you a +moment. I will tell you quite simply what I want. My brother George has +behaved very badly." + +"To put it plainly," interrupted Mr. Gering, "your brother George is a +scoundrel." + +"You may call him any names you please," said Effie; "I have not come +here to defend him. I know that he stole fifty pounds from you +yesterday." + +"Oh, you know that, do you?" + +"Yes. Forty-five pounds of that money he put into the City Bank in my +mother's name. That forty-five pounds you can have back within an hour. +We shall then be in your debt five pounds, which I want you to let me +pay you back. I have just secured a very good situation as a governess, +and am to be in receipt of one hundred and twenty pounds a year. I can +pay you back the money in about a month's time out of my own salary." + +"You are very conscientious," said Mr. Gering, with a slight sneer, "and +I shall be glad to have my money back. If that is all your business, +perhaps you will leave me." + +"No, it is not all my business. I want you to forgive George,--not to +prosecute him,--not to give him up to the law." + +"Ah! I thought that was coming. And why, pray, should I not prosecute +the young rascal? Don't you think he richly deserves punishment?" + +"Honestly, I do." + +When Effie said this, Mr. Gering's eyes twinkled for the first time. + +"Eh, eh!" he exclaimed. "I am glad we're of one mind on that point. We +both doubtless believe that punishment would be good for him." + +"We do." + +"Then why deprive him of anything so beneficial?" + +"Because of my mother." + +"Your mother! Is there a mother in the case?" + +"There is--a mother who lies now at the point of death. Let me tell you +her story." + +"I haven't read my letters yet, Miss Staunton." + +"Oh, never mind your letters! Let me tell you about my father and my +mother. Four months ago my father was alive. He was a country doctor. He +was very good, everyone loved him. He caught diphtheria, and died. My +mother has heart disease, and my father felt sure that the shock of +losing him would kill her. He loved her most tenderly. When he lay dying +he was certain that God would allow them both to leave the world +together. My mother was kneeling by his bedside; and George, my brother, +knelt there too. And my brother said. 'Don't take mother away, father;' +and then father said to mother, 'Stay with George.' At that moment +something strange must have happened--all my mother's great love seemed +suddenly directed into a new channel. Her love for George since that +moment has been the passion of her life. He was not strong-minded." + +"No, indeed," interrupted Mr. Gering. + +"No; and he yielded to temptation and got into trouble, and--and lost +money. But all the time my mother has been imagining that he is the best +and steadiest fellow in London. She lives in a sort of golden dream +about him. If she learns the truth she will certainly die, and George +will be lost. He will then, as he himself expresses it, 'go under' +forever. He won't be able to stand the thought that through his sin and +weakness he has killed his mother." + +"I should hope not," interrupted Mr. Gering. + +"Therefore I want you to forgive him--it is your duty." + +"My duty, child! What right have you to come and talk to me about my +duty?" + +"Every right, if I can only make you perform it." + +"You are either impertinent or very brave, young lady. I was never +spoken to in this strain before." + +"Well, you see, it is a matter of life and death," said Effie. "I can't +mince words when life and death hang in the balance." + +"You're a queer girl--a queer girl; I don't know what to make of you. +'Pon my word, I'm sorry for that mother of yours--poor soul, poor soul! +It's a pity she didn't bring up her son as conscientiously as she did +her daughter. Now, you wouldn't have taken fifty pounds out of my till?" + +"No," said Effie. + +"I wish you were a boy--I'd give you that lad's place within an hour." + +"Thank you, but I don't think I should care to have it. Will you come +now and do your duty?" + +"Come! Where am I to come?" + +"To see George." + +"The rascal! Where is he?" + +"I'll take you to him." + +"Do you know that you are bullying me in the most shameful way, Miss +Staunton?" + +"I know that you have a very kind heart," answered Effie. + +At this moment the room door was opened, and Power came in again. + +"Mr. Fortescue has called, sir." + +"Tell Mr. Fortescue that I can't see him." + +"And Ford has sent round about that shipping order. When can you give +him his answer?" + +"Some time this afternoon." + +"But they want it this morning." + +"Well, they can't have it; I'm going out for a bit. Come along, Miss +Staunton; we can't let the grass grow under our feet." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +There come moments in the lives of all of us when we feel as if a +restraining and powerful hand were pulling us up short. We have come to +a full stop; we cannot go back, and we do not know how to proceed. These +full stops in life's journey are generally awful places. We meet there, +as a rule, the devil and his angels--they tear us and rend us, they +shake us to our very depths with awful and overpowering temptation; if +we yield, it is all over with us, we rush at headlong speed downhill. + +But, on the other hand, if in this pause we turn our back upon the +devil, good angels come in his place--they whisper of hope and a new +chance in life even for us. + +When Effie left George on that miserable evening, and when Lawson +retired presently to his room, the young man found that he had come to +such a fearful place of trial as I have just described. He was pulled +up short, and the devil was tempting him. At one side was the devil, at +the other he saw the face of his mother. It was impossible for him to +lie down and sleep. He fought with the devil all night. In the morning +there was neither victory nor defeat, but the young, smooth face looked +haggard and gray, and the upright, well-knit figure was bowed. + +Lawson came into the sitting room for a moment. + +"I am sorry I can't stay with you, George," he said. "I am due at St. +Joseph's at nine o'clock. Have you made any plans for yourself?" + +"No--at least, yes. I've had an awful night, Lawson, and there seems to +be but one end to it." + +"What is that?" + +"I must give myself up. I'm not the sort of fellow to play the hiding +game successfully. I'm safe to be caught sooner or later. I deserve +punishment, too--I've been doing badly for months. What I deserve, it +seems likely I'll have. In short, I think I'd better make a clean breast +of everything, and take my--my punishment like a man." + +"Do sit down for a minute," said Lawson. "There's a good deal in what +you say, and if you had only yourself to consider, I'd counsel you to do +it--I would, truly; but there's your mother to be thought of." + +"My mother! Don't you suppose I've been thinking of my mother all night? +It is the thought of my mother that maddens me--maddens me, I say. Look +here, Lawson, there's only one thing before me: I'll go first to mother +and tell her everything straight out, and then I'll give myself up." + +"You will?" said Lawson, with a start of sudden admiration. "Upon my +word, George, old chap, I didn't think you had the grit in you--I +didn't, truly." + +"Then you approve?" + +"It is the only thing to be done; she must hear it, sooner or later, and +no one can tell it to her as you can." + +"All right; I'll go to her before my courage fails me." + +George left the room without even saying good-by to his friend. + +When he left the house, he turned round and saw the man whom he had +noticed watching him the day before at Waterloo Station. + +"I'll be ready for you soon, my friend, but not quite yet," muttered the +young man. + +He walked quickly--the man followed him at a respectful distance. + +George let himself into his mother's house with a latch-key. He ran up +to the little sitting room. Agnes was bending with red eyes over a +kettle which was boiling on the fire. She was making a cup of tea for +her mother, who had just awakened. Katie was cutting bread and butter, +and Phil and Marjory were standing by the window. Marjory was saying to +Phil, "I 'spect George will be turning the corner and coming home in a +minute." + +"Hush!" whispered Phil: "hush, Marjory! George isn't coming back any +more." + +At this moment the door was opened, and George came in. Marjory gave +Phil a scornful glance, and flew to her big brother. Katie flung down +the piece of bread she was buttering and Agnes turned from the fire. +George put out his hand to ward them all off. + +"Where's mother?" he asked. + +"She's awake, but she has been very ill," began Agnes. "Oh, George, +George, do be careful; where are you going?" + +"To my mother," answered the young man. "Don't let anyone come with +me--I want to be alone with her." + +He went straight into the bedroom as he spoke, and shut the door behind +him. + +Mrs. Staunton was lying propped up high by pillows. The powerful opiate +had soothed her, but the image of George still filled all her horizon. +When she saw him come into the room, she smiled, and stretched out her +weak arms to clasp him. He came over, knelt by her, and, taking her hot +hands, covered his face with them. + +"You've come back, my boy!" she said. "I'm not very well to-day, but +I'll soon be better. Why, what is it, George? What are you doing? You +are wetting my hands. You--you are crying? What is it, George?" + +"I have come back to tell you something, mother. I'm not what you think +me--I'm a scoundrel, a rascal. I'm bad, I'm not good. I--I've been +deceiving you--I'm a thief." + +"Hush!" interrupted Mrs. Staunton. "Come a little closer to me. You're +not well, my dear boy--let me put my arm round your neck. You're not +well, my own lad; but if you think----" + +"I'm as bad as I can be, mother," said George, "but it isn't bodily +illness that ails me. I said I'd make a clean breast of it. It's the +only thing left for me to do." + +A frightened look came into Mrs. Staunton's eyes for a moment, but then +they filled with satisfaction as they rested on the dark head close to +her own. + +"Whatever you've done, you are my boy," she said. + +"No, no; a thief isn't your boy," said George. "I tell you I'm a thief," +he added fiercely, looking up at her with two bloodshot eyes. "You've +got to believe it. I'm a thief. I stole fifty pounds from Gering +yesterday--and I was bad before that. I won money at play--I've won and +lost, and I've lost and won. Once Lawson gave me two hundred and fifty +pounds to invest, and I stole it to pay a gambling debt, and Effie got +it back for me--she borrowed it for me. My father wouldn't have given +you to me if he had known that. I had it on my conscience when I was +kneeling by his deathbed, but I couldn't tell him then; and when he gave +you to me, I felt that I never could tell. Then we came to London, and I +began to deceive you. I told you a false story about that rise of +salary--I never had any rise; and I took your fifty pounds two days ago +out of the bank, and I stole money to pay it back again. That's your son +George, mother--your _true_ son in his _real_ colors. Now you know +everything." + +George stepped a pace or two away from the bed as he spoke. He folded +his arms. + +Mrs. Staunton was looking at him with a piteous, frightened expression +on her face. Suddenly she broke into a feeble and yet terrible laugh. + +"My son George," she said. "That explains everything. My son +still--still my son!" She laughed again. + +There came a knock at the outer door. + +"Don't go, George!" said his mother. + +"George, you're wanted," said Agnes. "Effie is here, and Mr. +Gering--they want to see you. Come at once." + +"Mr. Gering!" exclaimed the mother. "He was the man you took the money +from. He's coming to--punish you, to--George, you're not to go. Stay +here with me. I'll hide you. You're not to go, George--I won't let you, +I won't let you!" + +"Dear mother! dear, dearest mother! you must let me--I must take the +punishment. I've deserved it and I'm determined to go through with it. +Just say a wonderful thing to me before I go, and I'll be strong enough +to bear it--and to--to come back to you when it's over. Say you love me +still, mother." + +"_Love_ you!" exclaimed Mrs. Staunton. + +"Yes, mother, although I'm a thief." + +"Bless the boy! that has nothing to do with it. You're my boy, whatever +you are." + +"Then you do still love me?" + +"Yes, yes, yes! Of course I love the lad!" + +George went straight to the door and opened it. He walked straight into +the other room. + +"I'm ready to take the punishment, sir," he said, going straight up to +Mr. Gering. + +His manner and the look on his face amazed his late employer. + +"Eh--eh--well, young sir," he said, backing a step or two. "And so you +confess that you robbed me?" + +"I do." + +"And you know what lies before you?" + +"Yes." + +"Have you been deceiving that mother of yours again?" + +"No; I've been telling her the truth at last." + +"Effie, Effie!" called Mrs. Staunton from the bedroom. + +Effie ran to her mother. + +"Do you know, young man," said Mr. Gering, "that you have got a very +remarkable sister?" + +"Do you mean Effie? Oh, I always knew she was a girl in a thousand." + +"A girl in _ten_ thousand, more like. Do you know, young rascal, that +she has been pleading with me for you, and--'pon my word, it's +true--melting my old heart till I don't know what I'm doing? In short, +I've made her a promise." + +"A promise! Oh, sir, what?" + +"A promise that I'll let you off--all but the moral punishment. That, of +course, you'll have to bear." + +"Mr. Gering, is this true?" + +"Yes, it's true. I'm doing it all on account of your sister. You may +come back to the office to-morrow, and consider that you've got a fresh +start. Now, for goodness' sake, don't keep me any longer. Open the door, +one of you children, can't you? I must hurry back to my work." + + * * * * * + +That is the story, for George really did learn his lesson, and in his +case the new leaf was turned. He will carry the scars, however, of that +time of sin and suffering to his grave. + +Effie kept her promise, and went as governess to little Freda Harvey for +a time, but only for a time. When money affairs were straight again, she +gladly returned to the life which she really loved, and is now +superintendent of one of the wards at St. Joseph's. + +It is true that there are whispers afloat with regard to her and +Lawson--whispers which always give a feeling of consternation in the +ward which she manages so skillfully--but only Effie herself can tell if +there is truth in them or not. + +THE END. + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +HURST & COMPANY'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE + +A Volume of Cheerfulness in Rhyme and Picture + +KINDERGARTEN LIMERICKS + +By FLORENCE E. SCOTT + +Pictures by Arthur O. Scott with a Foreword by Lucy Wheelock + +The book contains a rhyme for every letter of the alphabet, each +illustrated by a full page picture in colors. The verses appeal to the +child's sense of humor without being foolish or sensational, and will be +welcomed by kindergartners for teaching rhythm in a most entertaining +manner. + +Beautifully printed and bound. In attractive box. Price, Postpaid One +Dollar. + +HURST & COMPANY, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +HURST & COMPANY'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE + +NEW BOOKS FOR GIRLS + +TUCKER TWINS BOOKS + +By NELL SPEED + +Author of the Molly Brown Books. + +Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price 60c. per volume. + +At Boarding School with the Tucker Twins + +There are no jollier girls in boarding school fiction than Dum and Dee +Tucker. The room-mate of such a lively pair has an endless variety of +surprising experiences--as Page Allison will tell you. + +Vacation with the Tucker Twins + +This volume is alive with experiences of these fascinating girls. Girls +who enjoyed the Molly Brown Books by the same author will be eager for +this volume. + +The scene of these charming stories is laid in the State of Virginia and +has the true Southern flavor. Girls will like them. + +We will send any title upon receipt of 60 cents per volume, or both of +them for $1.10. + +HURST & COMPANY, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +HURST & COMPANY'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE + +NEW BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE AND OLD PEOPLE WHO FEEL YOUNG + +PAUL AND PEGGY BOOKS + +By FLORENCE E. SCOTT + +Illustrated by ARTHUR O. SCOTT + +Cloth Bound. Price 60c. per vol., postpaid + +Here and There with Paul and Peggy + +Across the Continent with Paul and Peggy + +Through the Yellowstone with Paul and Peggy + +These are delightfully written stories of a vivacious pair of twins +whose dearest ambition is to travel. How they find the opportunity, +where they go, what their eager eyes discover is told in such an +enthusiastic way that the reader is carried with the travellers into +many charming places and situations. + +Written primarily for girls, her brothers can read these charming +stories of School Life and Travel with equal admiration and interest. + +We will mail promptly any book for 60 cents, or all three for $1.60. + +HURST & COMPANY, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +HURST & COMPANY'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE + +STORIES OF COLLEGE LIFE FOR GIRLS + +MOLLY BROWN SERIES + +By NELL SPEED + +Cloth. Illustrated. Price, 60c. per volume + +Molly Brown's Freshman Days + +Would you like to admit to your circle of friends the most charming of +college girls? Then seek an introduction to Molly Brown. You will find +the baggagemaster, the cook, the Professor of English Literature and the +College President in the same company. + +Molly Brown's Sophomore Days + +What is more delightful than a reunion of college girls after the summer +vacation? Certainly nothing that precedes it in their experience--at +least, if all class-mates are as happy together as the Wellington girls +of this story. Among Molly's interesting friends or the second year is a +young Japanese girl, who ingratiates her "humbly" self into everybody's +affections. + +Molly Brown's Junior Days + +Financial stumbling blocks are not the only thing that hinder the ease +and increase the strength of college girls. Their troubles and their +triumphs are their own, often peculiar to their environment. How +Wellington students meet the experiences outside the class-rooms is +worth the doing, the telling and the reading. + +Molly Brown's Senior Days + +This book tells of another year of glad college life, bringing the girls +to the days of diplomas and farewells, and introducing new friends to +complicate old friendships. + +Molly Brown's Post Graduate Days + +"Book I" of this volume is devoted to incidents that happen in Molly's +Kentucky home, and "Book II" is filled with the interests pertaining to +Wellington College and the reunions of a post graduate year. + +Molly Brown's Orchard Home + +Molly's romance culminates in Paris--the Paris of art, of music, of +light-hearted gaiety--after a glad, sad, mad year for Molly and her +friends. + +If you do not know Molly Brown of Kentucky, you are missing an +opportunity to become acquainted with the most enchanting girl in +college fiction. + +Any book sent prepaid for 60 cents, or the six for $3.50. + +HURST & COMPANY, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +HURST & COMPANY'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE + +Latest Books by Mrs. L. T. Meade + +NEW COPYRIGHT EDITIONS PUBLISHED EXCLUSIVELY BY US + +Cloth. Illustrated. Price, 60c. per volume. + +These beautiful volumes represent Mrs. Meade's latest writings. They are +juvenile in character, especially written for young folks. By +arrangement with her English publishers, we have obtained the exclusive +American rights, and these books cannot be procured in any other +edition. Each volume handsomely bound with individual designs; each +containing four original drawings. Those familiar with Mrs. Meade know +her reputation for clean, wholesome stories, and these books should be +in every home library. The titles named below comprise her latest +Juveniles. + +Oceana's Girlhood +A Wild Irish Girl +The Girls of Merton College +For Dear Dad +Kitty O'Donovan +Peggy from Kerry +The Queen of Joy +The Chesterton Girl Graduates +The Girls of King's Royal +The Lady of Jerry Boy's Dreams +A Plucky Girl +The Daughter of a Soldier +A Girl of High Adventure +Jill, the Irresistible + +Mrs. Meade requires no introduction to her many admirers and readers, +and these volumes will be a welcome addition to the book-shelves in any +home. + +We will send any title selected upon receipt of 60 cents, or any six +books for $3.50. + +HURST & COMPANY, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +HURST & COMPANY'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE + +MOTOR MAIDS SERIES + +By KATHARINE STOKES + +Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 50c per vol., postpaid + +THE MOTOR MAIDS' SCHOOL DAYS + +Billie Campbell was Just the type of a straightforward, athletic girl to +be successful as a practical Motor Maid. She took her car, as she did +her class-mates, to her heart, and many a grand good time did they have +all together. The road over which she ran her red machine had many an +unexpected turning. + +THE MOTOR MAIDS BY PALM AND PINE + +Wherever the Motor Maids went there were lively times, for these were +companionable girls who looked upon the world as a vastly interesting +place full of unique adventures. + +THE MOTOR MAIDS ACROSS THE CONTINENT + +It is always interesting to travel, and it is wonderfully entertaining +to see old scenes through fresh eyes. It is that privilege, therefore, +that makes it worth while to join the Motor Maids in their first +'cross-country run. + +THE MOTOR MAIDS BY ROSE, SHAMROCK AND THISTLE + +South and West had the Motor Maids motored, nor could their education by +travel have been more wisely begun. But now a speaking acquaintance with +their own country enriched their anticipation of an introduction to the +British Isles. How they made their polite American bow and how they were +received on the other side is a tale of interest and inspiration. + +THE MOTOR MAIDS IN FAIR JAPAN + +In a picturesque villa among picturesque surroundings the Motor Maids +spend a happy vacation. The charm of Japan,--her cherry blossoms, her +temples, her quaint customs, her polite people,--is reflected in all +their delightful experiences. + +THE MOTOR MAIDS AT SUNRISE CAMP + +Most interesting of all interesting events recorded about the Motor +Maids are these relating to their summer in a mountain camp. The new +friends introduced in this book add the final touch of romance. + +Charmingly written books which will delight all girls who are fond of +outdoor life--and most girls are. The trips taken by these Motor Maids +would envy any girl, yet you can have all the pleasant experiences by +reading the stories. + +We will send any book upon receipt of 50 cents, or all six for $2.50. + +HURST & COMPANY, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +HURST & COMPANY'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE + +GIRL AVIATORS SERIES + +By MARGARET BURNHAM + +Cloth. Illustrated. 50c. Each + +The Girl Aviators and the Phantom Airship + +Roy Prescott was fortunate in having a sister so clever and devoted to +him and his interests that they would share work and play with mutual +pleasure and to mutual advantage. This proved especially true in +relation to the manufacture and manipulation of their aeroplane, and +Peggy won well deserved fame for her skill and good sense as an aviator. +There were many stumbling-blocks in their terrestrial path, but they +soared above them all to ultimate success. + +The Girl Aviators on Golden Wings + +That there is a peculiar fascination about aviation that wins and holds +girls enthusiasts as well as boys is proved by this tale. On golden +wings the girl aviators rose for many an exciting flight, and met +strange and unexpected experiences. + +The Girl Aviators' Sky Cruise + +To most girls a coaching or yachting trip is an adventure. How much more +perilous an adventure a "sky cruise" might be is suggested by the title +and proved by the story itself. + +The Girl Aviators' Motor Butterfly + +The delicacy of flight suggested by the word "butterfly," the mechanical +power implied by "motor," the ability to control assured in the title +"aviator," all combined with the personality and enthusiasm of girls +themselves, make this story one for any girl or other reader "to go +crazy over." + +Aviation is not confined to the sterner sex as has been shown by the +flights made by Harriet Quimby and other daring young women. Girls who +are fond of adventure will thoroughly enjoy reading these books, which +are wholesome and free from sensationalism. + +Price, postpaid, 50 cents per copy or the four books for $1.75. + +HURST & COMPANY, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +Transcriber's Notes: + +1. Punctuation has been normalized to contemporary standards. + +2. Missing text, truncated by printer: + p. 131: "mother has gone far beyond our means. She hasn't" + +3. Several places in the text suggest missing or incorrect text: + p. 15: "I met Effie the night a came home" + replaced with "I met Effie the night I came home" + p. 145: "Now go and much in train for the afternoon as you can." + No replacement made. + p. 120: "but she for certain that he would come" + replaced with "but she knew for certain that he would come" + +4. Superfluous, repeated disconnected text on two sequential lines: + p. 168: changed voice. "Before God, I couldn't help it." + a changed voice. "Before God, I couldn't help it." + +5. Typographic errors corrected: + seventh page of advertisements: + "terrestial" to "terrestrial." + "stumbling-blocks in their terrestrial path" + + p. 24 "undestad" to "understand." "Now you understand" + + p. 111 "helds" to "held." "when she held the purse strings." + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Girl in Ten Thousand, by L. T. Meade + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GIRL IN TEN THOUSAND *** + +***** This file should be named 19761-8.txt or 19761-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/7/6/19761/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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T. Meade + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Girl in Ten Thousand + +Author: L. T. Meade + +Release Date: November 11, 2006 [EBook #19761] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GIRL IN TEN THOUSAND *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<table width='400' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='' border='1'><tr><td> +<p class='titleblock' style=' font-size: 200%; margin-top: 40px;'> A GIRL IN</p> +<p class='titleblock' style=' font-size: 200%; margin-bottom: 100px;'> TEN THOUSAND</p> +<p class='titleblock' style=' font-size: 80%;'> BY</p> +<p class='titleblock' style=' font-size: 120%; margin-bottom: 30px;'> L. T. MEADE</p> +<p class='titleblock' style=' font-size: 80%;'> AUTHOR OF "BASHFUL FIFTEEN," "THE CHILDREN</p> +<p class='titleblock' style=' font-size: 80%;'> OF WILTON CHASE," "GIRLS NEW AND OLD,"</p> +<p class='titleblock' style=' font-size: 80%; margin-bottom: 100px;'> "RED ROSE AND TIGER LILY," ETC.</p> +<p class='titleblock'> NEW YORK</p> +<p class='titleblock'> HURST AND COMPANY </p> +<p class='titleblock' style=' font-variant: small-caps; margin-bottom: 40px;'> Publishers</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<h2><a name="Contents" id="Contents"></a>Contents</h2> +<div class="smcap"> +<table border="0" width="500" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<col style="width:85%;" /> +<col style="width:15%;" /> +<tr><td align="left">I.</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_I.">5</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">II.</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_II.">22</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">III.</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_III.">29</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">IV.</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV.">37</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">V.</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_V.">45</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">VI.</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI.">54</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">VII.</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII.">64</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">VIII.</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII.">67</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">IX.</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX.">71</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">X.</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_X.">77</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">XI.</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI.">81</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">XII.</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII.">88</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">XIII.</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII.">96</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">XIV.</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV.">104</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">XV.</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV.">111</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">XVI.</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI.">116</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">XVII.</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII.">123</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">XVIII.</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII.">136</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">XIX.</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX.">141</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">XXI.</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI.">157</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">XXII.</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII.">169</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">XXIII.</td><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII.">178</a></td></tr> +</table> +</div> +<hr class='major' /> + +<h1>A GIRL IN TEN THOUSAND.</h1> + +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_I." id="CHAPTER_I."></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">5</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2> +</div> + +<p>"You are the comfort of my life, Effie. If you make up your mind to go +away, what is to become of me?"</p> + +<p>The speaker was a middle-aged woman. She was lying on a sofa in a shabby +little parlor. The sofa was covered with horse-hair, the room had a +faded paper, and faded chintz covered the shabby furniture. The woman's +pleading words were emphasized by her tired eyes and worn face. She +looked full at the young girl to whom she spoke.</p> + +<p>"What shall I do without you, and what will your father say?"</p> + +<p>"I have made up my mind," said Effie. "I don't want to be unkind to you, +mother,—I love you more than words can say,—but I must go out into the +world. I must live my life like other girls."</p> + +<p>"You had none of these ideas until you met Dorothy Fraser."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have had them for a long time; Dorothy has given them emphasis, +that's all. Dorothy's mother did not like her to go away, but now she is +glad. She says that nothing has made Dorothy into so fine a woman as +taking her life into her own hands,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">6</a></span> and making the best she can of it. +Before I go, mother, I will get Agnes to learn all my duties; she shall +help you. She is nearly fourteen; she ought to be of use to you, ought +she not?"</p> + +<p>"She would not be like you," replied Mrs. Staunton. "She is very young, +remember, and is at school most of the day. I won't argue with you, +Effie, but it tires me even to think of it."</p> + +<p>Effie sighed. She bent down and kissed her mother. Her words had sounded +hard and almost defiant, but there was nothing at all hard or defiant +about her sweet face. She was a dark-eyed girl, and looked as if she +might be any age between seventeen and twenty. There was a likeness +between her and her mother quite sufficient to show their relationship; +both faces were softly curved, both pairs of eyes were dark, and the +mother must have been even prettier in her youth than the daughter was +now.</p> + +<p>"As I say," continued Mrs. Staunton, "it fills me with terror to think +of doing without you."</p> + +<p>"Try not to think of it, mother. I am not going yet, I only want to go +very much indeed. I am going to talk to father about it. I want to have +the thing arranged while Dorothy is here."</p> + +<p>Here Effie went suddenly on her knees by the sofa and threw one young +arm protectingly round her mother.</p> + +<p>"You do not know what it means to me," she said. "When Dorothy talks of +the full life, the keen interest, the battle, the thrill of living, I +feel that I must go into it—I must."</p> + +<p>While Effie was speaking, Mrs. Staunton looked fixedly at her. There are +moments which all mothers know, when they put themselves completely out +of sight, when they blot themselves out, as it were. This time had come +to Mrs. Staunton now.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">7</a></span></p> + +<p>After a pause, she said, and her words came out even without a sigh:</p> + +<p>"The question, after all, is this, Effie: What will your father say?"</p> + +<p>"When he thinks it out carefully he will be pleased," replied Effie. "He +must be interested in the profession I want to take up. How often—oh, +how often, mother—has he groaned and sighed at the bad nursing which +his patients get! You know you have always said, and he has said the +same, that I am a born nurse. Won't he be proud and pleased when I come +home and tell him all about the new ways in which things are done in +London hospitals? You know there are six of us, and Agnes and Katie are +growing up, and can take my place at home presently. Of course I know +that father is quite the cleverest doctor in Whittington, but nobody +gets ill here, and it is quite impossible to go on clothing and feeding +six of us with no means at all. I do not think I am vain, mother, and I +do not really care very much about dress, but mine is shabby, is it not? +I think I should look pretty—as pretty as you must have looked long +ago—if I were better dressed."</p> + +<p>"No dress can change your face," said Mrs. Staunton, with sudden +passion. "You have the sweetest and dearest face in the world to me. +When you go away the sunshine will go out of my life; but, my darling, +my darling, I won't—you shall never have it to say that your mother +stood in your way. I must think, however, of what your father will say +to this. I can only warn you that if there is one person your father +dreads and dislikes more than another, it is the modern girl. He said to +me, 'Thank God, Effie has none of that hideous modernity about her. She +is fairly good-looking; she does not think about Girton<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">8</a></span> or Newnham, or +any of the women's colleges; in short, she has no advanced ideas.'"</p> + +<p>"That is all he knows," replied Effie. "The fact is, I must and will do +something to earn my living. You are sending George out into the world +to win his spurs, and I am going to win mine."</p> + +<p>"In what way?" asked Mrs. Staunton. "You know you are not clever."</p> + +<p>"Dorothy thinks I can be a nurse, mother. May she come and see you, and +talk it all over?"</p> + +<p>"There is no harm in talking it over," said Mrs. Staunton. "But now I +wish you would go upstairs and help Susan to put the children to bed. +You can bring baby downstairs if you like, and I will undress him. Run +along, Effie—run along, there's a good child."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, mother, I'll go; only just answer me one question first. May +Dorothy come here after supper to-night?"</p> + +<p>"What is the use of my seeing her? Your father is the one to decide."</p> + +<p>"I will ask father to stay in after supper."</p> + +<p>"I don't think he will. A message has come from the Watson people over +at the farm. Mrs. Watson was taken bad with a stitch an hour ago, and +they want your father as quickly as he can go."</p> + +<p>"Well, he will be back in time—he won't spend the whole evening there. +Anyhow, Dorothy can come and see you, and if father does come in before +she leaves, well and good. I may run and tell her to come, may I not?"</p> + +<p>"Won't you put the children to bed first, and bring me baby?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, yes, if you insist."</p> + +<p>"I do, Effie; while you are at home you must help me all you can. I have +not had a bit of strength<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">9</a></span> since baby was born. It is perfectly dreadful +to feel all your strength going and to know that things are at sixes and +sevens, and however hard you try you cannot put them right. Dear me, +Effie, I did think when you were grown up that you would stay at home +and be a comfort to me."</p> + +<p>"I shall be a greater comfort to you when I send you money from London. +Now, don't speak another word. I will put the children to bed, and I +will look after baby myself, while you close your eyes and go to sleep."</p> + +<p>Effie pressed her warm young lips on the older woman's brow, and then +ran out of the room.</p> + +<p>There was a large nursery upstairs, where everything at the present +moment was, as Effie's mother had said, at sixes and sevens. The +nursemaid, a young girl of seventeen, was not up to her duties—the +children ruled her, instead of her ruling the children. Effie, however, +could be masterful enough when she liked. She had a natural sense of +order, and she soon put things straight in the nursery. The children +were undressed quickly and put to bed; and then Effie, taking the baby +in her arms, asked Susan to go downstairs.</p> + +<p>"You can have your supper," she said. "I will look after baby."</p> + +<p>"I thought my missus would like me to take baby to her," said the girl.</p> + +<p>"No; I will look after him for the present," said Effie. "Mother is +tired, and she must sleep. Run away, Susan, and have your supper, and +come back here as quickly as you can."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss Effie; and I am sure I am very much obliged to you. You 'as a +wonderful way with the children, and I only wish I could learn it."</p> + +<p>Susan left the room. Pressing the baby's soft<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">10</a></span> curly head against her +breast, Effie began to pace up and down with it. The baby was three +months old; he was fractious and disinclined to sleep, but when his +sister began to purr a soft song into his ear, an old nursery rhyme +which her mother had sung to her long ago, his wide-open eyes closed, +and he sank off into peaceful slumber.</p> + +<p>When she saw that he was quite sound asleep, Effie put him in his cot, +drew the cot near the crib where Philip, a dark-eyed little boy of five, +lay, and bending down to kiss Phil, said:</p> + +<p>"You are to be baby's nurse until Susan comes up; if he wakes or begins +to cry, just pat him on his back. I am most anxious that mother should +have a quiet time; she is just worn out, and if she hears baby cry she +is certain to send for him. Now, Phil, you are a very clever little man +when you like—I trust to you to keep baby from crying until Susan comes +back!"</p> + +<p>"'Es, that I will," replied Phil, in a voice of intense importance. "I +do love 'ou, Effie," he said.</p> + +<p>Effie kissed him, and softly left the room. She ran downstairs, and +began to help the servant to lay supper.</p> + +<p>No one could look more bright than Effie as she performed the thousand +and one duties which fell to her lot in this poor home. Dr. Staunton was +poor, there were six children, Effie was the eldest daughter; it needs +no more words to explain her exact position. From morning to night Effie +was busy, very busy, doing what she herself called nothing. She was +getting discontented with her life. A feeling of discontent had stolen +over her ever since her eldest brother George had gone to London, to +help his uncle in a large warehouse. For months the dream of her life +was to give up the little duties<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">11</a></span> near at hand, and to take some great +duties which nobody wanted her to do, far away from home. She was quite +prepared for the advice which her friend Dorothy Fraser, who lived all +the year round in London, and only came home for the holidays to +Whittingham, was able to give her. Effie's conscience was not in the +least pricked at the thought of leaving her mother—it seemed to her +quite right. "Had she not to make the most of her youth? Why should she +spend all her young days in looking after the children, and making +things tolerable for her father and mother?"</p> + +<p>These thoughts kept swiftly passing through her brain, as she +noiselessly laid the table and made it look charming and pretty. When +all was done, she took up a little frock of one of the children's, and, +sitting down by the window, began to work. Her pretty dark head was bent +over her task; her thick curling lashes lay heavy on her rounded cheek. +Mrs. Staunton, who had been having a doze on the sofa, started up now +and looked at her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Effie dear, I have had such a nice sleep," she said, with a little +sigh; "I am ever so much the better for it. But what have you done with +baby?"</p> + +<p>"I have put him to sleep, mother; he is in his cot now, as comfortable +as possible."</p> + +<p>"How good of you, Effie! What a comfort you are to me!"</p> + +<p>Effie smiled. "I think I hear father coming in," she said, "and supper +is quite ready."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton started up from the sofa; she pushed back her tumbled +hair, and shook out her somewhat untidy dress.</p> + +<p>"Now let me make you trim," said Effie.</p> + +<p>She ran over to her parent, put back her gray hair<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">12</a></span> with an affectionate +little touch, and then kissed her mother on her flushed cheeks.</p> + +<p>"You look better for your nice sleep, mother," she said.</p> + +<p>"So I am, darling, and for your loving care," replied Mrs. Staunton.</p> + +<p>Her husband came into the room, and she took her place before the +tea-tray.</p> + +<p>Supper at the Stauntons' was a nondescript sort of meal. It consisted of +meat and vegetables, and tea and cakes and puddings, all placed on the +table together. It was the one hearty meal Dr. Staunton allowed himself +in the twenty-four hours. At the children's early dinner he only +snatched a little bread and cheese, but at peaceful seven o'clock the +children were in bed, the house was quiet, the toil of the day was +supposed to be over, and Dr. Staunton could eat heartily and enjoy +himself. It was at this hour he used to notice how very pretty Effie +looked, and how sweet it was to see her sitting like a little mouse on +one side of the table, helping him and his wife in her affectionate way, +and seeing to the comforts of all. It did not occur to him as even +possible that Effie could carry such a dreadful thing as rebellion in +her heart. No face could look more perfectly happy than hers. Was it +possible that she was pining for a wider field of usefulness than the +little niche which she filled so perfectly in the home life? Dr. +Staunton never thought about it at all. Effie was just a dear little +girl—not a bit modern; she was the comfort of her mother's life, and, +for that matter, the comfort of his also.</p> + +<p>He looked at her now with his usual grave smile. "Well, Effie, useful +and charming as usual? I see you have not forgotten my favorite dish, +and I am glad of it, for I can tell you I am just starving. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">13</a></span> have had +a hard day's work, and it is nice to feel that I can rest for this +evening at least."</p> + +<p>"Have you been to the Watsons', dear?" inquired Mrs. Staunton. "They +sent a message for you two or three hours ago."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I met the farmer in the High Street, and went straight out to the +farm. Mrs. Watson is better now, poor soul; but it is a bad case, the +heart is a good deal implicated. I shall have to go out there again the +first thing in the morning. It would be a dreadful thing for that family +if anything happened to her."</p> + +<p>"The heart—is it heart trouble?" said Mrs. Staunton.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes! Don't you begin to fancy that your case is the least like +hers; yours is only functional, hers is organic. Now, why have I broken +through my rule of saying nothing about my patients? You will be +fancying and fretting all night that you are going to shuffle off this +mortal coil just as quickly as poor Mrs. Watson will have to do before +long, I fear. Why, Effie, what is the matter? Why are you staring at me +with those round eyes?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton looked also at Effie, and the sudden memory of her recent +conversation with her returned.</p> + +<p>"By the way," she said, "if you are likely to be at home this evening, +John, Effie would like to ask her friend Dorothy Fraser to come in for +an hour or two. She wants to introduce her to you."</p> + +<p>"She is one of those modern girls, is she not?" said the doctor.</p> + +<p>"Oh, father, she is just splendid," said Effie. "If you only knew her, +if you could hear her speak——"</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear, don't get into a state, and above all things, don't +learn that dreadful habit of exaggeration.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">14</a></span> I dare say Miss Fraser is +very well, but there are few prodigies in the world, my little Effie; +and, for my part, give me the home birds—they are the girls for my +world; they are the girls who will make good wives by and by. There, my +love, I shall be pleased to welcome any friend of yours, so ask her +over, by all means. She won't mind the old doctor's pipe, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, father!" Effie could not help smiling. She knew perfectly well +that Dorothy thought it no harm to indulge in a tiny cigarette herself, +not often, nor every day, but sometimes when she was dead beat, as she +expressed it. Effie had to keep this knowledge of her friend's +delinquencies to herself. If Dr. Staunton knew that Dorothy did not +consider smoking the unpardonable sin in woman, he would not allow her +inside his doors. "I will go and fetch her," Effie said, jumping up and +putting on her hat. "She is longing to know you, father, and you can +smoke two or three pipes while she is here."</p> + +<p>Effie left the room. Mrs. Staunton looked at her husband. "I doubt if +Dorothy Fraser is the best of friends for our Effie."</p> + +<p>"Eh!" said the doctor, taking his pipe out of his mouth for a moment. +"What ails the girl?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing at all," replied Mrs. Staunton. "Effie is very fond of her, +and I believe she really is a fine creature. You know she is educating +her two brothers."</p> + +<p>"What is she doing—how does she earn her living?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, she is a nurse in a hospital. She has been in St. Joseph's Hospital +for years, and is now superintendent of one of the wards. She gets a +good salary."</p> + +<p>The doctor rubbed his hands together in a somewhat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">15</a></span> impatient way. "You +know my opinion of lady nurses," he said, looking at his wife.</p> + +<p>"Well, dear, make the best of Dorothy for Effie's sake. I hear the steps +of the two girls now. You will do what you can to be agreeable, won't +you?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the doctor; "I shall growl like a bear with a sore head, when +I see women who ought to be content with sweet home duties struggling +and pining to go out into the world."</p> + +<p>The last words had scarcely left the doctor's lips before the +dining-room door was opened, and Effie, accompanied by her friend, +entered the room.</p> + +<p>Dorothy Fraser was about twenty-eight years of age; she was tall; she +had a fair, calm sort of face; her eyes were large and gray, her mouth +sweet. She had a way of taking possession of those she spoke to, and she +had not been two minutes in the shabby little sitting-room before Dr. +and Mrs. Staunton were looking at her earnestly and listening to her +words with respect.</p> + +<p>Dorothy sat near Mrs. Staunton.</p> + +<p>"I am very glad to know you," she said, after a pause. "Effie has talked +to me over and over again about you."</p> + +<p>"May I ask how long you have known Effie?" interrupted Dr. Staunton.</p> + +<p>"Well, exactly a week," replied Miss Fraser. "I have been home a week, +and I am going to stay another week. I met Effie the night I came home, +and—— But one can cultivate a friendship in a week; don't you think +so, Dr. Staunton?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, perhaps," said the doctor in a dubious voice. "I am slow in +making friends myself. It is the old-fashioned way of country folk."</p> + +<p>"Oh, pray don't speak of yourself as old-fashioned, Dr. Staunton; and +don't run down country folk, I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">16</a></span> see so many of them at the hospital. For +my part, I think they are worth twenty of those poor London people, who +are half starved in body, and have only learned the wicked side of +life."</p> + +<p>"Poor creatures!" said Mrs. Staunton. "I wish you would tell us +something about the hospital, my dear. It is vastly entertaining to hear +all about sick people."</p> + +<p>"No; now pardon me," said the doctor; "you will do nothing of the kind, +Miss Fraser. There are not many sick folk about here, but what few there +are I have got to look after, and my thoughts are bothered enough about +them and their sicknesses, so I would rather, if you please, turn our +conversation to people who are not ill. The wife here is a bit nervous, +too, and she is never the better for hearing people talk about what they +call 'bad cases.' I think it is the worst thing in the world for people +to keep talking of their maladies, or even about other people's +maladies. My motto is this, 'When you are ill, try and see how soon you +can get well again, and when you are well, try to keep so. Never think +of illness at all.'"</p> + +<p>Miss Fraser looked fully at the doctor while he was talking. A slight +frown came between her eyebrows. Effie's bright dark eyes were fixed on +her friend.</p> + +<p>"Illness interests me, of course," Dorothy said, after a pause; "but I +won't talk of it. There are many other things, as you say, just as +vital."</p> + +<p>"Well, at any rate," said Mrs. Staunton, "Miss Fraser can tell us how +she came to be a nurse——"</p> + +<p>"For my part," interrupted Dr. Staunton, "I think it is a great pity +that girls like you, Miss Fraser, should take up that sort of life. Lady +girls are not suited to it; for one who is fitted for the life, there +are fifty who are not. If you could only guess<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">17</a></span> how doctors hate to see +lady nurses in possession of a case. She is a fine lady through it all; +she thinks she is not, but she is. Do you suppose she will wash up the +cups and plates and spoons as they ought to be washed and kept in a sick +person's room? and do you fancy she will clean out the grate, and go +down on her knees to wash the floor? Your fine lady nurse won't. There +is a case of infection, for instance,—measles or scarlet fever,—and +the nurse comes down from London, and she is supposed to take +possession; but one of the servants of the house has to go in to clean +and dust and arrange, or the sickroom is not dusted or cleaned at all. +That is your lady nurse; and I say she is not suited to the work."</p> + +<p>Miss Fraser turned pale while the doctor was speaking.</p> + +<p>"You must admit," she said, when he stopped and looked at her,—"you +must admit, Dr. Staunton, that every lady nurse is not like that. If you +have an infection case in your practice, send for me. I think I can +prove to you that there are some ladies who are too truly women to think +anything menial or beneath them." She colored as she spoke, and lowered +her eyes.</p> + +<p>The conversation drifted into other channels. After a time Dorothy got +up and went away; and Effie, yawning slightly, went up to her room to go +to bed. She slept in a little room next to the nursery. Instead of +undressing at once, as was her wont, she went and stood by the window, +threw it open, and looked out. "What would father say if he knew my +thoughts?" she said to herself. "He despises ladies who are nurses; he +thinks it wrong for any lady girl to go away from home; but I am +going—yes, I am going to London. Dorothy is my friend. She is about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">18</a></span> +the grandest, noblest creature I ever met, and I am going to follow in +her steps. Mother will consent in the end—mother will see that I cannot +throw away my life. Dear mother! I shall miss her and father awfully, +but, all the same, I shall be delighted to go. I do want to get out of +this narrow, narrow life; I do want to do something big and grand. Oh, +Dorothy, how splendid you are! How strong you look! How delightful it is +to feel that one can live a life like yours, and do good, and be loved +by all! Oh, Dorothy, I hope I shall be able to copy you! I hope——"</p> + +<p>Effie's eager thoughts came to a sudden stop. A tall dog-cart dashed +down the street and pulled up short at her father's door. A young man in +a Norfolk suit jumped out, threw the horse's reins to his groom, and +pulled the doctor's bell furiously. Effie leaned slightly out of her +window in order to see who it was. She recognized the man who stood on +the doorstep with a start of surprise, and the color flew into her face. +He was the young Squire of the neighborhood. His name was Harvey. His +place was two miles out of Whittington. He was married; his wife was the +most beautiful woman Effie had ever seen; and he had one little girl. +The Harveys were rich and proud; they spent the greater part of their +time in London, and had never before condescended to consult the village +doctor. What was the matter now? Effie rushed from her room and knocked +furiously at her father's door.</p> + +<p>"Father, do you hear the night-bell? Are you getting up?" she called.</p> + +<p>"Yes, child, yes," answered the doctor.</p> + +<p>The bell downstairs kept on ringing at intervals. Effie stood trembling +on the landing; she felt positively<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">19</a></span> sure that something dreadful must +have happened.</p> + +<p>"May I go down stairs and say you are coming, father?" she called again +through the key-hole.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I wish you would. Say I will be downstairs in a minute."</p> + +<p>Effie ran off; she took the chain off the heavy hall door and threw it +open.</p> + +<p>"Is Dr. Staunton in?" asked the Squire. He stared at Effie's white +trembling face. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair in disorder; he looked +like a man who is half distracted.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Effie, in as soothing a voice as she could assume; "my +father will be down in a minute."</p> + +<p>Harvey took off his cap.</p> + +<p>"You are Miss Staunton, I presume? Pray ask your father to be as quick +as possible. My little girl is ill—very ill. We want a doctor to come +to The Grange without a moment's delay."</p> + +<p>"All right, Squire; here I am," said the hearty voice of Dr. Staunton on +the stairs.</p> + +<p>The Squire shook hands with him, made one or two remarks in too low a +voice for Effie to hear, sprang into his dog-cart, the doctor scrambled +up by his side, and a moment later the two had disappeared. Effie stood +by the open hall door looking up and down the quiet village street. The +great man of the place had come and gone like a flash. The thing Mrs. +Staunton had longed for, dreamed of, and almost prayed for, had come to +pass at last—her husband was sent for to The Grange. Effie wondered if +Fortune were really turning her wheel, and if, from this date they would +be better off than they had been.</p> + +<p>Dorothy Fraser's people lived in the house nearly opposite. From where +Effie stood she could see a light still burning in her friend's window. +The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">20</a></span> thought of Dorothy raised the girl's state of excitement almost to +fever pitch. She longed to go over and see her friend; she knew she must +not do that, however. She shut the hall door, and went slowly back to +her bedroom. She wanted to sleep, but sleep was far away. She lay +listening during the long hours of the summer night, and heard hour +after hour strike from the church clock close by. Between two and three +in the morning she dropped off into a troubled doze. She awoke in broad +daylight, to start to her feet and see her father standing in the room.</p> + +<p>"Get up, Effie," he said. "I want you; dress yourself as quickly as you +can."</p> + +<p>There was an expression about his face which prevented Effie's uttering +a word. She scrambled into her clothes—he waited for her on the +landing. When she was dressed he took her hand and went softly down +through the house.</p> + +<p>"I do not want your mother to be disturbed," he said. "There is a very +bad case of illness at The Grange."</p> + +<p>"What is it, father?" asked Effie.</p> + +<p>"Well, I fear that it is a complication of scarlet fever and diphtheria. +The child will have an awful fight for her life, and at the present +moment I am afraid the odds are terribly against her."</p> + +<p>"Oh, father, and she is the only child!" said Effie.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, I know all that; but there is no use in going into sentiment +just now—the thing is to pull her through if possible. Now, look here: +I can send to London, of course, for a nurse, but she would not arrive +for several hours—do you think your friend Miss Fraser would undertake +the case?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am sure she would," said Effie.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">21</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's just like you women," said the doctor impatiently; "you jump to +conclusions without knowing anything at all about the matter. The +child's case is horribly infectious. In fact, I shall be surprised if +the illness does not run right through the house. The mother has been +sitting up with this baby day and night for the last week, and they were +so silly they never sent for a doctor, imagining that the awful state of +the throat was due to hoarseness, and that the rash was what they were +pleased to call 'spring heat.' The folly of some people is enough to +drive any reasonable man to despair. They send for the doctor, forsooth, +when the child is almost in the grip of death! I have managed to relieve +her a bit during the night, but I must have the services of a good nurse +at once. Go over and awake Miss Fraser, Effie, and bring her to see me. +If she has the pluck she gave me to understand she had, she will come in +as a stop-gap until I get somebody else. And now, look here: the case is +so infectious, and your mother is so weak just now, that I am going to +devote myself altogether to it for the next few days. I am going to take +up my abode at The Grange, and I shall wire to my old friend Edwards to +look after the rest of my patients. There are only half a dozen to be +seen to, and he will keep them quiet until I am free again. Now go over +and bring Miss Fraser for me to see. I have driven down on the Squire's +dog-cart, and will take her back with me if she will come. Run along, +Effie, and wake her up."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_II." id="CHAPTER_II."></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">22</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2> +</div> + +<p>Dorothy Fraser was sound asleep when Effie rushed into her little room.</p> + +<p>"Get up!" said Effie, shaking her friend by the shoulder.</p> + +<p>As a nurse Miss Fraser was accustomed to unexpected disturbances. She +opened her eyes now and gazed at Effie for a bewildered moment, then she +sat up in bed and pushed back her heavy hair.</p> + +<p>"Why, Effie," she exclaimed, "what do you want? I fancied I was back at +St. Joseph's and that one of the nurses had got into trouble and had +come to me, but I find I am at home for the holidays. Surely it is not +time to get up yet?"</p> + +<p>"It is only five o'clock," said Effie. "It is not the usual time to get +up; but, Dorothy, father wants you. There is a bad case of illness at +The Grange—very bad indeed, and father is nearly distracted, and he +wants to know if you will help him just for a bit."</p> + +<p>"Why, of course," cried Dorothy. "I shall be delighted."</p> + +<p>"I knew you would; I knew you were just that splendid sort of a girl."</p> + +<p>Miss Fraser knit her brows in some perplexity "Don't, Effie," she said. +"I wish you would not go into such ecstasies over me; I am only just a +nurse. A nurse is, and ought to be, at the beck and call of everyone who +is in trouble. Now run away, dear; I won't be any time in getting +dressed. I will join you and your father in a minute."</p> + +<p>"Father will see you in the street," said Effie. "The fact is——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, do run away," exclaimed Dorothy. "I cannot<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">23</a></span> dress while you stand +here talking. Whatever it is, I will be with your father in two or three +minutes."</p> + +<p>Effie ran downstairs again. Mrs. Fraser, who had let her in, had gone +back to bed. Effie shut the Frasers' hall door as quietly as she could. +She then went across the sunlit and empty street to where her father +stood on the steps at his own door. The groom who had driven the doctor +over was standing by the horse's head at a little distance.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Dr. Staunton, "she has fought shy of it, has she?"</p> + +<p>"No; she is dressing," said Effie. "She will be down in a minute or +two."</p> + +<p>"Good girl!" said Dr. Staunton. "You didn't happen to mention the nature +of the case?"</p> + +<p>"No, no," answered Effie; "but the nature of the case won't make any +difference to her."</p> + +<p>The doctor pursed up his mouth as if he meant to whistle; he restrained +himself, however, and stood looking down the street. After a time he +turned and glanced at his daughter.</p> + +<p>"Now, Effie," he said, "you must do all you can for your mother. Don't +let her get anxious. There is nothing to be frightened about as far as I +am concerned. If mortal man can pull the child through, I will do it, +but I must have no home cares as well. You will take up that burden—eh, +little woman?"</p> + +<p>"I will try, father," said Effie.</p> + +<p>Just then Dorothy appeared. She had dressed herself in her nurse's +costume—gray dress, gray cloak, gray bonnet. The dress suited her +earnest and reposeful face. She crossed the road with a firm step, +carrying a little bag in her hand.</p> + +<p>"Well, Dr. Staunton," she said, "I hear you have got a case for me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">24</a></span></p> + +<p>The doctor gazed at her for a moment without speaking.</p> + +<p>"Bless me," he exclaimed; "it is a comfort to see a steady-looking +person like you in the place. And so you are really willing to help me +in this emergency?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course," said Dorothy. "I am a nurse."</p> + +<p>"But you don't know the nature of the case yet!"</p> + +<p>"I don't see that that makes any difference; but will you tell me?"</p> + +<p>"And it is your holiday," pursued the doctor, gazing at her. "You don't +take many holidays in the year I presume?"</p> + +<p>"I have had a week, and I am quite rested," said Dorothy. "I always hold +my life in readiness," she continued, looking up at him with a flash out +of her dark blue eyes. "Anywhere at any time, when I am called, I am +ready. But what is the matter? What do you want me to do?"</p> + +<p>"I want you to help me to pull a child back from the borders of death."</p> + +<p>"A child! I love children," said Dorothy. "What ails the child?"</p> + +<p>"She has acute scarlet fever and diphtheria. No precautions have been +taken with regard to sanitation. She is the child of rich people, but +they have been wantonly neglectful, almost cruel in their negligence and +ignorance. The mother, a young woman, is nearly certain to take the +complaint and, to complicate everything, there is another baby expected +before long. Now you understand. If you get into that house you are +scarcely likely to go out of it again for some time."</p> + +<p>Dorothy stood grave and silent.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Dorothy, is it right for you to go?" exclaimed Effie, who was +watching her friend anxiously.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">25</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," said Dorothy, "it is right. They may possibly be obliged to fill +my place at St. Joseph's. I was only considering that point for a +moment. After all, it is not worth troubling about. I am at your +service, Dr. Staunton. We may require one or two other nurses to help us +if things are as bad as you fear."</p> + +<p>"God bless you!" said the doctor. Something very like moisture came into +his eyes. He began to blow his nose violently. "Now, Effie, you will do +your best at home," he said, turning to his daughter. "This way, please, +Miss Fraser."</p> + +<p>"Good-by, Effie, dear," said Dorothy. She kissed her friend. The doctor +and the nurse walked toward the dog-cart; he helped her to mount, and +then drove rapidly down the street. The vehicle was soon out of sight.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what father will think of Dorothy after this?" thought Effie +to herself. The feeling that her father would really approve of her +friend gave her much consolation. She went back into the house, and as +it was now half-past five, decided that it was not worth while to return +to bed. There was always plenty to be done in this little house with its +overflowing inhabitants, and Effie found heaps to occupy her until it +was time to go into the nursery to help the little nursemaid with her +various duties.</p> + +<p>The children always hailed Effie with a scream of delight; they were not +a bit afraid of her, for she was the most indulgent elder sister in the +world, but all the same she managed to make them obey her.</p> + +<p>Susan was sent downstairs to get her breakfast, while Effie saw the +elder ones safely through the process of dressing. She took the baby on +her knee, and, removing his night-clothes, put him into his bath,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">26</a></span> and +dressed him herself quickly and expeditiously. She then carried him into +her mother's room.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton had spent a troubled night.</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Effie?" she exclaimed, looking at her daughter; "and oh, +there is baby—how sweet he looks! What a splendid nurse you are, my +darling, and what a wonderful comfort to me! Give me my dear little man. +I will take care of him while you see about breakfast."</p> + +<p>"How are you this morning, mother?" asked Effie. "Have you had a good +night?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, pretty well. I had one or two bad dreams. I could not help +thinking of poor Mrs. Watson and that heart-trouble your father spoke +about. I wonder how she is this morning."</p> + +<p>"Now, mother dear," said Effie, "you know father said you were not to +dwell upon that—you must turn your thoughts away from illness of every +sort. I thought we might go for a little drive in the gig this morning."</p> + +<p>"But your father will want the gig."</p> + +<p>"No, that's just it, he won't."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean? Surely he will go out as early as he can to see Mrs. +Watson?"</p> + +<p>"No, mother," said Effie, "he won't—not to-day. I have something to +tell you. Now, please don't be frightened; there is nothing to be +frightened about."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton was half sitting up in bed; she had thrown a little pale +blue shawl round her shoulders, and held the pretty baby in her arms. +She was a remarkably good-looking woman, a really young-looking woman +for her age, but weakness was written all over her—the weakness of a +frail although loving spirit, and the weakness of extreme bodily +illness, for she was ill, far more ill than her children knew. The +greatest anxiety of the honest doctor's life was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">27</a></span> connected with his +wife's physical condition. Effie looked at her mother now, and something +of the fear which dwelt in her father's heart seemed to visit her.</p> + +<p>"I have something to tell you," she said, "but it is nothing that need +make you the least bit afraid. Father has left you in my charge. He says +I am to look after you, and to do all in my power to help you."</p> + +<p>"But what can you mean, Effie? Has your father gone away?"</p> + +<p>"Not really away," replied Effie, "for he is close to us, and can come +back if necessary at any moment; but the fact is this: If all is well, +father is not coming home for two or three days. In one way you will be +pleased to hear this, mother. You know how you have wished him to be +called in at The Grange."</p> + +<p>"At The Grange!" exclaimed Mrs. Staunton, starting up. "You don't mean +to tell me that the Harveys have sent for your father?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother, I do; and is not that good news? The little girl is very +ill, and Squire Harvey came over to fetch father last night—that time +when the bell rang so suddenly."</p> + +<p>"I remember," said Mrs. Staunton. "I made sure that someone came from +the Watsons'."</p> + +<p>"No; it was the Squire who called—Squire Harvey. Father went there and +found the little girl very ill. He came back again this morning, and +took Dorothy Fraser out with him as nurse, and he saw me, and he asked +me to tell you that he would stay at The Grange for a couple of days +until he could pull the child through, and you are on no account to +expect him home, but you are to keep as well and cheerful as possible +for his sake; and Dr. Edwards from Boltonville is to take father's work +for the time. So you see," continued Effie in conclusion, "that the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">28</a></span> +horse and gig will be at liberty, and we can go for a drive. I thought +we might go to Boltonville, and take baby, and buy some fruit for +preserving. There are sure to be heaps of strawberries at the Bolton +Farm if we drive over early."</p> + +<p>All the time Effie was speaking, Mrs. Staunton kept gazing at her. As +the eager words flowed from the young girl's lips, the heart of the +mother seemed to faint within her.</p> + +<p>"You," she said, after a pause; her voice trembled, no words could come +for an instant,—"you," she went on,—"Effie, you have not told me what +ails the child?"</p> + +<p>"She is very ill, mother; that goes without saying."</p> + +<p>"But what ails her? Why should not your father come home?"</p> + +<p>Effie thought for a moment. "I will tell about the scarlet fever, but +not about the diphtheria," she said to herself. "Mother is always so +terrified about diphtheria ever since poor little Johnny died of it, +long, long ago. She won't mind scarlet fever so much."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you speak, Effie?" exclaimed her mother. "You terrify me with +your grave and silent way."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing to be terrified about, mother, but you are weak, and +therefore you get unduly nervous. I was only thinking for a moment +whether you had better know; but of course, if you wish it, you must be +told. The child at The Grange is suffering from scarlet fever."</p> + +<p>"Do you think it will spread?"</p> + +<p>"Father is very anxious. I heard him telling Dorothy that Mrs. Harvey +had been very imprudent. You know how young she is, mother, and how +beautiful; and she has been with this dear little child day and night +from the beginning, not knowing in the least what ailed her, and Mrs. +Harvey is expecting another baby, and of course father is anxious."</p> + +<p>"I should think he is," cried Mrs. Staunton, drawn completely out of +herself by the tragedy conveyed in these words. "Oh, poor young thing, +poor young mother! I wish I were strong and well myself, that I might go +and help her. She will have a bad time. She will have an awful risk when +her baby arrives, Effie. Well, my darling, we can do nothing but pray +for them all. There is One who can guide us even through dark days. Go +down, Effie, and get breakfast, and then come back to me. I am very +tired this morning, and will lie still for a little, now that I have got +such a dear, useful daughter to take my place for me."</p> + +<p>Effie put on a bright smile, and turned toward the door.</p> + +<p>As she was leaving the room, her mother called out after her:</p> + +<p>"There is one good thing, there is no diphtheria in the case; nothing +terrifies me like that."</p> + +<p>Effie shut the door hastily without reply.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_III." id="CHAPTER_III."></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">29</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2> +</div> + +<p>Meanwhile Dr. Staunton and Dorothy drove quickly to The Grange. It was +still very early in the morning, and when they arrived at the great hall +door it was opened by Squire Harvey himself.</p> + +<p>"That's right, Dr. Staunton!" he exclaimed. "I am so glad you have come. +Oh, and I see you have brought a nurse. What a blessing! Now, perhaps,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">30</a></span> +you will induce my wife to take some rest. How lucky that you were able +to find a nurse in a little place like Whittington!"</p> + +<p>"I am very fortunate indeed," replied the doctor in his hearty voice. +"Nurse Fraser has been trained at St. Joseph's, and happens to be +staying at Whittington for a brief holiday. She has most kindly +consented to undertake the case until we can get fresh assistance from +London."</p> + +<p>"I will stay as long as I am wanted," said Dorothy in her quiet voice. +"If I can be shown to a room for a moment to take off my bonnet and +cloak, I will go immediately afterward to the little patient."</p> + +<p>Dorothy's voice was perfectly cool and calm. She did not speak in the +constrained whisper which the poor Squire thought it right to use. There +was an everyday tone in her voice which at this moment was absolutely +refreshing, and the sympathy in her blue eyes just gave the right +quality to the cool tones.</p> + +<p>The doctor looked at her with unconcealed admiration. "That girl is one +in ten thousand," he said to himself. "She will keep us all on our +mettle, I can see, but there is plenty of heart underneath that cool +exterior."</p> + +<p>The great luxurious house looked neglected and wretched. Although the +father and mother were up, and one or two servants were assisting in the +sickroom, the greater number of the servants were still in bed. There +was no one to take Miss Fraser to a room, and the Squire looked round +him in hopeless bewilderment.</p> + +<p>Dorothy saw at a glance that she must take matters into her own hands.</p> + +<p>"I do not want to trouble you," she said. "I can put my cloak and bonnet +in here. I should like to put on my cap and apron before I go +upstairs."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">31</a></span></p> + +<p>She opened a door as she spoke, and went into a room where all the +blinds were down, took off her outdoor things, and, taking a cap out of +her bag, slipped it over her hair, tied on a white apron, and then stood +ready and capable, and fresh and bright, before the Squire and the +doctor.</p> + +<p>"Now, come straight upstairs with me," said the doctor.</p> + +<p>They went up together; Squire Harvey followed them at a distance. When +the doctor reached the first landing, he opened a green baize door, shut +it behind him, and walked down a long, cool corridor which led in the +direction of the nurseries.</p> + +<p>"Now, look here," he said, turning and facing Dorothy, "the great thing +that we have both to do is to keep this terrible disease from spreading. +One or two of the servants have been with the case from the first; the +father and mother have been in and out of the room as freely and +unconstrainedly as if the child had only a cold the matter with her; if +they are likely to take the infection, the mischief is probably done +already; but, on the chance of this not being so, I shall beg of the +Squire to come into this part of the house as seldom as possible. And as +to Mrs. Harvey, she must be got away; that is your task, nurse. You will +allow me to call you nurse, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. Call me Nurse Dorothy; I like that name best. I am called +that by the children at St. Joseph's."</p> + +<p>"Very well. I am sure you will be a blessing here; but a great deal of +tact must be used. The position of affairs is extremely difficult."</p> + +<p>"I will do my best," replied the nurse. The doctor gave her another look +of complete satisfaction, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">32</a></span> they entered the room where the little +patient lay between life and death.</p> + +<p>A small cot had been drawn almost into the center of the room, the +blinds were down, there was a sense of desolation, and a heavy smell in +the air.</p> + +<p>"Who has shut these windows?" said the doctor in a voice of disapproval.</p> + +<p>He went straight across the room, drew up one of the blinds, and opened +the window two or three inches. A fresh current of air immediately +improved the close atmosphere.</p> + +<p>When he spoke, and when he and Nurse Fraser came into the room, a +fair-haired young woman, who was on her knees by the side of the cot, +started up suddenly, and gazed at them out of a pair of wide blue eyes. +Her cheeks were deeply flushed, her lips were parched and dry.</p> + +<p>"Oh, doctor," she said, staggering toward Dr. Staunton, "you have come +back. What a blessing! She is asleep now; perhaps she is better."</p> + +<p>The doctor went over and looked at the child. She was a little creature +of not more than five years of age. In health she may have been pretty, +she probably was; but now, the shadowy little face, the emaciated hands, +the hot, dry, cracked lips, were the reverse of beautiful. They were all +that was pathetic, however; and Dorothy's heart went straight out to the +baby who lay there in such suffering and weakness.</p> + +<p>The doctor looked at her, and gave a significant glance toward Mrs. +Harvey.</p> + +<p>Dorothy took her cue at once.</p> + +<p>"I have come to nurse your dear little girl, madam," she said. "Dr. +Staunton has brought me. I have a great deal of experience, as I am +superintendent of one of the children's wards at St. Joseph's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">33</a></span> Hospital. +I think you may trust your little girl to me; but first of all, let me +take you to your room and put you to bed."</p> + +<p>"Put me to bed!" said Mrs. Harvey, with a laugh which jarred on +everyone's nerves. "I have not been in bed for nights. I could not +sleep. When the doctor tells me that Freda is out of danger, then I may +be able to sleep, but not before—not before."</p> + +<p>"Whether you sleep or not," continued Dorothy, "you must come and lie +down. You are completely worn out, and can do no good whatever to the +child in your present condition. While she sleeps it is surely right +that you should sleep too. Come, I will promise to call you if you are +wanted."</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear madam, let me entreat of you to go to bed," said the doctor.</p> + +<p>The door was opened at this moment, and the Squire came in.</p> + +<p>"Now Elfreda," he said, coming up to his wife, "you will go and take +some rest, won't you?"</p> + +<p>She looked from him to the nurse, and from the nurse to the doctor, and +then her tired, bright eyes fell upon the little parched face lying on +the pillow.</p> + +<p>"I know she is going to die!" she said, with a kind of broken sob. "I +cannot leave her. How can anyone dare to ask me to leave my little child +just now?" Her agitation became more terrible each moment. She was +evidently on the verge of hysterics.</p> + +<p>Dorothy walked straight from the nursery to a sort of dressing-room +which lay beyond. There was a small bed there, which was sometimes +occupied by the under-nurse. A scared-looking, tired young woman was +standing in this room. Dorothy gave her quick directions. "Get clean +sheets, and make this bed up immediately," she said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">34</a></span></p> + +<p>The girl started, but looked relieved at having anything explicit to do. +She ran off to obey, and Dorothy came back to the sickroom.</p> + +<p>"Hush!" she said, going up to Mrs. Harvey, who was standing shaking from +head to foot with dry sobs. "You must not give way like this; it is very +wrong. Remember you have not only yourself to think of." She bent +forward and whispered a word in the young mother's ear. Mrs. Harvey +started, and with a violent effort controlled herself.</p> + +<p>"I see that you must not be separated from your child," continued +Dorothy—"at least, not at present. I am having a bed made up for you in +the dressing-room, where you will be within call."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, that's better," said the poor lady—"that's much better."</p> + +<p>"Come, then, at once," said Dorothy. She held out her hand. Mrs. Harvey +crossed the room. She and Dorothy disappeared into the dressing-room.</p> + +<p>In ten minutes the nurse came back to Dr. Staunton. "I have undressed +her, and she is in bed," she said. "She is very weak, and in a terribly +nervous condition; she ought to sleep for hours. Will you prepare a +composing draught for her it once?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the doctor; "I have brought some medicines with me."</p> + +<p>He went out of the room, and returned in a minute or two with a small +dose in a glass.</p> + +<p>Dorothy took it into the dressing-room. Mrs. Harvey's tired eyes were +shut already.</p> + +<p>"Now, you're to drink this," said Dorothy, raising her head slightly. +"Drink this—don't open your eyes. Trust. Lean on me, if you like. +Believe me, that nothing would induce me not to call you if your child +were in real danger, but you must sleep now—sleep, and try to believe +that all will be well."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">35</a></span></p> + +<p>"You comfort me, nurse," said Mrs. Harvey. "You are strong. I somehow +believe in you."</p> + +<p>"You may do so," said Dorothy. She bent down and kissed the hot lips. +She absolutely forgot that she was only the nurse, and that the tired +woman in the bed was a lady of high position. At such a moment as this +they were only two women, two sisters.</p> + +<p>Dorothy waited for a moment to see the sleeping draught take effect, +then, drawing down the blind, she left the room, closing the door softly +behind her.</p> + +<p>When she returned to the nursery, Dr. Staunton was bending over little +Freda, who had opened her eyes, and was moaning in terrible pain.</p> + +<p>"The fever is better," he said, turning to the nurse; "the feverish +stage is over, and of course, although we may expect and must guard +against complications, there is no reason why the child should not do +well as far as that is concerned, but the state of the throat is the +real anxiety. I do not like to suggest such a terrible operation as +tracheotomy, but if the child does not get relief before long, I fear +there is no help for it, and it must be performed."</p> + +<p>Dorothy bent down and examined the little patient carefully.</p> + +<p>"I have had a good deal of experience in these cases," she said, after a +pause, "and have found "—she mentioned a certain remedy which could be +inhaled—"work wonders, especially in the cases of children."</p> + +<p>"I have not heard of it," said Dr. Staunton, knitting his brows in +anxiety, "but it sounds simple, and I see no harm in trying it."</p> + +<p>"It is very simple," said Dorothy. "I should like to try it."</p> + +<p>The child moaned and tossed on her pillow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">36</a></span></p> + +<p>The doctor went out of the room to prepare the medicine which the nurse +had recommended, and Dorothy called one of the frightened servants to +her side. She told her that she meant to take the child up and walk +about the room with her in her arms.</p> + +<p>"While she is out of bed I will have the windows closed," said the +nurse, "and of course she must be well wrapped up in blankets. She may +drop off to sleep again in my arms; anyhow, the change of position and +the slight movement will be most refreshing to her. Will you make the +bed and put on clean sheets while I am walking about with the child?"</p> + +<p>The girl promised to obey.</p> + +<p>"It is very infectious, ain't it, miss?" she said suddenly.</p> + +<p>"It is in God's hands," replied the nurse.</p> + +<p>There was a sound in her voice, a sort of thrill of strength, which +subjugated the girl at once, and made her forget her fears. She obeyed +the nurse's directions with a will; and when, in an hour's time, Dr. +Staunton returned with the remedy which Nurse Dorothy had suggested, he +scarcely knew the sickroom.</p> + +<p>The little child had been laid back again in bed. Her long hair was +combed away from her pale, worn face, Dorothy had plaited it neatly; the +little face was washed, and looked almost cool compared with its old +flushed and weary condition. The bed was neat, and in perfect order, +with snowy sheets. The tired little head rested on a cool pillow. +Dorothy and the maid had removed the carpets from the floor, and the +room was sprinkled with a disinfectant. Two of the windows were open, +and a faint sweet breath of air from the garden outside blew into the +room.</p> + +<p>"Why, nurse, this is an admirable change," said the doctor.</p> + +<p>"It is necessary," replied Nurse Dorothy. "There is no chance of +recovery without fresh air and a cool, quiet, calm atmosphere. I think +Rhoda"—she looked at the servant as she spoke—"will help me with this +case, and I should like as few other people as possible in the room. I +have promised Mrs. Harvey to call her if there is any change for the +worse in the child, but my impression is she will soon be better."</p> + +<p>"God grant it!" said the doctor.</p> + +<p>"What a blessing a good, properly-trained nurse is!" he thought, as he +went off to the room which had been prepared for him, and where he was +glad to take an hour or two of much-needed rest.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_IV." id="CHAPTER_IV."></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">37</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2> +</div> + +<p>All through the long hours of that day Dorothy watched by the sick +child. The child was on the Borderland. Her life hung in the balance—a +feather's weight on either side and she would go to the country from +which there is no return, or she would become well again. Dorothy's +efforts were directed to turning the balance in the scale toward life.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding all her care, however, and all the alleviations which +she used, the sick child suffered and moaned terribly. The awful state +of the throat, the terrible prostration caused by this form of blood +poisoning, were no light foes to have to beat and conquer. But unceasing +care presently produced a happy result, and toward evening the high +temperature went down a couple of degrees, and the child's breathing +became less difficult.</p> + +<p>"I believe she will recover," said Dorothy, looking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">38</a></span> at Dr. Staunton, +who had just come into the room. "I hope you agree with me, doctor, in +thinking that she is rather better?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied the doctor, "she is better; she is less feverish, and her +breathing is easier. You have done wonders already."</p> + +<p>"What happy news for her poor mother! I am so glad that I can tell her +that the child is really better," said Dorothy. "I want to induce her to +give the little creature altogether into my care for the present, and +not to come near her again unless a change for the worse should set in. +I hear Mrs. Harvey stirring now in the next room, so she may be in at +any moment. May I speak to her, doctor? Do you give me leave to tell her +that her child is on the mend, and that you would rather she kept out of +the room?"</p> + +<p>"I would do anything in the world to keep her out of the room," said the +doctor. "Yes, I give you full leave to say what you please. You would +have more influence with her than I should have. I am almost as great a +stranger to her as you are. Use your strongest influence, nurse—do what +you can. I believe in you. I am sure she will do the same."</p> + +<p>"I'll go into the day nursery and wash my hands before I see Mrs. +Harvey," said Dorothy.</p> + +<p>She was scarcely a moment away. In a couple of minutes she was standing +by Mrs. Harvey's bed.</p> + +<p>Exhausted by her days and nights of watching, the tired-out mother had +slept all through the long hours of the day. She opened her eyes now +with a start. Healing sleep had done wonders for her—the dewy look of +youth had come back to her face; her beautiful blue eyes were fixed for +a moment on Dorothy with a puzzled expression of non-recognition.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">39</a></span></p> + +<p>"Where am I? What has happened?" she asked in a startled voice.</p> + +<p>"You have just had a lovely sleep," said Dorothy. "You'll be all the +better for it."</p> + +<p>"And who are you? I cannot quite collect my thoughts—I know something +has happened. Who are you? I cannot remember you."</p> + +<p>"I am the nurse who is taking care of your dear little girl. She is +better."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, now I remember," said Mrs. Harvey. She sat up in bed and +clasped her hands tightly.</p> + +<p>"It was wrong of me to sleep so long," she said, "but I won't be a moment +getting dressed; I must go back to the child at once."</p> + +<p>"Will you come to your room?" said Dorothy. "You can change your dress +there. I know Mr. Harvey is most anxious that you should dine with him +this evening."</p> + +<p>"Dine with my husband!—have dinner? But Freda is ill; she is at death's +door."</p> + +<p>"She is ill undoubtedly, but she is better; she is on the mend. I am +taking good care of her. Don't you trust me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I trust you; but I must go back to her. Don't talk to me of +dinner; I could not eat. Is it really evening? Oh, now I remember +everything—at last I remember! We have been in agony. We have lived +through such a week. We have been down in the depths, truly. Yes, yes, I +recollect it all—my little child, my only little child, my darling, my +treasure! Oh, nurse, you should not have allowed me to sleep on all day, +you should have called me; she may have been wanting me. But you say she +is better—better; but perhaps Dr. Staunton—oh, I am frightened! Are +you keeping anything from me? Oh, my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">40</a></span> head, my poor head! I shall go +mad; I shall lose my senses."</p> + +<p>"No, dear Mrs. Harvey," said Dorothy; "I have good news for you, not +bad. Freda is really better—she is less feverish, and her throat does +not hurt her so badly. I don't pretend that she is yet out of danger, +but if she continues to improve as she has done during the last seven or +eight hours, she will be out of danger before long. Now I want you to +take care of yourself and to trust your child to me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I cannot give the child up to anyone. You must not keep me from her +another moment. I am not a bit hungry, but I'll have something to eat in +her room if you'll bring it to me. How awfully my darling must have +missed me!—she is such a child for her mother. Let me go to her at +once—my dear little treasure!"</p> + +<p>"Dr. Staunton is very anxious that you should not go to her to-night."</p> + +<p>"How can he dare to keep a mother from her child? Here, give me my +dress, will you? I tell you that nothing will keep me from the room. I +am sure you are deceiving me."</p> + +<p>"Do you really think I would deceive you?" said Dorothy. "Before you +went to sleep you promised to trust me. Look at me now—look into my +eyes. I have nursed a great many sick children—I have seen many mothers +in agony—I have never deceived one. When the truth was good I have told +it; when it was bad I have also told it. I am not deceiving you, Mrs. +Harvey."</p> + +<p>Poor Mrs. Harvey's dazed and frightened eyes gazed into Dorothy's strong +face. Its repose, its calm, impressed her. She was in an overstrung and +highly hysterical state. She burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"I do trust you, nurse," she said, with a great sob.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">41</a></span> "I trust you, and +I bless you. I know my dear little one is better. Oh, thank God; thank +the great and good God! But, dear nurse, I must go to her. You are +tired, and I am quite rested and refreshed. I'll spend the night with +the child, and you can go to bed."</p> + +<p>"No, dear madam; I cannot resign the care of the child to anyone. I am +using a certain remedy in the form of a spray which no one in this house +understands but me. If that remedy—which has made the child better—is +not continued unceasingly during the whole of this night, her throat +will get as bad as ever, and there will be no hope of her recovery. I +want you, Mrs. Harvey, to sleep to-night, and leave the child in my +care, I wish this, and the doctor wishes it, and I am sure, if you asked +your husband, he would tell you that he wished the same. You are not +required to do anything for little Freda, and it is your duty to take +care of yourself. If she gets worse, I promise to come for you—I +promise this, Mrs. Harvey. Now, will you go to your room and dress, and +then go downstairs and have some dinner? In the morning I expect to have +splendid news for you."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Harvey clasped her hands in perplexity and uncertainty.</p> + +<p>"It is dreadful to keep a mother from her child," she said; "and +yet—and yet——"</p> + +<p>"And yet in this case it is right," said Dorothy. "You must remember +that you have not only Freda to think of. There is your husband, +and——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I know; there is my poor little unhappy baby, but I cannot +love it as I love Freda."</p> + +<p>"Still you owe it a duty. It is not right of you to do anything to risk +its life or your own. When it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">42</a></span> comes to you, you will see how dearly you +love it. Now, please, let me take you to your room."</p> + +<p>"But may I not take one peep at my little treasure?"</p> + +<p>"She is asleep just now, and you may wake her. Please let me take you to +your room."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Harvey staggered to her feet.</p> + +<p>"I trust you, nurse," she said, with a wistful sort of look. "You will +remember your promise?"</p> + +<p>"I will; nothing in the world will make me go back from my word. Now, +come with me."</p> + +<p>Dorothy led Mrs. Harvey away. They walked down the corridor together. +The nurse opened a baize door, which shut away the nurseries from the +rest of the house, and a moment later found herself standing in Mrs. +Harvey's luxurious bedroom. Her maid was there, and Dorothy asked her to +help her mistress to dress.</p> + +<p>"What dress will you wear, madam?" asked the girl.</p> + +<p>"Anything—it doesn't matter what," replied Mrs. Harvey.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it matters a great deal," said Dorothy. "You ought to wear a +pretty dress; I think it is your duty to do so. You have got to think of +the Squire. Nothing will please him and reassure him more than to see +you coming down to dinner looking bright and pretty in one of your nice +dresses."</p> + +<p>"Really, nurse, you amaze me"—began Mrs. Harvey, but then the shadow of +a smile crept into her eyes. "I don't think you would talk like that if +you did not really think Freda would get well," she exclaimed suddenly.</p> + +<p>"My impression is that she will get well," replied Dorothy, "Now, please +put on one of your pretty dresses."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">43</a></span></p> + +<p>"That pink dress with the lace ruffles, Martin," said Mrs. Harvey, +turning to the maid. She got up as she spoke, walked across the room, +and put her arms round Dorothy's white neck.</p> + +<p>"You are a very brave woman," she said. "You are someone to lean on. It +rests me to lean on you—I love you already."</p> + +<p>"And I love you," said Dorothy in her simple, direct fashion. "God has +given you to me to take care of just now, and I fully believe that your +sweet little girl will be spared to you. Now, I see you are going to be +very brave and good yourself, and I'll go back to the child. I ought not +to be too long away from her."</p> + +<p>All through the night that followed, the nurse persevered in the +remedies which were slowly but surely undermining the awful blood +poisoning. Slowly but surely, as the hours advanced, the fell disease +lost its power, the choking sensation grew less and less in the throat, +the horrible fungus-like membrane became absorbed, and the child, +exhausted, worn to a little shadow, dropped toward morning into a +peaceful and natural sleep.</p> + +<p>"From my heart, I believe I have conquered," thought Dorothy. She sank +on her knees by the bedside. She felt worn-out herself. Never before had +she nursed a case like this. Never before had she gone through such a +hand-to-hand fight with death. The child was far gone when she arrived. +The diphtheria was particularly acute, and the poor little frame was +already terribly weakened by the sharp attack of scarlet fever.</p> + +<p>"Another twelve hours, and nothing would have saved her," murmured +Dorothy. "Oh, I thank Thee, my God!—I thank Thee for this mercy! Oh,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">44</a></span> +what a joy it is to feel that I can give this child back to her mother!"</p> + +<p>Dorothy remained by the bedside. Her head was bowed on her hands. +Someone touched her on her shoulder—she looked up, and met the keen +eyes of Dr. Staunton. He was looking dreadfully pale and tired himself.</p> + +<p>"See," said Dorothy, rising and pointing to the child, "she is not +feverish now, she sleeps sweetly."</p> + +<p>"She will recover," said the doctor. "Thank the Almighty!"</p> + +<p>"I believe she will certainly recover," replied Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"It is your doing, nurse."</p> + +<p>"With God's blessing," she answered, bowing her head.</p> + +<p>The doctor asked her one or two more questions.</p> + +<p>"Now, the thing is, to keep up her strength," said Dorothy in +conclusion. "She must have every imaginable form of nourishment. But +that can be done, for I mean to undertake the management of her food +myself. Please, Dr. Staunton, will you tell Mrs. Harvey the good news +that her child is out of danger?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the doctor; "but ought not that to be your own reward?"</p> + +<p>"No, no; I don't want to go near her. I wish you to do all in your power +to keep her from the room. I believe that when she knows that her child +is really on the mend she will be guided by your wishes and those of her +husband. I have a kind of feeling,—I may be wrong, of course,—but I +have a kind of feeling that God will stay His hand in this matter, and +that the plague will not spread. Now, the thing is to think of the +mother. I suppose you will attend to her when her baby is born?"</p> + +<p>"She has asked me to do so."</p> + +<p>"Then, don't you think," said Dorothy, after a pause for +reflection,—"don't you think you might leave little Freda to me? I am +willing to be shut up in this part of the house with the child and one +of the maids, a girl called Rhoda, who has been most helpful to me +during the last twenty-four hours. If you are wanted, doctor, you are on +the spot; but, unless there is occasion, don't you think it would be +best for you not to come into this room?"</p> + +<p>"It would be certainly the safest course as regards the mother," pursued +the doctor in a thoughtful tone. "You are a wonderful woman, nurse. I'll +go and consult the Squire."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_V." id="CHAPTER_V."></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">45</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2> +</div> + +<p>One day, a week after the events related in the last chapter, Dr. +Staunton suddenly walked into the little parlor where Effie and her +mother were sitting together.</p> + +<p>Effie sprang up at sight of him. Some needlework over which she had been +busy fell to the floor. A rush of color came into her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Oh, father, father!" she exclaimed, "how delightful it is to see you +again! Oh, how glad we are! Is little Freda really better? How is Mrs. +Harvey? And—have you come back to stay, father?"</p> + +<p>"I can't answer such a lot of questions all together, child," said the +doctor, with a smile. "Yes, I have come home to stay. The fact is, I am +tired<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">46</a></span> out, and simply with doing nothing. Ever since that blessed angel +of a woman, Dorothy Fraser, came to The Grange, there has been little or +nothing for me to do. Yes, that's a fact; I am worn-out with doing +nothing. I should like a cup of tea beyond anything. Make it strong for +me, my dear—strong and fragrant."</p> + +<p>"The kettle is boiling," said Effie. "I won't be a minute. Oh, it is +delightful to have you back!" She ran out of the room, shutting the door +softly behind her.</p> + +<p>Dr. Staunton went over and sat on the sofa by his wife.</p> + +<p>"At last, my darling," he said, putting his arms round her, "I am safe +back again. You see that for yourself, thank God."</p> + +<p>"Thank God, John," replied Mrs. Staunton. "I have missed you," she +repeated.</p> + +<p>She held out both her thin hands. The doctor put his own strong, sinewy +hands round them. He clasped them tightly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how hot you are!" she said, starting back and looking anxiously at +him. "Your fingers almost burn me."</p> + +<p>"I am simply tired, that's all," he replied,—"tired out with doing +nothing. I don't believe The Grange is a wholesome place; it is big and +grand and richly furnished, but the air does not suit me. I suspect +there is something wrong with the drains. The drains are probably at the +root of all this mischief to poor little Freda, but let us forget all +that now. Let me look at you, wife. How are you? Why, you look bonnie, +bonnie!"</p> + +<p>He stretched out his hand and passed it gently over his wife's faded +cheek. "I have been thinking of you morning, noon, and night," he said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">47</a></span> +"You have never been out of my thoughts for a moment, you and the +children—that dear little Effie in particular, but the other children +too. I had time to pause and consider during those days of waiting at +The Grange, and I could not help remembering that, if anything happened +to me, there were five children unprovided for—five children, and you, +Mary, with the strength of a mouse in you."</p> + +<p>"That's all you know," replied Mrs. Staunton, with a little show of +spirit. "I am better; I have made wonderful progress during the last few +days. You can't think what a good nurse Effie has been—the most +considerate, the most thoughtful, the most kind and clever darling you +can possibly imagine. She manages the whole house; our servants would do +anything for her, and the children love her so much that it is a +pleasure to them to obey her. She has that wonderful and invaluable +knack in a woman, she never teases or worries; she just contrives to +turn people round her little finger, without their knowing anything +about it themselves. But now don't let us talk any more about Effie and +me. I want to hear your news. How is Mrs. Harvey? How has she borne the +death of her poor little baby?"</p> + +<p>"It lived just two hours after its birth," said the doctor, with a sad +look on his face. "The shock the poor mother underwent evidently had +some effect upon it. Well, she is getting on splendidly—she seemed to +know from the first that her poor little baby would not live, but as +Freda is doing so well, not a murmuring word has passed her lips. She is +a sweet young woman, and I am thankful to say I don't believe she took a +scrap of infection from poor little Freda."</p> + +<p>"And the little one; is she continuing to get better?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">48</a></span></p> + +<p>"She is doing magnificently—thanks to that fine creature, Dorothy +Fraser. I never came across such a woman. If you only saw, Mary, the +state of hopeless confusion, of pandemonium—for it really amounted to +that—of that wretched house the morning Miss Fraser arrived; if you +could only have seen the condition of the sickroom, and then have gone +into it two hours later, why, it was like stepping from the infernal +regions into paradise. The order of the sickroom seemed to affect the +whole house. The servants ceased to be in a state of panic, the meals +were properly cooked, the Squire came back to his normal condition, and +Mrs. Harvey became quite cheerful. In short, except for the loss of her +poor little one, she seems to have had no ill effects from the terrible +strain she has undergone. Little Freda is making rapid marches toward +recovery, and I do not at present see the slightest trace of the disease +spreading through the house."</p> + +<p>"Have you seen Freda often?" asked Mrs. Staunton.</p> + +<p>"No; that good soul simply forbade it—I was like wax in her hands. Of +course her reason was a very legitimate one, or I should not have +submitted to it, for it would not have been safe for me to have attended +to Mrs. Harvey coming straight from the child's room. All is now going +on well at The Grange, and I can come home and rest."</p> + +<p>"I wish you did not look so dreadfully worn out," said Mrs. Staunton.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the home air will soon pull me together. Heigh-ho! here you come, +my good angel, and the tea is more than welcome."</p> + +<p>The doctor sank back in his deep armchair.</p> + +<p>Effie placed the fragrant tea on the table, and, pouring out a cup, +brought it to her father. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">49</a></span> had made crisp toast as well, but he did +not care to eat.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, child," he said; "I am not hungry. The meals up at that +place are preposterous—nothing short of preposterous. There is no doubt +whatever that far more people die from eating too much than from eating +too little. I wonder the Squire has a scrap of digestion left—heavy +meat breakfasts, heavy meat luncheons, and then a groaning dinner at the +end of the day. Such meals, and practically nothing to do for them!—for +what has a man of that sort to occupy his time beyond what one would +call fiddle-faddle? Well, this tea is refreshing; I will go for a walk +afterward. And now tell me, Effie, have you heard anything about my +patients?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Edwards called this morning, and said they were all doing well," +said Effie. "The little Beels have got whooping-cough, but I do not +think anyone else is ill. Of course poor Mrs. Watson is much as usual, +but hers is a chronic case."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, poor soul,"—the doctor gave an apprehensive glance toward his +wife. "I cannot call to see Mrs. Watson for a day or two," he said; "not +that there is the least scrap of infection, for I changed everything +before I came home, but in her state it would not do to make her feel +nervous. Well, wife and daughter, it is good to see you both again; and +now I am going out for a stroll."</p> + +<p>The doctor left the room. Effie stood by the table. She was putting back +his empty cup on the tray, and preparing to take the things into the +kitchen, when her mother spoke.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with your father?" she said in a husky voice.</p> + +<p>Effie slightly turned her back. "He is just tired," she answered; +"that's all."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">50</a></span></p> + +<p>"Put down that tray, Effie, and come here," said her mother.</p> + +<p>Effie obeyed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother," she said. "Now, mother darling, you are not going to get +nervous?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, I am not nervous," said Mrs. Staunton,—her lips trembled +slightly,—"I am not nervous. Nothing shall make me show nervousness or +weakness of any sort in a time of real extremity. But, Effie, child, I +know something."</p> + +<p>"What in the world do you know, mother?" Effie tried to smile.</p> + +<p>"Your father is ill. The unimportant people have escaped, but he has +taken this complaint. He is ill, Effie—I know it."</p> + +<p>"Now, mother, is that likely?" said Effie. "Father comes home tired, he +has gone through a great deal of anxiety—has he not all his life been +exposed to infection of all kinds? Why should he be ill now? Besides, if +he were ill, he would say so. Mother, darling, I cannot listen to this +kind of talk."</p> + +<p>"All right, my dear, I will say no more. It sometimes happens so, Effie. +Lives we think of no account are spared—spared on indefinitely. The one +life on which so many others hang is taken."</p> + +<p>"Mother, I do not understand you."</p> + +<p>"I understand myself," said Mrs. Staunton. "I know what I fear. Nay, I +do not fear it—I rise up with strength to meet it. You will see, Effie, +dear, that your mother is no coward in any real danger."</p> + +<p>"You are a dear," said Effie. "You are the best and most unselfish +mother in the world. I feel ashamed of myself when I see how bravely you +struggle against the weakness and the anxiety which must be yours, more +or less, always. But now, mother,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">51</a></span> dear, you will not look trouble in +the face before it comes—you will not meet it halfway. If you are +really better, come out into the garden, and we will take a turn before +dinner."</p> + +<p>"Very well, my dear."</p> + +<p>"I want to show you the sweet-peas that have come up in the south +border," continued Effie. "Come, let us talk of pleasant things, and be +cheerful when father comes home."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I will be perfectly cheerful," said Mrs. Staunton.</p> + +<p>She went into the good-sized garden at the back of the little cottage, +and began with nervous, energetic fingers to pick some flowers, and to +arrange them in a big nosegay.</p> + +<p>"We will put these in the center of the supper-table," she said. "I +should like to have everything as bright and cheerful as possible for +your father to-night."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's capital," said Effie.</p> + +<p>"We ought to have something particularly good for him to eat, Effie."</p> + +<p>"But, mother, he said he wasn't hungry. You remember how he complained +of having so many meals at The Grange."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, he always was a most abstemious man; but I know what he never +can resist, and that is cold raspberry tart and cream. There are plenty +of raspberries ripe in the plantation—I will gather some, and I'll make +the pastry for the tart myself."</p> + +<p>"Very well, mother; but is it well for you to fag yourself picking those +raspberries, and then making the tart?"</p> + +<p>"I want to make it—I should love to make it. I used to be famed for my +pastry. My mother used to say, 'You have a light hand for pastry, +Mary.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">52</a></span> I remember so well when I made my first tart. I was just +fifteen—it was my fifteenth birthday. Mother showed me how to do it; +and I remember how the water ran all over the pastry-board. Afterward I +was the best hand at pastry in the house. Yes, I'll make the tart +myself. Here is sixpence, Effie; run to the dairy and get some cream. +And listen, love, as you go through the house you might tell Jane to get +the pastry-board ready."</p> + +<p>"All right, mother, I'll tell her to put it in the larder. You must not +go into the hot kitchen to make that tart."</p> + +<p>"Very well, child, I'll remember. Now run and get the cream."</p> + +<p>Effie left her mother standing by the raspberry plantation. She was +pulling the ripe raspberries and dropping them into a large cabbage leaf +which she held. Her slender but weak figure was drawn up to its full +height. There was a look of nervous energy about her which Effie had not +observed for many a long day. The curious phase into which her mother +had entered had an alarming effect upon the young girl. It frightened +her far more than her father's look of lassitude and the burning touch +of his hands. She tried to turn her thoughts from it. After all, why +should she become nervous herself, and meet trouble halfway?</p> + +<p>She went across the village street, and entering the pretty dairy, asked +for the cream.</p> + +<p>"Is it true, Miss Staunton, that the doctor has come back again?" asked +the woman of the shop, as she handed her the jug of cream across the +counter.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mrs. Pattens, it is quite true," replied Effie. "There's good news +now at The Grange.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">53</a></span> Mrs. Harvey is doing splendidly, and little Freda is +nearly well again."</p> + +<p>"Well, it is a good thing the doctor can be spared," said the woman; "we +want him bad enough here, and it seemed cruel-like that he should have +been sort of buried alive at The Grange."</p> + +<p>"He is only able to be spared now," said Effie, "because he has secured +the services of a very wonderful nurse."</p> + +<p>"Oh, one of the Fraser girls," said the woman, in a tone of +contempt—"those newcomers, who have not been settled in the place above +a year. For my part, I don't hold with lady-nurses. I am told they are +all stuck-up and full of airs, and that they need a sight more waiting +on than the patients themselves. When you get a lady-nurse into the +house you have to think more of the nurse than of the patient, that's +what I am told."</p> + +<p>"It is not true," replied Effie, her eyes flashing angrily—"at least," +she continued, "it is not true in the case of Nurse Fraser. You must get +my father to talk to you about her some day. I am afraid I haven't time +to spare now. Good-evening, Mrs. Pattens."</p> + +<p>Effie went home with her jug of cream. Mrs. Staunton was still in the +larder making the raspberry tart. Effie went and watched her, as her +long thin fingers dabbled in the flour, manipulated the roller, spread +out the butter, and presently produced a light puff paste, which, as +Effie expressed it, looked almost as if you could blow it away.</p> + +<p>"That's the best raspberry tart I have ever made," said Mrs. Staunton. +"Now we will put it in the oven."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_VI." id="CHAPTER_VI."></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">54</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2> +</div> + +<p>The raspberry tart was put in the oven, and Mrs. Staunton went upstairs +to her own room.</p> + +<p>She was a woman, who, as a rule, utterly disregarded dress. She gave but +little thought to her personal appearance. Like many other women of the +middle class, she had sunk since her marriage from the trim, pretty girl +to the somewhat slatternly matron.</p> + +<p>Nothing could destroy the sweet comeliness of her face, however, but in +the struggle for life she and Fashion had fallen out—Fashion went in +one direction, and Mrs. Staunton strayed gently in another. She did not +mind whether her dress was cut according to the mode or not—she +scarcely looked at her faded but still pretty face. Now and then this +trait in her mother's character vexed Effie. Effie adored her mother, +she thought her the most beautiful of women, and anything that took from +her sweet charms annoyed her.</p> + +<p>This evening, however, Mrs. Staunton made a careful and deliberate +toilet.</p> + +<p>She removed her dowdy black dress, and, opening a drawer in her +wardrobe, took out a soft gray silk which lay folded between tissue +paper and sprigs of lavender. She put the dress on, and fastened soft +lace ruffles round her throat and at her wrists. The dress transformed +her. It toned with all her faded charms. She put a real lace cap over +her still thick and pretty hair, and, going down to the little parlor, +sat upright on one of the chairs near the window which looked into the +garden.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">55</a></span></p> + +<p>Effie came in presently, and started when she saw her mother.</p> + +<p>"Why, mother," she said, "how sweet, how sweet you look!" She went over +and kissed her. Mrs. Staunton returned her embrace very quietly.</p> + +<p>"It is for your father," she said. "He would like me to look nice—I am +sure he'd like us all to look nice to-night. Go upstairs, Effie, dear, +and put on your pretty blue muslin. And you, Agnes, I wish you to wear +your Sunday frock."</p> + +<p>Agnes, who had bounded into the room at this moment, stopped short in +astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Are we all going to a party?" she asked, excitement in her tone.</p> + +<p>"No, no; but your father has come home."</p> + +<p>"Only father! what does that matter?" Agnes lolled on to the sofa and +crossed her legs. "I want to read over my lecture for the High School. I +can't be bothered to change my dress!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Aggie, go at once when mother wishes you," said Effie. "Go and put +on your Sunday frock, and tell Katie to do the same, and ask Susan to +put the younger children into their white dresses. Go at once; mother +wishes it."</p> + +<p>Agnes flung herself out of the room, muttering.</p> + +<p>Effie looked again at her mother.</p> + +<p>She did not notice her, she was smiling softly to herself, and looking +out at the garden. Effie felt her heart sink lower and lower.</p> + +<p>She went gravely upstairs, put on her blue dress, brushed out her bright +dark hair, and, looking her sweetest and freshest, came downstairs +again. Mrs. Staunton was still sitting by the window. Her cheeks were +flushed, her eyes were unusually bright. She looked twenty years younger +than she had done<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">56</a></span> two hours ago—she looked beautiful. The soul seemed +to shine out of her face. When Effie came in, she stood up restlessly +and looked at the supper table.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "it is just as he likes it—the fragrant coffee, the +raspberry tart and the jug of cream, the new-laid eggs, the brown loaf +and the fresh butter. A simple sort of meal—yes, quite simple and very +wholesome. Very homelike, that's the word. Effie, there never was such a +homelike sort of man as your father. Give him home and you fill his +heart. This supper table is just what he will like best. He does not +care for new-fangled things. He is old-fashioned—he is the best of men, +Effie, the best of men."</p> + +<p>"He will be glad to see you in your nice dress, mother—he is so proud +of you—he thinks you are so lovely."</p> + +<p>"So I am in his eyes," said Mrs. Staunton in a wistful voice. "I am +old-fashioned like himself, and this dress is old-fashioned too. It was +a pretty dress when it was made up. Let me see, that was twelve years +ago—we went to Margate for a week, and he bought me the dress. He took +great pains in choosing the exact shade of gray; he wanted it to be +silver gray—he said his mother used to wear silver gray when she sat in +the porch on summer evenings. Yes, this dress is like a piece of old +lavender—it reminds me of the past, of the sunny, happy past. I have +had such a happy life, Effie—never a cross word said, never a dour look +given me. Love has surrounded me from the moment of my marriage until +now. I feel young to-night, and I am going to be happy, very happy. The +children must look their best too. Run up, darling, to the nursery and +see that Susan is doing them justice—they are pretty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">57</a></span> children every +one of them, worthy of your father. Now, let me see, would not a few +roses improve this table? That great jug of sweet peas in the middle is +just what he likes, but we might have roses and mignonette as well. I'll +go and gather a bunch of those Banksia roses which grow in front of the +house."</p> + +<p>"You'll tire yourself, mother. Let me go."</p> + +<p>"No; I never felt stronger than I do to-night. I'd like to pick them +myself."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton went out of doors. She cut great sprays from the Banksia +rose and brought them back with her. She placed them in a brown jug, and +stood the jug on the table. Then she opened both windows wide, and left +the door ajar. There was the sweetest smell wafted through the room—the +sweet peas, roses, mignonette, seemed to be floating in the air.</p> + +<p>The children all came down dressed in their Sunday frocks. They looked +puzzled, uncomfortable, awed. One and all asked the same question:</p> + +<p>"Is it a party, mother? Are any visitors coming to tea?"</p> + +<p>"No. No!" replied the mother to each in his or her turn. "It is only +your father who has come home, and it is right that we should give him a +welcome."</p> + +<p>When she had answered the last of the children, Dr. Staunton entered the +room.</p> + +<p>He started at the pretty sight which met his eyes. The room and the +temptingly laid out supper table—the children in their best +dresses—the old wife in her gray silk—looked to him the most beautiful +sight his eyes had ever rested on.</p> + +<p>What was all this festival about?—he drew himself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">58</a></span> up hastily—a sort +of shudder went through him. In spite of his efforts his voice was +terribly husky.</p> + +<p>"Are we going to have company?" he asked, with a twinkle in his eyes. +All the other eyes looked back at him—he knew perfectly well even +before the children burst out with the news, that he himself was the +company.</p> + +<p>"You have come back, father, and mother says we are to look our very +best," exclaimed little Phil.</p> + +<p>"All right, Phil, I am more than agreeable," replied the doctor. "Now +you must excuse me, good folk. I am bound in duty to do honor to all +this company splendor, by washing my hands and putting on my +Sunday-go-to-meeting coat."</p> + +<p>"Effie, you may fetch the coffee," said her mother.</p> + +<p>The supper that followed was a merry meal—Dr. Staunton told his best +stories—they were capped by his wife's. Effie laughed as if she had +never heard them before, and the children made themselves riotously +agreeable.</p> + +<p>When the meal was at an end, Dr. Staunton and his wife went out into the +garden at the back of the house. He drew his arm round her waist, and +they walked up and down together on the little rose path at the top of +the garden.</p> + +<p>Effie watched them from the parlor window. There was a queer lump in her +throat. She could not get over the strange sensation of nervousness and +coming disaster. The foreboding which filled her could not be fought +down. She had laughed almost against her will at supper-time, but now +she ceased to smile—she no longer made the faintest attempt to be +cheerful. She hated the pretty room, and the sweet-peas, and the roses +and mignonette.</p> + +<p>The children were idly lolling about. She turned, and spoke almost +crossly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">59</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't you know, Aggie, that it is long past the younger children's hour +for staying up? Can't you make yourself useful for once, and go up and +put them to bed?"</p> + +<p>"Can't you come, Effie—we'd much rather have you," said little Phil and +Walter, the brother next in age. "Agnes is so cross, she pulls our hair +so when she combs it out."</p> + +<p>"I don't, you bad boys!" exclaimed Agnes, coloring high. "Won't I give +it to you next time we are alone for saying that!"</p> + +<p>"She does, Effie; she does indeed," said little Phil, running up to his +elder sister, and clasping his arms round her light blue dress.</p> + +<p>"Don't, Phil; you will spoil my pretty frock!" she cried.</p> + +<p>"Why, you are cross too," he answered, looking up at her. He was so +startled and amazed at this new tone in Effie's voice, that words failed +him altogether for a minute. It seemed to him as if a castle of cards +had tumbled all over his head, and as if he stood in the middle of the +ruins. If Effie were going to turn nasty, according to Phil's idea, +there was nothing further to be looked for in life. Walter, however, who +was older, had more discernment than his little brother.</p> + +<p>"Effie has a headache," he said; "can't you see that she has a headache? +We'll be very good indeed, Effie, if Agnes will put us to bed."</p> + +<p>"Come along, then," said Agnes, scuttling them out of the room in front +of her. "You must be quick about it, for I have not half prepared my +to-morrow's lessons. Now then, out you go."</p> + +<p>The children disappeared.</p> + +<p>The room was once more empty, except for the silent figure who stood in +the window. She could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">60</a></span> catch a glimpse of her father and mother walking +up and down in the garden. Presently the two approached the house. Mrs. +Staunton went straight upstairs to her room, and the doctor returned to +the parlor.</p> + +<p>"Your mother is very tired to-night, Effie," he said in a grave voice.</p> + +<p>He sat down in the armchair just where he could smell the sweet-peas and +the Banksia roses.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he continued, "I am anxious about her." There was not a trace now +of any of the jollity which had marked him at supper. His face was gray +and worn—his voice decidedly husky. That huskiness in her father's +voice went like a stab to Effie's heart. She shut the door and went and +stood by his side.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think you had better go upstairs and help your mother to get +to bed?"</p> + +<p>"No; she likes best to be alone," replied Effie. "I want to sit by you. +What is the matter with your throat?"</p> + +<p>"My throat!—why?"</p> + +<p>"You are so husky."</p> + +<p>"I am dead beat, that's the truth of it. I am as weak as a cat, and for +no earthly reason. Don't bother about my throat, it will be all right +after I have had a good night's rest. I tell you, Effie, I never saw a +child so ill as that little Freda Harvey. That woman who nursed her is +an angel—an angel."</p> + +<p>"I didn't say too much about her, father, did I?" said Effie, with a +little note of triumph coming into her voice even in the midst of her +anxiety.</p> + +<p>"That you didn't, my darling—she is one of God's angels and I say 'God +bless her!' Now I want to talk about your mother."</p> + +<p>"Yes, father," said Effie, laying her hand on his. She started back the +moment she did so. The evening<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">61</a></span> was a very hot one, and touching the +doctor's hand was like clasping fire.</p> + +<p>"How you burn!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"That's weakness," he said. "I shall take some bromide to-night; I am +completely worn-out, shaken, and all that sort of thing. Now, Effie, +don't interrupt me. I wish to talk to you of your mother. Are you +prepared to listen?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, father."</p> + +<p>"She has been talking of you—she says you have got an idea into your +head that you ought to make more of your life than you can make of it +staying at home, and being the blessing of the house, and the joy of my +life and of hers."</p> + +<p>"Oh, father, father, I did wish it," said Effie, tears springing into +her eyes. "I did long for it, but I'll give it up, I'll give it all up +if it makes you and mother unhappy."</p> + +<p>"But it doesn't, my dear. The old birds cannot expect to keep the young +ones in the nest for ever and ever. Your mother spoke very sensibly +to-night. I never saw any woman so altered for the time being. She would +not let me imagine there was a thing the matter with her, and she spoke +all the time about you, as though she wanted to plead with me, your +father, to give you a happy life. Do you think I would deny it to you, +my dear little girl?"</p> + +<p>"No, father; you have never denied me anything."</p> + +<p>"I have never denied what was for your good, sweetheart."</p> + +<p>Dr. Staunton clasped Effie to his breast. She flung her arms round him +with a sudden tight pressure.</p> + +<p>"Easy, easy!" he exclaimed; "you are half-choking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">62</a></span> me. My breathing +certainly feels oppressed—I must have taken a chill. I'll get off to +bed as fast as I can. No, child, you need not be alarmed. I have often +noticed this queer development of hoarseness in people who have long +breathed the poisonous air which surrounds diphtheria and scarlet fever, +but in my case the hoarseness means nothing. Now, Effie, let me say a +word or two to you. I don't know what the future has in it—it is +impossible for any of us to know the future, and I say, thank God for +the blessed curtain which hides it from our view; but whatever it has in +it, my child, I wish you to understand that you are to do your best with +your life. Make it full if you can—in any case make it blessed. A month +ago, I will admit frankly, I did not approve of lady-nurses. After my +wonderful experience, however, with Dorothy Fraser, I must say that I +have completely changed my opinion. The girl with heart and nerve, with +common sense, with an unselfish spirit, can be a nurse whatever her +station in life. If to these qualifications she adds the refinements of +good breeding and the education of a lady, she is the best of all."</p> + +<p>"Hurrah!" cried Effie—tears filled her eyes. "What a grand triumph for +Dorothy!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"She deserves every word I have said of her. If she wishes to take you +back with her to London when she goes,—if that is what is now at the +bottom of your heart,—go, child, with my blessing. We shall miss you at +home, of course, but we are not worth our salt if we are going to be +selfish."</p> + +<p>"You never, never were that," said Effie.</p> + +<p>"Now I have one more thing to say—it is about your mother. I have never +really told you my true fears about her. You know, of course, that she +suffers<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">63</a></span> from weakness of the heart. At present that weakness springs +from no organic source, but of late there have been symptoms which make +me fear that the functional mischief may be developed into the more +serious organic form of disease, should any shock be given her. It is +that fear which haunts my life—I could not live without your mother, +child. Effie, child. I could not live without her."</p> + +<p>The doctor's voice suddenly broke—he bowed his head on his hands, and a +broken sort of groan escaped his lips.</p> + +<p>"We'll take all possible care of her," said Effie. "She shall not have +any pain, nor fear, nor anxiety."</p> + +<p>"I know you will do your best," said the doctor; "but if you leave +her——"</p> + +<p>"I'll never leave her if it is to injure her—there, I have promised."</p> + +<p>"You are a good girl. I trust you. I lean on you. Your mother could not +live through an anxiety—a great fear, a great trouble would kill her."</p> + +<p>"It shan't come," said Effie.</p> + +<p>"God grant it may not come," said the doctor in his husky voice.</p> + +<p>He rose suddenly to his feet.</p> + +<p>"I must go to bed," he said. "I have not had a real proper sleep for +nights and nights. By the way, Effie, you know, of course, that my life +is insured for a thousand pounds. If—if at any time that should be +needed, it will be there; it is best for you to know."</p> + +<p>"I wish you would not talk about it, father."</p> + +<p>"Very well, I won't; but talking about things doesn't bring trouble any +nearer. I hold it as an article of faith that each man should arrange +all he can for the future of his family. Arranging for the future never +hastens matters. There is a God above. He has led me all my days. I +trust Him absolutely. I submit to His mighty will."</p> + +<p>The doctor left the room—his broad back was bowed—he walked slowly.</p> + +<p>Effie stood near the door of the little parlor, watching him, until his +gray head was lost to view. Then she went back and sat on the old +horse-hair sofa, with her hands clasped tightly before her.</p> + +<p>"My father is the best man in the world," she murmured under her breath. +"I never met anyone like my father—so simple—so straightforward—so +full of real feeling—so broad in his views. Talk of a sequestered life +making a man narrower; there never was a man more open to real +conviction than father. The fact is, no girl ever had better parents +than I have; and the wonderful thing is that they give me leave to go, +and take their blessing with me. It is wonderful—it is splendid. Agnes +must be taught to do my present work. I'll train her for the next three +months; and then, perhaps, in the winter I can join Dorothy in London. +Dear father, he is nervous about mother; but while he is there, no harm +can come to her. I do not believe one could live without the other. +Well, well, I feel excited and nervous myself. I had better follow +father's example, and go to bed."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_VII." id="CHAPTER_VII."></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">64</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2> +</div> + +<p>Effie's little room faced the east. She never drew down her blind at +night, and the sun was shining all over her face when her mother came in +the next morning to call her.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton, standing in her nightdress in the middle of the room, +called Effie in a shrill voice.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">65</a></span></p> + +<p>"What in the world is the matter?" said her daughter, sitting up, and +pushing back her hair from her eyes.</p> + +<p>"What I feared," said Mrs. Staunton. "I am not going to break down; +don't think it for a minute. I am as well as possible." She trembled all +over as she spoke. There was a purple spot on one cheek, the other was +deadly pale. A blue tint surrounded her lips. "I am perfectly well," +continued Mrs. Staunton, breathing in a labored way. "It is only that I +have got a bit of a—— Your father is ill, Effie. He has got +it—the—dip—dip—diphtheria. He is almost choking. Get up, child; get +up."</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother," said Effie.</p> + +<p>She tumbled out of bed. Her pretty cheeks were flushed with sleep; her +eyes, bright and shining, turned toward the eastern light for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother," she said, with a sudden burst of feeling, "do, do let us +keep up our courage! Nothing will save him if we lose our courage, +mother."</p> + +<p>"We won't," said Mrs. Staunton; "and that's what I came to speak about. +He must have good nursing—the very best. Effie, I want you to get Miss +Fraser to come here."</p> + +<p>"Miss Fraser! But will she leave little Freda Harvey?"</p> + +<p>"She must leave her—the child is completely out of danger—anyone can +nurse her now. She must leave her and come here, and you must go and +fetch her. Your father may lose his life in the cause of that little +child. There is not a moment to lose—get up, Effie. You can go at once +to The Grange. Go, go quickly and bring Dorothy Fraser. We none of us +can nurse him as she will. She will do it. He has been murmuring in his +sleep about her, about something she did for little Freda, clasping his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">66</a></span> +throat all the time and suffocating. One glance showed me what ailed him +when I awoke this morning. He has a hard fight before him, but he must +not die—I tell you, child, your father must not die!"</p> + +<p>"No, no, mother! God will spare him to us," said Effie. Tears dimmed her +eyes, she got quickly into her clothes.</p> + +<p>"Now, I will go," she said. "I will bring Dorothy back with me."</p> + +<p>"If there is any difficulty," said Mrs. Staunton, "if she hesitates for +a moment, you must remember, there is only one thing to be done."</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother; what do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"You must offer to nurse Freda Harvey instead of her—do you +understand?"</p> + +<p>"And I am not to come back to father when he is ill?" said Effie, +aghast.</p> + +<p>"That is not the point," exclaimed Mrs. Staunton. "The only thing to be +considered is, what will save him, and you and I, and our feelings, are +of no consequence. His life is so valuable that no sacrifice is too +great to keep it. Go, child, go. If you can come back, come—if not, +stay."</p> + +<p>"And who will manage the children—they ought not to remain in the +house."</p> + +<p>"Don't worry about the children. Get Dorothy as quickly as possible."</p> + +<p>Effie buttoned her dress and pinned on her hat, and then went out on the +landing.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going, child? Why don't you go downstairs?"</p> + +<p>"I must kiss father first."</p> + +<p>"What folly!—why should there be this delay?"</p> + +<p>"I won't be a minute."</p> + +<p>Effie turned the handle of the bedroom door, and went softly into the +room. Her father was lying on his back—there was a livid look about his +face. Great beads of perspiration stood on his brow. His eyes were +closed. He did not see Effie when she came into the room, but when she +bent down and kissed his forehead, he opened his eyes and looked at her. +He said something which she could not distinguish—he was too hoarse to +make any words articulate.</p> + +<p>"I am going for Dorothy," she said, with a smile,—"she'll soon make you +better,—good-by. God bless you—father. I love you—father, I love +you."</p> + +<p>His eyes smiled at her, but his lips could not speak.</p> + +<p>She went quickly out of the room.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_VIII." id="CHAPTER_VIII."></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">67</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> +</div> + +<p>It did not take Effie long to harness the old horse to the gig. She had +often driven old Jock, and this part of her task did not put her out in +the least. She had a curious sense, as she was driving toward The Grange +in the fresh early morning air, of the complete change which was +awaiting her. She was quite certain that one door in her life was +shut—shut forever. She had longed for change,—it had come at last with +a vengeance; it was horrible,—it made her shudder.</p> + +<p>Effie was a thoroughly healthy girl, healthy both in mind and body, but +now a sick pain was over her. She did not care to think of the real +terror which haunted her. She arrived at The Grange between six and +seven o'clock. The woman at the lodge ran out and opened the gate for +the doctor's gig in some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">68</a></span> surprise. She thought something was wrong +again up at the house, but her surprise strengthened to astonishment +when she saw that Effie was driving the horse.</p> + +<p>"Why, Miss Effie, what is the matter?" she exclaimed. Everyone in the +place knew Effie, and loved her for her father's sake.</p> + +<p>"The doctor is ill, Mrs. Jones," said Effie, "and I have come to fetch +Miss Fraser."</p> + +<p>"Oh, God help us! he hasn't taken it?" said the woman, falling back a +step or two in horror.</p> + +<p>Effie nodded her head—she had no words to speak. She whipped up Jock, +and drove quickly down the avenue.</p> + +<p>A kitchen-maid was on her knees whitening and polishing the front steps. +Effie jumped from the gig, and asked the girl to call someone to hold +the horse.</p> + +<p>"There ain't any of the men round just now, it is too early," said the +girl.</p> + +<p>"Then take the reins yourself," said Effie. "Stand just here; Jock won't +stir if I tell him to be quiet. Hold the reins. I am in a great hurry."</p> + +<p>"You are Miss Effie Staunton, ain't you, miss?"</p> + +<p>"I am. My father is ill, and I want Miss Fraser."</p> + +<p>"God help us! the doctor ill!" exclaimed the girl.</p> + +<p>She stood where Effie told her, holding Jock's reins.</p> + +<p>"Be quiet, Jock; don't stir till I come out," said Effie. The old horse +drooped his head. Effie ran up the steps and into the house. She had +never been at The Grange before, but she had no eyes for the beauties of +the old place this morning. There was something too awful lying at the +bottom of her heart, for any external things to affect her. She went +quickly up the broad front stairs, and paused on the first landing. How +was she to discover the room where<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">69</a></span> Dorothy and little Freda Harvey +spent their time together? She was about to turn back in utter +bewilderment, when, to her relief, she saw another servant. The servant +stopped and stared at Effie. Effie came up to her quickly.</p> + +<p>"You may be surprised to see me here," she said. "I am Miss Staunton, +Dr. Staunton's daughter. He is ill. I want to see Nurse Fraser +immediately. Take me to her at once."</p> + +<p>"We are none of us allowed near that part of the house, miss," replied +the woman.</p> + +<p>"You can take me in the direction, anyhow, and explain to me how I am to +get to Miss Fraser," said Effie. "Come, there's not an instant to +lose—be quick."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes! I can take you in the direction," said the girl.</p> + +<p>She turned down a corridor; Effie followed her. The servant walked +rather slowly and in a dubious sort of way.</p> + +<p>"Can't you hurry?" said Effie. "It is a matter of life and death."</p> + +<p>The girl hastened her steps a little. Effie's manner frightened her. +Presently they reached a baize door—the servant pushed it open, but +stood aside herself.</p> + +<p>"It is as much as my place is worth to open this door," she said. "It is +here the infectious case is, and Miss Fraser's own orders are that the +door is not to be opened; but you frighten me somehow, miss, and I +suppose there's no harm in it."</p> + +<p>"No, of course there is no harm. Now, tell me which is Miss Fraser's +room?"</p> + +<p>"The nurseries are entered by the third door as you go down that +passage, miss."</p> + +<p>The servant banged to the baize door, and Effie<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">70</a></span> found herself alone. +She ran down the passage, and opened the outer nursery door. It was +quiet and still, in perfect order, the blinds down, and the windows +open. Effie, in spite of all her agitation, walked on tiptoe across this +room. A door which led into another room was half open, and she heard +someone moving about. That step, so quiet and self-possessed, must +belong to Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"Dorothy! Dorothy! come here," called Effie.</p> + +<p>Dorothy Fraser, in her dressing-gown, came out to the other room at +once.</p> + +<p>"Effie!" she exclaimed. "Effie Staunton!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is I," said Effie; "it is I." She began to unpin her hat as she +spoke. "I have come here to stay; I am going to nurse little Freda, and +you are to go back to father. The gig is waiting outside, and you can +easily drive old Jock. Drive him straight home, and go as fast as ever +you can."</p> + +<p>"Is your father ill, Effie?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; he has taken the diphtheria. He is very ill. Mother sent me for +you. If father dies, mother will die. They love each other so dearly—so +very dearly. One couldn't live without the other. Go, and save them +both, Dorothy, and I will stay with Freda."</p> + +<p>"You are a dear, brave little girl," said Dorothy.</p> + +<p>She went and put her strong arms round Effie.</p> + +<p>"I will go at once," she said. "But are you prepared to take full charge +here, Effie?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; tell me quickly what is to be done!"</p> + +<p>"There's nothing to be done now but simply to see that Freda doesn't +take cold. She is not free from infection yet, but she is quite out of +danger, if she does not catch a chill. Treat her as you would any sick +child. Rhoda is here. She is a capital girl, and will help you with +Freda's food. Freda may come into this room for a little to-day, but +you must see that she keeps out of a draught. Good-by. Effie. I won't be +any time getting ready. I'll send you telegrams about your father. God +bless you, Effie."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_IX." id="CHAPTER_IX."></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">71</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2> +</div> + +<p>From the first it was a bad case. The throat was not so particularly +affected, but the weakness was extreme. All imaginable devices were +resorted to, to keep up the patient's strength. Notwithstanding all +human precautions, however, that strength failed and failed.</p> + +<p>In a few days the strong man was like an infant. He could not lift a +finger, he could scarcely turn his head, his voice was completely gone. +His stricken soul could only look dumbly into the world through his +eyes. Those honest eyes were pathetic. Dorothy was unremitting in her +attentions. She took complete charge from the very first. Dr. Edwards +came and went, but he gave the nursing to Dorothy. She had prepared +herself for a great fight. She had hoped to conquer, but on the third +day of the doctor's illness she knew that the battle was not to the +strong nor the race to the swift—in short, the good doctor was called +to render up his account, his short span of mortal life was over.</p> + +<p>One evening he had lain perfectly still and in a state of apparent +stupor for several hours. Dorothy stood at the foot of the bed. Her eyes +were fixed on the patient.</p> + +<p>"It is strange how much I admire him," she said to herself. "I never met +a nobler, truer-hearted man."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">72</a></span></p> + +<p>"Dorothy, come here," said the doctor.</p> + +<p>She went at once, and bent over him.</p> + +<p>"I am going," he said, looking at her.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Dr. Staunton," she answered.</p> + +<p>He closed his eyes again for a moment.</p> + +<p>"The wife," he murmured—"does she know?"</p> + +<p>"I am not sure," said Dorothy in her quiet, clear voice, which never for +a moment sank to a whisper. "I think she must guess—I have not told +her."</p> + +<p>"She had better know," said the doctor. "Will you bring her here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'll go and fetch her at once."</p> + +<p>Dorothy left the room. She stood for a moment on the landing.</p> + +<p>The task which lay immediately before her made her spirits sink. She +knew just as well as Dr. Staunton did how precarious was Mrs. Staunton's +tenure of life. She knew that a sudden shock might be fatal. Were those +children to lose both parents? The doctor was going,—no mortal aid now +could avail for him,—but must the mother also leave the children?</p> + +<p>"I do not know what to do," thought Dorothy. "She must see her +husband—they <i>must</i> meet. He is the bravest man I know, but can he +suppress his own feelings now—now that he is dying? No, no, it is too +much to ask; but I greatly, greatly fear that if he does not, the shock +will kill her."</p> + +<p>Dorothy went slowly downstairs. She was generally decisive in her +actions. Now, she trembled, and a terrible nervousness seized her.</p> + +<p>When she reached the little entrance hall, and was about to open the +door of the parlor where she expected to find Mrs. Staunton, she was +surprised to come face to face with a tall, bronzed young man, who was +taking off his hat and hanging it on one of the pegs in the hat-rack. He +turned, and started<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">73</a></span> when, he saw her. He was evidently unfamiliar with +nurses and sickness. His face flushed up, and he said in a sort of +apologetic way:</p> + +<p>"Surely this is Dr. Staunton's house?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"I am George Staunton. I—I came down on pressing business—I want to +see my father in a hurry. What is the matter?"</p> + +<p>He stepped back a pace or two, startled by the expression on Dorothy's +face.</p> + +<p>"Come in here at once," she said, seizing his hand. She dragged him into +the seldom-used drawing-room. The moment they got inside, she +deliberately locked the door.</p> + +<p>"You have come just in time," she said. "You must bear up. I hope you'll +be brave. Can you bear a great shock without—without fainting, or +anything of that sort?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I won't faint!" he answered. His lips trembled, his blue eyes grew +wide open, the pupils began to dilate.</p> + +<p>"I believe you are a brave lad," said Dorothy, noticing these signs. "It +is your lot now to come face to face with great trouble. Dr. +Staunton—your father—is dying."</p> + +<p>"Good God! Merciful God!" said the lad. He sank down on the nearest +chair—he was white to the lips.</p> + +<p>Dorothy went up and took his hand.</p> + +<p>"There, there!" she said. "You'll be better in a moment. Try to forget +yourself—we have not, any of us, a single instant just now to think of +ourselves. I have come down to fetch your mother."</p> + +<p>"You are the nurse?" said George, glancing at her dress.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am nursing your father. It has been a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">74</a></span> very bad +case—diphtheria—a very acute and hopeless case from the first. There's +a great deal of infection. Are you afraid?"</p> + +<p>"No, no! don't talk of fear. I'll go to him. I—I was in trouble myself, +but that must wait. I'll go to him at once."</p> + +<p>"I want you to go to your mother."</p> + +<p>"My mother! is she ill too?"</p> + +<p>"She is not exactly ill—I mean she is not worse than usual, but her +life is bound up in your father's. It would be a dreadful thing for your +sisters and yourself if your mother were to die. Your coming here at +this moment may mean her salvation. I have to go to her now, to tell her +that her dying husband has sent for her. Will you follow me into the +room? Will you act according to your own impulses? I am sure God will +direct you. Stay where you are for a minute—try to be brave. Follow me +into the room as soon as you can."</p> + +<p>Dorothy left the drawing room. As she went away, she heard the young man +groan. She did not give herself time to think—she opened the parlor +door.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton was sitting in her favorite seat by the window. Her face +was scarcely at all paler than it had been a week ago. She sat then by +the window, looking out at her trouble, which showed like a speck in the +blue sky. The shadow which enveloped her whole life was coming closer +now, enveloping her like a thick fog. Still she was bearing up. Her eyes +were gazing out on the garden—on the flowers which she and the doctor +had tended and loved together. Some of the younger children had +clustered round her knee—one of them held her hand—another played with +a bunch of keys and trinkets which she always wore at her side.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">75</a></span></p> + +<p>"Go on, mother," said little Marjory, aged seven. "Don't stop."</p> + +<p>"I have nearly finished," said Mrs. Staunton.</p> + +<p>"But not quite. Go on, mother; I want to hear the end of the story," +said Phil.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton did not see Dorothy, who stood motionless near the door.</p> + +<p>"They got so tired," she began in a monotonous sort of voice—"so +dreadfully tired, that there was nothing for them to do but to try and +get into the White Garden."</p> + +<p>"A <i>White Garden</i>!" repeated Phil. "Was it pretty?"</p> + +<p>"Lovely!"</p> + +<p>"Why was it called a White Garden?" asked Marjory.</p> + +<p>"Because of the flowers. They were all white—white roses, white lilies, +snowdrops, chrysanthemums—all the flowers that are pure white without +any color. The air is sweet with their perfume—the people who come to +live in the White Garden wear white flowers on their white dresses—it +is a beautiful sight."</p> + +<p>"It must be," said Marjory, who had a great deal of imagination. "Are +the people happy?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly happy—rested, you know, Marjory. They are peaceful as you +are when you are tucked up in your little bed."</p> + +<p>"I like best to play and romp," said Marjory in a meditative voice; "but +then, you see, I am never tired."</p> + +<p>"Dorothy is standing at the door," exclaimed Phil. "Come in, Dorothy, +and listen to mother's beautiful story."</p> + +<p>"Do you want me?" asked Mrs. Staunton, standing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">76</a></span> up. She began to +tremble—the children looked at her anxiously.</p> + +<p>Dorothy went straight up and took her hand. "Dr. Staunton wishes to see +you," she said. "Will you come with me?" She looked anxiously toward the +door.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton put up her hand to her head. "Good-bye, my darlings," she +said, looking at the little pair, who were gazing up at her with puzzled +faces. "Go and play in the garden, and don't forget the White Garden +about which we have been speaking." She stooped down and deliberately +kissed both children, then she held out her hand to Dorothy. "I am quite +ready," she said.</p> + +<p>At that moment George entered the room. He put his arms round his +mother. He was a big fellow—his arms were strong. The muscles in his +neck seemed to start out, his eyes looked straight into his mother's.</p> + +<p>"You have got <i>me</i>, mother; I am George," he said. "Come, let us go to +my father together."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton tottered upstairs. She was not in the least surprised at +seeing George, but she leaned very firmly on him. They went into the +sickroom, and when George knelt down by his father's bedside, Mrs. +Staunton knelt by him.</p> + +<p>The doctor was going deeper and deeper into the valley from which there +is no return. Earthly sounds were growing dim to his ears—earthly +voices were losing their meaning—earthly sights were fading before his +failing eyes. The dew of death was on his forehead.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton, whose face was nearly as white, bent down lower and lower +until her lips touched his hand. The touch of her lips made him open his +eyes. He saw his wife; the look on her face seemed to bring him back to +earth again—it was like a sort of return wave, landing him high on the +shores of time.</p> + +<p>His impulse was to say, "Come with me—let us enter into the rest of the +Lord together;" but then he saw George. George had thrown his arm round +his mother's waist.</p> + +<p>"Let me keep her, father," said the young man. "Don't take her yet, let +me keep her."</p> + +<p>"Yes, stay with the lad, Mary," said the doctor.</p> + +<p>It was a final act of self-renunciation. His eyelids drooped over his +dying eyes—he never spoke again.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_X." id="CHAPTER_X."></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">77</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2> +</div> + +<p>George stayed at Whittington for a week; he followed his father to the +grave. Mrs. Staunton clung to him with a sort of feverish tenacity; +whenever he came into the room, her eyes followed him. A sort of +wistful, contented expression came into them when he sat down beside +her. During all the time George was in the house she never broke down. +At last, however, the time came when he must leave her.</p> + +<p>"I must go back to my work," he said; "but you are coming to London +soon, then I'll be with you every evening. You know my father has given +you to me to take care of. It will be all right when we are in London +together."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my boy," she replied, "it will be all right then. I don't +complain," she added; "I don't attempt to murmur. I shall go to him, but +he cannot return to me; and I have got you, George, and he gave me to +you. I am willing to stay with you just as long as you want me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">78</a></span></p> + +<p>It was late that night when George left his mother's room. Effie was +standing in the passage—the brother and sister looked at each other. +Effie had come home the day after Dr. Staunton's death.</p> + +<p>"Come out with me for a bit, Effie," said her brother. They went into +the garden, and she linked her hand through his arm.</p> + +<p>Dorothy Fraser had now returned to her duties in London; the Stauntons +were to go up to town as soon as ever the cottage could be sold. It had +belonged to the doctor. George was to live with them when they were in +town, and perhaps Effie would be able to follow the great wish of her +mind. There was just a possibility that she might be able to be trained +as a hospital nurse. She looked up at George now.</p> + +<p>"You have been such a comfort to us," she said. "Dorothy told me +everything; and I know that if you had not come just at the opportune +moment, we should have lost our mother as well as our father. I'll do +all in my power to hurry matters, so that we can come to London before +the winter."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said George. He was a finely built young fellow, with a handsome +face. He was not the least like Effie, who was dark and rather small, +like her mother. George had the doctor's physique; he had great square +shoulders, his eyes were frank and blue like his father's, but his mouth +wanted his father's firmness.</p> + +<p>"Effie," he said. "I don't know how I am to bring myself to confide in +you."</p> + +<p>"Confide in me?" she said, with a little start. "We always did tell our +secrets to one another, but all this terrible trouble seems to have put +childish things away. Have you really a secret, George, to tell me?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know how I can tell it to you," he replied;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">79</a></span> his lips +quivered—he looked down. Effie clasped his arm affectionately.</p> + +<p>"You know I would do anything for you," she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I know you are the best of girls, and you're awfully pretty, too. +I know Fred Lawson will think so when he sees you."</p> + +<p>"Who is he?"</p> + +<p>"A friend of mine—a right good fellow—he is a medical student at St. +Joseph's Hospital. I have often met him, and he has talked to me about +his own sisters, and one day I showed him your photograph, and he said +what a pretty girl you were. Somehow, Effie, I never thought of you as +pretty until Fred said so. I suppose fellows don't think how their +sisters look, although they love them very dearly; but when Fred said +it, it opened my eyes. Dear, dear, why am I talking like this, when time +is so precious, and I—Effie, when I came down that day to see my +father, I was in trouble—great trouble; the shock of seeing him seemed +to banish it from my mind, but it cannot be banished—it cannot be +banished, Effie, and I have no one to confide in now but you."</p> + +<p>"You must tell me of course," said Effie; she felt herself turning pale. +She could not imagine what George's trouble was. The night was dusk; she +raised her eyes to her brother's face—he avoided meeting them. He had a +stick in his hand, and he began to poke holes in the gravel.</p> + +<p>"How much money have we got to live on?" he asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>"How much money have we to live on?" repeated Effie. "I believe, when +all is collected, that there will be something like a hundred a year for +mother and Agnes and Katie and the two little children.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">80</a></span> Of course I am +going to support myself <i>somehow</i>, and you are naturally off our hands."</p> + +<p>"It's awful," said George; "it's awful to be so starvingly poor as that. +Why, I get a hundred a year now; fancy five people living on a sum on +which I never can make both ends meet!"</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with you, George? How queerly you speak! You knew we +should be awfully poor when father died. You are going to pay for your +board, are you not, when you come to us, and that will be a great help."</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course; I vow and declare that I'll give mother at least half +of what I earn."</p> + +<p>"Well, that will be fifty pounds—a great help. My idea for myself +is—but——" Effie stopped abruptly. She saw that George was making an +impatient movement. "I'll tell you another time," she said in a gentle +voice. "You have something now to tell me, have you not?"</p> + +<p>"I have—God knows I have. I want to get two hundred and fifty pounds +somewhere."</p> + +<p>"Two hundred and fifty pounds!" exclaimed Effie. George might just as +well have asked her for the moon.</p> + +<p>"I don't understand," she said, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"No, and I never want you to, Effie," replied the young man. "I can't +tell you what I want the money for, but it's a matter of life and death. +I thought I had made up my mind"—a husky sound came into his throat—"I +made up my mind to tell everything to my father when I came down that +night—I could have told him. It was not a sort of thing to talk to you +about, but I thought I could tell him; he died, and he gave me mother. +He left mother with me. You know perfectly well, Effie, that our +mother's life hangs on a thread. You know she must not have a shock, +and yet—Effie, Effie, if I don't get that £250, she will have such a +shock, such a terrible shock, that it will send her to her grave!"</p> + +<p>"I must think," said Effie. "I cannot answer you in a moment."</p> + +<p>"Is there no earthly way you can help me? I must be helped," said George +in a frantic voice. "I have got six weeks longer—I must get that £250 +in six weeks, or—no, I can't tell you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you must try—I won't help you unless you try."</p> + +<p>"Well, then—here goes. If I don't get it, I shall have to go +to—<i>prison</i>." George's voice sank to a hoarse whisper.</p> + +<p>Effie could not suppress a cry.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XI." id="CHAPTER_XI."></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">81</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2> +</div> + +<p>"Then you have done something wrong," said Effie, loosening her hold of +her brother's arm and backing to a little distance. He could scarcely +see her face in the ever increasing darkness, but he noticed the change +in her voice. There was an indignant note of pained and astonished youth +in it. Effie had never come face to face with the graver sins of life; +the word "prison" stunned her, she forgot pity for a moment in +indignation.</p> + +<p>"George," she said, with a sort of gasp, "father left mother to you,—in +a sort of way he gave her up to you,—and you have done wrong; you have +sinned."</p> + +<p>"You talk just like a girl," said George; "you jump at conclusions. You, +an innocent girl living in the shelter of home, know as little about the +temptations which we young fellows have to meet out in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">82</a></span> the world, as +you know of the heavens above you. My God! Effie, it is a hard world—it +is hard, <i>hard</i> to keep straight in it. Yes, I have done wrong—I know +it—and father gave mother to me. If you turn away from me, Effie, I +shall go to the bad—I shall go to the worst of all; there will not be a +chance for me if you turn from me."</p> + +<p>The tone of despair in his voice changed Effie's frame of mind in a +moment. She ran up to him and put her arms round his neck.</p> + +<p>"I won't turn from you, poor George," she said. "It did shock me for a +moment—it frightened me rather more than I can express; but perhaps I +did not hear you aright, perhaps you did not say the word 'prison.' You +don't mean to say that unless you get that impossible sum of money you +will have to go to prison, George?"</p> + +<p>"Before God, it is true," said George. "I cannot, I won't tell you why, +but it is as true as I stand here."</p> + +<p>"Then you will kill our mother," said Effie.</p> + +<p>"I know that."</p> + +<p>"And father left her to you. George, it cannot be. I must think of +something—my head is giddy—we have not any money to spare. It will be +the hardest fight in the world to keep the children from starvation on +that hundred pounds a year, but something must be done. I'll go and +speak to the trustees."</p> + +<p>"Who are the trustees?" asked George. He rose again to his feet. There +was a dull sort of patience in his words.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Watson is one,—you know the Watsons, father has always been so +good to them,—and our clergyman, Mr. Jellet, is the other. Yes, I must +go and speak to them; but what am I to say?"</p> + +<p>"You must not betray me," said George. "If you mention that I want the +money, all will be up with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">83</a></span> me. In any case, there may be suspicion. Men +of the world like Mr. Watson and Mr. Jellet would immediately guess +there was something wrong if a lad required such a large sum of money. +You must not tell them that <i>I</i> want it."</p> + +<p>"How can I help it? Oh, everything is swimming round before my eyes; I +feel as if my head would burst."</p> + +<p>"Think of me," said George—"think of the load I have got to bear."</p> + +<p>Effie glanced up at him. His attitude and his words puzzled and almost +revolted her. After a time she said coldly:</p> + +<p>"What hour are you leaving in the morning?"</p> + +<p>"I want to catch the six-o'clock train to town. This is good-by, Effie; +I shan't see you before I go. Remember, there are six weeks before +anything can happen. If anyone can save me, you can. It is worth a +sacrifice to keep our mother from dying."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it would kill her," said Effie. "Good-night now, George. I cannot +think nor counsel you at present; I feel too stunned. The blow you have +given me has come so unexpectedly, and it—it is so awful. But I'll get +up to see you off in the morning. Some thought may occur to me during +the night."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said George. He walked slowly down the garden, and, +entering the house, went up to his own room. Effie did not go in for a +long time. She was alone now, all alone with the stars. She was standing +in the middle of the path. Often and often her father's steps had +trodden this path. He used to pace here when he was troubled about a +sick patient, when his anxiety about her mother arose to a feverish +pitch. Now his daughter stood on the same spot, while a whirl of +troubled thoughts passed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">84</a></span> through her brain. It had been her one +comfort, since that awful moment when Dorothy had told her that her +father was gone, to feel that George, in a measure at least, took that +father's place.</p> + +<p>George had always been her favorite brother; they were very nearly the +same age—Effie was only two years younger than George; long ago George +had been good to the little sister—they had never quarreled, they had +grown up always the best and warmest of friends. Their love had been +true—as true as anything in all the world.</p> + +<p>George had gone to London, and the first tiny spark of discontent had +visited Effie's heart. She would be so lonely without her brother. It +was so fine for him to go out into life, her own horizon seemed so +narrow. Then Dorothy came, and they had made friends, and Dorothy told +her what some women did with their lives.</p> + +<p>Effie had been fired with a sudden desire to follow in Dorothy's steps; +then had followed the dark cloud which seemed to swallow up her wishes, +and all that was best out of her life. George, at least, remained. Dear, +brave, manly George! The brother who had passed out of childhood, and +entered man's estate.</p> + +<p>Her father's last message had been to George—he had given her precious +mother into George's care.</p> + +<p>It seemed to Effie to-night, standing out under the stars, as if George, +too, were dead. The old George was really dead, and a stranger had taken +his place. This stranger wore the outward guise of her brother—he had +his eyes, his figure; his voice had the same tone, he could look at you +just in George's way, but he could utter terrible words which George had +never known anything about. He could talk of <i>sin</i> and <i>prison</i>. He +could propose that Effie should rescue him at the risk of her mother's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">85</a></span> +livelihood. Oh, what did it mean? How was she to bear it?—how could she +bear it? She clasped her hands, tears filled her eyes, but she was too +oppressed, too pained, too stunned to weep long. Presently she went into +the house, and lay down on her bed without undressing.</p> + +<p>During the whole of that terrible night Effie scarcely slept. It was the +worst night in all her life. Toward morning she dozed a little, but +sprang up with a start, fearing that George had gone to London without +seeing her. For her mother's sake she must see him. Whatever happened, +her mother must never know of this calamity. Effie got up, washed her +hands and face, smoothed out her hair, and went downstairs. George was +already up, he was standing in the little parlor. He turned round when +he heard his sister's footsteps, and looked anxiously at her.</p> + +<p>"What a brute I am!" he said, when he saw the expression on her face; +"but I swear before God, Effie, if you will help me, I'll turn over a +new leaf; I'll never do a wrong thing again as long as I live—I swear +it."</p> + +<p>"Don't swear it," said Effie; "it seems to make it worse to do that. If +you did wrong once, you may again. Don't swear. Ask God to help you. I +don't know that I have been praying all night, but I have been trying +to."</p> + +<p>"Well, Effie, what have you determined to do?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Is there no one else who can help you, George?"</p> + +<p>"Not a soul; I have only one friend, and that is Fred Lawson."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes! I remember you spoke of him last night. Would he help you?"</p> + +<p>"He help me!" said George, with a hysterical laugh. "Why, he is the chap +I have wronged.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">86</a></span> There, don't ask me any more. If you can help me, I am +saved; if you can't, say so, and I'll go straight to destruction."</p> + +<p>"No, you shan't do that, George. I have thought of something—nothing +may come of it, but I'm going to try. It is terribly repugnant to me, +but I would sacrifice much to save my mother. If it fails, all fails."</p> + +<p>"I have thought," said George eagerly, "that, as the case is such an +extreme one, we might take some of the capital. There is a thousand +pounds; a quarter of that sum would put me right."</p> + +<p>"It cannot be done for a moment," said Effie, her face flushing hotly. +"That money must under no circumstances be touched; my mother and the +children depend on it for their bread."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what is to be done, then," said George in a hopeless +voice.</p> + +<p>"You must trust to me, George; I am going to try to help you in my own +way. If I fail, I fail; but somehow I don't think I shall. If I have any +news I will write to you soon; and now good-by, good-by."</p> + +<p>George turned and kissed Effie; she gave him her cheek, but her lips did +not touch his. She was willing to help him, but her love for the time +was dead or dying.</p> + +<p>The young man walked hurriedly down the village street. Effie stood in +the porch and watched him; his shoulders were bowed, he stooped. George +used to have a fine figure; Effie used to be proud of him—she was not +proud of her brother now.</p> + +<p>She went back to the house, and sat down listlessly for a time in the +little parlor—her hands were folded in her lap. It seemed to her as if +the end of all things had come.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">87</a></span></p> + +<p>Presently the sound of the children's voices overhead aroused her; she +went upstairs, and helped Susan to dress them. Returning to the everyday +duties of life had a soothing effect upon her. She made a violent effort +and managed to put her trouble behind her for the time being. Whatever +happened, her mother must not see any traces of it.</p> + +<p>When the baby was dressed, she took him as usual to her mother's room.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton sat up in bed and stretched out her arms to receive him. +Effie gave him to her mother, who began to kiss his little face +hungrily.</p> + +<p>"Has George gone, Effie?" said the mother.</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother, dear."</p> + +<p>"Did anyone see him off—did he have his breakfast?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he had a good breakfast; I got it ready for him last night."</p> + +<p>"But did anyone see him off?"</p> + +<p>"I did."</p> + +<p>"That's right; I should not have liked him to have had his last meal by +himself. I miss him awfully. Effie, dear, how soon do you think we can +go to London?"</p> + +<p>"As soon as possible, mother—in about six weeks."</p> + +<p>"Six weeks!" exclaimed Mrs. Staunton. "I can't live without George for +six weeks."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, you can, mother—at least you'll try."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XII." id="CHAPTER_XII."></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">88</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2> +</div> + +<p>When Effie had finished the many small duties which fell to her share in +the household economy, she went up to her bedroom and hastily changed +her everyday dress for her best one. She did not take long about this +task. Her small face looked very pale and thin under the heavy crêpe on +her hat. Taking up her gloves she ran down to the parlor where her +mother was sitting. Mrs. Staunton was busily mending some stockings for +George. A pile of his clothes lay on the table by her side.</p> + +<p>"I thought we might send these to London next week," she said, looking +up as her daughter entered the room. "George will want a really warm +greatcoat for the winter, and this one of your father's—why, Effie, my +dear——" She stopped abruptly, and gazed up at Effie's best hat. "Where +are you going, my love?" she said. "I thought you could help me this +morning."</p> + +<p>"I am going out, mother, for a little."</p> + +<p>"But where to? Why have you your best things on?"</p> + +<p>"I am going to the Harveys'."</p> + +<p>"To the Harveys'—to The Grange?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton shuddered slightly; she turned her head aside. "Why are +you going there?" she asked, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"I want to see them—I won't be long away. Please, mother, don't tire +yourself over all that mending now."</p> + +<p>"It interests me, my dear; I find it impossible to sit with my hands +before me. I am stronger than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">89</a></span> I used to be. I have got to live for +George; and George is young, he is entering life, he must not be saddled +with an old, ailing mother. I must get strong, I must get back my youth +for his sake. Don't be long away, Effie, dear. I wonder you like to go +to the Harveys' under the circumstances, but you know best. Children are +very independent nowadays," concluded Mrs. Staunton, with a sigh.</p> + +<p>Effie went up to her mother and kissed her, then she softly left the +room.</p> + +<p>The day was a particularly fine one, the sun shone brightly upon the +little High Street. Effie walked quickly; she soon turned into a shady +lane, the lane led her into the highroad. By and by she stopped at the +gates of The Grange.</p> + +<p>The woman of the lodge came out when she saw her. This woman had been +fond of Dr. Staunton, and she recognized Effie.</p> + +<p>Effie's little figure, her heavy black dress, her crêpe hat, her white +cheeks and dark eyes, all appealed with great pathos to the woman. She +ran towards her with outstretched hands.</p> + +<p>"Miss Effie, my dear, you're welcome," she said. She caught Effie's +little white hands in her hard, toil-worn ones. "You are welcome, Miss +Effie," she repeated; "it is good of you to come. Eh, dear, but it goes +to the heart to see you in that deep black! Come in and rest, my dear +young lady—come in and rest."</p> + +<p>"I cannot just now, Mrs. Jones," replied Effie. "I am in a hurry—I want +to go up to see the Squire on business."</p> + +<p>"And how is your mother, poor lady—how is she bearing up, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"Wonderfully," said Effie. "I'll come and see you another day, Mrs. +Jones."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">90</a></span></p> + +<p>"Eh, do! you'll be more than welcome. I long to hear all about the +doctor, poor man, and how he went off at the end. The last words of the +pious are always worth listening to. I'll be glad to hear particulars, +if you can give me half an hour some time, Miss Effie."</p> + +<p>"Some time," said Effie.</p> + +<p>She walked on, trembling a little. The woman's words and her eager look +of curiosity were dreadful to her; nevertheless, she knew that her +father, under similar circumstances, would have been very patient with +this woman.</p> + +<p>By and by she arrived at the heavy front door of the old Grange. She +walked up the steps and rang the bell.</p> + +<p>The door was opened almost immediately by a servant in livery. He knew +Effie, and asked her in.</p> + +<p>"Is the Squire at home?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I am not sure, miss, but I'll inquire. Will you step in here while I go +to ask?"</p> + +<p>The man opened the door of a little sitting room. Effie went in, and he +closed it softly behind him.</p> + +<p>After what seemed a very short time, she heard eager steps coming along +the hall—the room door was flung open, and Squire Harvey, accompanied +by his wife, came in.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Harvey looked like a shadow—but her sweet face had a tender +blush-rose color about it, her eyes had the intensely clear look which +long illness gives; she was better, but she looked so frail and delicate +that Effie's heart went out to her.</p> + +<p>"My dear child," said Mrs. Harvey, "how good, how very good of you to +come! I am only just downstairs. Dr. Edwards only allowed me down +yesterday, but I could not resist coming to welcome you myself. Won't +you come into my sitting room?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">91</a></span> It is just at the opposite side of the +hall. I'll send Rhoda upstairs to fetch little Freda. She will be so +enraptured at seeing you. Come, my dear. Now that we have got you, we +won't let you go in a hurry. I think it so sweet of you to come to see +us, and under the circumstances. Don't you think it is sweet of her, +Walter, dear?"</p> + +<p>Squire Harvey had more perception of character than his wife. He noticed +how white Effie's face grew; he noticed the pathetic trembling of her +hands.</p> + +<p>"My dear," he said, "perhaps Miss Staunton wishes to see me by herself. +I understood from the servant that she had asked for me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did want to see you very much," said Effie.</p> + +<p>"Of course, dear little thing," interrupted Mrs. Harvey; "but I'll stay +while you talk to her. I am immensely interested in you. Miss Staunton. +I can never forget, as long as I live, what you and yours have done for +us."</p> + +<p>"Please don't talk of it now," said Effie. "I mean—I know how kindly +you feel, and indeed I am not ungrateful, but I cannot bear to talk it +over, and I want very badly, please, to say something to the Squire."</p> + +<p>"Come with me to my study, Miss Staunton," said the Squire.</p> + +<p>He opened the door, and Effie followed him.</p> + +<p>"Be sure you make her stay, Walter, when your business is over," called +Mrs. Harvey after him. "I'll send for Freda to my boudoir. Miss Staunton +must stay to lunch. It is delightful to see her again, and it is so +sweet of her to come to see us."</p> + +<p>The thin, high voice kept calling these words out a little louder and a +little louder as Effie followed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">92</a></span> the Squire down one long corridor after +another, until at last they entered his special study.</p> + +<p>He shut the door at once, and offered her a chair.</p> + +<p>"If I can do anything for you, you have but to command me," he said.</p> + +<p>"I see you are in great trouble," he continued. "Pray take your own +time. I have nothing whatever to do—I can listen to you as long as ever +you like."</p> + +<p>Poor Effie found great difficulty in using her voice. For one dreadful +moment words seemed to fail her altogether. Then she gave a swift +thought to her mother, to George, and her resolve was taken.</p> + +<p>"I want to make a very queer request of you, Mr. Harvey," she said. "It +may not be possible for you to grant it. For my father's sake, will you +promise that you will never tell anyone what I am now asking you, if you +don't find it convenient to grant it to me?"</p> + +<p>"I'll keep your secret, of course," said the Squire. "But permit me to +say one thing before you begin to tell it to me: there's not the +slightest fear of my not granting it. There is nothing that you can +possibly ask of me, that, under the circumstances, I should think it +right to refuse. Now, pray proceed."</p> + +<p>"I want you," said Effie—she gulped down a great lump in her throat, +and proceeded in a sort of desperation—"I want you to lend me 250 +pounds. I'll pay you interest—I think five per cent. is fair +interest—I'll pay you interest on the money, and return it to you by +installments."</p> + +<p>There was not the least doubt that Effie's request startled the Squire. +The amount of the money required was nothing to him, for he was a very +rich man; but the girl's manner, her evident distress, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">93</a></span> look of +shame and misery on her face, surprised him. He guessed that she was +borrowing the money for another, but for whom?</p> + +<p>"I can see you are in trouble," he said in his kindest tone. "Why don't +you confide in me? As to the money, make your mind easy, you shall have +it; but girls like you don't as a rule borrow a large sum of money of +this kind. Do you want it for yourself?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"You won't tell me who it is for?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot, Mr. Harvey. Please don't ask me."</p> + +<p>"I won't ask you anything that distresses you. As you are talking of +money, you will forgive me for saying that I am told that your mother is +left badly off."</p> + +<p>"No; that's a mistake," said Effie. "She has money. My father left her +very well off for a man in his position. He insured his life for a +thousand pounds, and my mother had a little fortune of her own, which +brings in about sixty pounds a year."</p> + +<p>"And you think your mother well off with that?" said the Squire in a +tone of almost amused pity.</p> + +<p>"Yes, for a woman in her position," said Effie in almost a proud tone. +"Forgive me," she said; "I know that, after the request I have just +made, you would be justified in asking me any questions, but I would +rather not say any more about my mother. If you'll lend me the money—if +indeed you will be so good, so noble—when can I have it?"</p> + +<p>"When do you want it?"</p> + +<p>"I must have it before six weeks are up, but the sooner the better."</p> + +<p>"You shall have it in a week. Come here this day week and I'll give you +a check for the amount."'</p> + +<p>"A check!" said Effie; "but I would have to pass<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">94</a></span> that through mother's +bank—and—and she might know."</p> + +<p>"Are you really asking for this money without your mother's knowledge, +Miss Staunton?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; my mother is not to know. Mr. Harvey, the object of our lives is +to keep all anxiety from our mother—she must never know."</p> + +<p>"Forgive me," said the Squire, after a pause. "I know a great deal about +business, and you very little. Would it not be best to open an account +in your own name? I am told that you propose soon to go to London. I +would introduce you to my bankers there, who would be very glad to open +an account with you; and if at any time you should have need of +assistance, Miss Staunton, you would give me the privilege of helping +you. Remember, but for me and mine you would not now be fatherless. You +must see that you have a claim on me. Allow me to fulfill that claim in +the only possible way in my power."</p> + +<p>"You are good, you are more than good," said Effie, rising. "But this is +all I really need. I'll pay you the interest on the money every half +year."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that doesn't matter. I earnestly wish you would take it as a gift."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, but that is impossible."</p> + +<p>Effie stood up; she had nothing further to say.</p> + +<p>"May I take you to my wife's room now?" said, the Squire. "I know she is +waiting to see you, she is longing to be friends with you. Her recovery +has been wonderful; and as to little Freda, she is almost herself again. +You would like to see Freda, would you not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Effie, "but not to-day—I must hurry back to my mother. I +don't know how to thank you, Mr. Harvey. Will you please tell +your—your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">95</a></span> wife that I cannot stay to-day?—my mother wants me. Thank +you—thank you."</p> + +<p>The Squire himself showed Effie out. He stood for a moment by his open +hall door, watched her as she walked slowly down the avenue.</p> + +<p>"That is a plucky little thing," he said to himself. "Now, what in the +world does she want that money for? Not for herself, I'll be bound. I do +hope she has got no disreputable relations hanging onto her. Well, at +least it is my bounden duty to help her, but I wish she would confide in +me. She is a pretty girl, too, and has a look of the doctor about her +eyes."</p> + +<p>"Where is Miss Staunton?" asked Mrs. Harvey, coming forward.</p> + +<p>"Vanishing round that corner, my love," returned the Squire. "The fact +is, the poor little thing is completely upset, and cannot face anyone."</p> + +<p>"But her business, Walter—what did she want?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, that's the secret—she made me swear not to tell anyone. It is my +opinion, Elfreda, that the child has got into trouble. We must do what +we can for her."</p> + +<p>"I wish she would come here and be Freda's governess," said Mrs. Harvey.</p> + +<p>The Squire looked at his wife.</p> + +<p>"That's a good thought," he remarked; "and we might give her a big +salary—she is so innocent, she would not really know anything about it. +We might give her two hundred a year, and then she could help her +mother; but I doubt whether she would leave her mother—she seems simply +bound up in her."</p> + +<p>"It is our duty to help her," said Mrs. Harvey, "whatever happens. If +she won't come to us, we must think of some other way."</p> + +<p>"Yes we must," said the Squire.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIII." id="CHAPTER_XIII."></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">96</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> +</div> + +<p>In less than six weeks the Stauntons were settled in London. George had +taken lodgings for them in a cheap part of Bayswater. The rooms were +high up in a dismal sort of house. There were a sitting room and three +small bedrooms. George occupied one—Effie and the girls another—Mrs. +Staunton, the baby, and little Phil the third. It seemed to Effie as if +they had always lived in this uninteresting house, looking out on that +narrow dismal street. They knew nobody. Their lives were very dull. Mrs. +Staunton occupied herself over George, morning, noon, and night. She +mended his clothes with scrupulous care; she washed his shirts herself, +and took immense pride in bringing the fronts up to a wonderful polish. +There was not a young man in the City who went to his daily work with +such snowy collars as George, such neat cuffs, such a look of general +finish. This work delighted Mrs. Staunton—it brought smiles to her eyes +and a look of satisfaction to her face.</p> + +<p>Effie had got the money from Mr. Harvey, and had handed it without a +word to George.</p> + +<p>He took it; his face flushed all over—tears filled his eyes.</p> + +<p>He said, "God bless you, Effie; you are the bravest, best sister a man +ever had"; and then he went out of the room and out of the house.</p> + +<p>"He never asked me where I got it," thought poor Effie; "and now there's +the interest to pay, and how can it possibly be taken out of our hundred +a year?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">97</a></span> Mother must never, never know; but how is that interest to be +paid?"</p> + +<p>The Stauntons had been settled about a fortnight in their new home, when +Dorothy came to pay them a visit.</p> + +<p>She was very busy in her hospital life. She came in with her accustomed +eager, purposeful walk. She sat down on the nearest chair, and began to +talk cheerfully to the children and sympathetically to Mrs. Staunton.</p> + +<p>As soon as she had an opportunity, however, she drew Effie aside.</p> + +<p>"Now, my dear," she said, looking straight into Effie's brown eyes, +"when are you coming to us?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, if I could come," exclaimed Effie, "I should indeed be happy, but I +don't see any chance of it."</p> + +<p>"I do. You are not really wanted here; Agnes is growing a big girl. Your +mother is devoted to your brother George; provided he comes home every +evening, she scarcely gives a thought to anyone else. You can be spared, +Effie, and it will be good for you. You do not look a bit the same girl. +You have lost your 'go' somehow. You are very young. It is wrong to have +a look like that when one is only twenty. You ought to come to the +hospital, and there is a vacancy now for a probationer, if you can take +it."</p> + +<p>"If I dare to," said Effie, "but it does not seem right."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I believe it is right. I know the matron of St. Joseph's Hospital +so well that I think I can arrange with her that you should spend a part +of every Sunday at home—at least, while you are training Agnes. The +fact is, Effie, you are a born nurse, and it is a sin to lose you to the +profession."</p> + +<p>"I should like to come beyond anything," said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">98</a></span> Effie. "It is the very +highest wish of my heart. The last night that I ever saw my dear father +he spoke to me on this subject. He used to hate lady-nurses, but you won +him over, Dorothy, and he said, if the time came, I could go with his +blessing."</p> + +<p>"Then surely that settles the matter," exclaimed Dorothy. "I'll speak to +Mrs. Staunton before I leave to-day."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; don't! Mother seems quite happy and comfortable. I would not +for the world do anything to upset or distress her."</p> + +<p>"If it upsets and distresses her, you must give it up, that's all," said +Dorothy, "but it is worth sounding her on the subject. Don't say a word, +Effie, I'll speak to your mother about it."</p> + +<p>Effie looked puzzled and anxious.</p> + +<p>"I would give anything to go," she murmured to herself. "It is torture +to live on here, thinking of nothing but how to make a hundred pounds a +year pay everything that is expected of it. Then I should be one off the +family purse, for all my expenses would be paid by the hospital. Yes, +surely it must be right. At any rate, I'll allow Dorothy to speak."</p> + +<p>When tea was over, George, who had come in, and was as usual devoting +himself to his mother, tried to coax her to come out with him a little.</p> + +<p>"No, not to-night," said Dorothy suddenly. "I have something very +special to say to Mrs. Staunton—perhaps you would stay and listen too, +George?"</p> + +<p>George did not mind being called by his Christian name by Dorothy. She +was regarded by the Stauntons as part and parcel of the family.</p> + +<p>"I'll do anything to oblige you," he said, giving the handsome nurse a +look of genuine admiration. "Come, mother, if we are not to go out, we +can at least sit near each other."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">99</a></span></p> + +<p>He drew up a chair close to his mother as he spoke, and put one of his +arms round her neck. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and sat there +in perfect content.</p> + +<p>After a time one of his strong hands closed over hers. She had never, +even in the doctor's time, felt more warmly and happily protected.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Dorothy, what have you to say?" she remarked. "George and I are +all attention."</p> + +<p>"George and you!" laughed Dorothy. "I never saw such a devoted pair. +Why, you are just like a pair of lovers."</p> + +<p>"Well, we are lovers, aren't we, mother?" said the son.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my boy," she replied. "No love was ever stronger than that which +binds us together."</p> + +<p>"I love to hear you say that," remarked Dorothy; "but now I want to talk +on quite another matter. I am very anxious about Effie."</p> + +<p>"Effie!" said Mrs. Staunton, just glancing at her daughter. "What about +her? She seems quite well. Are you well, Effie?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother, I am perfectly well," replied Effie.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is not that," said Dorothy, a touch of scorn coming into her +voice. "Effie may be well in body, but she is just starved in soul."</p> + +<p>"Starved!" said Mrs. Staunton, with a start "What do you mean, Dorothy?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, never mind her, please, mother," said Effie in distress. "I am all +right, really."</p> + +<p>"No, she is not," continued Dorothy. "She is not right in the way I +should like to see her right. The fact is, she wants a change."</p> + +<p>"Poor child!" said Mrs. Staunton. "We are not rich enough to think of +changes."</p> + +<p>"The sort of change she wants will not cost you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">100</a></span> any money. The fact is, +I want her to become what Heaven has intended her to be, a thoroughly +trained hospital nurse. There is a vacancy now for a probationer at St. +Joseph's, and I can get her admitted at once. May she come? That's the +main point to consider."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton looked at Effie. Effie looked back at her mother.</p> + +<p>It seemed to Effie at that moment as if she would have given anything +for her mother to say, "No, I cannot spare her." On the contrary, Mrs. +Staunton said in a calm voice:</p> + +<p>"I leave the choice entirely to Effie herself. If she thinks she can be +spared, she may go. The fact is, Effie, my love, your—your dear father +spoke to me on this subject the very night he was taken ill. He seemed +to wish it then; that is, if you cared for it yourself. If you are still +of the same way of thinking, I for one should not think it right to make +the slightest opposition."</p> + +<p>"But how are you to do without her?" asked George in some dismay.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can manage—I am not the helpless old woman you seem to consider +me, George. I really feel better and stronger every day. The more I do +for you, the less of an invalid I seem to be. Effie has been quite +tiresome lately, trying to manage the money, and taking all care off my +hands, but I am quite capable of seeing to matters myself; and then +Agnes is growing a big girl, she can go out to buy what I shall order."</p> + +<p>Effie looked very pale. She sat perfectly still for a moment. Then she +stood up.</p> + +<p>"Very well, mother, I'll go," she said in a subdued voice. "When can you +be ready for me, Dorothy?" she continued.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">101</a></span></p> + +<p>"In a week's time," said Dorothy. "There are certain preliminaries to be +gone through, but I will send you a paper of our rules. You must fill up +a form—in short, you must do exactly what you are instructed to do on +the paper. You will probably be admitted before this day week."</p> + +<p>Dorothy said a few more words, and then took her leave. Effie +accompanied her out on the landing.</p> + +<p>"I think you make a mistake in letting Effie go, mother," said George, +when he was alone with his mother.</p> + +<p>"Not at all, my son. The fact is, fond as I am of my dear Effie, she +takes almost too much control lately of our money affairs—I shall be +glad to get them into my own hands. There are very many comforts which I +could give you, darling, which are simply put out of my power by Effie's +determination to keep the family purse."</p> + +<p>George said nothing. He stooped to kiss his mother's cheek.</p> + +<p>He had not looked at matters from that point of view before. He allowed +his mother fifty pounds a year, which was half his present income, and +it suddenly occurred to him that he was making a very generous +allowance, and that he should have a full share of the benefit.</p> + +<p>"What I have been thinking is this," said Mrs. Staunton. "Out of the +fifty pounds a year which you, dear boy, give us, we ought to provide a +certain portion of your wardrobe. You really want new shirts. I +suggested to Effie a week ago that I should like her to buy some fine +lawn, as I wanted to make them for you, and she said at once that we +could not afford it. But never mind, dearest; when mother is put into +her own position again, you shall have the best shirts of any young man +in the City."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">102</a></span></p> + +<p>Now, George was really satisfied with his present shirts, but if his +mother chose to make him better ones he did not care to oppose her. He +hoped that he would be asked out a little in the evenings during the +coming winter, and he wondered if his mother could possibly squeeze an +evening suit for him out of the allowance he gave her. He did not +express this thought, however, at the present moment, and as Effie +re-entered the room the two changed the conversation.</p> + +<p>George went out for a little, and Effie took up some needlework, sitting +where the lamp in the center of the table fell full upon her bright +brown hair.</p> + +<p>"I wonder, Effie," said Mrs. Staunton in a tone of almost discontent, +"that you did not speak to me before now on this subject. I cannot bear +to think that a child of mine does not give me her full confidence. You +know I am the last person in the world to keep you drudging and toiling +at home when you yourself long for a wider field of usefulness."</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother, I know that," said Effie in a grave voice "The fact is," +she continued, "I did not think it would be possible for you to spare +me; but if you can, and you think it right for me to go, I shall of +course be delighted, for I have long had my heart in this work."</p> + +<p>"You are like all other modern girls," said Mrs. Staunton in that +provokingly inconsistent way which characterized her; "you are not +satisfied in the home nest. Well, well, I have got my boy, and I must +not complain."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, dear mother, you have got us all." Effie rose from her +chair, went over and knelt by her mother's side.</p> + +<p>"I would give anything in the world," she said,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">103</a></span> looking full at Mrs. +Staunton, "for you to say that you are going to miss me awfully."</p> + +<p>The sight of her pretty face softened the mother's heart.</p> + +<p>"Of course I shall miss you, my darling," she said, "You always were the +best of girls; but I don't wish to stand in your way. I know you will be +happy where your heart is, and your father wished it. That, in my +opinion, settles the matter."</p> + +<p>"Well, I have a week," said Effie more cheerfully, standing up as she +spoke. "I must do all in my power to instruct Agnes. I must teach her +the little economies which I have been trying to practice."</p> + +<p>"No, you need not do that, Effie. When you go to the hospital I intend +to resume full control of the family purse."</p> + +<p>Effie hesitated, and looked anxiously at her mother as she said this.</p> + +<p>"I wish it, my love, so there's no use in discussing the matter," +continued Mrs. Staunton. "I know exactly what we have got to spend—£150 +a year. It is very little, indeed, but I rather fancy I am as good a +manager as my child. I have at least a wider experience to guide me. Out +of that income dear George provides a third. It seems to me, Effie, that +we should give him rather more comforts than he has had lately for this +generous allowance."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother! George really wants for nothing."</p> + +<p>"I cannot agree with you. I should wish him to have beer at supper every +night."</p> + +<p>"I do not think it can be managed. There is not a penny to spare."</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear, we will see. It is also only just that a proportion of +his money should be devoted to providing him with suitable +underclothing."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, mother, have you thought of the thousand and one things +which are required for the children and yourself? Surely George can +manage to buy his own clothes out of the fifty pounds which he reserves +for his personal expenses."</p> + +<p>"That's so like a girl," exclaimed Mrs. Staunton, clasping her hands. +"She knows about as little of a young man's life as she does of his +Greek and Latin. Well, my love, we will propose no changes while you are +at home. You must go to the hospital with a light heart, taking your +mother's blessing with you."</p> + +<p>"A light heart, indeed!" thought poor Effie when she reached her room +that night. "A light heart, with mother spoiling George as hard as ever +she can! I wonder how the others are to fare when George is to be +treated like a prince in every way, and I wonder how that interest is to +be met. Oh, dear! oh, dear! but it shall be paid somehow. Well, I +suppose I am doing right. Mother would not have been content with this +state of things much longer, that's more than evident, and then my dear +father wished it. Yes, I'll take up my new life—I trust it will bring a +blessing with it—but oh, mother, how anxious you make me!"</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIV." id="CHAPTER_XIV."></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">104</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> +</div> + +<p>In a week's time Effie found herself an inmate in the great hospital +which, for present purposes, we will call by the name of St. Joseph's. +It was situated in the east of London. Dorothy had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">105</a></span> trained here, +and was now superintendent of one of the wards.</p> + +<p>Effie was to go up for a month's trial. At the end of that time she +would be paid at the rate of twelve pounds the first year, and twenty +pounds the second. Her training would take two years. A certain amount +of her uniform would be also provided, and everything found for her with +the exception of washing.</p> + +<p>She did not soon forget the evening of her arrival. She had said good-by +to her mother, had kissed the children, had given Agnes all final +directions, and at last found herself in the cab which was to take her +to St. Joseph's. It drew up presently outside one of the large entrance +doors.</p> + +<p>A lady, who was called the Home Sister, received Effie very kindly, and +offered her a friendly cup of tea. The hour of her arrival was about +four in the afternoon. She was then taken up to her own room, and +instructed how to put her cap on, and how to wear her new uniform in the +neatest and most compact way. Her dress was a pretty lilac check, and +she wore a cap with a frill round it, and long tails at the back. Her +apron bib was high to the collar in front, and fastened with straps +which crossed at the back. Nothing could be neater and more serviceable +than the dress.</p> + +<p>The kind Sister, having seen that Effie was all right, gave her a +friendly smile, and then led her along several dim passages, up and down +many stairs, until she finally found herself in a long, light ward, +where from thirty to forty women were lying in bed. The Home Sister +introduced Effie to the Sister of the ward, who went by the name of +Sister Kate. Sister Kate nodded to her, said a word or two in a very +busy voice, and then Effie found herself practically<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">106</a></span> on the threshold +of her new life. The Sister who had been kind to her during tea, who had +shown her to her room, and instructed her how to dress, had vanished. +Sister Kate looked far too busy and anxious to be worried by questions; +and Effie, capable and active as she always was, found herself, for the +first time in her life, with nothing to do, and overcome by strange +nervousness. She was too much embarrassed to be of real use. Her face +was burning with blushes. Sister Kate was tired with her long day's +work. There was a great deal to be done to put the ward straight for the +night, and she really had no time to devote to the probationer. The +women lying in their beds seemed to have eyes and ears for no one but +Effie. Between sixty and seventy eyes turned on her wherever she moved, +whatever she looked at, whatever she did. Some of the eyes in the pale +and harassed faces looked kindly and interested, some of them merely +amused, some of them cross and discontented. Effie knew that these women +would be querulous and even rude under the touch of strange and +untutored hands.</p> + +<p>At last the night nurses arrived, the bell rang, and Sister Kate came +forward to show the new probationer the way to the dining hall.</p> + +<p>Here were several long tables, where the nurses, all dressed exactly +alike, sat down to supper. Effie took her place, and quickly discovered +that the others were far too tired and hungry to pay any attention to +her. She felt too excited to eat, and sat watching the faces of those +around her.</p> + +<p>Supper was immediately followed by prayers, and then came bed. Effie's +first evening as a probationer was over.</p> + +<p>She did not know whether to cry or to laugh as she laid her head on her +pillow. The reality was so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">107</a></span> different from anything her fancy had +painted. The practical character of the work, the absence of all +sentiment, the real illness, the real burden of humanity, seemed to +press down upon her.</p> + +<p>She had thought, a week ago, when Dorothy proposed that she should come +to St. Joseph's, of the delight of being in the same hospital with her +friend, but she now discovered that she was unlikely to see much of +Dorothy even though she lived under the same roof. Dorothy was Sister of +a ward, and that ward was not the one where Effie was to serve her +probationership. She had the comfort of a very small room to herself, +and was just closing her eyes in sleep, when the handle of the room door +was softly turned, and Dorothy, looking beautiful in her Sister's dress +of soft navy serge, came in.</p> + +<p>"So here you are, you poor little thing," said Dorothy, bending over +Effie and kissing her. "I have just come in for one minute to say God +bless you. You have come, the ice is broken. You have a fine career +before you. Don't be discouraged by what you saw to-night."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am so lonely!" said Effie, with a quiver in her voice. "I was +sure when I came here that I should be in the ward with you, Dorothy."</p> + +<p>"No, my dear, that was not possible," replied Dorothy. "Of course I +should have been very glad if it could have been arranged, but I had no +voice in the matter. As it cannot be, dearest, try to believe that this +is just the best thing that could have happened to you, to be flung at +once, as it were, on your own feet. You will thus gain experience +without having a crutch like me to lean upon. I know the first night is +very bad, but you will soon learn your duties and become intensely +interested<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">108</a></span> in the life. You are with Sister Kate, are you not?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Effie. "She scarcely spoke to me—I never felt so awkward in +my life, and I know that I was never half so clumsy."</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Dorothy, with a smile. "Don't I know the feeling well? +It all passes over, my love, and far more quickly than you have the +least idea of. Remember you have got the power—those little hands are +capable, that head holds a steady and sensible brain. Why, Effie, you +have gone through far worse times than this without flinching. Surely, +surely you are not going to break down now?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I won't, I won't!" said Effie, with a sob; "but I felt lonely, very +lonely, and it was so very kind of you to come to see me."</p> + +<p>"Of course I have come to see you—I am only too delighted to do +anything in my power for you. I would have rushed down to share your cup +of tea on your arrival, but a bad case was just being brought into the +ward, and I could not leave. Now, I must go to bed myself, or I shan't +be fit for work to-morrow. Good-night, Effie. I have arranged that you +are to spend every second Sunday at home."</p> + +<p>"Oh, how good you are—how thankful I am!" exclaimed Effie.</p> + +<p>Dorothy was leaving the room, when she turned back.</p> + +<p>"I forgot to tell you that you are very lucky to be under Sister Kate," +she said. "There is not a nurse in the whole hospital who trains as she +does, and her probationers always get the best certificates at the end +of the two years of training."</p> + +<p>"She looks so severe and hard," said Effie.</p> + +<p>"She is a little severe, and some people may call her hard, but she has +a tender heart under all that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">109</a></span> strict, somewhat cold manner, and then +she is so just. My dear, when you know more of hospital life you will be +thankful that you are with a just and patient Sister. Sister Kate is +both. She will soon recognize you, Effie, for what you are. Now +good-night, my love."</p> + +<p>Dorothy went away, and soon afterward Effie fell asleep.</p> + +<p>The next morning she was awakened by a bell, at what seemed to her +something like the middle of the night. She had to dress herself +quickly, and then go into the ward and begin her duties.</p> + +<p>She found, somewhat to her surprise, that she had to begin her nurse's +life as a sort of maid-of-all-work; she had to scrub floors, to clean +grates, to polish handles—it seemed to her that she never had a moment +to herself from morning till night. Her feet felt very sore, her back +ached. Once or twice she felt so dreadfully fagged that she wondered if +she could keep up. But through it all, growing greater and greater as +the days went on, there came a sense of full satisfaction, of something +accomplished, something done, of the feeling that she was being trained +thoroughly and efficiently, so that at the end of her time of probation +she might be able to say, "There's one thing which I can do <i>well</i>."</p> + +<p>When the first Sunday came she was glad to hurry home. She went back +brimful of news, and looked forward to the quiet time in her mother's +little parlor with great delight.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton was glad to see her. The children were all dressed in +their black frocks, and looked neat and comfortable. George was in the +room. It seemed to Effie as if she did not recognize his coat—she +wondered if it could possibly be a new one.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">110</a></span></p> + +<p>She arrived at home a little before the midday dinner, and presently the +landlady came in to lay the cloth. This used to be Agnes' occupation. +Effie did not say anything while the woman was in the room, but when she +went out she remarked on this change.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's all right," said Mrs. Staunton. "I pay half a crown a week +extra, and the landlady now waits on us. It is much more comfortable, I +assure you, Effie, and worth the extra bit of money."</p> + +<p>Effie colored; she gave Agnes a reproachful glance, but did not say +anything.</p> + +<p>Agnes turned her back with a little sniff.</p> + +<p>"Why, Effie," she said suddenly, "How coarse your hands have got! What +in the world have you been doing?"</p> + +<p>Effie laughed.</p> + +<p>"Polishing, cleaning, and scrubbing," she said. "In short, doing very +much what Mrs. Robinson's little maid of all-work does down in the +kitchen here."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, dear!" exclaimed Agnes; "if those are a nurse's duties, you +won't catch me going in for that sort of profession."</p> + +<p>"It's awfully interesting," said Effie. "I have, of course to begin at +the bottom, but I like it very much."</p> + +<p>While she was speaking, there came a knock at the door. George went to +open it, and a young man came in. George brought him up to introduce him +to his mother.</p> + +<p>"This is my great friend, Fred Lawson, mother," he said. "Effie, let me +introduce you to Lawson—Lawson, this is my sister Effie."</p> + +<p>Effie bowed. She felt the color rushing all over her face. Lawson was +the man whom George had wronged in some mysterious way. Lawson was the +man for whom that dreadful £250 was required.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XV." id="CHAPTER_XV."></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">111</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XV.</h2> +</div> + +<p>They all sat down to dinner, which Effie further noticed was a great +deal more luxurious than when she held the purse strings. There was a +nice little joint of roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, and one or two +vegetables. This course was followed by an apple tart and custard; and +then the board was graced with some russet apples and walnuts and a +bottle of port wine.</p> + +<p>Effie felt such a sense of consternation that she could scarcely eat +this pleasant food. But Mrs. Staunton, George, Lawson, and the younger +children enjoyed the dinner thoroughly. When the beef was taken away, +there was very little left on the joint; and as to the fruit tart, it +vanished almost as soon as it was cut. Effie could not help wondering to +herself how £150 a year could meet this lavish style of living.</p> + +<p>Lawson talked very pleasantly during dinner. After glancing toward Effie +several times, he suddenly remarked:</p> + +<p>"I cannot help feeling that I know your face," said he. "Where and when +have we met before?"</p> + +<p>"I saw you last night," said Effie, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"You saw me last night! What in the world do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Effie. "Don't you remember No. 17, in B Ward? You came in to +stop that terrible<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">112</a></span> hemorrhage from the lungs from which she was +suffering."</p> + +<p>"B Ward at St. Joseph's?" exclaimed Lawson.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear Effie, now I beg of you not to allude to horrible things at +dinner," exclaimed Mrs. Staunton.</p> + +<p>"No, mother; I am sorry I mentioned it." Effie colored up.</p> + +<p>"What have you to do with St. Joseph's?" said Lawson.</p> + +<p>"I am a probationer in B Ward, under Sister Kate."</p> + +<p>"Never! how extraordinary! Now I remember, you are the girl who held the +basin. So you really are a probationer! A fresh one! Have you been there +long?"</p> + +<p>"Just a week."</p> + +<p>"Well, let me congratulate you on one thing, you held that basin without +shaking it; I expect you have got plenty of nerve. Of course, I knew I +must have seen you before; I never forget a face."</p> + +<p>Lawson presently went out with George for a walk. Agnes dressed the +children and took them with her to the Sunday school, and Effie was +alone with her mother.</p> + +<p>"Come and sit by me, darling," said Mrs. Staunton. "It is so very nice +to have you home again; I miss you very much, my dear daughter. But I am +really getting better. George wants me to consult Dr. Davidson at St. +Joseph's Hospital. He thinks that your dear father may have been +mistaken about my heart, and that it may get quite strong and well +again."</p> + +<p>"If you feel better, I don't think I would consult anyone," said Effie, +trembling a little.</p> + +<p>"Well, dear, well, there's no hurry about it. But I always notice, +Effie, and it distresses me not a little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">113</a></span> that any suggestion of +George's you are likely to pooh-pooh; now, surely that is scarcely fair +to him, dear fellow? You must notice, my love, how cheerful and pleasant +we have made this room. George insisted on my getting new curtains—only +white muslin, you careful child. They cost really very little, but they +do make such a difference in the effect. Then he has also determined +that I shall live better, plenty of meat and a little port wine. It is a +most <i>false</i> economy, my dear, not to attend to one's diet. There's +nothing else keeps up the health."</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother, I know all that; but good, expensive, nourishing things +have to be paid for."</p> + +<p>"Now, Effie, don't let me hear you begin that dismal plaint. Do you +really mean to insinuate that I, your mother, would go into debt for +things?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, dear mother! how could I think that?"</p> + +<p>"You imply it, my love, by your manner."</p> + +<p>Effie sighed.</p> + +<p>It was hopeless to argue or remonstrate. She felt as if the little home, +so different from the beloved one in Whittington, was in reality +constructed over a volcano—any day it might collapse. The weight of +sorrow which pressed against her heart as she thought of this, of her +father, of the old life, quite crushed the brave spirit for the moment. +Where was George's honor? How dared he lead his mother into these +extravagances, when he knew, too, when he knew——</p> + +<p>Effie clasped her hands tightly together. She restrained her emotions +with an effort, and turned the conversation to indifferent matters.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton was certainly in better spirits. There was a little color +in her cheeks, and some of the old sweet brightness in her eves.</p> + +<p>When George had been absent about an hour, she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">114</a></span> grew restless and +<i>distraite</i>; she left her seat by Effie's side, and, going to the +window, looked up and down the street.</p> + +<p>"I hope the rain isn't coming on," she said; "he forgot to take an +overcoat."</p> + +<p>"Who, mother?"</p> + +<p>"George."</p> + +<p>"But really, mother dear, he isn't sugar; he won't melt."</p> + +<p>"There you are again, Effie, making little of your brother. It so +happens that he has a nice new coat on to-day, and I don't want it to +get shabby at once."</p> + +<p>"A new coat! How did he buy it?"</p> + +<p>"I lent him a little money for the purpose; he didn't go into debt, so +you need not think it."</p> + +<p>"I wonder you were able to spare the money."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; some of my dividends fell due, and were paid on Monday. I lent +George three pounds; I think he has got a wonderful coat for the money. +He will pay me back as soon as he gets his own salary. Ah! and there he +is, dear fellow, and that nice-looking young man, Mr. Lawson. Effie, now +do ring the bell; Mrs. Robinson ought to have tea on the table."</p> + +<p>With a great effort Effie kept from making remarks which she knew would +only irritate her mother.</p> + +<p>She said to herself, "There's no help for things to-day. The person to +talk to is George; he ought not to allow mother to rush through her +money in this way. I wonder if I am doing wrong in giving up my +home-life to the hospital; but no, I don't think I am. Mother would have +insisted on managing the money in any case."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Robinson appeared with the tea-tray. There was a little jug of +cream and a shilling Madeira cake;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">115</a></span> there was also a great plate of +thick bread and butter for the children. The tea-tray was placed on the +table, and George and Lawson took their tea standing. Effie helped them. +Lawson looked at her once or twice, and thought what a wonderfully nice +face she had, how true her eyes were, how good she seemed altogether.</p> + +<p>"She's altogether of different metal from her brother," thought the +young man. "I wish with all my heart he were like her; but although +there is something lovable about him, and we are chums, of course, yet I +never feel quite sure of myself when in his company."</p> + +<p>The meal which followed was quite merry. Phil and Marjory had gone up to +the top of their class in Sunday school; Agnes was promoted to teach a +class of very little children; Katie was going in for the Junior +Cambridge Examination, and eagerly consulted Effie about some books +which she was obliged to procure. Effie promised to give her the money +out of her first month's salary.</p> + +<p>"But that will be some time off," she said, "for I am only going through +my month's trial now, so you must be patient, Katie."</p> + +<p>"I'll lend you the money," said George, stroking his sister's hair.</p> + +<p>He looked so affectionate and handsome, and so manly and good-humored, +that it was impossible not to feel pleased with him. Mrs. Staunton's +eyes quite beamed as she glanced at her eldest son.</p> + +<p>"Now, mother, I am going to sit near you," he said. He drew his chair +close to his mother, and began to talk to her in a low tone.</p> + +<p>Effie and Lawson exchanged a few words over hospital work. He would make +an enthusiastic doctor some day! he loved the profession and thought it +the noblest in the world. He reminded Effie a little of her father.</p> + +<p>The quick hours flew all too fast. Effie's time was up. She went back to +the hospital with a curious sense of uneasiness, but equally also of +rest and refreshment. It was nice to think that George had such a good +friend as Fred Lawson.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVI." id="CHAPTER_XVI."></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">116</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> +</div> + +<p>Two months passed away without any special incident. Effie's month of +trial being over, she was now established at St. Joseph's as a regular +probationer. Her salary of twelve pounds a year began from the day her +second month commenced. All those qualities which Dorothy was quite sure +that Effie possessed were coming abundantly to the fore. She had tact, +she had courage, she had nerve. She was also absolutely unselfish. Self +was not in the foreground with her; the work which she had to do, the +work which she meant to carry through in the best possible manner, in +the bravest spirit, with the most conscientious sense of duty, ever +filled her mental horizon. Sister Kate began to trust Effie. She began +to smile at her now and then, and to give her not quite so much +floor-scrubbing and grate-polishing, and a little more work to do for +the patients themselves.</p> + +<p>The patients liked to call Effie to smooth their sheets, to turn their +pillows, to give them their drinks. One or two of them, when they had an +odd moment, began to make little confidences to her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">117</a></span> She learned their +histories almost at a glance. She also studied their fancies; she began +to find out the exact way Mrs. Robinson liked her gruel flavored, and +how Mrs. Guiers liked her pillows arranged. Effie made no fuss over the +patients,—fuss and favoritism were strongly against the rules,—but +notwithstanding, she was a favorite herself.</p> + +<p>More than one pair of tired eyes looked at her with longing and +refreshment as she passed, and more than one pair of wearied lips smiled +when she came near.</p> + +<p>Two months went by in this fashion—very, very quickly, as such busy +months must. It was found impossible to allow Effie to go home every +Sunday, but she went, as a rule, every second one.</p> + +<p>Things seemed to be going fairly straight at home. The extravagance she +had noticed on her first Sunday was not repeated to the same extent. +Mrs. Staunton seemed decidedly better, and Effie gave herself up with a +thankful heart to her work.</p> + +<p>It was now the middle of winter, close upon Christmas-time. The weather +outside was bitterly cold, although, in the ward, Effie scarcely felt +this. She wore her neat lilac print dress just the same in winter as in +summer.</p> + +<p>One day, about a week before Christmas, when a thick yellow fog was +shutting out all the view from the high ward windows, Effie was doing +something for No. 47, a poor, tired-looking woman of the name of Martin, +when Lawson, the young medical student, came suddenly into the ward. He +had been sent by the house physician to take notes on a certain case. +This case happened to be the very one which Effie was attending. When he +saw Effie a peculiar expression passed over his face. It was against the +strictest of all rules for the medical students ever to address a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">118</a></span> word +to the probationers; even the necessary duties required of them had to +be conveyed through a Sister or a ward nurse. Effie was helping poor No. +47 to drink a little milk and soda water. As she put the glass back in +its place, Lawson came close to her. He said abruptly:</p> + +<p>"I am very anxious to have a conversation with you about George."</p> + +<p>She colored crimson when he addressed her.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said.</p> + +<p>"Nurse!" exclaimed Sister Kate's voice at that moment, in a harsh, sharp +tone, "go at once and make up the fire at the other end of the room."</p> + +<p>Effie went off, trembling and disturbed.</p> + +<p>The fact of Lawson having specially addressed her passed out of her mind +immediately, but the mention of George's name filled her with fear.</p> + +<p>It was the first time in her hospital life that she absolutely forgot +the rules laid down for her conduct. Sister Kate, who had the eyes of a +hawk, noticed when Lawson bent over to speak to the pretty little +probationer. It was her duty to correct the faintest attempt at flirting +on the part of the probationers and medical students. She felt shocked +at Effie, who was fast becoming a favorite of hers, permitting such a +thing for a moment, and, when next Effie had anything to do for her, +quite resumed her icy manner toward her.</p> + +<p>No. 47 required some special attention again that evening—she was +feverish, and not going on well. She called Effie to her side in an +eager voice.</p> + +<p>"You might turn my pillow again for me, dear," she said. "You know how +to hitch it right under the small of my back, better than any of those +other nurses. There now, that's better. Stoop your head a bit, love. I +believe if you go downstairs into the hall<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">119</a></span> near the surgery, you are +safe to see that young doctor; he is sure to be in the dispensary about +this time, and you might catch him when he is going out."</p> + +<p>"Hush!" said Effie. "I know you mean kindly, but you ought not to talk +like that."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my love, I know, I know," said the woman, with a wink. "We was all +young once—I am three-and-forty, and have never had a mate. I missed my +chance when I was young. Don't you miss yours, nurse."</p> + +<p>Effie turned pale with indignation; but then, seeing that the woman +meant kindly, she tried to smile.</p> + +<p>"I am very much obliged to you," she said, "but things aren't a bit the +way you think." She then went off to perform her other duties.</p> + +<p>Sister Kate spoke to her sharply.</p> + +<p>"Nurse," she said, "I hope you remember the rule which forbids +favoritism—I noticed that you stayed longer than was necessary with No. +47."</p> + +<p>"She complained a good deal of her back, Sister, and I was arranging her +pillows for her."</p> + +<p>"Don't try to deceive me," said Sister Kate. "You know perfectly well +that you did not spend all that time arranging a pillow. Now, go and +help to bring up the teas."</p> + +<p>Effie turned to her duties with a tingling sensation in her eyes.</p> + +<p>It was the first time since her arrival at St. Joseph's that her work +seemed almost impossible to her. Her heart quite ached with longing to +know what Lawson had meant. What had he to tell her about George? As she +thought, her fears grew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">120</a></span> greater and her memory of the hospital rules +less and less.</p> + +<p>She determined at any risk to try and see Lawson that evening. It would +be impossible for her to venture down into the central hall of the +hospital, but she knew for certain that he would come into the ward +again late that evening.</p> + +<p>Sister Kate would be off duty at nine o'clock, and Sister Alice, the +night superintendent, was not nearly so strict. Effie hovered about near +the door; she knew she was disobeying rules, for she ought to have gone +to bed soon after nine o'clock. No one noticed her, however. The night +nurses were all busy taking up their different duties, and Sister Alice +was talking to the house physician at the farther end of the ward.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Effie, standing near one of the doors, saw Lawson coming +upstairs; she ran to him without a moment's hesitation. "What have you +to tell me about George?" she said.</p> + +<p>He colored, and looked almost annoyed when she spoke to him.</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you here," he said in a hasty voice. "Are you going home +next Sunday?"</p> + +<p>"No; it's my Sunday in—unless I could get one of the other probationers +to change with me."</p> + +<p>"I wish you would manage to do that; I really want to see you very +badly. If you'll go home on Sunday, I'll call in the course of the +afternoon, and then I can walk back with you to the hospital. Now, go at +once—you must not be seen talking to me."</p> + +<p>Effie flew down the corridor to her own little room.</p> + +<p>That night she could scarcely sleep; she felt oppressed with all kinds +of forebodings. The idea of her having broken one of the rules, and, in +fact, laid<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">121</a></span> herself open to dismissal, never once entered into her head.</p> + +<p>She was still the faithful nurse—the earnest-minded, gentle, good girl, +who would give up her whole life to the alleviation of the sufferings of +others. The fact of Effie having a dual life, of having a nature which +could not forget the old home ties, was not likely, however, to be +recognized in the hospital.</p> + +<p>The next morning at breakfast she noticed that one or two of the +probationers giggled a little when they saw her. She sat down in her +usual seat, and one of the girls nudged her elbow.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "you're no better than the rest of us."</p> + +<p>"What in the world do you mean?" said Effie, coloring scarlet.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't be so sly!" said the girl, with a poke which she intended to +make playful. "He is a very good-looking young fellow, too; only, if you +don't want to get into mischief, don't let Sister Kate see it."</p> + +<p>"I know what you mean," said Effie in a steady voice; "but you are +altogether mistaken. I scarcely know Mr. Lawson; he only spoke to me +yesterday because he happened to be a great friend of my brother's."</p> + +<p>"Oh, the usual thing," laughed the girl. "It's so very convenient to +have brothers; is it not, Lucy?"</p> + +<p>The girl addressed as Lucy grinned, and Effie felt very uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>At dinner that day, it suddenly passed through her mind that she must, +by hook or by crook, induce one of the probationers to change Sundays +with her. Lucy was usually a good-natured girl. Her people did not live +in town; as a rule she spent her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">122</a></span> Sundays out with her aunt-in-law. +Effie went up to her when she had a moment to spare.</p> + +<p>"Lucy," she said, "I wish you would do something for me."</p> + +<p>"To be sure I will, Effie," she replied—"anything in my power."</p> + +<p>"I want to go home very badly next Sunday; do you think it would be +possible for me to change with you?"</p> + +<p>"Heigh-ho!" said Lucy, "You want to meet Mr. Lawson; I know your sly +little ways."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, it is not true," began Effie; but then she stopped, for she +knew it was true. She would meet him. "Oh, how little Lucy knows the +burden that is pressing on me!" thought the poor girl.</p> + +<p>Tears suddenly rose to her pretty brown eyes.</p> + +<p>"I cannot explain things to you," she said; "I would if I could. You +must believe in me and trust me. I have a great deal of anxiety. Oh, it +has nothing to do with the hospital; it is about my home life. There is +a great burden laid upon me. I want very much to go home on Sunday. +Indeed, Mr. Lawson has little to do with the real burden, only I believe +he can tell me something."</p> + +<p>"I know you are a good girl," began Lucy, who became grave on the spot. +"Of course you shall take my turn if Sister Kate will allow it."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVII." id="CHAPTER_XVII."></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">123</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> +</div> + +<p>Sister Kate made no objection, and Effie hurried home in a state of +excitement which she could scarcely restrain. Mrs. Staunton did not +expect her, and the poor girl felt her heart sink low in her breast when +she saw that her unexpected arrival scarcely gave satisfaction. There +was a nice white cloth on the table, and a large bunch of flowers in a +pretty cut-glass jug stood in the center. An attempt at dessert again +graced the board, and Effie noticed that a bottle of sherry and a bottle +of port stood on the little sideboard.</p> + +<p>She felt a sense of dismay.</p> + +<p>"Even mother is beginning to keep things from me," she said to herself. +"It is all George, of course! They did not expect me home to-day, so +they are having a particularly good dinner. Is it possible that even +mother would try to deceive me? Oh, dear, dear! how changed all our life +is, now that father is no longer here!"</p> + +<p>There had never been the faintest shadow of concealment about the honest +doctor, and while with her husband Mrs. Staunton was the most +straightforward woman imaginable; but, alas! her character was a weak +one—she was now completely under George's influence, and George had +learned to walk in those crooked paths which those who begin to do wrong +are always tempted to follow.</p> + +<p>He came in presently, looking particularly handsome and manly. He had on +a nice new coat; and his beautifully got-up collar showed off his fresh +young face to the best possible advantage.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">124</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton called him up at once for Effie to criticise.</p> + +<p>"Doesn't he look well in a white silk tie?" she said. "I like white ties +better than colored ones for him, and they are not so expensive either, +for I can wash them myself."</p> + +<p>"I wonder all that washing does not fag you, mother," said Effie.</p> + +<p>Before Mrs. Staunton could reply, Mrs. Robinson appeared with the +dinner, and the family sat down to an excellent meal.</p> + +<p>Effie saw quite plainly that it would be useless for her to attempt to +expostulate. Mrs. Staunton, after her first start of unconcealed dismay, +was very affectionate to her daughter. She told Effie that she thought +she looked a little pale, and wondered whether all that nursing was not +too much for her.</p> + +<p>"No, mother, I love the work," said Effie.</p> + +<p>"But that is not the question, my love," said Mrs. Staunton, shaking her +head. "The question is this: is it undermining your health?"</p> + +<p>"Well, in any case I should have to earn my living," said Effie. "I +could not possibly afford to do nothing at home. As well earn it as a +nurse as in any other way, and I love nursing beyond anything else in +the world."</p> + +<p>"You always were an obstinate dear little girl, was she not, George? +But, after all, Effie——" Here Mrs. Staunton paused and looked at her +son. "I think I might tell Effie?" she said, giving him a bright nod.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't suppose there is anything to make a fuss over," replied +George. He colored as he spoke, and looked out of the window. He could +easily hoodwink his mother, but it was difficult to meet Effie's clear +eyes and not to feel sure that she was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">125</a></span> reading him through, and seeing +him as he really was.</p> + +<p>Agnes jumped up, saying it was full time to go to Sunday school; she +carried off the children with her, and George, his mother, and Effie +were alone.</p> + +<p>"Sit down in your usual chair, George," said his mother. He did so, +bringing up the port wine as he spoke, and pouring out a glass, which he +insisted on his mother drinking. He tossed off one or two glasses +himself, after which his eyes grew bright and steady, and a color came +into his cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Yes, tell Effie," he said.</p> + +<p>"I think you might do so, George; I am so proud of you."</p> + +<p>"No, mother. I like to hear you describing me; you make me feel such an +awfully fine fellow."</p> + +<p>George laughed as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, Effie," said his mother, "you will in future learn to +appreciate our dear George as he deserves. The fact is this: he has just +got a rise in his salary of a whole hundred a year. George is now +earning two hundred a year; and he has arranged, dear fellow, to give me +one hundred a year, in order that I may have those little comforts which +he thinks I require."</p> + +<p>"Is that really true?" said Effie, coloring. "Oh, what splendid news!" +She looked eagerly at George as she spoke. She longed to jump up, throw +her arms round his neck, and kiss him.</p> + +<p>"Is this true?" she repeated. "Oh, I am so glad! We do want the money so +badly."</p> + +<p>George stooped to flick off a speck of dust which had settled on his +immaculate shirt-cuff; his eyes would not meet Effie's.</p> + +<p>"Of course it is true," he said in a bravado sort of voice. "You don't +suppose I would tell mother a lie, do you?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">126</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, Effie! how could you doubt him?" said Mrs. Staunton, almost crying.</p> + +<p>"No, mother, I don't doubt him," Effie replied. She walked to the +window. Her momentary pleasure was over; she knew, just as well as if +George had told her, that the whole thing was a fabrication. If he had +more money, he was not getting it in his situation. His look, his +attitude, joined to the few words Lawson had said to her, made Effie +quite certain on that point. Burning words half rose to her lips, but +she checked them. She did not doubt George. She read the truth in his +eyes; what fell from his lips was nothing.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton kept on talking. "We shall have real comforts at home +now," she said. "I am, as my boy says, a wonderful manager."</p> + +<p>"The best in all the world," interrupted George; "there never was such a +mother."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton's eyes quite shone with pleasure.</p> + +<p>"What I was thinking was this, Effie," she continued, "that if you +really are not strong enough to go on with your work, we can now afford +to keep you at home."</p> + +<p>"Of course we can," said George.</p> + +<p>He had scarcely said these words, half turning his back on Effie as he +spoke, when the room door was opened by Mrs. Robinson, and Lawson was +announced.</p> + +<p>When he saw his friend, George suddenly turned pale. He recovered +himself in a moment, however, and went forward to meet him, speaking in +a loud and bragging voice.</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Lawson? Welcome, old chap. We did not expect you to-day, +but we are right glad to see you, of course."</p> + +<p>"You will stay and have tea with us, won't you,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">127</a></span> Mr. Lawson?" said Mrs. +Staunton in her sweet voice.</p> + +<p>"Yes, certainly," said Lawson.</p> + +<p>He had given Effie his hand when he came into the room, but he scarcely +looked at her.</p> + +<p>He sat down near Mrs. Staunton, and began to talk to her in his usual +bright way. She yielded after a moment to his charm. Lawson was a young +fellow with a great amount of general information; he had also abundance +of tact, and he knew how to suit his words to Mrs. Staunton's +requirements.</p> + +<p>When George saw his friend talking to his mother, he went up to Effie +and stood near her.</p> + +<p>"Come to this end of the room," he said abruptly.</p> + +<p>Effie followed him.</p> + +<p>"I am likely to make quite a pile of money," he said, speaking in a low +voice and glancing toward his mother. "I know you think badly of +me,—it's awfully hard on a fellow when his sister thinks badly of +him,—but, nevertheless, I am likely to be in a real good way of +business soon. And what I want to say now is this, Effie. I am anxious +to pay back that £250 which you borrowed for me."</p> + +<p>"I wish you would," said Effie.</p> + +<p>"Well, I dare say I can give you fifty pounds toward it this week. +Squire Harvey won't require the whole of the money back at once."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he doesn't require it at all," said Effie. "It is I who require it. +It is my honor and the honor of my dead father that demands it. It ought +to be paid back, and you ought to do it."</p> + +<p>"Don't speak so loudly—you do get so excited about things," said +George.</p> + +<p>Effie lowered her voice. Lawson, as he talked to Mrs. Staunton, glanced +sharply at her.</p> + +<p>Tea was brought in, and Effie had to take her place<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">128</a></span> at the tea-tray. +George's words had made her feel more uncomfortable than ever. It was +absolute nonsense to suppose that he could be earning money at this +rate.</p> + +<p>After tea, Effie had to go back to the hospital.</p> + +<p>"Good-by mother," she said. "I won't see you now for a fortnight."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton got up and put her feeble old arms round her daughter's +neck. "Good-by, my darling," she said. "Take care of yourself; don't +overwork yourself. Remember it is unnecessary. You have got a home, and +a dear, noble, faithful brother to provide for you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Effie, you are heartily welcome to all that I can give you," said +George in a lofty tone.</p> + +<p>Effie pressed her lips to her mother's, kept her arms for one moment +round her neck, and then turned away with tears in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Good-by, George," she said, holding out her hand.</p> + +<p>"I'll see you back to the hospital," said George.</p> + +<p>"Don't do that. It is a beautiful evening; mother would like you to take +a walk with her."</p> + +<p>"And I'd have the greatest pleasure in seeing Miss Effie home, if she +would let me," said Lawson.</p> + +<p>George hesitated for a moment. For some reason, which was more than +evident, he did not want Effie to be alone with his friend.</p> + +<p>He looked at his mother. She did not catch his eye, or she would have +read his wish by instinct. The evening was really very fine, and she +liked to walk round the square leaning on George's arm. When well +enough, too, she liked him to take her to church.</p> + +<p>"I think I'd enjoy a little walk with you, George," she said. "The +evening is quite like spring—Wonderful weather for so near Christmas; +the air is as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">129</a></span> mild and soft as milk; and as Mr. Lawson has so kindly +promised to see Effie back, perhaps you'd come?"</p> + +<p>"All right," said George. "By-by, Effie; you'll hear from me, perhaps, +in the course of the week."</p> + +<p>Effie went downstairs, followed by Lawson. As soon as ever they got out, +he looked her full in the face.</p> + +<p>"You must be greatly amazed," he said, "at my presuming to bother you +about your family affairs."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" she replied. "I think you are kind, but your words have made +me very anxious."</p> + +<p>"Then," said Lawson, "you see for yourself that things are not all +right."</p> + +<p>"I have known that for some time."</p> + +<p>"George is a great friend of mine," continued Lawson. "We saw a good +deal of each other when he first came to town—he was a right jolly sort +of fellow then; it was only about six months ago that, all of a sudden, +he seemed to change. I suppose he took up with some bad companions, but +I really can't say for certain."</p> + +<p>"But what about him now?" said Effie, in a voice almost irritable with +anxiety. "Have you anything fresh to tell me?"</p> + +<p>"You heard him, probably, say to your mother that he had a rise of +salary?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"The fact is," continued Lawson, "I know that not to be true."</p> + +<p>Effie also in her heart of hearts knew it not to be true, but she could +not bear to hear a stranger abuse her brother.</p> + +<p>"How can you be sure?" she said, somewhat inconsistently.</p> + +<p>"How can I be sure?" he retorted. "This is not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">130</a></span> a matter of sentiment, I +happen to know. George is working with a relative, it is true, but Mr. +Gering is one of the hardest men in the City. Everyone who understands +him knows the system on which he works, and a relative has no more +chance with him than another. George will have to take his rise step by +step at something like the rate of ten pounds a year. Perhaps he has +told your mother that he has had quite a large rise."</p> + +<p>"He said a hundred a year; he said he was now receiving two hundred a +year."</p> + +<p>"What is to be done?" said Lawson, "Something ought to be done to stop +it. Your mother will certainly live beyond her means, and then you will +all get into no end of a mess. Do forgive me for taking an interest; the +fact is, George was a great friend of mine once."</p> + +<p>"Oh, please don't give him up!" said Effie. "If good men turn against +him, what chance has he, poor fellow?"</p> + +<p>"I won't, if you wish me to look after him," said Lawson, giving her a +quick glance.</p> + +<p>At this moment two nurses from St. Joseph's Hospital, who were crossing +the street, saw Effie. They noticed her earnest face, the sparkle in her +eyes; they also observed the glance which the handsome young medical +student gave her. The women nudged one another, smiled, and went on.</p> + +<p>Effie never saw them.</p> + +<p>"Let us walk a little faster," said Lawson, who was not so unobservant. +He felt vexed that the women should see him with Effie, but now that he +was with her he must at least unburden his mind.</p> + +<p>"George told me," said Effie,—"perhaps it is not wrong to repeat it to +you,—that he is likely to make a great deal of money."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">131</a></span></p> + +<p>"Did he? Did he tell you that—did he happen to say how much?"</p> + +<p>"Well, he spoke as if money were very easily earned," said Effie. "He +said something about getting fifty pounds this week."</p> + +<p>"I must tell you the truth," said Lawson. "There's no help for it. Your +brother will go straight to the bad if he is not rescued, and that at +once."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean? Oh, how you frighten me!"</p> + +<p>Effie's face was as white as a sheet.</p> + +<p>"I am ever so sorry," said Lawson; "but what is the use of keeping back +the truth? George has had no rise of salary—indeed, if he is not +careful, he is mother has gone far beyond our means. She hasn't +[Transcriber's note: text of this paragraph in original is as shown and +ends abruptly at this point.]</p> + +<p>"Then how does he get his money?"</p> + +<p>"He gets it by gambling."</p> + +<p>"Gambling! Oh, no! oh, no!" said Effie.</p> + +<p>She had the horror of that vice which a pure-minded, well-brought-up +girl must ever have.</p> + +<p>"It is true," said Lawson; "it gives me the greatest pain to tell you +anything so bad of your brother, but there's no help for it."</p> + +<p>"But how do you know?" interrupted Effie.</p> + +<p>"I know by the best of evidence. I have had my suspicions for some time, +but I happened to see him coming out of one of those places last +week—yes, I must tell you, I saw him coming out of a gambling den. I +think he goes night after night. At present he is winning more than he +loses, but that is always the game for drawing fellows on."</p> + +<p>"It must be stopped," said Effie. She felt quite faint and sick. If her +mother knew this it would kill her on the spot.</p> + +<p>They had nearly reached the hospital, and Effie turned and faced +Lawson.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">132</a></span></p> + +<p>"You don't half know what this means to me," she said. "George is not +exactly like an ordinary brother. When my father died quite suddenly of +diphtheria some months ago, he left my mother in George's care. If +George goes to the bad now, she will certainly die; you must have +noticed for yourself how she is wrapped up in him."</p> + +<p>"Yes; no one could fail to notice it. I think her love for him +beautiful; and he loves her, too. Poor fellow! that is his great +redeeming point."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't call it real love," said Effie, almost with passion—"to +deceive her as he does—to do wrong, and that sort of wrong. Oh, I think +my heart will break!"</p> + +<p>Tears choked her voice, she had the greatest possible difficulty in +keeping them back. Lawson took out his watch.</p> + +<p>"You are not late," he said. "Let us take a turn round this square."</p> + +<p>They had entered an old-fashioned square where there were very few +people. They walked round and round the dismal central garden for some +time. Lawson talked, and Effie listened. After a time they decided that +George's perilous downward career must be stopped at any cost. Lawson +said he would make it his business to see George the following evening, +to tell him quite frankly what he knew, and, in short, to compel him, if +necessary, to do what was right.</p> + +<p>"He'll be obstinate," said Effie—"I know he'll be hard to deal with. +Oh, what shall we do?—what shall we do? I am quite certain that already +my mother has gone far beyond our means. She hasn't been half careful +enough since I left her. If George stops getting money in this way +she'll wonder and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">133</a></span> question. I doubt very much whether you can have the +least influence over him. What is to be done?"</p> + +<p>"Don't be so down-hearted," said Lawson. "He requires a man to tackle +him—a man who really knows the temptations young fellows meet. If +you'll allow me to say so, Miss Staunton, I don't think the case quite +hopeless; anyhow, you may be quite sure I'll do my best for him."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said poor Effie; "you are more than good, and I do trust +you." She hurried back to the hospital; but, to her dismay, when she got +there, found that she was a quarter of an hour late.</p> + +<p>Absolute punctuality in returning from any outdoor pleasure is expected +from all nurses. She hurried upstairs, hoping that she might gain her +room, put on her cap and apron, and return to the ward before Sister +Kate had time to miss her. This might have been the case—for Sister +Kate had been very much occupied with some anxious cases during the +afternoon—had not one of the nurses, who had a spite against Effie for +being prettier and cleverer than herself, drawn Sister Kate's attention, +to the fact that the young probationer was behind her time. This nurse +had seen Effie walking with Lawson. Immediately her spirit of jealousy +and envy was up in arms; she did not for a moment consider what injury +she might do the poor girl by her false and unkind words.</p> + +<p>"Nurse Staunton is late," she said. "I don't know how I am possibly to +get the ward in order for the night unless I have some help."</p> + +<p>"I must speak to her," said Sister Kate, glancing at the clock, and +looking a little annoyed. "This wasn't her Sunday to go out, either. I +cannot let the rules be broken in this way. Let me know as soon as ever +she comes in."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">134</a></span></p> + +<p>"I suppose there's some excuse to be made for her," said the nurse, +speaking in a knowing way. "She's a very careful, good sort of girl, but +there <i>are</i> times when the best of us forget ourselves."</p> + +<p>The woman knew that Sister Kate would interpret her words as she wished +her to do. She went off in a hurry to perform her duties, and when Effie +entered the ward, Sister Kate received her with marked coldness.</p> + +<p>"You are very late, nurse," she said. "Where have you been?"</p> + +<p>"I have been at home with my mother."</p> + +<p>"Was your mother ill? Is that your excuse for being behind your time?"</p> + +<p>"No; mother was well—better than she has been for some time."</p> + +<p>"Then why are you late?"</p> + +<p>"The fact is, I was walking with a friend, and forgot to notice the +hour."</p> + +<p>"That's no excuse. You have certainly behaved very carelessly, and have +put the other nurses out by not being in time to take your duties. Who +was the friend with whom you were walking?"</p> + +<p>Sister Kate had no right to ask this question, but she felt much +provoked at the moment, and the color which rushed all over Effie's face +excited her curiosity.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you'll think I did wrong," said Effie, looking up at her almost +defiantly. "The friend was Mr. Lawson. He knows my brother very well; he +was talking to me about him. I cannot refuse to speak to him when I see +him out of doors, can I?"</p> + +<p>"Don't be pert, nurse! You know it is one of the strictest rules of the +hospital that none of the nurses are to speak to the medical students."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">135</a></span></p> + +<p>"I know; and I don't wish to speak to him in the hospital."</p> + +<p>"See you don't, or you'll be dismissed at once; in fact, the less you +know of any of the medical students, the better for you. I am very sorry +that this young man knows your brother. I should not have had anything +to do with you, had I been aware of this fact."</p> + +<p>"How absurd and unjust!" murmured Effie under her breath. She turned +away—she felt absolutely cross.</p> + +<p>Sister Kate called her back.</p> + +<p>"Now, bustle about," she said. "The supper-trays want to be taken away; +the women are perfectly tired of waiting to be settled for the night."</p> + +<p>Effie moved mechanically about her duties. Her heart felt sick. She did +not think she could remain much longer under Sister Kate's care. "If she +treats me like this," thought the proud girl, "I cannot endure it. Mr. +Lawson is nothing to me—he is only my brother's friend. He is good, and +wants to help us in an hour of great perplexity. What shall I do? I feel +tied and fettered in every way."</p> + +<p>She laid her head on her pillow only to burst into tears. She cried +herself to sleep. All the world seemed black to her.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVIII." id="CHAPTER_XVIII."></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">136</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> +</div> + +<p>Effie saw very little of Dorothy Fraser, but on the following day, to +her great surprise and pleasure, as she was leaving the dining-hall, +Dorothy came up and spoke to her.</p> + +<p>"You have a minute to spare," she said; "just come out on this balcony +and talk to me."</p> + +<p>Effie obeyed her.</p> + +<p>"What do you want with me, Dorothy?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I wish to know why you look so pale and worried—you seem to have +displeased Sister Kate, too."</p> + +<p>Effie very nearly burst into tears, but she restrained herself.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what it is," she said. "It is the most unjust thing!"</p> + +<p>She then mentioned in as few words as possible the circumstance of +Lawson having spoken to her—of her great anxiety about George—and of +her having walked back with the young medical student from her home on +the previous evening.</p> + +<p>Dorothy looked very grave while Effie was speaking.</p> + +<p>"It is unfortunate," she said. "This is just the sort of thing that +injures a girl at the commencement of her hospital life."</p> + +<p>"But it is so ridiculous and unjust," said Effie. "What in the world can +Mr. Lawson be to me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing, of course, my dear," replied Dorothy. "But still the rules +cannot be too strict on this point. You know I am not a prude, but all +girls are not like you, Effie; and, in short, Sister<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">137</a></span> Kate is in the +right. Someone must have seen you walking back with Mr. Lawson, and must +have told her, or hinted, at least, at the state of the case. Nothing +else would have induced her to question you."</p> + +<p>"She had no right to speak to me about acquaintances that I meet out of +the hospital."</p> + +<p>"Strictly speaking, she has no right; that's why I say she must have got +a hint."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, never mind her," said Effie. "I won't speak to Mr. Lawson +again, unless I meet him out of doors, where I can, and shall, whatever +Sister Kate may say."</p> + +<p>"Effie, you must be careful."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to think of myself at all. Can't you see how miserable I +am about my mother and about George?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; it is a most wretched business. I am more sorry for you than I can +say."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wish something could be done," said Effie. "I feel tired and +fettered here—I feel almost wild. I cannot devote myself to my +necessary duties."</p> + +<p>"Poor child," said Dorothy in her caressing voice. "Let me think: I must +help you in some way. Suppose I go to-day to see your mother? I had a +chance of having the whole afternoon to myself, but, as I had nowhere in +particular to go, was determining not to avail myself of it, but now I +can be of use to you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Dorothy! would you really go to see mother? It will be of the +greatest possible use. You have such tact—you can say things that no +one else would venture to say; and then if only you could see George!"</p> + +<p>"I'll take the thing up somehow," said Dorothy; "you shan't be dragged +and worried to death, you dear, brave little girl. Give me a kiss, +Effie, and go<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">138</a></span> back to your work. Between Mr. Lawson and me, we will +pull you through this trouble, see if we don't!"</p> + +<p>"Do you know Mr. Lawson, Dorothy?"</p> + +<p>"Know him! Of course I do. He is one of the very nicest fellows here—as +good as gold and as steady as a rock, and with such a beautiful +enthusiasm for his profession—he'll make a splendid doctor by and by. +Yes, Effie, don't mistake me: it is not the man I object to, it is the +fact that he is a medical student, and that you are a nurse. So many bad +things have been said about nurses and medical students that all nurses +worthy of the name have to make up their minds to show the world that +they can and will nurse without even the thought of flirtation coming +into their head."</p> + +<p>"You're right, of course," said Effie, with burning cheeks. "But it's a +shame, it's horrible! How can anyone think I wish to flirt?"</p> + +<p>She turned away—she was obliged to go back to her duties; but her heart +felt much lighter after her conversation with Dorothy.</p> + +<p>That afternoon Sister Kate, watched Effie as she would, could find no +fault with her. She was attentive, tactful, kind, and considerate; a +little bit of her old pleasant cheerfulness had also returned to +her—her face looked less careworn.</p> + +<p>The fact is, she was leaning on Dorothy, and felt the comfort of +Dorothy's strong support.</p> + +<p>The patients were only too glad for Effie to do things for them; and No. +47, who was very weak and low, smiled whenever the girl approached her +bedside.</p> + +<p>"Hold my hand, love, whenever you have a minute to spare," said the poor +creature. "I feel low like, awfully low; I am going down—down, and it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">139</a></span> +supports me to hold your hand; you're a good girl, anyone can see that."</p> + +<p>"I try to be," said Effie, tears springing to her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Ah, it's well to be good," continued the woman. "When we come to lie as +I'm lying now, we think a sight of goodness."</p> + +<p>"I hope you'll soon be better," said Effie.</p> + +<p>"Never, my love, never again. I'm going out—that's what is happening to +me; it's a lonesome thing to die, but I don't feel so lonesome when I'm +holding your hand."</p> + +<p>Effie came to the poor creature as often as she could. Once again the +fascination of the life she so dearly loved drew her out of herself, and +enabled her to forget the heavy home cares.</p> + +<p>In her bedroom that night Sister Dorothy paid her a visit.</p> + +<p>"Well, Effie," she said, "I've news for you. Mr. Lawson saw George last +night. He spoke to him quite frankly, and said that, if he did not +immediately give over this awful gambling, he'd go and see his cousin, +Mr. Gering."</p> + +<p>"And what did George say?" asked Effie.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he promised as faithfully as possible that he'd give it up. Mr. +Lawson seemed quite pleased with him, and said he didn't think he'd have +been so penitent and so easily influenced as he has been."</p> + +<p>"But will he give it up?" questioned Effie.</p> + +<p>"He promised to. Of course he is anxious at not being able to earn more +money, for the foolish fellow encouraged your mother to be extravagant, +and now there are several debts which must be met somehow. What's the +matter with you, Effie? Why do you start?"</p> + +<p>"How can I help it? Debts would kill mother.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">140</a></span> Perhaps I ought to tell +you, Dorothy—you have been so good to me, and I trust you so much that +I don't think it can be wrong to tell you any trouble which concerns +me."</p> + +<p>"No, of course it isn't. Speak out what is in your mind, Effie."</p> + +<p>"Well, George was in trouble that time he came to see father—that time +when father was dying. He owed Mr. Lawson—- I can't tell you how, I +can't tell you why—£250. He said that if the money were not paid back +within six weeks, that he, George—oh, Dorothy, how can I say it?—that +he'd have to go to—to <i>prison</i>! He said he must have the money; I felt, +too, that he must have the money; for our mother's sake. So I went to +see Squire Harvey, and he—he lent it to me."</p> + +<p>Dorothy sat down on the side of the bed. Effie's story made her feel +very grave. She paused for a moment, puzzled what to say.</p> + +<p>"He lent me the money," continued Effie, looking straight at her friend +with her bright eyes. "I know he never wants it back again, but he must +have it back."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes! he must have it back," exclaimed Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"Well, he lent it to me," continued Effie, with a sigh; "and I thought, +of course, that George would be all right after that, and I arranged +that the Squire should have his interest regularly. I thought my own +salary would nearly cover that."</p> + +<p>"It can't be done," interrupted Dorothy. "Your salary barely pays for +your washing and your few out-of-pocket expenses. It's absolutely +impossible that you can live here without a penny; the little you earn +must go to yourself."</p> + +<p>"Then there's nothing for it," said Effie; "I must go where I can earn +more. I hate the thought beyond all words, but I must—I must do it!"</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to tell me that you would give up your life as a nurse?"</p> + +<p>"Do you think for a moment, Dorothy, that I'd give it up willingly? It +makes me sick to think of relinquishing what has been my dream ever +since I was a little girl; but I see plainly that I must do something to +earn money to help mother; and then, if George does keep straight, +perhaps we may all be happy some day."</p> + +<p>Tears choked Effie's voice, her eyes grew dim.</p> + +<p>"What do you think of doing, dear?" said Dorothy in a gentle voice.</p> + +<p>"I'll go to the Harveys and ask them to take me as a governess for +Freda. I fancy, somehow, that they might be induced to give me a good +salary—something like fifty or sixty pounds a year, and I can teach a +child like Freda very well indeed, for her father saw that I was well +educated. There's nothing else for it, I can see that; but it breaks my +heart all the same."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIX." id="CHAPTER_XIX."></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">141</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> +</div> + +<p>Dorothy talked a little longer to Effie. When at last she left her, the +poor girl felt soothed and strengthened. She dropped off to sleep, to +dream of the old days when she was living in the pretty little cottage +in Whittington, and when she longed so earnestly to go out into the wide +world. Effie woke long before it was time to get up. She thought of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">142</a></span> her +dream, and sighed heavily to herself. She was in the wide world now with +a vengeance. Did it look as fair, as rose-colored, as fascinating, as it +used to look in her early dreams? No; the reality was bitter enough. She +would have given a great deal at that heavy moment of her life to turn +back the page and be a child at home again.</p> + +<p>The nurses' bell rang, and she got up quickly. Next week she was to take +her turn at night-nursing. She was getting on well, and, notwithstanding +the small cloud which now existed between her and Sister Kate, Sister +Kate knew Effie's value. There are nurses and nurses. Many girls who go +as probationers to the great hospitals are thoroughly unsuited to the +life; their qualifications are not those essential to the good nurse; +they are destitute of tact, of presence of mind, of that tenderness +which can be firm as well as gentle. But Effie was an ideal nurse; her +soft and gentle ways, her kind yet firm glance, the cleverness she +showed, the tact she displayed, all proved to Sister Kate that the young +probationer might one day be a valuable help to her. She was angry with +Effie at present, but she was determined to leave no stone unturned to +help the girl and train her thoroughly in her noble profession.</p> + +<p>During that night Sister Kate had thought of Effie. She had noticed her +pale face during the past day, the sadness in her eyes, the heaviness in +her steps, and her heart smote her a little, a very little.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe that girl could do anything mean or underhanded," she +reflected. "Of course it is tiresome that she should know any of the +medical students, but I believe I can trust her word that she will never +speak to this young man except out of the hospital."</p> + +<p>Accordingly, Sister Kate met Effie the next morning<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">143</a></span> with much of her +old pleasantness. Effie's sad heart bounded again in her breast when +Sister Kate spoke kindly to her, and she went about her duties with the +determination not to leave even the smallest matter undone. Thoroughly +but carefully she went through all the minutiæ of those everlasting +cleanings and brushings.</p> + +<p>At last her morning's work was over, and now came the crucial moment +when she must speak to Sister Kate. The doctors had gone their rounds, +the patients were all settled for the morning. Effie came up to Sister +Kate in one of the corridors.</p> + +<p>"Can you spare me a few moments of your time?" she asked.</p> + +<p>The Sister looked up at the tall clock in the passage.</p> + +<p>"Do you want to see me about anything important?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is something important."</p> + +<p>"Well, come into my private room; I can give you five minutes."</p> + +<p>Sister Kate sat down—Effie stood before her.</p> + +<p>"I'll try and tell you what I want as briefly as possible," she said. "I +wish to know if I can be spared to go out this afternoon?"</p> + +<p>"It is not your afternoon out. What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't necessary. The fact is, there's great +trouble at home, and I—I must see my mother, and perhaps I may have to +make another visit."</p> + +<p>Sister Kate frowned.</p> + +<p>"I don't wish not to sympathize with you, of course," she said, after a +pause, "but the fact is, nurses should detach themselves as much as +possible from home-life. The nurse who really gives herself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">144</a></span> up to her +splendid calling has to try to forget that she has a home. She has to +remember that her first duties consist in taking care of her patients +and in learning her profession."</p> + +<p>"Then I can't be a nurse," said Effie, the color rushing into her face.</p> + +<p>Sister Kate looked at her and shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry," she said, after a pause. "The fact is, I had great +hopes of you—you have many of the qualifications which go to make a +splendid nurse; I won't recount them here. I had, as I said, great hopes +of you, but your words now make me fear that, excellent as those +qualifications are, they are overbalanced."</p> + +<p>"By what?" asked Effie.</p> + +<p>"By sentimentality—by nervous overworry about matters which you should +leave in other hands."</p> + +<p>"I have no other hands to leave them in; the fact is, home duties must +always be first with me. I've got a mother and several young brothers +and sisters. I am the eldest daughter. I cannot let my mother suffer, +even to indulge what has been for a long time the great dream of my +life. It is very probable that I shall have to give up being a nurse."</p> + +<p>"How can you? You are engaged here for three years."</p> + +<p>"I must beg of the Governors of the hospital to let me off; the case is +a special one—the trouble under which I am suffering is most +unexpected. I fear, I greatly fear, that I shall be obliged to leave the +hospital for a time."</p> + +<p>"I am truly sorry to hear that," said Sister Kate. "Does your friend +Miss Fraser know of this?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I hope it may not be necessary. As I said, you have the making of a +good nurse in you. You want<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">145</a></span> to go away for a few hours? Well, I'll try +and manage it. Perhaps when you go home and see your people, you will +find that it is unnecessary for you to sacrifice yourself to this +extent. Anyhow you can have from two till five to-day. Now go and much +in train for the afternoon as you can. You can stay out from two till +five. I hope you'll have good news for me when you return."</p> + +<p>"I hope I shall," said Effie; but her heart felt low. She had little +expectation of being able to continue the life which she longed to +perfect herself in. At two o'clock she went out, and did not take many +minutes in reaching her mother's door.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton looked surprised to see her.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter. Effie?" she said. "How white and worn you look! Why +have you come back to-day?"</p> + +<p>"I wanted to see you, mother, so I got an afternoon off duty. Sister +Kate was kind—I begged of her to let me come. I have a great longing to +see you."</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear, I'm all right. The fact is, I get better and better."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton was seated by the window. She was making a pinafore for +little Marjory—her needle flew in and out of the stuff. She was +trimming the pinafore with narrow lace. Effie took it up and sat down by +her mother.</p> + +<p>"Your hands tremble, mother; are you really well?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, my love; yes! You look at me as if you thought there was +something the matter. Have you—Effie, your looks frighten me."</p> + +<p>"Don't let them frighten you, dear mother. You know the greatest longing +of my heart is to help<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">146</a></span> and serve you. If there is anything worrying +you, you'll tell me, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"I will," said Mrs. Staunton. She paused and looked at her daughter. +"There's nothing <i>exactly</i> worrying me," she said, after a pause, "but +still I feel a little bit anxious."</p> + +<p>"You'll tell me, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"You won't scold me, Effie?"</p> + +<p>"As if I could, mother darling!"</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps I did a rash thing—poor dear George!—You know how +devoted I am to him, Effie?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, mother darling, anyone can see that."</p> + +<p>"Well, the fact is, I—I yielded to his entreaties. Perhaps I ought not +to tell you, Effie—perhaps it will displease him."</p> + +<p>"Yes, do tell me," said Effie. "There ought not to be any secrets in +one's family. I ought to know—I will know. You are worried about +something, and I will know what your burden is. What is it, mother?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you in a few words. There's nothing in it, after all. Shortly +after you left us, George persuaded me to put my money into the City +Bank in his name. He said it seemed such folly to have two accounts for +such very small sums."</p> + +<p>"You did it?" said Effie, her face turning white.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, I knew you would reproach me. I won't be reproached—I +won't!"</p> + +<p>"I will not say a word, dearest, dearest mother. Take my hand—your hand +does shake so. Now tell me all about it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's nothing, my love, really, only——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother—only?"</p> + +<p>"Only this morning I asked George to fill in a check for me before he +went to town. He did so.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">147</a></span> It was for five pounds. He seemed vexed at my +requiring so much, but I said I couldn't do with less, for there was the +landlady to pay, and the butcher has been so troublesome with his bills. +I couldn't do with less than five pounds, and George drew a check for me +for that amount. I sent Aggie with it straight to the bank, and——"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton's face became very pale, her hand shook more violently +than ever.</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother?" said Effie.</p> + +<p>"They sent it back. Effie, with 'No <i>effects</i>' written across the back. +I am sure there must be a mistake, but they told Aggie that George had +overdrawn his account, and that they couldn't cash this check—there +were no effects, that was it."</p> + +<p>"No effects!" said Effie, her face scarlet. "But hadn't you some of your +money still left in the bank?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I had over fifty pounds. I put the money into the bank in George's +name over a week ago. It was to last us for some time. Oh, Effie, don't +look at me with those reproachful eyes! I feel faint."</p> + +<p>Effie got up quickly; she poured some sal-volatile into a wineglass, +and, filling it up with water, brought it to her mother to drink.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton was soon better. The passing weakness went off quickly.</p> + +<p>"What is to be done?" she said, raising her eyes to her daughter. "Oh, I +am so glad you don't scold me, Effie."</p> + +<p>"Of course I don't, mother darling. You must have money, you can't get +on without it."</p> + +<p>"That's just what I say. I am sure I am as saving as woman could be, but +the expenses are so heavy."</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">148</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm expecting George in every minute," said Mrs. Staunton. "He has very +likely put the money back into the bank now. He is doing such a splendid +business that perhaps he drew the fifty pounds—meaning to return it at +once. He has such a capital head for making money—really, I never knew +such a boy. I dare say he has put it back <i>doubled</i>."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, don't you know better?—how can he do that? But now let us +talk of something else. Here's Agnes, that's right. Agnes, will you get +some tea for mother? She's quite weak and upset. I'm going out. I must +hurry, for I've to be back at the hospital at five. I'm going out, but +I'll come to see you mother, before I return to the hospital. Get the +tea, Agnes; don't be long about it."</p> + +<p>Agnes put a little kettle on the fire.</p> + +<p>"Do you know about—about the check?" she asked Effie in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; don't make a fuss over it—it will be all right."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Robinson says she must be paid—she is owed four weeks' rent, and +she won't let it go on any longer."</p> + +<p>"I'll see her when I come back," said Effie. "Now, do take care of +mother. I won't be away a minute longer than I can help."</p> + +<p>"Won't you have a cup of tea first, Effie?"</p> + +<p>"No, no; I've no time."</p> + +<p>Effie ran downstairs, and went out into the street. She felt nerved and +braced now. The moment of indecision was past—the moment for definite +action had arrived. There was no question with regard to her duty. It +lay plain and straight before her.</p> + +<p>She happened to know that the Harveys were in town. They were staying in +Eaton Place. She took an omnibus, which presently brought her into the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">149</a></span> +neighborhood of Victoria; a few minutes afterward she rang the bell at +their hall door.</p> + +<p>A man-servant, whom she did not know, opened it.</p> + +<p>"Is Mrs. Harvey at home?" asked Effie.</p> + +<p>"I believe so," he replied, "but I'm not sure if she can see anyone."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she will see me if you give her my name," said Effie in a +gentle voice. "Say Miss Effie Staunton, please, and that I am anxious to +see her on pressing business."</p> + +<p>The man withdrew, inviting Effie as he did so into the hall.</p> + +<p>"He takes me for a servant," she said to herself. "Well, what matter? +That truly is only a pinprick."</p> + +<p>In a minute or two he returned, with a changed expression on his face.</p> + +<p>"Follow me upstairs, please, miss," he said. "My mistress will see you."</p> + +<p>Effie followed him up some low stairs—her feet sank into the rich +carpets. The contrast between this luxurious house and the severity of +the hospital sickened her.</p> + +<p>"I shall choke if I live here," she said to herself. But then she +crushed all thought of self.</p> + +<p>The men led her up two or three short flights of stairs. At last he +knocked at a door, before which a rich curtain hung. A voice said "Come +in," and Effie found herself in Mrs. Harvey's presence. She was seated +in a deep armchair; her maid stood before her, holding out different +rich brocades and silks which had just been sent round for her to see.</p> + +<p>"That will do, Carey," she said, when she saw Effie. "You can take all +those things away. Tell Madam Miller that I have decided on this blue +silk<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">150</a></span> crépon, and this rose-colored silk. I'll call round to be fitted +to-morrow morning. Now, Miss Staunton, I'm sorry to have kept you +waiting. How do you do? I am so glad to see you."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Harvey was not so impulsively glad as she had been the last time +she saw Effie. The doctor's death—the death he had died for her—seemed +removed into the background; her existence was absorbed in pleasure, in +gayety and excitement. She had an affectionate, kindly nature, however, +and one glance into Effie's sad eyes softened her toward the poor girl.</p> + +<p>"Well, what can I do for you?" she said. "How are you? Why, you are a +nurse—you are in nurse's dress—how capital! What a splendid idea!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am a probationer at St. Joseph's," said Effie.</p> + +<p>"Oh my dear child, that's splendid for you, of course; but I trust you +have brought no infection in your clothes."</p> + +<p>"No," said Effie, with the faintest of smiles. "I have nothing to do +with any of the infectious wards. I am quite safe. I want to speak to +you."</p> + +<p>"I shall be very glad to listen to you, my dear. You know, of course, +that the Squire and I take the deepest interest in you and in your +family. By the way, how is your dear mother, and how are all those +pretty girls and boys getting on?"</p> + +<p>Effie could not remember that Mrs. Harvey had ever seen her mother—why, +therefore, should she speak of her as "dear"? and as to the boys and +girls, they were not specially remarkable for their good looks, and if +they were, Mrs. Harvey knew nothing about it. She answered these +conventional inquiries in a quiet voice.</p> + +<p>"I hope you'll forgive me," she said, at the first<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">151</a></span> possible pause, "but +I am in a very great hurry. I have promised to be back again at St. +Joseph's at five o'clock, and it's nearly four now. May I tell you what +I really came about?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, of course, of course!"</p> + +<p>"Do you remember, before I came to London, the very kind offer you and +the Squire made me?"</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Mrs. Harvey, "if you mean our wish that you should +become governess to little Freda. But Freda goes to a kindergarten now. +Carey takes her around every morning, and Rhoda goes to fetch her at +dinner time. The life seems to suit her very well. Of course we did wish +for you very much, but as you could not come—oh, no doubt you have +chosen wisely."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Harvey yawned; she stretched out her hand and rang the bell. The +servant appeared almost immediately.</p> + +<p>"Tea for two," she said, "and be quick, Andrews."</p> + +<p>"I can't wait for tea," said Effie, rising. "I am very much obliged. I +only came to say that circumstances would make me inclined to accept +your offer now, but as you don't want a governess there's nothing more +to be said."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's so sweetly good of you, Miss Staunton, and had matters been +different we should have been pleased. Well, good-by, if you must go. +Where did you say your mother lived?"</p> + +<p>"A long way from here."</p> + +<p>"But do give me her address. I should be so pleased to drive round and +see her some day. Perhaps she would go for a drive with me. What a good +idea! Yes, I'll come. Where did you say you lived?"</p> + +<p>Effie had not said anything.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">152</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Harvey held out her limp, long hand. "Good-by, Miss Staunton. You +know I take a great interest in you," she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>CHAPTER XX.</p> + +<p>Just at this moment the door was opened, and the Squire came in. He was +of different stuff from his wife. When he saw Effie, his face beamed +with pleasure, and he held out a big, hearty hand.</p> + +<p>"Miss Staunton!" he exclaimed. "Why, this is a pleasure! Oh, you must +not run away; you must sit down and tell me all about yourself—I've +been longing to hear about you. How is your brother in the City, and +your mother? I do hope she is a little better. And all those other lads +and lasses? Sit down, my clear child, I insist on it—I have lots of +things to say to you."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Harvey, who was standing near the mantelpiece, came gently forward +when the Squire began to speak. She looked at Effie with new interest. +Her face was long and pale, she had no color in her lips, her light hair +was very fashionably dressed. She wore a dress of the latest mode, and +her thin fingers were loaded with rings, which flashed and shone +whenever she moved her hand.</p> + +<p>Effie hated those flashing rings—she turned her head so that she need +not see them.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Harvey began to talk in a high falsetto voice to her husband.</p> + +<p>"Do you know, my dear," she exclaimed, "that Miss Staunton has just been +so kind? She came here to offer her services for Freda; but you know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">153</a></span> +dear Freda is getting on so capitally at the kindergarten, that—— Why, +what in the world is the matter, Walter?"</p> + +<p>"Matter!" exclaimed the Squire in his hearty voice. "Why, that we won't +be such fools as to reject Miss Staunton's offer. I was told only a few +minutes ago that that kindergarten is simply full of whooping-cough and +measles—children sickening with them and going home almost every day. I +was going to say that Freda must be moved."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I should think so, indeed," said Mrs. Harvey. "Whooping-cough and +measles! how terrible! and I never had whooping-cough—why, I shouldn't +be able to go out for the whole season. I do hope and trust the dear +child hasn't contracted the infection. Dear Miss Staunton, of course +you'll come. It is exactly what we'd like best. How soon can you +come?—to-morrow?—to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Neither to-morrow nor to-night," said Effie. "But if you really wish +for me, and if we agree as regards terms, the day after to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by saying if we agree as to terms?" asked Mrs. Harvey.</p> + +<p>"I want a big salary," said Effie, looking up bravely at the two, who +were watching her with half-amused, half-anxious expression. "I want to +come to you, and to leave the work which I love best, because I hope you +may be induced to give me an exceptional salary. I want the money +because my mother and my—my young brothers and sisters are almost—at +least they will be, if I don't get it, almost starving."</p> + +<p>Effie spoke in jerks. She had the greatest difficulty in keeping back +her emotion. It was dreadful to have to plead with these rich +people—these people who knew nothing whatever of her sore need—to whom +money was so plentiful as to have lost its<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">154</a></span> freshness, its desirability, +its charm. It was awful to look into their faces—to see the blank, +non-comprehending stare which came into Mrs. Harvey's pretty blue eyes, +and to notice the puzzled expression on the Squire's face.</p> + +<p>"You can't mean that?" he exclaimed. "You can't mean there's any chance +of that?"</p> + +<p>"There is a chance of it, but not if I come here. I know how kind you +are, how noble you have been to me. I'll come to Freda. I'll do +everything for her; I'll teach her, and I'll play with her, and I'll +love her, and I'll nurse her if she is ill, but oh, do please be +generous and give me as big a salary as you can."</p> + +<p>"What do you expect—what do you think fair?" asked the Squire.</p> + +<p>"I thought—I know it seems a great deal, but I thought you might be +willing to give me sixty pounds a year."</p> + +<p>"Bless you, my dear child!" exclaimed the Squire; "if you'll accept it, +we'll give you a hundred and fifty."</p> + +<p>"No, I couldn't accept that," said Effie. "It is not fair."</p> + +<p>"Why not? We couldn't get anyone else to exactly take your place for the +money; and remember we have plenty of money."</p> + +<p>"I'll take a hundred a year, because I am in sore distress," said Effie, +after a brief pause; "and—and will you pay me monthly, and may I have +my first month's salary in advance? I wouldn't ask it if they didn't +want it <i>terribly</i> at home. Will you do this?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, with pleasure," said the Squire. "I insist on your accepting ten +pounds a month—that will be one hundred and twenty a year. Now, will +you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">155</a></span> have a check, or shall I give you the money in gold and notes?"</p> + +<p>"The gold will be the most acceptable," said Effie. "Oh, I feel so +ashamed!" she added.</p> + +<p>"Why should you? You give us an equivalent. Besides, it makes matters +more tolerable. I cannot forget——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't, Walter—don't allude to that awful time!"—cried Mrs. +Harvey.</p> + +<p>The Squire shut up his lips. He took a little bundle of gold out of one +of his pockets and put ten sovereigns into Effie's hand.</p> + +<p>"It is a bargain," he said. "I cannot tell you how relieved we are. +You'll be with us the morning after next? Elfreda, my love, we must tell +our little Freda what a pleasure is in store for her."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am more than delighted," exclaimed Mrs. Harvey. "This plan suits +me in every way. You won't fail us, Miss Staunton? for, in case Freda by +any chance has taken that awful whooping-cough, you can keep her in +isolation from the very first."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" said Effie, smiling; "but I dare say she is all right."</p> + +<p>She shook hands with her new employers and left the house.</p> + +<p>The gold was in her pocket. She felt that she had sold herself and her +mission in life for ten sovereigns. "It is the present need which makes +the thing so desperate," she said under her breath. "If George has drawn +all the money, they have absolutely nothing to live on; but more will +come in, and there's this to go on with. We'll manage somehow now."</p> + +<p>She returned to the lodgings, but before she went upstairs she had an +interview with the landlady.</p> + +<p>"What do you charge my mother for rent?" she asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">156</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, Miss Staunton," exclaimed the woman, "with the dinners and one +thing and another, I am obliged to make it a pound a week."</p> + +<p>"That is a great deal too much," said Effie. "I don't suppose it is too +much for your rooms, but it is more than we can afford just now. When we +first came to you, you agreed to let us the rooms without attendance for +fifteen shillings a week. We cannot by any possible management afford to +pay more."</p> + +<p>"But Mrs. Staunton wished for attendance, miss—she said it made all the +difference; there was half a crown for attendance and half a crown extra +for kitchen fire."</p> + +<p>"But the kitchen fire was included in the fifteen shillings a week."</p> + +<p>"Then there wasn't late dinner."</p> + +<p>"Surely there is no late dinner now?" exclaimed Effie.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, miss; every evening Mr. Staunton requires a nice little bit of +dinner sent up when he comes home. You see, miss, it is quite impossible +for me to have extra fires without charging for them."</p> + +<p>"Certainly. Well, I don't think there will be any extra dinner in +future. And now please tell me exactly how much is due to you."</p> + +<p>"Four pounds, miss; but if I'm paid one, on account, I shan't mind +waiting. I'd be really sorry to dislodge such a nice lady as your +mother, Miss Staunton."</p> + +<p>"Here is the money in full," said Effie. "Will you give me a receipt?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, with pleasure, miss. Won't you sit down? I hope, Miss Staunton, +nothing will induce your good mother to move from here. I will do +everything in my power to make her comfortable."</p> + +<p>"You must understand," said Effie, "that in future she only pays fifteen +shillings a week without extras. My sisters Agnes and Katie are quite +old enough to do all the waiting which my mother requires. In fact they +must do so, for we can't afford to pay a penny more."</p> + +<p>"Am I to understand, miss, that there's no late dinner?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not."</p> + +<p>"Very well; I am sure I'll do all in my power to oblige."</p> + +<p>Effie left her, putting her receipt carefully in her pocket as she did +so. She went upstairs and entered the little sitting-room where her +mother was now pacing quickly and restlessly up and down. There was a +deep flush on her cheeks, and a look of despair in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Effie, you've come!" she exclaimed, the moment she saw her +daughter. "George has been in. There's something wrong, I know—I know +there is. He came in just for a minute and he kissed me, and said he +wasn't coming home to-night, and he—he looked <i>wild</i>. He stuffed a few +things into a bag, and said I wasn't to expect him back to-night. I +didn't dare ask him about the money. What—what can be the matter, +Effie?"</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXI." id="CHAPTER_XXI."></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">157</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> +</div> + +<p>Effie did all in her power to soothe her mother. It was past the hour +for her return to St. Joseph's, but under the present circumstances she +could not give this matter a thought. Mrs. Staunton was strung up to a +terrible condition of nervousness.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">158</a></span> She walked faster and faster about +the room; she scarcely spoke aloud, but muttered words under her breath +which no one could hear. At every footfall on the stairs she started. +Sometimes she went to the door and flung it open—sometimes she went to +the window and pressed her face against the glass. Darkness set in, and +the lamps were lit in the street. Katie went to the window to pull down +the blinds.</p> + +<p>"No, don't touch them," said Mrs. Staunton fretfully—she still kept +staring out into the street. Presently she called Effie to her.</p> + +<p>"Doesn't that man turning the corner look something like George?" she +exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Effie looked eagerly.</p> + +<p>"No, that's not George," she said.</p> + +<p>"Agnes, you have better sight," called Mrs. Staunton to her next +daughter; "come and watch with me—we are sure to see him soon. It can't +be that he has gone away for the night—for the whole night. Isn't that +him? Look at that man,—that one crossing the road—that one in the +waterproof. Oh, how hard it is raining! If George is out much longer, +he'll be drenched to the skin. Aggie, look; and you, Katie, can't you +watch? Now, <i>that</i> man, isn't that George?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, mother!" answered the poor children, in affright.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton kept on making exclamations. Again and again she cried out +hopefully that surely George was coming now; but George himself never +really appeared. Effie knew that she would get into hopeless disgrace at +St. Joseph's. No matter! she could not leave her mother at such a +moment. Each instant she became more anxious about her. She called Agnes +aside, and told her that she had put a stop to the late dinner, and also +to the extra attendance,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">159</a></span> but as probably some dinner had been ordered +for that evening, she had better go down and bring it up, as Mrs. +Staunton must be forced to eat at any cost.</p> + +<p>Agnes tripped out of the room, and presently returned with a couple of +pork chops and some baked potatoes. She flung them down on the table, +exclaiming that the tray was heavy. She looked cross, and evidently +seemed to think that Effie was making a great fuss over nothing.</p> + +<p>"Why can't George be away for a single night without everyone getting +into such a state?" she murmured.</p> + +<p>Effie took the tray from her and gave her a look of reproach. She laid +the cloth herself, and made the table look as pretty as she could. She +then went to her mother, drew her gently but firmly away from the +window, and, making her sit down, tried to coax her to eat.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton looked at the chops with dazed eyes.</p> + +<p>"Those were for George," she exclaimed. "What a shame to bring them up +before he has come into the house! They'll be cold and sodden, and he +hates his food sodden. You don't suppose I'm going to touch my boy's +dinner? No, not I! Put the chops down in the fender, Aggie. When George +comes in, I always ring the bell twice. How careless of Mrs. Robinson! +Effie, my dear, I don't think we can stop with her if she treats us in +this fashion. It's perfectly disgraceful to cook George's food before he +is ready for it."</p> + +<p>Agnes began to explain that George was not coming home, but Effie +silenced her with a look. She saw, to her horror, that her mother's mind +was beginning to wander. She was really expecting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">160</a></span> George—who had not +the faintest idea of coming back. Poor Effie saw there was nothing for +it but to humor her mother. She put the food inside the fender, and +then, going to a davenport in a corner of the room, wrote a hasty letter +to Dorothy Fraser.</p> + +<p>"We're in great trouble," she wrote. "I know you can't come. I know it +is absolutely impossible for you to come, but neither can I go back to +St. Joseph's this evening. Please tell Sister Kate, make any excuse for +me you like—say anything that comes into your head. My career as a +nurse is ended."</p> + +<p>A big tear dropped from Effie's eyes as she wrote these last words. She +folded up the letter and gave it to Agnes.</p> + +<p>"Agnes," she said, "you must take this at once to St. Joseph's +Hospital."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know how to get there," said Agnes, "and I was never out so +late before in the evening."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to have to send you—stay, you had better take Kate with +you. It would be better for the two of you to be together. Put on your +hats and your warm jackets; don't be longer away than you can help—you +have just to give this note to the hall porter and come straight back. +You must take the red omnibus that goes along Oxford Street, and——"</p> + +<p>Effie added a few more practical directions. Agnes' eyes sparkled at the +thought of a little variety in her dull life. Katie ran willingly into +her room to fetch her own and her sister's hats and jacket's. They were +dressed in a very short time. Effie heard them running downstairs, and +listened to the slam of the hall door. She had now set the irrevocable +seal to her own act. She had deliberately turned her back on the life +that she loved. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">161</a></span> stood for a moment with a dizzy feeling in her +head; then, with a little prayer which she sadly needed, to help her, +she put aside all regret, and turned with a brave heart to face the dark +present and the gloomy future.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton stood near the window, with her back to her daughter. +Effie listened with a sick heart to her mutterings. She knew that her +mother could not possibly get better if she refused to eat.</p> + +<p>She was wondering what to do, and how she could dare to leave her, when +a quick step was heard running up the stairs, and the next moment Fred +Lawson came in.</p> + +<p>Effie never to her dying day forgot the feeling of relief, of almost +joy, which ran through her heart when she saw his clever, resolute face. +He came in, in his usual quick, brisk, determined way—stopped short a +little when he saw her, and then glanced significantly at her mother.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton had turned as eagerly as Effie when she heard the quick +footsteps. Now her face was an absolute blank—she had come a step +forward,—her hands suddenly fell to her sides.</p> + +<p>"My mother is not well," said Effie. "She's upset."</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not upset; you're greatly mistaken," said Mrs. Staunton. "Why +should I be upset? There's not a happier woman in Christendom than I am. +It's true my beloved husband has left me, but then I have got my +boy—there never was a braver boy. How do you do, Mr. Lawson? Pray +forgive me for not shaking hands with you when you came into the +room—the fact is, I have been expecting George. His dinner is in the +fender. The landlady did very wrong indeed to send it up before I rang +for it. I always ring twice for George's dinner, don't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">162</a></span> you understand? +It is a good plan. George likes his meals hot and tasty. No wonder—he +earns them; he is a dear, good, <i>clever</i> fellow—he is getting a fine +salary. Did you happen to meet him on the stairs? Perhaps you passed +him—he is a little late, just a little late. Effie, can you tell me if +Mr. Lawson has good sight? If he has, perhaps he'll come and watch by +the window. I'm watching, but my eyes are a little weak at times. I +might not see George when he is really there. Will you come and see, Mr. +Lawson? He ought to be coming now, my dear boy,—my dearest,—my boy!"</p> + +<p>Lawson gave Effie a glance. In a moment he read the true position. The +poor weak brain had suddenly given way. He went up gently to Mrs. +Staunton, and took one of her hot hands in his.</p> + +<p>"When George comes in," he said, "I'll be here, and I'll tell him about +his dinner. I know he'll be late to-night, and you mustn't wait up for +him any longer. Come, Miss Effie will put you into bed. When you are in +bed I'll give you something to make you sleep. Come now, don't delay; +you're quite worn out. If you don't go to bed you'll be ill, and then +you'll be of no use to your son."</p> + +<p>"Do you really think so?" said Mrs. Staunton. "Yes, I mustn't be ill; +George doesn't like it—it quite frets him. He is not like his dear +father. He wants a cheerful home—no wonder, he is young, dear lad, he +is young. Yes, I'll go to bed, and then I'll be all right in the +morning. Come, Effie, help your mother to bed."</p> + +<p>Effie took the poor woman out of the room. They went into the little +bedroom. She helped her mother to undress. When she saw her lay her head +on the pillow, she went back to the sitting room, where Lawson was +quietly standing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">163</a></span></p> + +<p>"I happened most fortunately," he said, the moment he saw her, "to have +some packets of bromide in my pocket. There is sal-volatile in the room. +I have made up a rather strong composing-draught for your mother. If she +takes it, she will sleep peacefully and will not be likely to wake until +the morning. Give it to her at once, and then come back to me—I have +something to tell you."</p> + +<p>Effie's trembling knees could scarcely support her as she went back to +the next room.</p> + +<p>"Has George come yet?" asked the mother.</p> + +<p>"Not yet, mother; won't you take this medicine, please?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my love, yes. Effie, you are a very good girl—a great comfort to +me, my darling. I'm glad you never went to the hospital; it was a mad, +foolish scheme, and George never liked it. You are a great comfort to +me, and a great comfort to your dear brother. You'll be sure to give him +his dinner comfortably when he comes back, Effie?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother, yes. Now do go to sleep, dear mother."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton drank off the medicine, laid her head on her pillow, and +closed her dim, dark eyes. Effie watched by her until she thought she +was dropping asleep. Pretty little Marjory was lying sound asleep in the +same bed. Phil opened his big eyes as his sister passed.</p> + +<p>"Is anything the matter?" he whispered. "Is anything wrong with George?"</p> + +<p>"Pray for him, Phil," said Effie, tears suddenly filling her eves.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," said the little fellow. "I always do."</p> + +<p>Effie went into the next room.</p> + +<p>"You have plenty of pluck, haven't you?" said Lawson, when he saw her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">164</a></span></p> + +<p>"I hope so—I had need to have."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know that. Well, that unfortunate boy has put his foot in it at +last,—he is in trouble,—detectives are after him."</p> + +<p>"Detectives after George!" exclaimed Effie. "What can you possibly mean? +Oh, do tell me at once—don't leave me in suspense."</p> + +<p>"Sit down and I will tell you. Try not to agitate yourself, try to +listen to me quietly. Remember that a brave woman can always control her +nerves."</p> + +<p>Effie sat down when Lawson bade her. Something in his quiet but resolute +voice soothed her impatience; she looked up at him as he stood by the +mantelpiece, resting one arm on it.</p> + +<p>"The facts are these," he began at once; "Staunton has been going wrong +for a long time——"</p> + +<p>"I know it—I know it well," interrupted Effie.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I feared that you knew it. Poor fellow, soon after his arrival in +London he got with bad companions. He has naturally extravagant +tastes—they introduced him to some of those gambling saloons. Given a +weak nature, the love of money for the pleasure it can give, a will +weakened with self-indulgence, and the result is easy to forecast. +George has been going from bad to worse for months past. He has +sometimes won considerable sums of money, and these successes have +excited him to try again—with this devil's luck, as the saying is. Of +late, however, that luck has turned against him, and the events which +took place to-day are only the natural consequences."</p> + +<p>Effie rose slowly from her seat.</p> + +<p>"Go on," she said, coming up to Lawson. "What took place to-day? Go on, +please,—I am quiet,—I am prepared for anything."</p> + +<p>Lawson gave her a look of admiration.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">165</a></span></p> + +<p>"You are a brave girl," he said briefly. "The world would be a better +place if there were more like you in it. Well, what took place is this. +Staunton won heavily at cards the night before last. Not content with +his gains, however, he persevered until the luck turned against him. +Before he left the gambling saloon he had lost all his gains, and was in +debt fifty pounds. To meet that debt he drew your mother's money from +the bank yesterday morning."</p> + +<p>"I know," said Effie, with white lips—"mother told me. She sent Agnes +to the bank to cash a small check. Agnes was told that George's account +was overdrawn. Yes, I know that. Is there more behind? Surely that must +be the worst."</p> + +<p>"Alas! I wish it were. This morning the poor fellow, while engaged in +his duties at Gering's office, met with the temptation for which he was +so ripe. It was a horrible one. He knew that your mother had not a +penny. His feeling for her I need not enter upon. He found himself in +the room with an open till, and took fifty pounds out of it. Soon +afterwards, he made an excuse to leave the office. He wandered about all +day in an indescribable state of misery. At last he summoned courage to +go to the bank and deposit forty-five of the fifty pounds. He then +rushed home, and, packing his things, prepared to run away. He said he +was certain to be taken if he stayed, and simply could not bring himself +to face the risk. He went to Waterloo, and to his horror discovered that +he was watched. A man, undoubtedly a detective in plain clothes, was +following him from place to place. The man watched him take his ticket +for Southampton, and noticed the corner in which he deposited his bag in +a third-class carriage. George seemed to lose his head at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">166</a></span> this crisis. +He managed to elude the detective, slipped out of the station, took a +hansom and drove straight to my rooms. Luckily I was at home. He made a +clean breast of everything to me. He is in my rooms now, and safe for +the time being, for no one will think of looking for him there. I want +you to come with me at once to see him, for there is not a moment to be +lost in deciding what is best to be done."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Effie, "I will come."</p> + +<p>She felt stunned—her keenest feelings of anguish were lulled into +momentary quiet by the greatness of this blow.</p> + +<p>"I will write a note to Agnes," she said; "she is out—I had to send her +to the hospital to say that I could not return there to-night." Then she +added, her face turning whiter than ever, "If my mother knows of this, +it will kill her."</p> + +<p>"Your mother is the person to be considered, of course," said Lawson. +"But for her, I should say that the best thing possible for George would +be to undergo the punishment which he merits. As it is, however, matters +are different. Well, write your note, and let us be quick. That strong +opiate will keep your mother sleeping quietly until the morning. All +your sister has to do is to watch her."</p> + +<p>Effie drew a sheet of paper toward her, scribbled a few hasty lines on +it, folded it up, and left it where Agnes could see it the moment she +returned; then she followed Lawson into the street.</p> + +<p>He hailed a passing hansom, and they drove straight to his rooms on the +Embankment.</p> + +<p>The feeling of a dream remained with Effie all during that drive; she +kept rubbing her eyes and saying to herself, "It's only a dream—I shall +awaken presently and find myself back at St. Joseph's."</p> + +<p>The hansom drew up at the lodgings, and Lawson<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">167</a></span> preceded Effie upstairs. +He threw open the door of his little sitting room.</p> + +<p>"Come in," he said. "Here is your sister, Staunton," he sang out.</p> + +<p>Effie entered. She found herself in a small bright room. The gas was +turned full on; one of the windows was open—a fresh breeze from the +river came in. George was seated on a horse-hair sofa at the farthest +end of the room. He held a small walking-stick in his hand, and was +making imaginary patterns with it on the carpet. His shoulders were +hitched up to his ears, his eyes were fixed on the ground. Effie looked +at him. She said:</p> + +<p>"George, I am here—I have come."</p> + +<p>He did not make any response. She gave a little cry when he took no +notice of her, and sank down helplessly on the nearest chair.</p> + +<p>Lawson strode across the room and grasped George's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Staunton," he said; "you have got to pull yourself together. +I have brought your sister here to consult what is best to be done. Look +up, old chap! Take courage—all isn't lost yet. Now try and tell your +sister everything."</p> + +<p>"I have nothing to tell her," said George—he raised two lackluster eyes +and fixed them with a sort of dull stare on Lawson's face.</p> + +<p>"Don't talk folly—you have to tell her what you told me. You know the +position you are in—you may be arrested at any moment. No one can help +you but your sister; don't turn away from her."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I understand all that," said George, shrugging his shoulder out of +Lawson's grip. "I know well enough what has happened—I have gone under. +I'm only one more. I—I can't help it—I have nothing to say."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">168</a></span></p> + +<p>Lawson looked at the big fellow almost in despair. He was really puzzled +what to do. This was the moment, however, for Effie to take the +initiative. She sprang suddenly to her feet, dashed the tears from her +eyes, and went up to her brother. She fell on her knees by his side, and +put her soft arms round his neck.</p> + +<p>"Think of the old days, Geordie," she said, "when we were both little +children. Think of mother and father, and the little old house, and the +apple tree in the garden. Don't you remember the day when that ripe red +apple fell, and we ate it bite about?"</p> + +<p>When Effie began to speak, George trembled. He avoided her eyes for a +moment longer, then he gave her a quick, furtive glance.</p> + +<p> +changed voice. "Before God, I couldn't help it."<br /> +a changed voice. "Before God, I couldn't help it."<br /> +[Transcriber's note: These two fragmented lines appear, as shown, +at this point in the original text.] +</p> + +<p>Lawson stepped softly out of the room.</p> + +<p>The moment he had done so, George said eagerly:</p> + +<p>"He has told you, hasn't he?"</p> + +<p>Effie nodded.</p> + +<p>"Then I needn't go over it. Let's talk of something else. How is +mother?"</p> + +<p>"She is very ill indeed—she watched for you all the evening."</p> + +<p>"Watched for me? But I told her I shouldn't be back to-night."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but she didn't believe you, or she forgot it—anyhow, she watched +for you, and when you didn't come, her mind began suddenly to wander; +she is in bed now—she is very, very ill."</p> + +<p>"Go on," said George; "hammer it in hard—I deserve it all."</p> + +<p>"Oh, George, why will you talk like that? Don't you believe in my love +for you?"</p> + +<p>"I believe in mother's love. It's the only thing I have left to cling +to. I believe she'd go on loving me even after this—I do truly."</p> + +<p>"Of course she would—nothing could turn her love from you. Now, won't +you let us consult together when Mr. Lawson comes into the room?"</p> + +<p>"There's nothing to be done—nothing; I'm perfectly safe to be committed +for trial, and then I shall get at least two years. Mother will die. And +I shall have gone under forever."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! I have a thought in my head."</p> + +<p>"You?" George spoke with almost contempt. "You always thought a great +deal of yourself, Effie, but even you can't pull the ropes on the +present occasion. I'm a thief, and I must suffer the penalty. That's the +long and short of it."</p> + +<p>Effie rose suddenly and walked to the door. She called Lawson—he came +in at once.</p> + +<p>"I think George will talk over matters now," she said. "But before we +begin any discussion, I wish to say what I have made up my mind to do. I +don't know Mr. Gering, but that does not matter. I mean to go to see him +the first thing to-morrow morning, and beg of him not to prosecute +George. That is the only chance for mother's life, and I mean to try +it."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXII." id="CHAPTER_XXII."></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">169</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> +</div> + +<p>When Effie said these words, Lawson gave her a startled glance, and +George's sulkiness seemed to vanish magically. He opened his lips as if +to speak, then closed them again; a rush of color spread over his face, +and he turned his head aside.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">170</a></span></p> + +<p>"I fear it is impossible that you can do the least vestige of good, Miss +Staunton," said Lawson. "All the same it is a brave thought, and worthy +of you."</p> + +<p>George looked round when Lawson said this; he fully expected Effie to +explain herself more fully, to argue the point, and to give her reasons +for approaching Mr. Gering. To the surprise of both the men, however, +she was silent. After a little pause, she said, turning to Lawson:</p> + +<p>"Do you think George will be safe here until the morning?"</p> + +<p>"I do—perfectly safe," answered Lawson.</p> + +<p>"Then I will say good-night. I will come to you, George if I have news, +in the morning."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you won't have news," replied George; "there never was such a hard +nut to crack as old Gering."</p> + +<p>Effie made no reply.</p> + +<p>"Good-night," she said to her brother.</p> + +<p>He did not offer to kiss her, but he took her hand and gave it a silent +squeeze. It seemed to Effie then that she got near his heart.</p> + +<p>Lawson took her downstairs and put her into a cab.</p> + +<p>"You are only wasting your time in going to Mr. Gering," he said, as he +stood for a moment at the cab door.</p> + +<p>"I must waste it, then," replied Effie; "for, whatever the consequence, +I am going."</p> + +<p>"Then, if you will go, you had better do so early. Gering is always at +his office by nine o'clock. George may quite possibly be arrested +to-morrow morning, and brought before the magistrates at Bow Street at +ten or ten-thirty. When once he is arrested, Mr. Gering can do nothing. +The law then takes up the case, and prosecutes on its own account. You +will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">171</a></span> see, therefore, that if you wish to save your brother you must be +astir betimes."</p> + +<p>"I quite see, and thank you very much," said Effie.</p> + +<p>Lawson said good-by, the cab rolled away, and Effie soon found herself +back again at her own lodgings.</p> + +<p>She ran upstairs, to find that her mother was still sound asleep. She +sent the two tired girls to bed, and, lying down on the sofa in the +sitting room, tried to sleep. She had left her mother's door slightly +ajar, and knew that she would hear the least movement in the room. All +was perfect stillness, however, and presently Effie fell into a light +doze.</p> + +<p>She awoke long before the dawn of day, thought carefully over the whole +complex situation, and then rose and dressed herself. She slipped softly +into her mother's room. The opiate was still taking effect. Mrs. +Staunton's face looked pinched and drawn as it lay on the pillow, there +were blue lines under the eyes, and a blue tint round the lips which +spoke of heart trouble; but just at the present moment the spirit was at +peace, and the body resting calmly.</p> + +<p>"Poor mother!" murmured Effie; "poor, tried, faithful heart! If you +really knew what I know, you could not survive the shock. Oh, George! +who could have thought of this who remembered you in the old days? Yes, +I will do what I can to save mother and to rescue you. It is true that I +am only a weak girl, but sometimes girls like me have power. I will not +be afraid; I will go now to exercise all the power that is in me."</p> + +<p>Effie left the room; she went to the one where her sisters slept, +changed her dress and washed herself,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">172</a></span> and then waking Agnes, to tell +her to be sure to look after her mother, she ran downstairs.</p> + +<p>The landlady, Mrs. Robinson, met her in the passage.</p> + +<p>"Why, surely, Miss Staunton," she said, "you are not going out on a raw, +foggy morning like this without breakfast?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can't wait for breakfast," exclaimed Effie.</p> + +<p>"I have some tea in my sitting room—do come in, and let me give you a +cup, miss. Do, now—you're so white, you look as if you'd drop."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Effie, after a little pause. "I should be very glad of +a cup of tea," she added.</p> + +<p>The landlady bustled her into her little sitting room, seated her by the +fire, and would not leave her alone until she had swallowed a cup of tea +and a piece of toast.</p> + +<p>"I'm all the better for the tea," said Effie; "thank you very much."</p> + +<p>The unlooked-for kindness cheered the poor girl; she looked upon it as a +good omen. She walked quickly up the narrow street which led into the +larger thoroughfare, and was soon on her way to Mr. Gering's office in +Leadenhall Street.</p> + +<p>She arrived there just as the clock was striking nine. She did not allow +herself even to feel nervous, but, walking boldly in, asked to see Mr. +Gering at once.</p> + +<p>"Have you an appointment with him?" asked the clerk whom she addressed.</p> + +<p>"No; but I hope he will see me without that; my business is very +pressing."</p> + +<p>"What is your name, miss?"</p> + +<p>"Staunton." Effie hesitated for a minute, then she said abruptly, "I am +the sister of George Staunton, who is a clerk here."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">173</a></span></p> + +<p>The moment she uttered the words every clerk in the place looked up with +interest, and one, coming up in a somewhat familiar way, said +cavalierly:</p> + +<p>"I don't think there's the least use in your troubling Mr. Gering; I may +as well tell you beforehand that he certainly won't see you."</p> + +<p>At this moment a man came out of an inner room. He spoke to the head +clerk, who gave him a bundle of letters.</p> + +<p>"Take these to Mr. Gering at once," he said.</p> + +<p>Effie followed this man with her eyes.</p> + +<p>The other clerks stared at her, expecting her to go.</p> + +<p>She looked at the one to whom she had first spoken.</p> + +<p>"Will you take my message to Mr. Gering?" she said. "Will you tell him +that Effie Staunton—George Staunton's sister—wishes to see him on most +important business?"</p> + +<p>There was much distress in her tone, but withal such firmness that the +clerk could not help looking at her with admiration.</p> + +<p>"I would gladly take your message, Miss Staunton, but it would be +useless. I know beforehand that nothing will induce Mr. Gering to see +you."</p> + +<p>"He must see me," replied Effie in a firm voice. "If no one here will be +polite enough to take him my message, I will go to him myself."</p> + +<p>Before one of the clerks could prevent her, Effie walked across the +large room, opened the door where the clerk who took Mr. Gering his +letters had vanished, and found herself the next moment in a handsomely +furnished room, where a portly old gentleman was seated at a desk.</p> + +<p>He looked up in unfeigned astonishment when he saw a pretty girl +standing near the door.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">174</a></span></p> + +<p>As she did not speak for an instant, he raised his voice with an +inquiry.</p> + +<p>"May I ask what you are doing here?" he said.</p> + +<p>"I have come to speak to you about my brother," said Effie.</p> + +<p>"Your brother! What do you mean? Who is your brother?"</p> + +<p>"George Staunton."</p> + +<p>"Then, Miss Staunton, let me tell you that you have taken a great +liberty in coming to see me. You have forced your way into my room +unannounced. I must ask you to have the goodness to retire as quickly as +you came. If you do not leave my room this moment, I shall be forced to +compel you to go."</p> + +<p>"No, you will not," said Effie—"no, that is not like you. You would not +willingly be unkind to a suffering and innocent girl, when she forces +herself, against her true inclinations, against her real modesty, to +seek an interview with you. I come in great sorrow and despair, and you +are not the man who will treat me roughly—I don't fear it. You like to +say harsh words, but your heart is not harsh. I beg of you, therefore, +to listen to my story. I will not keep you long."</p> + +<p>"You are a very queer, courageous sort of girl," said Gering, after a +pause. "As you have come, I suppose I may as well listen to you; but +please understand at once that I have no mercy for your brother; that +his career here is ended."</p> + +<p>"That is only just and right. I have not come to plead with you to take +George back—I know that that would be asking too much. What I have come +to say I can say in a very few words."</p> + +<p>"They must be very few if you expect me to leave my business to attend +to them."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">175</a></span></p> + +<p>Effie came close to where Mr. Gering was seated; he did not rise, nor +motion her to a chair. At this moment the clerk who had refused to take +her message entered the room.</p> + +<p>"Leave us for a moment, Power," said Mr. Gering. The man withdrew +immediately.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Effie. Then she added abruptly, "I won't keep you a +moment. I will tell you quite simply what I want. My brother George has +behaved very badly."</p> + +<p>"To put it plainly," interrupted Mr. Gering, "your brother George is a +scoundrel."</p> + +<p>"You may call him any names you please," said Effie; "I have not come +here to defend him. I know that he stole fifty pounds from you +yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you know that, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Forty-five pounds of that money he put into the City Bank in my +mother's name. That forty-five pounds you can have back within an hour. +We shall then be in your debt five pounds, which I want you to let me +pay you back. I have just secured a very good situation as a governess, +and am to be in receipt of one hundred and twenty pounds a year. I can +pay you back the money in about a month's time out of my own salary."</p> + +<p>"You are very conscientious," said Mr. Gering, with a slight sneer, "and +I shall be glad to have my money back. If that is all your business, +perhaps you will leave me."</p> + +<p>"No, it is not all my business. I want you to forgive George,—not to +prosecute him,—not to give him up to the law."</p> + +<p>"Ah! I thought that was coming. And why, pray, should I not prosecute +the young rascal? Don't you think he richly deserves punishment?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">176</a></span></p> + +<p>"Honestly, I do."</p> + +<p>When Effie said this, Mr. Gering's eyes twinkled for the first time.</p> + +<p>"Eh, eh!" he exclaimed. "I am glad we're of one mind on that point. We +both doubtless believe that punishment would be good for him."</p> + +<p>"We do."</p> + +<p>"Then why deprive him of anything so beneficial?"</p> + +<p>"Because of my mother."</p> + +<p>"Your mother! Is there a mother in the case?"</p> + +<p>"There is—a mother who lies now at the point of death. Let me tell you +her story."</p> + +<p>"I haven't read my letters yet, Miss Staunton."</p> + +<p>"Oh, never mind your letters! Let me tell you about my father and my +mother. Four months ago my father was alive. He was a country doctor. He +was very good, everyone loved him. He caught diphtheria, and died. My +mother has heart disease, and my father felt sure that the shock of +losing him would kill her. He loved her most tenderly. When he lay dying +he was certain that God would allow them both to leave the world +together. My mother was kneeling by his bedside; and George, my brother, +knelt there too. And my brother said. 'Don't take mother away, father;' +and then father said to mother, 'Stay with George.' At that moment +something strange must have happened—all my mother's great love seemed +suddenly directed into a new channel. Her love for George since that +moment has been the passion of her life. He was not strong-minded."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," interrupted Mr. Gering.</p> + +<p>"No; and he yielded to temptation and got into trouble, and—and lost +money. But all the time my mother has been imagining that he is the best +and steadiest fellow in London. She lives in a sort of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">177</a></span> golden dream +about him. If she learns the truth she will certainly die, and George +will be lost. He will then, as he himself expresses it, 'go under' +forever. He won't be able to stand the thought that through his sin and +weakness he has killed his mother."</p> + +<p>"I should hope not," interrupted Mr. Gering.</p> + +<p>"Therefore I want you to forgive him—it is your duty."</p> + +<p>"My duty, child! What right have you to come and talk to me about my +duty?"</p> + +<p>"Every right, if I can only make you perform it."</p> + +<p>"You are either impertinent or very brave, young lady. I was never +spoken to in this strain before."</p> + +<p>"Well, you see, it is a matter of life and death," said Effie. "I can't +mince words when life and death hang in the balance."</p> + +<p>"You're a queer girl—a queer girl; I don't know what to make of you. +'Pon my word, I'm sorry for that mother of yours—poor soul, poor soul! +It's a pity she didn't bring up her son as conscientiously as she did +her daughter. Now, you wouldn't have taken fifty pounds out of my till?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Effie.</p> + +<p>"I wish you were a boy—I'd give you that lad's place within an hour."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, but I don't think I should care to have it. Will you come +now and do your duty?"</p> + +<p>"Come! Where am I to come?"</p> + +<p>"To see George."</p> + +<p>"The rascal! Where is he?"</p> + +<p>"I'll take you to him."</p> + +<p>"Do you know that you are bullying me in the most shameful way, Miss +Staunton?"</p> + +<p>"I know that you have a very kind heart," answered Effie.</p> + +<p>At this moment the room door was opened, and Power came in again.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fortescue has called, sir."</p> + +<p>"Tell Mr. Fortescue that I can't see him."</p> + +<p>"And Ford has sent round about that shipping order. When can you give +him his answer?"</p> + +<p>"Some time this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"But they want it this morning."</p> + +<p>"Well, they can't have it; I'm going out for a bit. Come along, Miss +Staunton; we can't let the grass grow under our feet."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em;'> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXIII." id="CHAPTER_XXIII."></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">178</a></span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> +</div> + +<p>There come moments in the lives of all of us when we feel as if a +restraining and powerful hand were pulling us up short. We have come to +a full stop; we cannot go back, and we do not know how to proceed. These +full stops in life's journey are generally awful places. We meet there, +as a rule, the devil and his angels—they tear us and rend us, they +shake us to our very depths with awful and overpowering temptation; if +we yield, it is all over with us, we rush at headlong speed downhill.</p> + +<p>But, on the other hand, if in this pause we turn our back upon the +devil, good angels come in his place—they whisper of hope and a new +chance in life even for us.</p> + +<p>When Effie left George on that miserable evening, and when Lawson +retired presently to his room, the young man found that he had come to +such a fearful place of trial as I have just described. He was pulled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">179</a></span> +up short, and the devil was tempting him. At one side was the devil, at +the other he saw the face of his mother. It was impossible for him to +lie down and sleep. He fought with the devil all night. In the morning +there was neither victory nor defeat, but the young, smooth face looked +haggard and gray, and the upright, well-knit figure was bowed.</p> + +<p>Lawson came into the sitting room for a moment.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry I can't stay with you, George," he said. "I am due at St. +Joseph's at nine o'clock. Have you made any plans for yourself?"</p> + +<p>"No—at least, yes. I've had an awful night, Lawson, and there seems to +be but one end to it."</p> + +<p>"What is that?"</p> + +<p>"I must give myself up. I'm not the sort of fellow to play the hiding +game successfully. I'm safe to be caught sooner or later. I deserve +punishment, too—I've been doing badly for months. What I deserve, it +seems likely I'll have. In short, I think I'd better make a clean breast +of everything, and take my—my punishment like a man."</p> + +<p>"Do sit down for a minute," said Lawson. "There's a good deal in what +you say, and if you had only yourself to consider, I'd counsel you to do +it—I would, truly; but there's your mother to be thought of."</p> + +<p>"My mother! Don't you suppose I've been thinking of my mother all night? +It is the thought of my mother that maddens me—maddens me, I say. Look +here, Lawson, there's only one thing before me: I'll go first to mother +and tell her everything straight out, and then I'll give myself up."</p> + +<p>"You will?" said Lawson, with a start of sudden admiration. "Upon my +word, George, old chap,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">180</a></span> I didn't think you had the grit in you—I +didn't, truly."</p> + +<p>"Then you approve?"</p> + +<p>"It is the only thing to be done; she must hear it, sooner or later, and +no one can tell it to her as you can."</p> + +<p>"All right; I'll go to her before my courage fails me."</p> + +<p>George left the room without even saying good-by to his friend.</p> + +<p>When he left the house, he turned round and saw the man whom he had +noticed watching him the day before at Waterloo Station.</p> + +<p>"I'll be ready for you soon, my friend, but not quite yet," muttered the +young man.</p> + +<p>He walked quickly—the man followed him at a respectful distance.</p> + +<p>George let himself into his mother's house with a latch-key. He ran up +to the little sitting room. Agnes was bending with red eyes over a +kettle which was boiling on the fire. She was making a cup of tea for +her mother, who had just awakened. Katie was cutting bread and butter, +and Phil and Marjory were standing by the window. Marjory was saying to +Phil, "I 'spect George will be turning the corner and coming home in a +minute."</p> + +<p>"Hush!" whispered Phil: "hush, Marjory! George isn't coming back any +more."</p> + +<p>At this moment the door was opened, and George came in. Marjory gave +Phil a scornful glance, and flew to her big brother. Katie flung down +the piece of bread she was buttering and Agnes turned from the fire. +George put out his hand to ward them all off.</p> + +<p>"Where's mother?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"She's awake, but she has been very ill," began<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">181</a></span> Agnes. "Oh, George, +George, do be careful; where are you going?"</p> + +<p>"To my mother," answered the young man. "Don't let anyone come with +me—I want to be alone with her."</p> + +<p>He went straight into the bedroom as he spoke, and shut the door behind +him.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton was lying propped up high by pillows. The powerful opiate +had soothed her, but the image of George still filled all her horizon. +When she saw him come into the room, she smiled, and stretched out her +weak arms to clasp him. He came over, knelt by her, and, taking her hot +hands, covered his face with them.</p> + +<p>"You've come back, my boy!" she said. "I'm not very well to-day, but +I'll soon be better. Why, what is it, George? What are you doing? You +are wetting my hands. You—you are crying? What is it, George?"</p> + +<p>"I have come back to tell you something, mother. I'm not what you think +me—I'm a scoundrel, a rascal. I'm bad, I'm not good. I—I've been +deceiving you—I'm a thief."</p> + +<p>"Hush!" interrupted Mrs. Staunton. "Come a little closer to me. You're +not well, my dear boy—let me put my arm round your neck. You're not +well, my own lad; but if you think——"</p> + +<p>"I'm as bad as I can be, mother," said George, "but it isn't bodily +illness that ails me. I said I'd make a clean breast of it. It's the +only thing left for me to do."</p> + +<p>A frightened look came into Mrs. Staunton's eyes for a moment, but then +they filled with satisfaction as they rested on the dark head close to +her own.</p> + +<p>"Whatever you've done, you are my boy," she said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">182</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, no; a thief isn't your boy," said George. "I tell you I'm a thief," +he added fiercely, looking up at her with two bloodshot eyes. "You've +got to believe it. I'm a thief. I stole fifty pounds from Gering +yesterday—and I was bad before that. I won money at play—I've won and +lost, and I've lost and won. Once Lawson gave me two hundred and fifty +pounds to invest, and I stole it to pay a gambling debt, and Effie got +it back for me—she borrowed it for me. My father wouldn't have given +you to me if he had known that. I had it on my conscience when I was +kneeling by his deathbed, but I couldn't tell him then; and when he gave +you to me, I felt that I never could tell. Then we came to London, and I +began to deceive you. I told you a false story about that rise of +salary—I never had any rise; and I took your fifty pounds two days ago +out of the bank, and I stole money to pay it back again. That's your son +George, mother—your <i>true</i> son in his <i>real</i> colors. Now you know +everything."</p> + +<p>George stepped a pace or two away from the bed as he spoke. He folded +his arms.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Staunton was looking at him with a piteous, frightened expression +on her face. Suddenly she broke into a feeble and yet terrible laugh.</p> + +<p>"My son George," she said. "That explains everything. My son +still—still my son!" She laughed again.</p> + +<p>There came a knock at the outer door.</p> + +<p>"Don't go, George!" said his mother.</p> + +<p>"George, you're wanted," said Agnes. "Effie is here, and Mr. +Gering—they want to see you. Come at once."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Gering!" exclaimed the mother. "He was the man you took the money +from. He's coming to—punish<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">183</a></span> you, to—George, you're not to go. Stay +here with me. I'll hide you. You're not to go, George—I won't let you, +I won't let you!"</p> + +<p>"Dear mother! dear, dearest mother! you must let me—I must take the +punishment. I've deserved it and I'm determined to go through with it. +Just say a wonderful thing to me before I go, and I'll be strong enough +to bear it—and to—to come back to you when it's over. Say you love me +still, mother."</p> + +<p>"<i>Love</i> you!" exclaimed Mrs. Staunton.</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother, although I'm a thief."</p> + +<p>"Bless the boy! that has nothing to do with it. You're my boy, whatever +you are."</p> + +<p>"Then you do still love me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, yes! Of course I love the lad!"</p> + +<p>George went straight to the door and opened it. He walked straight into +the other room.</p> + +<p>"I'm ready to take the punishment, sir," he said, going straight up to +Mr. Gering.</p> + +<p>His manner and the look on his face amazed his late employer.</p> + +<p>"Eh—eh—well, young sir," he said, backing a step or two. "And so you +confess that you robbed me?"</p> + +<p>"I do."</p> + +<p>"And you know what lies before you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Have you been deceiving that mother of yours again?"</p> + +<p>"No; I've been telling her the truth at last."</p> + +<p>"Effie, Effie!" called Mrs. Staunton from the bedroom.</p> + +<p>Effie ran to her mother.</p> + +<p>"Do you know, young man," said Mr. Gering, "that you have got a very +remarkable sister?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">184</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do you mean Effie? Oh, I always knew she was a girl in a thousand."</p> + +<p>"A girl in <i>ten</i> thousand, more like. Do you know, young rascal, that +she has been pleading with me for you, and—'pon my word, it's +true—melting my old heart till I don't know what I'm doing? In short, +I've made her a promise."</p> + +<p>"A promise! Oh, sir, what?"</p> + +<p>"A promise that I'll let you off—all but the moral punishment. That, of +course, you'll have to bear."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Gering, is this true?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's true. I'm doing it all on account of your sister. You may +come back to the office to-morrow, and consider that you've got a fresh +start. Now, for goodness' sake, don't keep me any longer. Open the door, +one of you children, can't you? I must hurry back to my work."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>That is the story, for George really did learn his lesson, and in his +case the new leaf was turned. He will carry the scars, however, of that +time of sin and suffering to his grave.</p> + +<p>Effie kept her promise, and went as governess to little Freda Harvey for +a time, but only for a time. When money affairs were straight again, she +gladly returned to the life which she really loved, and is now +superintendent of one of the wards at St. Joseph's.</p> + +<p>It is true that there are whispers afloat with regard to her and +Lawson—whispers which always give a feeling of consternation in the +ward which she manages so skillfully—but only Effie herself can tell if +there is truth in them or not.</p> + +<p style='text-align:center; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 3em;'>THE END</p> + +<hr class='full' /> + +<p class='center'>HURST & COMPANY'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE</p> +<hr class='minor'/> +<p style='text-align:center'><span style='font-size:90%;'>A Volume of Cheerfulness in Rhyme and Picture</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:160%;'>KINDERGARTEN LIMERICKS</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:120%;'>By FLORENCE E. SCOTT</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:90%;'>Pictures by Arthur O. Scott with a Foreword by Lucy Wheelock</span></p> + +<div class='figleft' style='width: 125px;'> +<img src='images/illus-182.png' alt='' title='' /><br /> +</div> + +<p>The book contains a rhyme for every letter of the alphabet, each +illustrated by a full page picture in colors. The verses appeal to the +child's sense of humor without being foolish or sensational, and will be +welcomed by kindergartners for teaching rhythm in a most entertaining +manner.</p> + +<p class='center'><i>Beautifully printed and bound. In attractive box. Price, Postpaid One Dollar.</i></p> +<hr class='minor'/> +<p class='center'><b>HURST & COMPANY, Publishers, NEW YORK</b></p> + +<hr class='full' /> + +<p class='center'>HURST & COMPANY'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE</p> +<hr class='minor'/> +<p style='text-align:center'><span style='font-size:90%;'>NEW BOOKS FOR GIRLS</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:160%;'>TUCKER TWINS BOOKS</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:120%;'>By NELL SPEED</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:90%;'>Author of the Molly Brown Books.</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:90%;'>Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price 60c. per volume.</span></p> + +<div class='figleft' style='width: 125px;'> +<img src='images/illus-183.png' alt='' title='' /><br /> +</div> + +<p><b>At</b> <b>Boarding School with the Tucker Twins</b></p> + +<p>There are no jollier girls in boarding school fiction than Dum and Dee +Tucker. The room-mate of such a lively pair has an endless variety of +surprising experiences—as Page Allison will tell you.</p> + +<p><b>Vacation with</b> <b>the Tucker Twins</b></p> + +<p>This volume is alive with experiences of these fascinating girls. Girls +who enjoyed the Molly Brown Books by the same author will be eager for +this volume.</p> + +<p>The scene of these charming stories is laid in the State of Virginia and +has the true Southern flavor. Girls will like them.</p> + +<p class='center'><i>We will send any title upon receipt of 60 cents per volume, or both of them for $1.10</i></p> +<hr class='minor'/> +<p class='center'><b>HURST & COMPANY, Publishers, NEW YORK</b></p> + +<hr class='full' /> + +<p class='center'>HURST & COMPANY'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE</p> +<hr class='minor'/> +<p style='text-align:center'><span style='font-size:90%;'>NEW BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE AND OLD PEOPLE WHO FEEL YOUNG</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:160%;'>PAUL AND PEGGY BOOKS</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:120%;'>By FLORENCE E. SCOTT</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:90%;'>Illustrated by ARTHUR O. SCOTT</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:90%;'>Cloth Bound. Price 60c. per vol., postpaid</span></p> + +<div class='figleft' style='width: 125px;'> +<img src='images/illus-184.png' alt='' title='' /><br /> +</div> + +<p><b><i>Here and There with Paul and Peggy</i></b></p> + +<p><b><i>Across the Continent with Paul and Peggy</i></b></p> + +<p><b><i>Through the Yellowstone with Paul and Peggy</i></b></p> + +<p>These are delightfully written stories of a vivacious pair of twins +whose dearest ambition is to travel. How they find the opportunity, +where they go, what their eager eyes discover is told in such an +enthusiastic way that the reader is carried with the travellers into +many charming places and situations.</p> + +<p>Written primarily for girls, her brothers can read these charming +stories of School Life and Travel with equal admiration and interest.</p> + +<p class='center'><i>We will mail promptly any book for 60 cents, or all three for $1.60.</i></p> +<hr class='minor'/> +<p class='center'><b>HURST & COMPANY, Publishers, NEW YORK</b></p> + +<hr class='full' /> + +<p class='center'>HURST & COMPANY'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE</p> +<hr class='minor'/> +<p style='text-align:center'><span style='font-size:90%;'>STORIES OF COLLEGE LIFE FOR GIRLS</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:160%;'>MOLLY BROWN SERIES</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:120%;'>By NELL SPEED</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:90%;'>Cloth. Illustrated. Price, 60c. per volume</span></p> + +<div class='figleft' style='width: 125px;'> +<img src='images/illus-185.png' alt='' title='' /><br /> +</div> + +<p><b><i>Molly Brown's Freshman Days</i></b></p> + +<p>Would you like to admit to your circle of friends the most charming of +college girls? Then seek an introduction to Molly Brown. You will find +the baggagemaster, the cook, the Professor of English Literature and the +College President in the same company.</p> + +<p><b><i>Molly Brown's Sophomore Days</i></b></p> + +<p>What is more delightful than a reunion of college girls after the summer +vacation? Certainly nothing that precedes it in their experience—at +least, if all class-mates are as happy together as the Wellington girls +of this story. Among Molly's interesting friends or the second year is a +young Japanese girl, who ingratiates her "humbly" self into everybody's +affections.</p> + +<p><b><i>Molly Brown's Junior Days</i></b></p> + +<p>Financial stumbling blocks are not the only thing that hinder the ease +and increase the strength of college girls. Their troubles and their +triumphs are their own, often peculiar to their environment. How +Wellington students meet the experiences outside the class-rooms is +worth the doing, the telling and the reading.</p> + +<p><b><i>Molly Brown's Senior Days</i></b></p> + +<p>This book tells of another year of glad college life, bringing the girls +to the days of diplomas and farewells, and introducing new friends to +complicate old friendships.</p> + +<p><b><i>Molly Brown's Post Graduate Days</i></b></p> + +<p>"Book I" of this volume is devoted to incidents that happen in Molly's +Kentucky home, and "Book II" is filled with the interests pertaining to +Wellington College and the reunions of a post graduate year.</p> + +<p><b><i>Molly Brown's Orchard Home</i></b></p> + +<p>Molly's romance culminates in Paris—the Paris of art, of music, of +light-hearted gaiety—after a glad, sad, mad year for Molly and her +friends.</p> + +<p>If you do not know Molly Brown of Kentucky, you are missing an +opportunity to become acquainted with the most enchanting girl in +college fiction.</p> + +<p class='center'><i>Any book sent prepaid for 60 cents, or the six for $3.50.</i></p> +<hr class='minor'/> +<p class='center'><b>HURST & COMPANY, Publishers, NEW YORK</b></p> + +<hr class='full' /> + +<p class='center'>HURST & COMPANY'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE</p> +<hr class='minor'/> +<p style='text-align:center'><span style='font-size:160%;'>Latest Books by Mrs. L. T. Meade</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:120%;'>NEW COPYRIGHT EDITIONS PUBLISHED</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:120%;'>EXCLUSIVELY BY US</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:90%;'>Cloth. Illustrated. Price, 60c. per volume.</span></p> + +<div class='figleft' style='width: 125px;'> +<img src='images/illus-186.png' alt='' title='' /><br /> +</div> + +<p>These beautiful volumes represent Mrs. Meade's latest writings. They are +juvenile in character, especially written for young folks. By +arrangement with her English publishers, we have obtained the exclusive +American rights, and these books cannot be procured in any other +edition. Each volume handsomely bound with individual designs; each +containing four original drawings. Those familiar with Mrs. Meade know +her reputation for clean, wholesome stories, and these books should be +in every home library. The titles named below comprise her latest +Juveniles.</p> + +<div style="text-align: left"> +<table summary='booklist'> +<tr><td>Oceana's Girlhood</td><td>A Wild Irish Girl</td><td>The Girls of Merton College</td></tr> +<tr><td>For Dear Dad</td><td>Kitty O'Donovan</td><td>Peggy from Kerry</td></tr> +<tr><td>The Queen of Joy</td><td>The Chesterton Girl Graduates</td><td>The Girls of King's Royal</td></tr> +<tr><td>The Lady of Jerry Boy's Dreams</td><td>A Plucky Girl</td><td>The Daughter of a Soldier</td></tr> +<tr><td>A Girl of High Adventure</td><td>Jill, the Irresistible</td><td></td></tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p>Mrs. Meade requires no introduction to her many admirers and readers, +and these volumes will be a welcome addition to the book-shelves in any +home.</p> + +<p class='center'><i>We will send any title selected upon receipt of 60 cents, or any six books for $3.50</i></p> +<hr class='minor'/> +<p class='center'><b>HURST & COMPANY, Publishers, NEW YORK</b></p> + +<hr class='full' /> + +<p class='center'>HURST & COMPANY'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE</p> +<hr class='minor'/> +<p style='text-align:center'><span style='font-size:160%;'>MOTOR MAIDS SERIES</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:120%;'>By KATHARINE STOKES</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:90%;'>Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 50c per vol., postpaid</span></p> + +<div class='figleft' style='width: 125px;'> +<img src='images/illus-187.png' alt='' title='' /><br /> +</div> + +<p><b>THE MOTOR MAIDS' SCHOOL DAYS</b></p> + +<p>Billie Campbell was Just the type of a straightforward, athletic girl to +be successful as a practical Motor Maid. She took her car, as she did +her class-mates, to her heart, and many a grand good time did they have +all together. The road over which she ran her red machine had many an +unexpected turning.</p> + +<p><b>THE MOTOR MAIDS BY PALM AND PINE</b></p> + +<p>Wherever the Motor Maids went there were lively times, for these were +companionable girls who looked upon the world as a vastly interesting +place full of unique adventures.</p> + +<p><b>THE MOTOR MAIDS ACROSS THE CONTINENT</b></p> + +<p>It is always interesting to travel, and it is wonderfully entertaining +to see old scenes through fresh eyes. It is that privilege, therefore, +that makes it worth while to join the Motor Maids in their first +'cross-country run.</p> + +<p><b>THE MOTOR MAIDS BY ROSE, SHAMROCK AND THISTLE</b></p> + +<p>South and West had the Motor Maids motored, nor could their education by +travel have been more wisely begun. But now a speaking acquaintance with +their own country enriched their anticipation of an introduction to the +British Isles. How they made their polite American bow and how they were +received on the other side is a tale of interest and inspiration.</p> + +<p><b>THE MOTOR MAIDS IN FAIR JAPAN</b></p> + +<p>In a picturesque villa among picturesque surroundings the Motor Maids +spend a happy vacation. The charm of Japan,—her cherry blossoms, her +temples, her quaint customs, her polite people,—is reflected in all +their delightful experiences.</p> + +<p><b>THE MOTOR MAIDS AT SUNRISE CAMP</b></p> + +<p>Most interesting of all interesting events recorded about the Motor +Maids are these relating to their summer in a mountain camp. The new +friends introduced in this book add the final touch of romance.</p> + +<p>Charmingly written books which will delight all girls who are fond of +outdoor life—and most girls are. The trips taken by these Motor Maids +would envy any girl, yet you can have all the pleasant experiences by +reading the stories.</p> + +<p class='center'><i>We will send any book upon receipt of 50 cents, or all six for $2.50.</i></p> +<hr class='minor'/> +<p class='center'><b>HURST & COMPANY, Publishers, NEW YORK</b></p> + +<hr class='full' /> + +<p class='center'>HURST & COMPANY'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE</p> +<hr class='minor'/> +<p style='text-align:center'><span style='font-size:160%;'>GIRL AVIATORS SERIES</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:120%;'>By MARGARET BURNHAM</span><br /> +<span style='font-size:90%;'>Cloth. Illustrated. 50c. Each</span></p> + +<div class='figleft' style='width: 125px;'> +<img src='images/illus-188.png' alt='' title='' /><br /> +</div> + +<p><b>The Girl Aviators and the Phantom Airship</b></p> + +<p>Roy Prescott was fortunate in having a sister so clever and devoted to +him and his interests that they would share work and play with mutual +pleasure and to mutual advantage. This proved especially true in +relation to the manufacture and manipulation of their aeroplane, and +Peggy won well deserved fame for her skill and good sense as an aviator. +There were many stumbling-blocks in their terrestrial path, but they +soared above them all to ultimate success.</p> + +<p><b>The Girl Aviators on Golden Wings</b></p> + +<p>That there is a peculiar fascination about aviation that wins and holds +girls enthusiasts as well as boys is proved by this tale. On golden +wings the girl aviators rose for many an exciting flight, and met +strange and unexpected experiences.</p> + +<p><b>The Girl Aviators' Sky Cruise</b></p> + +<p>To most girls a coaching or yachting trip is an adventure. How much more +perilous an adventure a "sky cruise" might be is suggested by the title +and proved by the story itself.</p> + +<p><b>The Girl Aviators' Motor Butterfly</b></p> + +<p>The delicacy of flight suggested by the word "butterfly," the mechanical +power implied by "motor," the ability to control assured in the title +"aviator," all combined with the personality and enthusiasm of girls +themselves, make this story one for any girl or other reader "to go +crazy over."</p> + +<p>Aviation is not confined to the sterner sex as has been shown by the +flights made by Harriet Quimby and other daring young women. Girls who +are fond of adventure will thoroughly enjoy reading these books, which +are wholesome and free from sensationalism.</p> + +<p class='center'><i>Price, postpaid, 50 cents per copy or the four books for $1.75.</i></p> +<hr class='minor'/> +<p class='center'><b>HURST & COMPANY, Publishers, NEW YORK</b></p> + +<hr class='full' /> + +<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes</h3> +<ol> +<li>Punctuation has been normalized to contemporary standards.</li> +<li>Missing text, truncated by printer:<br />p. 131: "mother has gone far beyond our means. She hasn't"</li> +<li>Several places in the text suggest missing or incorrect text:<br /> +p. 15: "I met Effie the night a came home"<br /> + replaced with "I met Effie the night I came home"<br /> +p. 145: "Now go and much in train for the afternoon as you can."<br /> + No replacement made.<br /> +p. 120: "but she for certain that he would come"<br /> + Replaced with "but she knew for certain that he would come"</li> +<li>Superfluous, repeated disconnected text on two sequential lines on page 168:<br /> + changed voice. "Before God, I couldn't help it."<br /> + a changed voice. "Before God, I couldn't help it."</li> +<li>Typographic errors corrected:<br /> +seventh page of advertisements:<br /> + "terrestial" to "terrestrial." ("stumbling-blocks in their terrestrial path")<br /> +p. 24: "undestad" to "understand." ("Now you understand")<br /> +p. 111: "helds" to "held." ("when she held the purse strings.")</li> +</ol> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Girl in Ten Thousand, by L. T. Meade + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GIRL IN TEN THOUSAND *** + +***** This file should be named 19761-h.htm or 19761-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/7/6/19761/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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T. Meade + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Girl in Ten Thousand + +Author: L. T. Meade + +Release Date: November 11, 2006 [EBook #19761] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GIRL IN TEN THOUSAND *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +A GIRL IN TEN THOUSAND + +BY + +L. T. MEADE + +AUTHOR OF "BASHFUL FIFTEEN," "THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE," +"GIRLS NEW AND OLD," "RED ROSE AND TIGER LILY," ETC. + +NEW YORK + +HURST AND COMPANY PUBLISHERS + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +"You are the comfort of my life, Effie. If you make up your mind to go +away, what is to become of me?" + +The speaker was a middle-aged woman. She was lying on a sofa in a shabby +little parlor. The sofa was covered with horse-hair, the room had a +faded paper, and faded chintz covered the shabby furniture. The woman's +pleading words were emphasized by her tired eyes and worn face. She +looked full at the young girl to whom she spoke. + +"What shall I do without you, and what will your father say?" + +"I have made up my mind," said Effie. "I don't want to be unkind to you, +mother,--I love you more than words can say,--but I must go out into the +world. I must live my life like other girls." + +"You had none of these ideas until you met Dorothy Fraser." + +"Yes, I have had them for a long time; Dorothy has given them emphasis, +that's all. Dorothy's mother did not like her to go away, but now she is +glad. She says that nothing has made Dorothy into so fine a woman as +taking her life into her own hands, and making the best she can of it. +Before I go, mother, I will get Agnes to learn all my duties; she shall +help you. She is nearly fourteen; she ought to be of use to you, ought +she not?" + +"She would not be like you," replied Mrs. Staunton. "She is very young, +remember, and is at school most of the day. I won't argue with you, +Effie, but it tires me even to think of it." + +Effie sighed. She bent down and kissed her mother. Her words had sounded +hard and almost defiant, but there was nothing at all hard or defiant +about her sweet face. She was a dark-eyed girl, and looked as if she +might be any age between seventeen and twenty. There was a likeness +between her and her mother quite sufficient to show their relationship; +both faces were softly curved, both pairs of eyes were dark, and the +mother must have been even prettier in her youth than the daughter was +now. + +"As I say," continued Mrs. Staunton, "it fills me with terror to think +of doing without you." + +"Try not to think of it, mother. I am not going yet, I only want to go +very much indeed. I am going to talk to father about it. I want to have +the thing arranged while Dorothy is here." + +Here Effie went suddenly on her knees by the sofa and threw one young +arm protectingly round her mother. + +"You do not know what it means to me," she said. "When Dorothy talks of +the full life, the keen interest, the battle, the thrill of living, I +feel that I must go into it--I must." + +While Effie was speaking, Mrs. Staunton looked fixedly at her. There are +moments which all mothers know, when they put themselves completely out +of sight, when they blot themselves out, as it were. This time had come +to Mrs. Staunton now. + +After a pause, she said, and her words came out even without a sigh: + +"The question, after all, is this, Effie: What will your father say?" + +"When he thinks it out carefully he will be pleased," replied Effie. "He +must be interested in the profession I want to take up. How often--oh, +how often, mother--has he groaned and sighed at the bad nursing which +his patients get! You know you have always said, and he has said the +same, that I am a born nurse. Won't he be proud and pleased when I come +home and tell him all about the new ways in which things are done in +London hospitals? You know there are six of us, and Agnes and Katie are +growing up, and can take my place at home presently. Of course I know +that father is quite the cleverest doctor in Whittington, but nobody +gets ill here, and it is quite impossible to go on clothing and feeding +six of us with no means at all. I do not think I am vain, mother, and I +do not really care very much about dress, but mine is shabby, is it not? +I think I should look pretty--as pretty as you must have looked long +ago--if I were better dressed." + +"No dress can change your face," said Mrs. Staunton, with sudden +passion. "You have the sweetest and dearest face in the world to me. +When you go away the sunshine will go out of my life; but, my darling, +my darling, I won't--you shall never have it to say that your mother +stood in your way. I must think, however, of what your father will say +to this. I can only warn you that if there is one person your father +dreads and dislikes more than another, it is the modern girl. He said to +me, 'Thank God, Effie has none of that hideous modernity about her. She +is fairly good-looking; she does not think about Girton or Newnham, or +any of the women's colleges; in short, she has no advanced ideas.'" + +"That is all he knows," replied Effie. "The fact is, I must and will do +something to earn my living. You are sending George out into the world +to win his spurs, and I am going to win mine." + +"In what way?" asked Mrs. Staunton. "You know you are not clever." + +"Dorothy thinks I can be a nurse, mother. May she come and see you, and +talk it all over?" + +"There is no harm in talking it over," said Mrs. Staunton. "But now I +wish you would go upstairs and help Susan to put the children to bed. +You can bring baby downstairs if you like, and I will undress him. Run +along, Effie--run along, there's a good child." + +"Oh, yes, mother, I'll go; only just answer me one question first. May +Dorothy come here after supper to-night?" + +"What is the use of my seeing her? Your father is the one to decide." + +"I will ask father to stay in after supper." + +"I don't think he will. A message has come from the Watson people over +at the farm. Mrs. Watson was taken bad with a stitch an hour ago, and +they want your father as quickly as he can go." + +"Well, he will be back in time--he won't spend the whole evening there. +Anyhow, Dorothy can come and see you, and if father does come in before +she leaves, well and good. I may run and tell her to come, may I not?" + +"Won't you put the children to bed first, and bring me baby?" + +"Oh, yes, yes, if you insist." + +"I do, Effie; while you are at home you must help me all you can. I have +not had a bit of strength since baby was born. It is perfectly dreadful +to feel all your strength going and to know that things are at sixes and +sevens, and however hard you try you cannot put them right. Dear me, +Effie, I did think when you were grown up that you would stay at home +and be a comfort to me." + +"I shall be a greater comfort to you when I send you money from London. +Now, don't speak another word. I will put the children to bed, and I +will look after baby myself, while you close your eyes and go to sleep." + +Effie pressed her warm young lips on the older woman's brow, and then +ran out of the room. + +There was a large nursery upstairs, where everything at the present +moment was, as Effie's mother had said, at sixes and sevens. The +nursemaid, a young girl of seventeen, was not up to her duties--the +children ruled her, instead of her ruling the children. Effie, however, +could be masterful enough when she liked. She had a natural sense of +order, and she soon put things straight in the nursery. The children +were undressed quickly and put to bed; and then Effie, taking the baby +in her arms, asked Susan to go downstairs. + +"You can have your supper," she said. "I will look after baby." + +"I thought my missus would like me to take baby to her," said the girl. + +"No; I will look after him for the present," said Effie. "Mother is +tired, and she must sleep. Run away, Susan, and have your supper, and +come back here as quickly as you can." + +"Yes, Miss Effie; and I am sure I am very much obliged to you. You 'as a +wonderful way with the children, and I only wish I could learn it." + +Susan left the room. Pressing the baby's soft curly head against her +breast, Effie began to pace up and down with it. The baby was three +months old; he was fractious and disinclined to sleep, but when his +sister began to purr a soft song into his ear, an old nursery rhyme +which her mother had sung to her long ago, his wide-open eyes closed, +and he sank off into peaceful slumber. + +When she saw that he was quite sound asleep, Effie put him in his cot, +drew the cot near the crib where Philip, a dark-eyed little boy of five, +lay, and bending down to kiss Phil, said: + +"You are to be baby's nurse until Susan comes up; if he wakes or begins +to cry, just pat him on his back. I am most anxious that mother should +have a quiet time; she is just worn out, and if she hears baby cry she +is certain to send for him. Now, Phil, you are a very clever little man +when you like--I trust to you to keep baby from crying until Susan comes +back!" + +"'Es, that I will," replied Phil, in a voice of intense importance. "I +do love 'ou, Effie," he said. + +Effie kissed him, and softly left the room. She ran downstairs, and +began to help the servant to lay supper. + +No one could look more bright than Effie as she performed the thousand +and one duties which fell to her lot in this poor home. Dr. Staunton was +poor, there were six children, Effie was the eldest daughter; it needs +no more words to explain her exact position. From morning to night Effie +was busy, very busy, doing what she herself called nothing. She was +getting discontented with her life. A feeling of discontent had stolen +over her ever since her eldest brother George had gone to London, to +help his uncle in a large warehouse. For months the dream of her life +was to give up the little duties near at hand, and to take some great +duties which nobody wanted her to do, far away from home. She was quite +prepared for the advice which her friend Dorothy Fraser, who lived all +the year round in London, and only came home for the holidays to +Whittingham, was able to give her. Effie's conscience was not in the +least pricked at the thought of leaving her mother--it seemed to her +quite right. "Had she not to make the most of her youth? Why should she +spend all her young days in looking after the children, and making +things tolerable for her father and mother?" + +These thoughts kept swiftly passing through her brain, as she +noiselessly laid the table and made it look charming and pretty. When +all was done, she took up a little frock of one of the children's, and, +sitting down by the window, began to work. Her pretty dark head was bent +over her task; her thick curling lashes lay heavy on her rounded cheek. +Mrs. Staunton, who had been having a doze on the sofa, started up now +and looked at her. + +"Oh, Effie dear, I have had such a nice sleep," she said, with a little +sigh; "I am ever so much the better for it. But what have you done with +baby?" + +"I have put him to sleep, mother; he is in his cot now, as comfortable +as possible." + +"How good of you, Effie! What a comfort you are to me!" + +Effie smiled. "I think I hear father coming in," she said, "and supper +is quite ready." + +Mrs. Staunton started up from the sofa; she pushed back her tumbled +hair, and shook out her somewhat untidy dress. + +"Now let me make you trim," said Effie. + +She ran over to her parent, put back her gray hair with an affectionate +little touch, and then kissed her mother on her flushed cheeks. + +"You look better for your nice sleep, mother," she said. + +"So I am, darling, and for your loving care," replied Mrs. Staunton. + +Her husband came into the room, and she took her place before the +tea-tray. + +Supper at the Stauntons' was a nondescript sort of meal. It consisted of +meat and vegetables, and tea and cakes and puddings, all placed on the +table together. It was the one hearty meal Dr. Staunton allowed himself +in the twenty-four hours. At the children's early dinner he only +snatched a little bread and cheese, but at peaceful seven o'clock the +children were in bed, the house was quiet, the toil of the day was +supposed to be over, and Dr. Staunton could eat heartily and enjoy +himself. It was at this hour he used to notice how very pretty Effie +looked, and how sweet it was to see her sitting like a little mouse on +one side of the table, helping him and his wife in her affectionate way, +and seeing to the comforts of all. It did not occur to him as even +possible that Effie could carry such a dreadful thing as rebellion in +her heart. No face could look more perfectly happy than hers. Was it +possible that she was pining for a wider field of usefulness than the +little niche which she filled so perfectly in the home life? Dr. +Staunton never thought about it at all. Effie was just a dear little +girl--not a bit modern; she was the comfort of her mother's life, and, +for that matter, the comfort of his also. + +He looked at her now with his usual grave smile. "Well, Effie, useful +and charming as usual? I see you have not forgotten my favorite dish, +and I am glad of it, for I can tell you I am just starving. I have had +a hard day's work, and it is nice to feel that I can rest for this +evening at least." + +"Have you been to the Watsons', dear?" inquired Mrs. Staunton. "They +sent a message for you two or three hours ago." + +"Yes; I met the farmer in the High Street, and went straight out to the +farm. Mrs. Watson is better now, poor soul; but it is a bad case, the +heart is a good deal implicated. I shall have to go out there again the +first thing in the morning. It would be a dreadful thing for that family +if anything happened to her." + +"The heart--is it heart trouble?" said Mrs. Staunton. + +"Yes, yes! Don't you begin to fancy that your case is the least like +hers; yours is only functional, hers is organic. Now, why have I broken +through my rule of saying nothing about my patients? You will be +fancying and fretting all night that you are going to shuffle off this +mortal coil just as quickly as poor Mrs. Watson will have to do before +long, I fear. Why, Effie, what is the matter? Why are you staring at me +with those round eyes?" + +Mrs. Staunton looked also at Effie, and the sudden memory of her recent +conversation with her returned. + +"By the way," she said, "if you are likely to be at home this evening, +John, Effie would like to ask her friend Dorothy Fraser to come in for +an hour or two. She wants to introduce her to you." + +"She is one of those modern girls, is she not?" said the doctor. + +"Oh, father, she is just splendid," said Effie. "If you only knew her, +if you could hear her speak----" + +"Well, my dear, don't get into a state, and above all things, don't +learn that dreadful habit of exaggeration. I dare say Miss Fraser is +very well, but there are few prodigies in the world, my little Effie; +and, for my part, give me the home birds--they are the girls for my +world; they are the girls who will make good wives by and by. There, my +love, I shall be pleased to welcome any friend of yours, so ask her +over, by all means. She won't mind the old doctor's pipe, I hope?" + +"Oh, no, father!" Effie could not help smiling. She knew perfectly well +that Dorothy thought it no harm to indulge in a tiny cigarette herself, +not often, nor every day, but sometimes when she was dead beat, as she +expressed it. Effie had to keep this knowledge of her friend's +delinquencies to herself. If Dr. Staunton knew that Dorothy did not +consider smoking the unpardonable sin in woman, he would not allow her +inside his doors. "I will go and fetch her," Effie said, jumping up and +putting on her hat. "She is longing to know you, father, and you can +smoke two or three pipes while she is here." + +Effie left the room. Mrs. Staunton looked at her husband. "I doubt if +Dorothy Fraser is the best of friends for our Effie." + +"Eh!" said the doctor, taking his pipe out of his mouth for a moment. +"What ails the girl?" + +"Oh, nothing at all," replied Mrs. Staunton. "Effie is very fond of her, +and I believe she really is a fine creature. You know she is educating +her two brothers." + +"What is she doing--how does she earn her living?" + +"Oh, she is a nurse in a hospital. She has been in St. Joseph's Hospital +for years, and is now superintendent of one of the wards. She gets a +good salary." + +The doctor rubbed his hands together in a somewhat impatient way. "You +know my opinion of lady nurses," he said, looking at his wife. + +"Well, dear, make the best of Dorothy for Effie's sake. I hear the steps +of the two girls now. You will do what you can to be agreeable, won't +you?" + +"No," said the doctor; "I shall growl like a bear with a sore head, when +I see women who ought to be content with sweet home duties struggling +and pining to go out into the world." + +The last words had scarcely left the doctor's lips before the +dining-room door was opened, and Effie, accompanied by her friend, +entered the room. + +Dorothy Fraser was about twenty-eight years of age; she was tall; she +had a fair, calm sort of face; her eyes were large and gray, her mouth +sweet. She had a way of taking possession of those she spoke to, and she +had not been two minutes in the shabby little sitting-room before Dr. +and Mrs. Staunton were looking at her earnestly and listening to her +words with respect. + +Dorothy sat near Mrs. Staunton. + +"I am very glad to know you," she said, after a pause. "Effie has talked +to me over and over again about you." + +"May I ask how long you have known Effie?" interrupted Dr. Staunton. + +"Well, exactly a week," replied Miss Fraser. "I have been home a week, +and I am going to stay another week. I met Effie the night I came home, +and---- But one can cultivate a friendship in a week; don't you think +so, Dr. Staunton?" + +"Perhaps, perhaps," said the doctor in a dubious voice. "I am slow in +making friends myself. It is the old-fashioned way of country folk." + +"Oh, pray don't speak of yourself as old-fashioned, Dr. Staunton; and +don't run down country folk, I see so many of them at the hospital. For +my part, I think they are worth twenty of those poor London people, who +are half starved in body, and have only learned the wicked side of +life." + +"Poor creatures!" said Mrs. Staunton. "I wish you would tell us +something about the hospital, my dear. It is vastly entertaining to hear +all about sick people." + +"No; now pardon me," said the doctor; "you will do nothing of the kind, +Miss Fraser. There are not many sick folk about here, but what few there +are I have got to look after, and my thoughts are bothered enough about +them and their sicknesses, so I would rather, if you please, turn our +conversation to people who are not ill. The wife here is a bit nervous, +too, and she is never the better for hearing people talk about what they +call 'bad cases.' I think it is the worst thing in the world for people +to keep talking of their maladies, or even about other people's +maladies. My motto is this, 'When you are ill, try and see how soon you +can get well again, and when you are well, try to keep so. Never think +of illness at all.'" + +Miss Fraser looked fully at the doctor while he was talking. A slight +frown came between her eyebrows. Effie's bright dark eyes were fixed on +her friend. + +"Illness interests me, of course," Dorothy said, after a pause; "but I +won't talk of it. There are many other things, as you say, just as +vital." + +"Well, at any rate," said Mrs. Staunton, "Miss Fraser can tell us how +she came to be a nurse----" + +"For my part," interrupted Dr. Staunton, "I think it is a great pity +that girls like you, Miss Fraser, should take up that sort of life. Lady +girls are not suited to it; for one who is fitted for the life, there +are fifty who are not. If you could only guess how doctors hate to see +lady nurses in possession of a case. She is a fine lady through it all; +she thinks she is not, but she is. Do you suppose she will wash up the +cups and plates and spoons as they ought to be washed and kept in a sick +person's room? and do you fancy she will clean out the grate, and go +down on her knees to wash the floor? Your fine lady nurse won't. There +is a case of infection, for instance,--measles or scarlet fever,--and +the nurse comes down from London, and she is supposed to take +possession; but one of the servants of the house has to go in to clean +and dust and arrange, or the sickroom is not dusted or cleaned at all. +That is your lady nurse; and I say she is not suited to the work." + +Miss Fraser turned pale while the doctor was speaking. + +"You must admit," she said, when he stopped and looked at her,--"you +must admit, Dr. Staunton, that every lady nurse is not like that. If you +have an infection case in your practice, send for me. I think I can +prove to you that there are some ladies who are too truly women to think +anything menial or beneath them." She colored as she spoke, and lowered +her eyes. + +The conversation drifted into other channels. After a time Dorothy got +up and went away; and Effie, yawning slightly, went up to her room to go +to bed. She slept in a little room next to the nursery. Instead of +undressing at once, as was her wont, she went and stood by the window, +threw it open, and looked out. "What would father say if he knew my +thoughts?" she said to herself. "He despises ladies who are nurses; he +thinks it wrong for any lady girl to go away from home; but I am +going--yes, I am going to London. Dorothy is my friend. She is about +the grandest, noblest creature I ever met, and I am going to follow in +her steps. Mother will consent in the end--mother will see that I cannot +throw away my life. Dear mother! I shall miss her and father awfully, +but, all the same, I shall be delighted to go. I do want to get out of +this narrow, narrow life; I do want to do something big and grand. Oh, +Dorothy, how splendid you are! How strong you look! How delightful it is +to feel that one can live a life like yours, and do good, and be loved +by all! Oh, Dorothy, I hope I shall be able to copy you! I hope----" + +Effie's eager thoughts came to a sudden stop. A tall dog-cart dashed +down the street and pulled up short at her father's door. A young man in +a Norfolk suit jumped out, threw the horse's reins to his groom, and +pulled the doctor's bell furiously. Effie leaned slightly out of her +window in order to see who it was. She recognized the man who stood on +the doorstep with a start of surprise, and the color flew into her face. +He was the young Squire of the neighborhood. His name was Harvey. His +place was two miles out of Whittington. He was married; his wife was the +most beautiful woman Effie had ever seen; and he had one little girl. +The Harveys were rich and proud; they spent the greater part of their +time in London, and had never before condescended to consult the village +doctor. What was the matter now? Effie rushed from her room and knocked +furiously at her father's door. + +"Father, do you hear the night-bell? Are you getting up?" she called. + +"Yes, child, yes," answered the doctor. + +The bell downstairs kept on ringing at intervals. Effie stood trembling +on the landing; she felt positively sure that something dreadful must +have happened. + +"May I go down stairs and say you are coming, father?" she called again +through the key-hole. + +"Yes, I wish you would. Say I will be downstairs in a minute." + +Effie ran off; she took the chain off the heavy hall door and threw it +open. + +"Is Dr. Staunton in?" asked the Squire. He stared at Effie's white +trembling face. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair in disorder; he looked +like a man who is half distracted. + +"Yes," said Effie, in as soothing a voice as she could assume; "my +father will be down in a minute." + +Harvey took off his cap. + +"You are Miss Staunton, I presume? Pray ask your father to be as quick +as possible. My little girl is ill--very ill. We want a doctor to come +to The Grange without a moment's delay." + +"All right, Squire; here I am," said the hearty voice of Dr. Staunton on +the stairs. + +The Squire shook hands with him, made one or two remarks in too low a +voice for Effie to hear, sprang into his dog-cart, the doctor scrambled +up by his side, and a moment later the two had disappeared. Effie stood +by the open hall door looking up and down the quiet village street. The +great man of the place had come and gone like a flash. The thing Mrs. +Staunton had longed for, dreamed of, and almost prayed for, had come to +pass at last--her husband was sent for to The Grange. Effie wondered if +Fortune were really turning her wheel, and if, from this date they would +be better off than they had been. + +Dorothy Fraser's people lived in the house nearly opposite. From where +Effie stood she could see a light still burning in her friend's window. +The thought of Dorothy raised the girl's state of excitement almost to +fever pitch. She longed to go over and see her friend; she knew she must +not do that, however. She shut the hall door, and went slowly back to +her bedroom. She wanted to sleep, but sleep was far away. She lay +listening during the long hours of the summer night, and heard hour +after hour strike from the church clock close by. Between two and three +in the morning she dropped off into a troubled doze. She awoke in broad +daylight, to start to her feet and see her father standing in the room. + +"Get up, Effie," he said. "I want you; dress yourself as quickly as you +can." + +There was an expression about his face which prevented Effie's uttering +a word. She scrambled into her clothes--he waited for her on the +landing. When she was dressed he took her hand and went softly down +through the house. + +"I do not want your mother to be disturbed," he said. "There is a very +bad case of illness at The Grange." + +"What is it, father?" asked Effie. + +"Well, I fear that it is a complication of scarlet fever and diphtheria. +The child will have an awful fight for her life, and at the present +moment I am afraid the odds are terribly against her." + +"Oh, father, and she is the only child!" said Effie. + +"Yes, yes, I know all that; but there is no use in going into sentiment +just now--the thing is to pull her through if possible. Now, look here: +I can send to London, of course, for a nurse, but she would not arrive +for several hours--do you think your friend Miss Fraser would undertake +the case?" + +"Yes, I am sure she would," said Effie. + +"That's just like you women," said the doctor impatiently; "you jump to +conclusions without knowing anything at all about the matter. The +child's case is horribly infectious. In fact, I shall be surprised if +the illness does not run right through the house. The mother has been +sitting up with this baby day and night for the last week, and they were +so silly they never sent for a doctor, imagining that the awful state of +the throat was due to hoarseness, and that the rash was what they were +pleased to call 'spring heat.' The folly of some people is enough to +drive any reasonable man to despair. They send for the doctor, forsooth, +when the child is almost in the grip of death! I have managed to relieve +her a bit during the night, but I must have the services of a good nurse +at once. Go over and awake Miss Fraser, Effie, and bring her to see me. +If she has the pluck she gave me to understand she had, she will come in +as a stop-gap until I get somebody else. And now, look here: the case is +so infectious, and your mother is so weak just now, that I am going to +devote myself altogether to it for the next few days. I am going to take +up my abode at The Grange, and I shall wire to my old friend Edwards to +look after the rest of my patients. There are only half a dozen to be +seen to, and he will keep them quiet until I am free again. Now go over +and bring Miss Fraser for me to see. I have driven down on the Squire's +dog-cart, and will take her back with me if she will come. Run along, +Effie, and wake her up." + + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +Dorothy Fraser was sound asleep when Effie rushed into her little room. + +"Get up!" said Effie, shaking her friend by the shoulder. + +As a nurse Miss Fraser was accustomed to unexpected disturbances. She +opened her eyes now and gazed at Effie for a bewildered moment, then she +sat up in bed and pushed back her heavy hair. + +"Why, Effie," she exclaimed, "what do you want? I fancied I was back at +St. Joseph's and that one of the nurses had got into trouble and had +come to me, but I find I am at home for the holidays. Surely it is not +time to get up yet?" + +"It is only five o'clock," said Effie. "It is not the usual time to get +up; but, Dorothy, father wants you. There is a bad case of illness at +The Grange--very bad indeed, and father is nearly distracted, and he +wants to know if you will help him just for a bit." + +"Why, of course," cried Dorothy. "I shall be delighted." + +"I knew you would; I knew you were just that splendid sort of a girl." + +Miss Fraser knit her brows in some perplexity "Don't, Effie," she said. +"I wish you would not go into such ecstasies over me; I am only just a +nurse. A nurse is, and ought to be, at the beck and call of everyone who +is in trouble. Now run away, dear; I won't be any time in getting +dressed. I will join you and your father in a minute." + +"Father will see you in the street," said Effie. "The fact is----" + +"Oh, do run away," exclaimed Dorothy. "I cannot dress while you stand +here talking. Whatever it is, I will be with your father in two or three +minutes." + +Effie ran downstairs again. Mrs. Fraser, who had let her in, had gone +back to bed. Effie shut the Frasers' hall door as quietly as she could. +She then went across the sunlit and empty street to where her father +stood on the steps at his own door. The groom who had driven the doctor +over was standing by the horse's head at a little distance. + +"Well," said Dr. Staunton, "she has fought shy of it, has she?" + +"No; she is dressing," said Effie. "She will be down in a minute or +two." + +"Good girl!" said Dr. Staunton. "You didn't happen to mention the nature +of the case?" + +"No, no," answered Effie; "but the nature of the case won't make any +difference to her." + +The doctor pursed up his mouth as if he meant to whistle; he restrained +himself, however, and stood looking down the street. After a time he +turned and glanced at his daughter. + +"Now, Effie," he said, "you must do all you can for your mother. Don't +let her get anxious. There is nothing to be frightened about as far as I +am concerned. If mortal man can pull the child through, I will do it, +but I must have no home cares as well. You will take up that burden--eh, +little woman?" + +"I will try, father," said Effie. + +Just then Dorothy appeared. She had dressed herself in her nurse's +costume--gray dress, gray cloak, gray bonnet. The dress suited her +earnest and reposeful face. She crossed the road with a firm step, +carrying a little bag in her hand. + +"Well, Dr. Staunton," she said, "I hear you have got a case for me." + +The doctor gazed at her for a moment without speaking. + +"Bless me," he exclaimed; "it is a comfort to see a steady-looking +person like you in the place. And so you are really willing to help me +in this emergency?" + +"Why, of course," said Dorothy. "I am a nurse." + +"But you don't know the nature of the case yet!" + +"I don't see that that makes any difference; but will you tell me?" + +"And it is your holiday," pursued the doctor, gazing at her. "You don't +take many holidays in the year I presume?" + +"I have had a week, and I am quite rested," said Dorothy. "I always hold +my life in readiness," she continued, looking up at him with a flash out +of her dark blue eyes. "Anywhere at any time, when I am called, I am +ready. But what is the matter? What do you want me to do?" + +"I want you to help me to pull a child back from the borders of death." + +"A child! I love children," said Dorothy. "What ails the child?" + +"She has acute scarlet fever and diphtheria. No precautions have been +taken with regard to sanitation. She is the child of rich people, but +they have been wantonly neglectful, almost cruel in their negligence and +ignorance. The mother, a young woman, is nearly certain to take the +complaint and, to complicate everything, there is another baby expected +before long. Now you understand. If you get into that house you are +scarcely likely to go out of it again for some time." + +Dorothy stood grave and silent. + +"Oh, Dorothy, is it right for you to go?" exclaimed Effie, who was +watching her friend anxiously. + +"Yes," said Dorothy, "it is right. They may possibly be obliged to fill +my place at St. Joseph's. I was only considering that point for a +moment. After all, it is not worth troubling about. I am at your +service, Dr. Staunton. We may require one or two other nurses to help us +if things are as bad as you fear." + +"God bless you!" said the doctor. Something very like moisture came into +his eyes. He began to blow his nose violently. "Now, Effie, you will do +your best at home," he said, turning to his daughter. "This way, please, +Miss Fraser." + +"Good-by, Effie, dear," said Dorothy. She kissed her friend. The doctor +and the nurse walked toward the dog-cart; he helped her to mount, and +then drove rapidly down the street. The vehicle was soon out of sight. + +"I wonder what father will think of Dorothy after this?" thought Effie +to herself. The feeling that her father would really approve of her +friend gave her much consolation. She went back into the house, and as +it was now half-past five, decided that it was not worth while to return +to bed. There was always plenty to be done in this little house with its +overflowing inhabitants, and Effie found heaps to occupy her until it +was time to go into the nursery to help the little nursemaid with her +various duties. + +The children always hailed Effie with a scream of delight; they were not +a bit afraid of her, for she was the most indulgent elder sister in the +world, but all the same she managed to make them obey her. + +Susan was sent downstairs to get her breakfast, while Effie saw the +elder ones safely through the process of dressing. She took the baby on +her knee, and, removing his night-clothes, put him into his bath, and +dressed him herself quickly and expeditiously. She then carried him into +her mother's room. + +Mrs. Staunton had spent a troubled night. + +"Is that you, Effie?" she exclaimed, looking at her daughter; "and oh, +there is baby--how sweet he looks! What a splendid nurse you are, my +darling, and what a wonderful comfort to me! Give me my dear little man. +I will take care of him while you see about breakfast." + +"How are you this morning, mother?" asked Effie. "Have you had a good +night?" + +"Yes, pretty well. I had one or two bad dreams. I could not help +thinking of poor Mrs. Watson and that heart-trouble your father spoke +about. I wonder how she is this morning." + +"Now, mother dear," said Effie, "you know father said you were not to +dwell upon that--you must turn your thoughts away from illness of every +sort. I thought we might go for a little drive in the gig this morning." + +"But your father will want the gig." + +"No, that's just it, he won't." + +"What do you mean? Surely he will go out as early as he can to see Mrs. +Watson?" + +"No, mother," said Effie, "he won't--not to-day. I have something to +tell you. Now, please don't be frightened; there is nothing to be +frightened about." + +Mrs. Staunton was half sitting up in bed; she had thrown a little pale +blue shawl round her shoulders, and held the pretty baby in her arms. +She was a remarkably good-looking woman, a really young-looking woman +for her age, but weakness was written all over her--the weakness of a +frail although loving spirit, and the weakness of extreme bodily +illness, for she was ill, far more ill than her children knew. The +greatest anxiety of the honest doctor's life was connected with his +wife's physical condition. Effie looked at her mother now, and something +of the fear which dwelt in her father's heart seemed to visit her. + +"I have something to tell you," she said, "but it is nothing that need +make you the least bit afraid. Father has left you in my charge. He says +I am to look after you, and to do all in my power to help you." + +"But what can you mean, Effie? Has your father gone away?" + +"Not really away," replied Effie, "for he is close to us, and can come +back if necessary at any moment; but the fact is this: If all is well, +father is not coming home for two or three days. In one way you will be +pleased to hear this, mother. You know how you have wished him to be +called in at The Grange." + +"At The Grange!" exclaimed Mrs. Staunton, starting up. "You don't mean +to tell me that the Harveys have sent for your father?" + +"Yes, mother, I do; and is not that good news? The little girl is very +ill, and Squire Harvey came over to fetch father last night--that time +when the bell rang so suddenly." + +"I remember," said Mrs. Staunton. "I made sure that someone came from +the Watsons'." + +"No; it was the Squire who called--Squire Harvey. Father went there and +found the little girl very ill. He came back again this morning, and +took Dorothy Fraser out with him as nurse, and he saw me, and he asked +me to tell you that he would stay at The Grange for a couple of days +until he could pull the child through, and you are on no account to +expect him home, but you are to keep as well and cheerful as possible +for his sake; and Dr. Edwards from Boltonville is to take father's work +for the time. So you see," continued Effie in conclusion, "that the +horse and gig will be at liberty, and we can go for a drive. I thought +we might go to Boltonville, and take baby, and buy some fruit for +preserving. There are sure to be heaps of strawberries at the Bolton +Farm if we drive over early." + +All the time Effie was speaking, Mrs. Staunton kept gazing at her. As +the eager words flowed from the young girl's lips, the heart of the +mother seemed to faint within her. + +"You," she said, after a pause; her voice trembled, no words could come +for an instant,--"you," she went on,--"Effie, you have not told me what +ails the child?" + +"She is very ill, mother; that goes without saying." + +"But what ails her? Why should not your father come home?" + +Effie thought for a moment. "I will tell about the scarlet fever, but +not about the diphtheria," she said to herself. "Mother is always so +terrified about diphtheria ever since poor little Johnny died of it, +long, long ago. She won't mind scarlet fever so much." + +"Why don't you speak, Effie?" exclaimed her mother. "You terrify me with +your grave and silent way." + +"There is nothing to be terrified about, mother, but you are weak, and +therefore you get unduly nervous. I was only thinking for a moment +whether you had better know; but of course, if you wish it, you must be +told. The child at The Grange is suffering from scarlet fever." + +"Do you think it will spread?" + +"Father is very anxious. I heard him telling Dorothy that Mrs. Harvey +had been very imprudent. You know how young she is, mother, and how +beautiful; and she has been with this dear little child day and night +from the beginning, not knowing in the least what ailed her, and Mrs. +Harvey is expecting another baby, and of course father is anxious." + +"I should think he is," cried Mrs. Staunton, drawn completely out of +herself by the tragedy conveyed in these words. "Oh, poor young thing, +poor young mother! I wish I were strong and well myself, that I might go +and help her. She will have a bad time. She will have an awful risk when +her baby arrives, Effie. Well, my darling, we can do nothing but pray +for them all. There is One who can guide us even through dark days. Go +down, Effie, and get breakfast, and then come back to me. I am very +tired this morning, and will lie still for a little, now that I have got +such a dear, useful daughter to take my place for me." + +Effie put on a bright smile, and turned toward the door. + +As she was leaving the room, her mother called out after her: + +"There is one good thing, there is no diphtheria in the case; nothing +terrifies me like that." + +Effie shut the door hastily without reply. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +Meanwhile Dr. Staunton and Dorothy drove quickly to The Grange. It was +still very early in the morning, and when they arrived at the great hall +door it was opened by Squire Harvey himself. + +"That's right, Dr. Staunton!" he exclaimed. "I am so glad you have come. +Oh, and I see you have brought a nurse. What a blessing! Now, perhaps, +you will induce my wife to take some rest. How lucky that you were able +to find a nurse in a little place like Whittington!" + +"I am very fortunate indeed," replied the doctor in his hearty voice. +"Nurse Fraser has been trained at St. Joseph's, and happens to be +staying at Whittington for a brief holiday. She has most kindly +consented to undertake the case until we can get fresh assistance from +London." + +"I will stay as long as I am wanted," said Dorothy in her quiet voice. +"If I can be shown to a room for a moment to take off my bonnet and +cloak, I will go immediately afterward to the little patient." + +Dorothy's voice was perfectly cool and calm. She did not speak in the +constrained whisper which the poor Squire thought it right to use. There +was an everyday tone in her voice which at this moment was absolutely +refreshing, and the sympathy in her blue eyes just gave the right +quality to the cool tones. + +The doctor looked at her with unconcealed admiration. "That girl is one +in ten thousand," he said to himself. "She will keep us all on our +mettle, I can see, but there is plenty of heart underneath that cool +exterior." + +The great luxurious house looked neglected and wretched. Although the +father and mother were up, and one or two servants were assisting in the +sickroom, the greater number of the servants were still in bed. There +was no one to take Miss Fraser to a room, and the Squire looked round +him in hopeless bewilderment. + +Dorothy saw at a glance that she must take matters into her own hands. + +"I do not want to trouble you," she said. "I can put my cloak and bonnet +in here. I should like to put on my cap and apron before I go +upstairs." + +She opened a door as she spoke, and went into a room where all the +blinds were down, took off her outdoor things, and, taking a cap out of +her bag, slipped it over her hair, tied on a white apron, and then stood +ready and capable, and fresh and bright, before the Squire and the +doctor. + +"Now, come straight upstairs with me," said the doctor. + +They went up together; Squire Harvey followed them at a distance. When +the doctor reached the first landing, he opened a green baize door, shut +it behind him, and walked down a long, cool corridor which led in the +direction of the nurseries. + +"Now, look here," he said, turning and facing Dorothy, "the great thing +that we have both to do is to keep this terrible disease from spreading. +One or two of the servants have been with the case from the first; the +father and mother have been in and out of the room as freely and +unconstrainedly as if the child had only a cold the matter with her; if +they are likely to take the infection, the mischief is probably done +already; but, on the chance of this not being so, I shall beg of the +Squire to come into this part of the house as seldom as possible. And as +to Mrs. Harvey, she must be got away; that is your task, nurse. You will +allow me to call you nurse, won't you?" + +"Certainly. Call me Nurse Dorothy; I like that name best. I am called +that by the children at St. Joseph's." + +"Very well. I am sure you will be a blessing here; but a great deal of +tact must be used. The position of affairs is extremely difficult." + +"I will do my best," replied the nurse. The doctor gave her another look +of complete satisfaction, and they entered the room where the little +patient lay between life and death. + +A small cot had been drawn almost into the center of the room, the +blinds were down, there was a sense of desolation, and a heavy smell in +the air. + +"Who has shut these windows?" said the doctor in a voice of disapproval. + +He went straight across the room, drew up one of the blinds, and opened +the window two or three inches. A fresh current of air immediately +improved the close atmosphere. + +When he spoke, and when he and Nurse Fraser came into the room, a +fair-haired young woman, who was on her knees by the side of the cot, +started up suddenly, and gazed at them out of a pair of wide blue eyes. +Her cheeks were deeply flushed, her lips were parched and dry. + +"Oh, doctor," she said, staggering toward Dr. Staunton, "you have come +back. What a blessing! She is asleep now; perhaps she is better." + +The doctor went over and looked at the child. She was a little creature +of not more than five years of age. In health she may have been pretty, +she probably was; but now, the shadowy little face, the emaciated hands, +the hot, dry, cracked lips, were the reverse of beautiful. They were all +that was pathetic, however; and Dorothy's heart went straight out to the +baby who lay there in such suffering and weakness. + +The doctor looked at her, and gave a significant glance toward Mrs. +Harvey. + +Dorothy took her cue at once. + +"I have come to nurse your dear little girl, madam," she said. "Dr. +Staunton has brought me. I have a great deal of experience, as I am +superintendent of one of the children's wards at St. Joseph's Hospital. +I think you may trust your little girl to me; but first of all, let me +take you to your room and put you to bed." + +"Put me to bed!" said Mrs. Harvey, with a laugh which jarred on +everyone's nerves. "I have not been in bed for nights. I could not +sleep. When the doctor tells me that Freda is out of danger, then I may +be able to sleep, but not before--not before." + +"Whether you sleep or not," continued Dorothy, "you must come and lie +down. You are completely worn out, and can do no good whatever to the +child in your present condition. While she sleeps it is surely right +that you should sleep too. Come, I will promise to call you if you are +wanted." + +"Yes, dear madam, let me entreat of you to go to bed," said the doctor. + +The door was opened at this moment, and the Squire came in. + +"Now Elfreda," he said, coming up to his wife, "you will go and take +some rest, won't you?" + +She looked from him to the nurse, and from the nurse to the doctor, and +then her tired, bright eyes fell upon the little parched face lying on +the pillow. + +"I know she is going to die!" she said, with a kind of broken sob. "I +cannot leave her. How can anyone dare to ask me to leave my little child +just now?" Her agitation became more terrible each moment. She was +evidently on the verge of hysterics. + +Dorothy walked straight from the nursery to a sort of dressing-room +which lay beyond. There was a small bed there, which was sometimes +occupied by the under-nurse. A scared-looking, tired young woman was +standing in this room. Dorothy gave her quick directions. "Get clean +sheets, and make this bed up immediately," she said. + +The girl started, but looked relieved at having anything explicit to do. +She ran off to obey, and Dorothy came back to the sickroom. + +"Hush!" she said, going up to Mrs. Harvey, who was standing shaking from +head to foot with dry sobs. "You must not give way like this; it is very +wrong. Remember you have not only yourself to think of." She bent +forward and whispered a word in the young mother's ear. Mrs. Harvey +started, and with a violent effort controlled herself. + +"I see that you must not be separated from your child," continued +Dorothy--"at least, not at present. I am having a bed made up for you in +the dressing-room, where you will be within call." + +"Ah, yes, that's better," said the poor lady--"that's much better." + +"Come, then, at once," said Dorothy. She held out her hand. Mrs. Harvey +crossed the room. She and Dorothy disappeared into the dressing-room. + +In ten minutes the nurse came back to Dr. Staunton. "I have undressed +her, and she is in bed," she said. "She is very weak, and in a terribly +nervous condition; she ought to sleep for hours. Will you prepare a +composing draught for her it once?" + +"Yes," said the doctor; "I have brought some medicines with me." + +He went out of the room, and returned in a minute or two with a small +dose in a glass. + +Dorothy took it into the dressing-room. Mrs. Harvey's tired eyes were +shut already. + +"Now, you're to drink this," said Dorothy, raising her head slightly. +"Drink this--don't open your eyes. Trust. Lean on me, if you like. +Believe me, that nothing would induce me not to call you if your child +were in real danger, but you must sleep now--sleep, and try to believe +that all will be well." + +"You comfort me, nurse," said Mrs. Harvey. "You are strong. I somehow +believe in you." + +"You may do so," said Dorothy. She bent down and kissed the hot lips. +She absolutely forgot that she was only the nurse, and that the tired +woman in the bed was a lady of high position. At such a moment as this +they were only two women, two sisters. + +Dorothy waited for a moment to see the sleeping draught take effect, +then, drawing down the blind, she left the room, closing the door softly +behind her. + +When she returned to the nursery, Dr. Staunton was bending over little +Freda, who had opened her eyes, and was moaning in terrible pain. + +"The fever is better," he said, turning to the nurse; "the feverish +stage is over, and of course, although we may expect and must guard +against complications, there is no reason why the child should not do +well as far as that is concerned, but the state of the throat is the +real anxiety. I do not like to suggest such a terrible operation as +tracheotomy, but if the child does not get relief before long, I fear +there is no help for it, and it must be performed." + +Dorothy bent down and examined the little patient carefully. + +"I have had a good deal of experience in these cases," she said, after a +pause, "and have found "--she mentioned a certain remedy which could be +inhaled--"work wonders, especially in the cases of children." + +"I have not heard of it," said Dr. Staunton, knitting his brows in +anxiety, "but it sounds simple, and I see no harm in trying it." + +"It is very simple," said Dorothy. "I should like to try it." + +The child moaned and tossed on her pillow. + +The doctor went out of the room to prepare the medicine which the nurse +had recommended, and Dorothy called one of the frightened servants to +her side. She told her that she meant to take the child up and walk +about the room with her in her arms. + +"While she is out of bed I will have the windows closed," said the +nurse, "and of course she must be well wrapped up in blankets. She may +drop off to sleep again in my arms; anyhow, the change of position and +the slight movement will be most refreshing to her. Will you make the +bed and put on clean sheets while I am walking about with the child?" + +The girl promised to obey. + +"It is very infectious, ain't it, miss?" she said suddenly. + +"It is in God's hands," replied the nurse. + +There was a sound in her voice, a sort of thrill of strength, which +subjugated the girl at once, and made her forget her fears. She obeyed +the nurse's directions with a will; and when, in an hour's time, Dr. +Staunton returned with the remedy which Nurse Dorothy had suggested, he +scarcely knew the sickroom. + +The little child had been laid back again in bed. Her long hair was +combed away from her pale, worn face, Dorothy had plaited it neatly; the +little face was washed, and looked almost cool compared with its old +flushed and weary condition. The bed was neat, and in perfect order, +with snowy sheets. The tired little head rested on a cool pillow. +Dorothy and the maid had removed the carpets from the floor, and the +room was sprinkled with a disinfectant. Two of the windows were open, +and a faint sweet breath of air from the garden outside blew into the +room. + +"Why, nurse, this is an admirable change," said the doctor. + +"It is necessary," replied Nurse Dorothy. "There is no chance of +recovery without fresh air and a cool, quiet, calm atmosphere. I think +Rhoda"--she looked at the servant as she spoke--"will help me with this +case, and I should like as few other people as possible in the room. I +have promised Mrs. Harvey to call her if there is any change for the +worse in the child, but my impression is she will soon be better." + +"God grant it!" said the doctor. + +"What a blessing a good, properly-trained nurse is!" he thought, as he +went off to the room which had been prepared for him, and where he was +glad to take an hour or two of much-needed rest. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +All through the long hours of that day Dorothy watched by the sick +child. The child was on the Borderland. Her life hung in the balance--a +feather's weight on either side and she would go to the country from +which there is no return, or she would become well again. Dorothy's +efforts were directed to turning the balance in the scale toward life. + +Notwithstanding all her care, however, and all the alleviations which +she used, the sick child suffered and moaned terribly. The awful state +of the throat, the terrible prostration caused by this form of blood +poisoning, were no light foes to have to beat and conquer. But unceasing +care presently produced a happy result, and toward evening the high +temperature went down a couple of degrees, and the child's breathing +became less difficult. + +"I believe she will recover," said Dorothy, looking at Dr. Staunton, +who had just come into the room. "I hope you agree with me, doctor, in +thinking that she is rather better?" + +"Yes," replied the doctor, "she is better; she is less feverish, and her +breathing is easier. You have done wonders already." + +"What happy news for her poor mother! I am so glad that I can tell her +that the child is really better," said Dorothy. "I want to induce her to +give the little creature altogether into my care for the present, and +not to come near her again unless a change for the worse should set in. +I hear Mrs. Harvey stirring now in the next room, so she may be in at +any moment. May I speak to her, doctor? Do you give me leave to tell her +that her child is on the mend, and that you would rather she kept out of +the room?" + +"I would do anything in the world to keep her out of the room," said the +doctor. "Yes, I give you full leave to say what you please. You would +have more influence with her than I should have. I am almost as great a +stranger to her as you are. Use your strongest influence, nurse--do what +you can. I believe in you. I am sure she will do the same." + +"I'll go into the day nursery and wash my hands before I see Mrs. +Harvey," said Dorothy. + +She was scarcely a moment away. In a couple of minutes she was standing +by Mrs. Harvey's bed. + +Exhausted by her days and nights of watching, the tired-out mother had +slept all through the long hours of the day. She opened her eyes now +with a start. Healing sleep had done wonders for her--the dewy look of +youth had come back to her face; her beautiful blue eyes were fixed for +a moment on Dorothy with a puzzled expression of non-recognition. + +"Where am I? What has happened?" she asked in a startled voice. + +"You have just had a lovely sleep," said Dorothy. "You'll be all the +better for it." + +"And who are you? I cannot quite collect my thoughts--I know something +has happened. Who are you? I cannot remember you." + +"I am the nurse who is taking care of your dear little girl. She is +better." + +"Oh, yes, now I remember," said Mrs. Harvey. She sat up in bed and +clasped her hands tightly. + +"It was wrong of me to sleep so long," she said, "but I won't be a moment +getting dressed; I must go back to the child at once." + +"Will you come to your room?" said Dorothy. "You can change your dress +there. I know Mr. Harvey is most anxious that you should dine with him +this evening." + +"Dine with my husband!--have dinner? But Freda is ill; she is at death's +door." + +"She is ill undoubtedly, but she is better; she is on the mend. I am +taking good care of her. Don't you trust me?" + +"Oh, yes, I trust you; but I must go back to her. Don't talk to me of +dinner; I could not eat. Is it really evening? Oh, now I remember +everything--at last I remember! We have been in agony. We have lived +through such a week. We have been down in the depths, truly. Yes, yes, I +recollect it all--my little child, my only little child, my darling, my +treasure! Oh, nurse, you should not have allowed me to sleep on all day, +you should have called me; she may have been wanting me. But you say she +is better--better; but perhaps Dr. Staunton--oh, I am frightened! Are +you keeping anything from me? Oh, my head, my poor head! I shall go +mad; I shall lose my senses." + +"No, dear Mrs. Harvey," said Dorothy; "I have good news for you, not +bad. Freda is really better--she is less feverish, and her throat does +not hurt her so badly. I don't pretend that she is yet out of danger, +but if she continues to improve as she has done during the last seven or +eight hours, she will be out of danger before long. Now I want you to +take care of yourself and to trust your child to me." + +"Oh, I cannot give the child up to anyone. You must not keep me from her +another moment. I am not a bit hungry, but I'll have something to eat in +her room if you'll bring it to me. How awfully my darling must have +missed me!--she is such a child for her mother. Let me go to her at +once--my dear little treasure!" + +"Dr. Staunton is very anxious that you should not go to her to-night." + +"How can he dare to keep a mother from her child? Here, give me my +dress, will you? I tell you that nothing will keep me from the room. I +am sure you are deceiving me." + +"Do you really think I would deceive you?" said Dorothy. "Before you +went to sleep you promised to trust me. Look at me now--look into my +eyes. I have nursed a great many sick children--I have seen many mothers +in agony--I have never deceived one. When the truth was good I have told +it; when it was bad I have also told it. I am not deceiving you, Mrs. +Harvey." + +Poor Mrs. Harvey's dazed and frightened eyes gazed into Dorothy's strong +face. Its repose, its calm, impressed her. She was in an overstrung and +highly hysterical state. She burst into tears. + +"I do trust you, nurse," she said, with a great sob. "I trust you, and +I bless you. I know my dear little one is better. Oh, thank God; thank +the great and good God! But, dear nurse, I must go to her. You are +tired, and I am quite rested and refreshed. I'll spend the night with +the child, and you can go to bed." + +"No, dear madam; I cannot resign the care of the child to anyone. I am +using a certain remedy in the form of a spray which no one in this house +understands but me. If that remedy--which has made the child better--is +not continued unceasingly during the whole of this night, her throat +will get as bad as ever, and there will be no hope of her recovery. I +want you, Mrs. Harvey, to sleep to-night, and leave the child in my +care, I wish this, and the doctor wishes it, and I am sure, if you asked +your husband, he would tell you that he wished the same. You are not +required to do anything for little Freda, and it is your duty to take +care of yourself. If she gets worse, I promise to come for you--I +promise this, Mrs. Harvey. Now, will you go to your room and dress, and +then go downstairs and have some dinner? In the morning I expect to have +splendid news for you." + +Mrs. Harvey clasped her hands in perplexity and uncertainty. + +"It is dreadful to keep a mother from her child," she said; "and +yet--and yet----" + +"And yet in this case it is right," said Dorothy. "You must remember +that you have not only Freda to think of. There is your husband, +and----" + +"Oh, yes, I know; there is my poor little unhappy baby, but I cannot +love it as I love Freda." + +"Still you owe it a duty. It is not right of you to do anything to risk +its life or your own. When it comes to you, you will see how dearly you +love it. Now, please, let me take you to your room." + +"But may I not take one peep at my little treasure?" + +"She is asleep just now, and you may wake her. Please let me take you to +your room." + +Mrs. Harvey staggered to her feet. + +"I trust you, nurse," she said, with a wistful sort of look. "You will +remember your promise?" + +"I will; nothing in the world will make me go back from my word. Now, +come with me." + +Dorothy led Mrs. Harvey away. They walked down the corridor together. +The nurse opened a baize door, which shut away the nurseries from the +rest of the house, and a moment later found herself standing in Mrs. +Harvey's luxurious bedroom. Her maid was there, and Dorothy asked her to +help her mistress to dress. + +"What dress will you wear, madam?" asked the girl. + +"Anything--it doesn't matter what," replied Mrs. Harvey. + +"Yes, it matters a great deal," said Dorothy. "You ought to wear a +pretty dress; I think it is your duty to do so. You have got to think of +the Squire. Nothing will please him and reassure him more than to see +you coming down to dinner looking bright and pretty in one of your nice +dresses." + +"Really, nurse, you amaze me"--began Mrs. Harvey, but then the shadow of +a smile crept into her eyes. "I don't think you would talk like that if +you did not really think Freda would get well," she exclaimed suddenly. + +"My impression is that she will get well," replied Dorothy, "Now, please +put on one of your pretty dresses." + +"That pink dress with the lace ruffles, Martin," said Mrs. Harvey, +turning to the maid. She got up as she spoke, walked across the room, +and put her arms round Dorothy's white neck. + +"You are a very brave woman," she said. "You are someone to lean on. It +rests me to lean on you--I love you already." + +"And I love you," said Dorothy in her simple, direct fashion. "God has +given you to me to take care of just now, and I fully believe that your +sweet little girl will be spared to you. Now, I see you are going to be +very brave and good yourself, and I'll go back to the child. I ought not +to be too long away from her." + +All through the night that followed, the nurse persevered in the +remedies which were slowly but surely undermining the awful blood +poisoning. Slowly but surely, as the hours advanced, the fell disease +lost its power, the choking sensation grew less and less in the throat, +the horrible fungus-like membrane became absorbed, and the child, +exhausted, worn to a little shadow, dropped toward morning into a +peaceful and natural sleep. + +"From my heart, I believe I have conquered," thought Dorothy. She sank +on her knees by the bedside. She felt worn-out herself. Never before had +she nursed a case like this. Never before had she gone through such a +hand-to-hand fight with death. The child was far gone when she arrived. +The diphtheria was particularly acute, and the poor little frame was +already terribly weakened by the sharp attack of scarlet fever. + +"Another twelve hours, and nothing would have saved her," murmured +Dorothy. "Oh, I thank Thee, my God!--I thank Thee for this mercy! Oh, +what a joy it is to feel that I can give this child back to her mother!" + +Dorothy remained by the bedside. Her head was bowed on her hands. +Someone touched her on her shoulder--she looked up, and met the keen +eyes of Dr. Staunton. He was looking dreadfully pale and tired himself. + +"See," said Dorothy, rising and pointing to the child, "she is not +feverish now, she sleeps sweetly." + +"She will recover," said the doctor. "Thank the Almighty!" + +"I believe she will certainly recover," replied Dorothy. + +"It is your doing, nurse." + +"With God's blessing," she answered, bowing her head. + +The doctor asked her one or two more questions. + +"Now, the thing is, to keep up her strength," said Dorothy in +conclusion. "She must have every imaginable form of nourishment. But +that can be done, for I mean to undertake the management of her food +myself. Please, Dr. Staunton, will you tell Mrs. Harvey the good news +that her child is out of danger?" + +"Yes," said the doctor; "but ought not that to be your own reward?" + +"No, no; I don't want to go near her. I wish you to do all in your power +to keep her from the room. I believe that when she knows that her child +is really on the mend she will be guided by your wishes and those of her +husband. I have a kind of feeling,--I may be wrong, of course,--but I +have a kind of feeling that God will stay His hand in this matter, and +that the plague will not spread. Now, the thing is to think of the +mother. I suppose you will attend to her when her baby is born?" + +"She has asked me to do so." + +"Then, don't you think," said Dorothy, after a pause for +reflection,--"don't you think you might leave little Freda to me? I am +willing to be shut up in this part of the house with the child and one +of the maids, a girl called Rhoda, who has been most helpful to me +during the last twenty-four hours. If you are wanted, doctor, you are on +the spot; but, unless there is occasion, don't you think it would be +best for you not to come into this room?" + +"It would be certainly the safest course as regards the mother," pursued +the doctor in a thoughtful tone. "You are a wonderful woman, nurse. I'll +go and consult the Squire." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + + +One day, a week after the events related in the last chapter, Dr. +Staunton suddenly walked into the little parlor where Effie and her +mother were sitting together. + +Effie sprang up at sight of him. Some needlework over which she had been +busy fell to the floor. A rush of color came into her cheeks. + +"Oh, father, father!" she exclaimed, "how delightful it is to see you +again! Oh, how glad we are! Is little Freda really better? How is Mrs. +Harvey? And--have you come back to stay, father?" + +"I can't answer such a lot of questions all together, child," said the +doctor, with a smile. "Yes, I have come home to stay. The fact is, I am +tired out, and simply with doing nothing. Ever since that blessed angel +of a woman, Dorothy Fraser, came to The Grange, there has been little or +nothing for me to do. Yes, that's a fact; I am worn-out with doing +nothing. I should like a cup of tea beyond anything. Make it strong for +me, my dear--strong and fragrant." + +"The kettle is boiling," said Effie. "I won't be a minute. Oh, it is +delightful to have you back!" She ran out of the room, shutting the door +softly behind her. + +Dr. Staunton went over and sat on the sofa by his wife. + +"At last, my darling," he said, putting his arms round her, "I am safe +back again. You see that for yourself, thank God." + +"Thank God, John," replied Mrs. Staunton. "I have missed you," she +repeated. + +She held out both her thin hands. The doctor put his own strong, sinewy +hands round them. He clasped them tightly. + +"Oh, how hot you are!" she said, starting back and looking anxiously at +him. "Your fingers almost burn me." + +"I am simply tired, that's all," he replied,--"tired out with doing +nothing. I don't believe The Grange is a wholesome place; it is big and +grand and richly furnished, but the air does not suit me. I suspect +there is something wrong with the drains. The drains are probably at the +root of all this mischief to poor little Freda, but let us forget all +that now. Let me look at you, wife. How are you? Why, you look bonnie, +bonnie!" + +He stretched out his hand and passed it gently over his wife's faded +cheek. "I have been thinking of you morning, noon, and night," he said. +"You have never been out of my thoughts for a moment, you and the +children--that dear little Effie in particular, but the other children +too. I had time to pause and consider during those days of waiting at +The Grange, and I could not help remembering that, if anything happened +to me, there were five children unprovided for--five children, and you, +Mary, with the strength of a mouse in you." + +"That's all you know," replied Mrs. Staunton, with a little show of +spirit. "I am better; I have made wonderful progress during the last few +days. You can't think what a good nurse Effie has been--the most +considerate, the most thoughtful, the most kind and clever darling you +can possibly imagine. She manages the whole house; our servants would do +anything for her, and the children love her so much that it is a +pleasure to them to obey her. She has that wonderful and invaluable +knack in a woman, she never teases or worries; she just contrives to +turn people round her little finger, without their knowing anything +about it themselves. But now don't let us talk any more about Effie and +me. I want to hear your news. How is Mrs. Harvey? How has she borne the +death of her poor little baby?" + +"It lived just two hours after its birth," said the doctor, with a sad +look on his face. "The shock the poor mother underwent evidently had +some effect upon it. Well, she is getting on splendidly--she seemed to +know from the first that her poor little baby would not live, but as +Freda is doing so well, not a murmuring word has passed her lips. She is +a sweet young woman, and I am thankful to say I don't believe she took a +scrap of infection from poor little Freda." + +"And the little one; is she continuing to get better?" + +"She is doing magnificently--thanks to that fine creature, Dorothy +Fraser. I never came across such a woman. If you only saw, Mary, the +state of hopeless confusion, of pandemonium--for it really amounted to +that--of that wretched house the morning Miss Fraser arrived; if you +could only have seen the condition of the sickroom, and then have gone +into it two hours later, why, it was like stepping from the infernal +regions into paradise. The order of the sickroom seemed to affect the +whole house. The servants ceased to be in a state of panic, the meals +were properly cooked, the Squire came back to his normal condition, and +Mrs. Harvey became quite cheerful. In short, except for the loss of her +poor little one, she seems to have had no ill effects from the terrible +strain she has undergone. Little Freda is making rapid marches toward +recovery, and I do not at present see the slightest trace of the disease +spreading through the house." + +"Have you seen Freda often?" asked Mrs. Staunton. + +"No; that good soul simply forbade it--I was like wax in her hands. Of +course her reason was a very legitimate one, or I should not have +submitted to it, for it would not have been safe for me to have attended +to Mrs. Harvey coming straight from the child's room. All is now going +on well at The Grange, and I can come home and rest." + +"I wish you did not look so dreadfully worn out," said Mrs. Staunton. + +"Oh, the home air will soon pull me together. Heigh-ho! here you come, +my good angel, and the tea is more than welcome." + +The doctor sank back in his deep armchair. + +Effie placed the fragrant tea on the table, and, pouring out a cup, +brought it to her father. She had made crisp toast as well, but he did +not care to eat. + +"Thank you, child," he said; "I am not hungry. The meals up at that +place are preposterous--nothing short of preposterous. There is no doubt +whatever that far more people die from eating too much than from eating +too little. I wonder the Squire has a scrap of digestion left--heavy +meat breakfasts, heavy meat luncheons, and then a groaning dinner at the +end of the day. Such meals, and practically nothing to do for them!--for +what has a man of that sort to occupy his time beyond what one would +call fiddle-faddle? Well, this tea is refreshing; I will go for a walk +afterward. And now tell me, Effie, have you heard anything about my +patients?" + +"Mr. Edwards called this morning, and said they were all doing well," +said Effie. "The little Beels have got whooping-cough, but I do not +think anyone else is ill. Of course poor Mrs. Watson is much as usual, +but hers is a chronic case." + +"Ah, yes, poor soul,"--the doctor gave an apprehensive glance toward his +wife. "I cannot call to see Mrs. Watson for a day or two," he said; "not +that there is the least scrap of infection, for I changed everything +before I came home, but in her state it would not do to make her feel +nervous. Well, wife and daughter, it is good to see you both again; and +now I am going out for a stroll." + +The doctor left the room. Effie stood by the table. She was putting back +his empty cup on the tray, and preparing to take the things into the +kitchen, when her mother spoke. + +"What is the matter with your father?" she said in a husky voice. + +Effie slightly turned her back. "He is just tired," she answered; +"that's all." + +"Put down that tray, Effie, and come here," said her mother. + +Effie obeyed. + +"Yes, mother," she said. "Now, mother darling, you are not going to get +nervous?" + +"No, no, I am not nervous," said Mrs. Staunton,--her lips trembled +slightly,--"I am not nervous. Nothing shall make me show nervousness or +weakness of any sort in a time of real extremity. But, Effie, child, I +know something." + +"What in the world do you know, mother?" Effie tried to smile. + +"Your father is ill. The unimportant people have escaped, but he has +taken this complaint. He is ill, Effie--I know it." + +"Now, mother, is that likely?" said Effie. "Father comes home tired, he +has gone through a great deal of anxiety--has he not all his life been +exposed to infection of all kinds? Why should he be ill now? Besides, if +he were ill, he would say so. Mother, darling, I cannot listen to this +kind of talk." + +"All right, my dear, I will say no more. It sometimes happens so, Effie. +Lives we think of no account are spared--spared on indefinitely. The one +life on which so many others hang is taken." + +"Mother, I do not understand you." + +"I understand myself," said Mrs. Staunton. "I know what I fear. Nay, I +do not fear it--I rise up with strength to meet it. You will see, Effie, +dear, that your mother is no coward in any real danger." + +"You are a dear," said Effie. "You are the best and most unselfish +mother in the world. I feel ashamed of myself when I see how bravely you +struggle against the weakness and the anxiety which must be yours, more +or less, always. But now, mother, dear, you will not look trouble in +the face before it comes--you will not meet it halfway. If you are +really better, come out into the garden, and we will take a turn before +dinner." + +"Very well, my dear." + +"I want to show you the sweet-peas that have come up in the south +border," continued Effie. "Come, let us talk of pleasant things, and be +cheerful when father comes home." + +"Oh, I will be perfectly cheerful," said Mrs. Staunton. + +She went into the good-sized garden at the back of the little cottage, +and began with nervous, energetic fingers to pick some flowers, and to +arrange them in a big nosegay. + +"We will put these in the center of the supper-table," she said. "I +should like to have everything as bright and cheerful as possible for +your father to-night." + +"Yes, that's capital," said Effie. + +"We ought to have something particularly good for him to eat, Effie." + +"But, mother, he said he wasn't hungry. You remember how he complained +of having so many meals at The Grange." + +"Yes, yes, he always was a most abstemious man; but I know what he never +can resist, and that is cold raspberry tart and cream. There are plenty +of raspberries ripe in the plantation--I will gather some, and I'll make +the pastry for the tart myself." + +"Very well, mother; but is it well for you to fag yourself picking those +raspberries, and then making the tart?" + +"I want to make it--I should love to make it. I used to be famed for my +pastry. My mother used to say, 'You have a light hand for pastry, +Mary.' I remember so well when I made my first tart. I was just +fifteen--it was my fifteenth birthday. Mother showed me how to do it; +and I remember how the water ran all over the pastry-board. Afterward I +was the best hand at pastry in the house. Yes, I'll make the tart +myself. Here is sixpence, Effie; run to the dairy and get some cream. +And listen, love, as you go through the house you might tell Jane to get +the pastry-board ready." + +"All right, mother, I'll tell her to put it in the larder. You must not +go into the hot kitchen to make that tart." + +"Very well, child, I'll remember. Now run and get the cream." + +Effie left her mother standing by the raspberry plantation. She was +pulling the ripe raspberries and dropping them into a large cabbage leaf +which she held. Her slender but weak figure was drawn up to its full +height. There was a look of nervous energy about her which Effie had not +observed for many a long day. The curious phase into which her mother +had entered had an alarming effect upon the young girl. It frightened +her far more than her father's look of lassitude and the burning touch +of his hands. She tried to turn her thoughts from it. After all, why +should she become nervous herself, and meet trouble halfway? + +She went across the village street, and entering the pretty dairy, asked +for the cream. + +"Is it true, Miss Staunton, that the doctor has come back again?" asked +the woman of the shop, as she handed her the jug of cream across the +counter. + +"Yes, Mrs. Pattens, it is quite true," replied Effie. "There's good news +now at The Grange. Mrs. Harvey is doing splendidly, and little Freda is +nearly well again." + +"Well, it is a good thing the doctor can be spared," said the woman; "we +want him bad enough here, and it seemed cruel-like that he should have +been sort of buried alive at The Grange." + +"He is only able to be spared now," said Effie, "because he has secured +the services of a very wonderful nurse." + +"Oh, one of the Fraser girls," said the woman, in a tone of +contempt--"those newcomers, who have not been settled in the place above +a year. For my part, I don't hold with lady-nurses. I am told they are +all stuck-up and full of airs, and that they need a sight more waiting +on than the patients themselves. When you get a lady-nurse into the +house you have to think more of the nurse than of the patient, that's +what I am told." + +"It is not true," replied Effie, her eyes flashing angrily--"at least," +she continued, "it is not true in the case of Nurse Fraser. You must get +my father to talk to you about her some day. I am afraid I haven't time +to spare now. Good-evening, Mrs. Pattens." + +Effie went home with her jug of cream. Mrs. Staunton was still in the +larder making the raspberry tart. Effie went and watched her, as her +long thin fingers dabbled in the flour, manipulated the roller, spread +out the butter, and presently produced a light puff paste, which, as +Effie expressed it, looked almost as if you could blow it away. + +"That's the best raspberry tart I have ever made," said Mrs. Staunton. +"Now we will put it in the oven." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +The raspberry tart was put in the oven, and Mrs. Staunton went upstairs +to her own room. + +She was a woman, who, as a rule, utterly disregarded dress. She gave but +little thought to her personal appearance. Like many other women of the +middle class, she had sunk since her marriage from the trim, pretty girl +to the somewhat slatternly matron. + +Nothing could destroy the sweet comeliness of her face, however, but in +the struggle for life she and Fashion had fallen out--Fashion went in +one direction, and Mrs. Staunton strayed gently in another. She did not +mind whether her dress was cut according to the mode or not--she +scarcely looked at her faded but still pretty face. Now and then this +trait in her mother's character vexed Effie. Effie adored her mother, +she thought her the most beautiful of women, and anything that took from +her sweet charms annoyed her. + +This evening, however, Mrs. Staunton made a careful and deliberate +toilet. + +She removed her dowdy black dress, and, opening a drawer in her +wardrobe, took out a soft gray silk which lay folded between tissue +paper and sprigs of lavender. She put the dress on, and fastened soft +lace ruffles round her throat and at her wrists. The dress transformed +her. It toned with all her faded charms. She put a real lace cap over +her still thick and pretty hair, and, going down to the little parlor, +sat upright on one of the chairs near the window which looked into the +garden. + +Effie came in presently, and started when she saw her mother. + +"Why, mother," she said, "how sweet, how sweet you look!" She went over +and kissed her. Mrs. Staunton returned her embrace very quietly. + +"It is for your father," she said. "He would like me to look nice--I am +sure he'd like us all to look nice to-night. Go upstairs, Effie, dear, +and put on your pretty blue muslin. And you, Agnes, I wish you to wear +your Sunday frock." + +Agnes, who had bounded into the room at this moment, stopped short in +astonishment. + +"Are we all going to a party?" she asked, excitement in her tone. + +"No, no; but your father has come home." + +"Only father! what does that matter?" Agnes lolled on to the sofa and +crossed her legs. "I want to read over my lecture for the High School. I +can't be bothered to change my dress!" she exclaimed. + +"Yes, Aggie, go at once when mother wishes you," said Effie. "Go and put +on your Sunday frock, and tell Katie to do the same, and ask Susan to +put the younger children into their white dresses. Go at once; mother +wishes it." + +Agnes flung herself out of the room, muttering. + +Effie looked again at her mother. + +She did not notice her, she was smiling softly to herself, and looking +out at the garden. Effie felt her heart sink lower and lower. + +She went gravely upstairs, put on her blue dress, brushed out her bright +dark hair, and, looking her sweetest and freshest, came downstairs +again. Mrs. Staunton was still sitting by the window. Her cheeks were +flushed, her eyes were unusually bright. She looked twenty years younger +than she had done two hours ago--she looked beautiful. The soul seemed +to shine out of her face. When Effie came in, she stood up restlessly +and looked at the supper table. + +"Yes," she said, "it is just as he likes it--the fragrant coffee, the +raspberry tart and the jug of cream, the new-laid eggs, the brown loaf +and the fresh butter. A simple sort of meal--yes, quite simple and very +wholesome. Very homelike, that's the word. Effie, there never was such a +homelike sort of man as your father. Give him home and you fill his +heart. This supper table is just what he will like best. He does not +care for new-fangled things. He is old-fashioned--he is the best of men, +Effie, the best of men." + +"He will be glad to see you in your nice dress, mother--he is so proud +of you--he thinks you are so lovely." + +"So I am in his eyes," said Mrs. Staunton in a wistful voice. "I am +old-fashioned like himself, and this dress is old-fashioned too. It was +a pretty dress when it was made up. Let me see, that was twelve years +ago--we went to Margate for a week, and he bought me the dress. He took +great pains in choosing the exact shade of gray; he wanted it to be +silver gray--he said his mother used to wear silver gray when she sat in +the porch on summer evenings. Yes, this dress is like a piece of old +lavender--it reminds me of the past, of the sunny, happy past. I have +had such a happy life, Effie--never a cross word said, never a dour look +given me. Love has surrounded me from the moment of my marriage until +now. I feel young to-night, and I am going to be happy, very happy. The +children must look their best too. Run up, darling, to the nursery and +see that Susan is doing them justice--they are pretty children every +one of them, worthy of your father. Now, let me see, would not a few +roses improve this table? That great jug of sweet peas in the middle is +just what he likes, but we might have roses and mignonette as well. I'll +go and gather a bunch of those Banksia roses which grow in front of the +house." + +"You'll tire yourself, mother. Let me go." + +"No; I never felt stronger than I do to-night. I'd like to pick them +myself." + +Mrs. Staunton went out of doors. She cut great sprays from the Banksia +rose and brought them back with her. She placed them in a brown jug, and +stood the jug on the table. Then she opened both windows wide, and left +the door ajar. There was the sweetest smell wafted through the room--the +sweet peas, roses, mignonette, seemed to be floating in the air. + +The children all came down dressed in their Sunday frocks. They looked +puzzled, uncomfortable, awed. One and all asked the same question: + +"Is it a party, mother? Are any visitors coming to tea?" + +"No. No!" replied the mother to each in his or her turn. "It is only +your father who has come home, and it is right that we should give him a +welcome." + +When she had answered the last of the children, Dr. Staunton entered the +room. + +He started at the pretty sight which met his eyes. The room and the +temptingly laid out supper table--the children in their best +dresses--the old wife in her gray silk--looked to him the most beautiful +sight his eyes had ever rested on. + +What was all this festival about?--he drew himself up hastily--a sort +of shudder went through him. In spite of his efforts his voice was +terribly husky. + +"Are we going to have company?" he asked, with a twinkle in his eyes. +All the other eyes looked back at him--he knew perfectly well even +before the children burst out with the news, that he himself was the +company. + +"You have come back, father, and mother says we are to look our very +best," exclaimed little Phil. + +"All right, Phil, I am more than agreeable," replied the doctor. "Now +you must excuse me, good folk. I am bound in duty to do honor to all +this company splendor, by washing my hands and putting on my +Sunday-go-to-meeting coat." + +"Effie, you may fetch the coffee," said her mother. + +The supper that followed was a merry meal--Dr. Staunton told his best +stories--they were capped by his wife's. Effie laughed as if she had +never heard them before, and the children made themselves riotously +agreeable. + +When the meal was at an end, Dr. Staunton and his wife went out into the +garden at the back of the house. He drew his arm round her waist, and +they walked up and down together on the little rose path at the top of +the garden. + +Effie watched them from the parlor window. There was a queer lump in her +throat. She could not get over the strange sensation of nervousness and +coming disaster. The foreboding which filled her could not be fought +down. She had laughed almost against her will at supper-time, but now +she ceased to smile--she no longer made the faintest attempt to be +cheerful. She hated the pretty room, and the sweet-peas, and the roses +and mignonette. + +The children were idly lolling about. She turned, and spoke almost +crossly. + +"Don't you know, Aggie, that it is long past the younger children's hour +for staying up? Can't you make yourself useful for once, and go up and +put them to bed?" + +"Can't you come, Effie--we'd much rather have you," said little Phil and +Walter, the brother next in age. "Agnes is so cross, she pulls our hair +so when she combs it out." + +"I don't, you bad boys!" exclaimed Agnes, coloring high. "Won't I give +it to you next time we are alone for saying that!" + +"She does, Effie; she does indeed," said little Phil, running up to his +elder sister, and clasping his arms round her light blue dress. + +"Don't, Phil; you will spoil my pretty frock!" she cried. + +"Why, you are cross too," he answered, looking up at her. He was so +startled and amazed at this new tone in Effie's voice, that words failed +him altogether for a minute. It seemed to him as if a castle of cards +had tumbled all over his head, and as if he stood in the middle of the +ruins. If Effie were going to turn nasty, according to Phil's idea, +there was nothing further to be looked for in life. Walter, however, who +was older, had more discernment than his little brother. + +"Effie has a headache," he said; "can't you see that she has a headache? +We'll be very good indeed, Effie, if Agnes will put us to bed." + +"Come along, then," said Agnes, scuttling them out of the room in front +of her. "You must be quick about it, for I have not half prepared my +to-morrow's lessons. Now then, out you go." + +The children disappeared. + +The room was once more empty, except for the silent figure who stood in +the window. She could catch a glimpse of her father and mother walking +up and down in the garden. Presently the two approached the house. Mrs. +Staunton went straight upstairs to her room, and the doctor returned to +the parlor. + +"Your mother is very tired to-night, Effie," he said in a grave voice. + +He sat down in the armchair just where he could smell the sweet-peas and +the Banksia roses. + +"Yes," he continued, "I am anxious about her." There was not a trace now +of any of the jollity which had marked him at supper. His face was gray +and worn--his voice decidedly husky. That huskiness in her father's +voice went like a stab to Effie's heart. She shut the door and went and +stood by his side. + +"Don't you think you had better go upstairs and help your mother to get +to bed?" + +"No; she likes best to be alone," replied Effie. "I want to sit by you. +What is the matter with your throat?" + +"My throat!--why?" + +"You are so husky." + +"I am dead beat, that's the truth of it. I am as weak as a cat, and for +no earthly reason. Don't bother about my throat, it will be all right +after I have had a good night's rest. I tell you, Effie, I never saw a +child so ill as that little Freda Harvey. That woman who nursed her is +an angel--an angel." + +"I didn't say too much about her, father, did I?" said Effie, with a +little note of triumph coming into her voice even in the midst of her +anxiety. + +"That you didn't, my darling--she is one of God's angels and I say 'God +bless her!' Now I want to talk about your mother." + +"Yes, father," said Effie, laying her hand on his. She started back the +moment she did so. The evening was a very hot one, and touching the +doctor's hand was like clasping fire. + +"How you burn!" she exclaimed. + +"That's weakness," he said. "I shall take some bromide to-night; I am +completely worn-out, shaken, and all that sort of thing. Now, Effie, +don't interrupt me. I wish to talk to you of your mother. Are you +prepared to listen?" + +"Of course, father." + +"She has been talking of you--she says you have got an idea into your +head that you ought to make more of your life than you can make of it +staying at home, and being the blessing of the house, and the joy of my +life and of hers." + +"Oh, father, father, I did wish it," said Effie, tears springing into +her eyes. "I did long for it, but I'll give it up, I'll give it all up +if it makes you and mother unhappy." + +"But it doesn't, my dear. The old birds cannot expect to keep the young +ones in the nest for ever and ever. Your mother spoke very sensibly +to-night. I never saw any woman so altered for the time being. She would +not let me imagine there was a thing the matter with her, and she spoke +all the time about you, as though she wanted to plead with me, your +father, to give you a happy life. Do you think I would deny it to you, +my dear little girl?" + +"No, father; you have never denied me anything." + +"I have never denied what was for your good, sweetheart." + +Dr. Staunton clasped Effie to his breast. She flung her arms round him +with a sudden tight pressure. + +"Easy, easy!" he exclaimed; "you are half-choking me. My breathing +certainly feels oppressed--I must have taken a chill. I'll get off to +bed as fast as I can. No, child, you need not be alarmed. I have often +noticed this queer development of hoarseness in people who have long +breathed the poisonous air which surrounds diphtheria and scarlet fever, +but in my case the hoarseness means nothing. Now, Effie, let me say a +word or two to you. I don't know what the future has in it--it is +impossible for any of us to know the future, and I say, thank God for +the blessed curtain which hides it from our view; but whatever it has in +it, my child, I wish you to understand that you are to do your best with +your life. Make it full if you can--in any case make it blessed. A month +ago, I will admit frankly, I did not approve of lady-nurses. After my +wonderful experience, however, with Dorothy Fraser, I must say that I +have completely changed my opinion. The girl with heart and nerve, with +common sense, with an unselfish spirit, can be a nurse whatever her +station in life. If to these qualifications she adds the refinements of +good breeding and the education of a lady, she is the best of all." + +"Hurrah!" cried Effie--tears filled her eyes. "What a grand triumph for +Dorothy!" she exclaimed. + +"She deserves every word I have said of her. If she wishes to take you +back with her to London when she goes,--if that is what is now at the +bottom of your heart,--go, child, with my blessing. We shall miss you at +home, of course, but we are not worth our salt if we are going to be +selfish." + +"You never, never were that," said Effie. + +"Now I have one more thing to say--it is about your mother. I have never +really told you my true fears about her. You know, of course, that she +suffers from weakness of the heart. At present that weakness springs +from no organic source, but of late there have been symptoms which make +me fear that the functional mischief may be developed into the more +serious organic form of disease, should any shock be given her. It is +that fear which haunts my life--I could not live without your mother, +child. Effie, child. I could not live without her." + +The doctor's voice suddenly broke--he bowed his head on his hands, and a +broken sort of groan escaped his lips. + +"We'll take all possible care of her," said Effie. "She shall not have +any pain, nor fear, nor anxiety." + +"I know you will do your best," said the doctor; "but if you leave +her----" + +"I'll never leave her if it is to injure her--there, I have promised." + +"You are a good girl. I trust you. I lean on you. Your mother could not +live through an anxiety--a great fear, a great trouble would kill her." + +"It shan't come," said Effie. + +"God grant it may not come," said the doctor in his husky voice. + +He rose suddenly to his feet. + +"I must go to bed," he said. "I have not had a real proper sleep for +nights and nights. By the way, Effie, you know, of course, that my life +is insured for a thousand pounds. If--if at any time that should be +needed, it will be there; it is best for you to know." + +"I wish you would not talk about it, father." + +"Very well, I won't; but talking about things doesn't bring trouble any +nearer. I hold it as an article of faith that each man should arrange +all he can for the future of his family. Arranging for the future never +hastens matters. There is a God above. He has led me all my days. I +trust Him absolutely. I submit to His mighty will." + +The doctor left the room--his broad back was bowed--he walked slowly. + +Effie stood near the door of the little parlor, watching him, until his +gray head was lost to view. Then she went back and sat on the old +horse-hair sofa, with her hands clasped tightly before her. + +"My father is the best man in the world," she murmured under her breath. +"I never met anyone like my father--so simple--so straightforward--so +full of real feeling--so broad in his views. Talk of a sequestered life +making a man narrower; there never was a man more open to real +conviction than father. The fact is, no girl ever had better parents +than I have; and the wonderful thing is that they give me leave to go, +and take their blessing with me. It is wonderful--it is splendid. Agnes +must be taught to do my present work. I'll train her for the next three +months; and then, perhaps, in the winter I can join Dorothy in London. +Dear father, he is nervous about mother; but while he is there, no harm +can come to her. I do not believe one could live without the other. +Well, well, I feel excited and nervous myself. I had better follow +father's example, and go to bed." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +Effie's little room faced the east. She never drew down her blind at +night, and the sun was shining all over her face when her mother came in +the next morning to call her. + +Mrs. Staunton, standing in her nightdress in the middle of the room, +called Effie in a shrill voice. + +"What in the world is the matter?" said her daughter, sitting up, and +pushing back her hair from her eyes. + +"What I feared," said Mrs. Staunton. "I am not going to break down; +don't think it for a minute. I am as well as possible." She trembled all +over as she spoke. There was a purple spot on one cheek, the other was +deadly pale. A blue tint surrounded her lips. "I am perfectly well," +continued Mrs. Staunton, breathing in a labored way. "It is only that I +have got a bit of a---- Your father is ill, Effie. He has got +it--the--dip--dip--diphtheria. He is almost choking. Get up, child; get +up." + +"Yes, mother," said Effie. + +She tumbled out of bed. Her pretty cheeks were flushed with sleep; her +eyes, bright and shining, turned toward the eastern light for a moment. + +"Oh, mother," she said, with a sudden burst of feeling, "do, do let us +keep up our courage! Nothing will save him if we lose our courage, +mother." + +"We won't," said Mrs. Staunton; "and that's what I came to speak about. +He must have good nursing--the very best. Effie, I want you to get Miss +Fraser to come here." + +"Miss Fraser! But will she leave little Freda Harvey?" + +"She must leave her--the child is completely out of danger--anyone can +nurse her now. She must leave her and come here, and you must go and +fetch her. Your father may lose his life in the cause of that little +child. There is not a moment to lose--get up, Effie. You can go at once +to The Grange. Go, go quickly and bring Dorothy Fraser. We none of us +can nurse him as she will. She will do it. He has been murmuring in his +sleep about her, about something she did for little Freda, clasping his +throat all the time and suffocating. One glance showed me what ailed him +when I awoke this morning. He has a hard fight before him, but he must +not die--I tell you, child, your father must not die!" + +"No, no, mother! God will spare him to us," said Effie. Tears dimmed her +eyes, she got quickly into her clothes. + +"Now, I will go," she said. "I will bring Dorothy back with me." + +"If there is any difficulty," said Mrs. Staunton, "if she hesitates for +a moment, you must remember, there is only one thing to be done." + +"Yes, mother; what do you mean?" + +"You must offer to nurse Freda Harvey instead of her--do you +understand?" + +"And I am not to come back to father when he is ill?" said Effie, +aghast. + +"That is not the point," exclaimed Mrs. Staunton. "The only thing to be +considered is, what will save him, and you and I, and our feelings, are +of no consequence. His life is so valuable that no sacrifice is too +great to keep it. Go, child, go. If you can come back, come--if not, +stay." + +"And who will manage the children--they ought not to remain in the +house." + +"Don't worry about the children. Get Dorothy as quickly as possible." + +Effie buttoned her dress and pinned on her hat, and then went out on the +landing. + +"Where are you going, child? Why don't you go downstairs?" + +"I must kiss father first." + +"What folly!--why should there be this delay?" + +"I won't be a minute." + +Effie turned the handle of the bedroom door, and went softly into the +room. Her father was lying on his back--there was a livid look about his +face. Great beads of perspiration stood on his brow. His eyes were +closed. He did not see Effie when she came into the room, but when she +bent down and kissed his forehead, he opened his eyes and looked at her. +He said something which she could not distinguish--he was too hoarse to +make any words articulate. + +"I am going for Dorothy," she said, with a smile,--"she'll soon make you +better,--good-by. God bless you--father. I love you--father, I love +you." + +His eyes smiled at her, but his lips could not speak. + +She went quickly out of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +It did not take Effie long to harness the old horse to the gig. She had +often driven old Jock, and this part of her task did not put her out in +the least. She had a curious sense, as she was driving toward The Grange +in the fresh early morning air, of the complete change which was +awaiting her. She was quite certain that one door in her life was +shut--shut forever. She had longed for change,--it had come at last with +a vengeance; it was horrible,--it made her shudder. + +Effie was a thoroughly healthy girl, healthy both in mind and body, but +now a sick pain was over her. She did not care to think of the real +terror which haunted her. She arrived at The Grange between six and +seven o'clock. The woman at the lodge ran out and opened the gate for +the doctor's gig in some surprise. She thought something was wrong +again up at the house, but her surprise strengthened to astonishment +when she saw that Effie was driving the horse. + +"Why, Miss Effie, what is the matter?" she exclaimed. Everyone in the +place knew Effie, and loved her for her father's sake. + +"The doctor is ill, Mrs. Jones," said Effie, "and I have come to fetch +Miss Fraser." + +"Oh, God help us! he hasn't taken it?" said the woman, falling back a +step or two in horror. + +Effie nodded her head--she had no words to speak. She whipped up Jock, +and drove quickly down the avenue. + +A kitchen-maid was on her knees whitening and polishing the front steps. +Effie jumped from the gig, and asked the girl to call someone to hold +the horse. + +"There ain't any of the men round just now, it is too early," said the +girl. + +"Then take the reins yourself," said Effie. "Stand just here; Jock won't +stir if I tell him to be quiet. Hold the reins. I am in a great hurry." + +"You are Miss Effie Staunton, ain't you, miss?" + +"I am. My father is ill, and I want Miss Fraser." + +"God help us! the doctor ill!" exclaimed the girl. + +She stood where Effie told her, holding Jock's reins. + +"Be quiet, Jock; don't stir till I come out," said Effie. The old horse +drooped his head. Effie ran up the steps and into the house. She had +never been at The Grange before, but she had no eyes for the beauties of +the old place this morning. There was something too awful lying at the +bottom of her heart, for any external things to affect her. She went +quickly up the broad front stairs, and paused on the first landing. How +was she to discover the room where Dorothy and little Freda Harvey +spent their time together? She was about to turn back in utter +bewilderment, when, to her relief, she saw another servant. The servant +stopped and stared at Effie. Effie came up to her quickly. + +"You may be surprised to see me here," she said. "I am Miss Staunton, +Dr. Staunton's daughter. He is ill. I want to see Nurse Fraser +immediately. Take me to her at once." + +"We are none of us allowed near that part of the house, miss," replied +the woman. + +"You can take me in the direction, anyhow, and explain to me how I am to +get to Miss Fraser," said Effie. "Come, there's not an instant to +lose--be quick." + +"Oh, yes! I can take you in the direction," said the girl. + +She turned down a corridor; Effie followed her. The servant walked +rather slowly and in a dubious sort of way. + +"Can't you hurry?" said Effie. "It is a matter of life and death." + +The girl hastened her steps a little. Effie's manner frightened her. +Presently they reached a baize door--the servant pushed it open, but +stood aside herself. + +"It is as much as my place is worth to open this door," she said. "It is +here the infectious case is, and Miss Fraser's own orders are that the +door is not to be opened; but you frighten me somehow, miss, and I +suppose there's no harm in it." + +"No, of course there is no harm. Now, tell me which is Miss Fraser's +room?" + +"The nurseries are entered by the third door as you go down that +passage, miss." + +The servant banged to the baize door, and Effie found herself alone. +She ran down the passage, and opened the outer nursery door. It was +quiet and still, in perfect order, the blinds down, and the windows +open. Effie, in spite of all her agitation, walked on tiptoe across this +room. A door which led into another room was half open, and she heard +someone moving about. That step, so quiet and self-possessed, must +belong to Dorothy. + +"Dorothy! Dorothy! come here," called Effie. + +Dorothy Fraser, in her dressing-gown, came out to the other room at +once. + +"Effie!" she exclaimed. "Effie Staunton!" + +"Yes, it is I," said Effie; "it is I." She began to unpin her hat as she +spoke. "I have come here to stay; I am going to nurse little Freda, and +you are to go back to father. The gig is waiting outside, and you can +easily drive old Jock. Drive him straight home, and go as fast as ever +you can." + +"Is your father ill, Effie?" + +"Yes; he has taken the diphtheria. He is very ill. Mother sent me for +you. If father dies, mother will die. They love each other so dearly--so +very dearly. One couldn't live without the other. Go, and save them +both, Dorothy, and I will stay with Freda." + +"You are a dear, brave little girl," said Dorothy. + +She went and put her strong arms round Effie. + +"I will go at once," she said. "But are you prepared to take full charge +here, Effie?" + +"Yes; tell me quickly what is to be done!" + +"There's nothing to be done now but simply to see that Freda doesn't +take cold. She is not free from infection yet, but she is quite out of +danger, if she does not catch a chill. Treat her as you would any sick +child. Rhoda is here. She is a capital girl, and will help you with +Freda's food. Freda may come into this room for a little to-day, but +you must see that she keeps out of a draught. Good-by. Effie. I won't be +any time getting ready. I'll send you telegrams about your father. God +bless you, Effie." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +From the first it was a bad case. The throat was not so particularly +affected, but the weakness was extreme. All imaginable devices were +resorted to, to keep up the patient's strength. Notwithstanding all +human precautions, however, that strength failed and failed. + +In a few days the strong man was like an infant. He could not lift a +finger, he could scarcely turn his head, his voice was completely gone. +His stricken soul could only look dumbly into the world through his +eyes. Those honest eyes were pathetic. Dorothy was unremitting in her +attentions. She took complete charge from the very first. Dr. Edwards +came and went, but he gave the nursing to Dorothy. She had prepared +herself for a great fight. She had hoped to conquer, but on the third +day of the doctor's illness she knew that the battle was not to the +strong nor the race to the swift--in short, the good doctor was called +to render up his account, his short span of mortal life was over. + +One evening he had lain perfectly still and in a state of apparent +stupor for several hours. Dorothy stood at the foot of the bed. Her eyes +were fixed on the patient. + +"It is strange how much I admire him," she said to herself. "I never met +a nobler, truer-hearted man." + +"Dorothy, come here," said the doctor. + +She went at once, and bent over him. + +"I am going," he said, looking at her. + +"Yes, Dr. Staunton," she answered. + +He closed his eyes again for a moment. + +"The wife," he murmured--"does she know?" + +"I am not sure," said Dorothy in her quiet, clear voice, which never for +a moment sank to a whisper. "I think she must guess--I have not told +her." + +"She had better know," said the doctor. "Will you bring her here?" + +"Yes, I'll go and fetch her at once." + +Dorothy left the room. She stood for a moment on the landing. + +The task which lay immediately before her made her spirits sink. She +knew just as well as Dr. Staunton did how precarious was Mrs. Staunton's +tenure of life. She knew that a sudden shock might be fatal. Were those +children to lose both parents? The doctor was going,--no mortal aid now +could avail for him,--but must the mother also leave the children? + +"I do not know what to do," thought Dorothy. "She must see her +husband--they _must_ meet. He is the bravest man I know, but can he +suppress his own feelings now--now that he is dying? No, no, it is too +much to ask; but I greatly, greatly fear that if he does not, the shock +will kill her." + +Dorothy went slowly downstairs. She was generally decisive in her +actions. Now, she trembled, and a terrible nervousness seized her. + +When she reached the little entrance hall, and was about to open the +door of the parlor where she expected to find Mrs. Staunton, she was +surprised to come face to face with a tall, bronzed young man, who was +taking off his hat and hanging it on one of the pegs in the hat-rack. He +turned, and started when, he saw her. He was evidently unfamiliar with +nurses and sickness. His face flushed up, and he said in a sort of +apologetic way: + +"Surely this is Dr. Staunton's house?" + +"Yes," said Dorothy. + +"I am George Staunton. I--I came down on pressing business--I want to +see my father in a hurry. What is the matter?" + +He stepped back a pace or two, startled by the expression on Dorothy's +face. + +"Come in here at once," she said, seizing his hand. She dragged him into +the seldom-used drawing-room. The moment they got inside, she +deliberately locked the door. + +"You have come just in time," she said. "You must bear up. I hope you'll +be brave. Can you bear a great shock without--without fainting, or +anything of that sort?" + +"Oh, I won't faint!" he answered. His lips trembled, his blue eyes grew +wide open, the pupils began to dilate. + +"I believe you are a brave lad," said Dorothy, noticing these signs. "It +is your lot now to come face to face with great trouble. Dr. +Staunton--your father--is dying." + +"Good God! Merciful God!" said the lad. He sank down on the nearest +chair--he was white to the lips. + +Dorothy went up and took his hand. + +"There, there!" she said. "You'll be better in a moment. Try to forget +yourself--we have not, any of us, a single instant just now to think of +ourselves. I have come down to fetch your mother." + +"You are the nurse?" said George, glancing at her dress. + +"Yes, I am nursing your father. It has been a very bad +case--diphtheria--a very acute and hopeless case from the first. There's +a great deal of infection. Are you afraid?" + +"No, no! don't talk of fear. I'll go to him. I--I was in trouble myself, +but that must wait. I'll go to him at once." + +"I want you to go to your mother." + +"My mother! is she ill too?" + +"She is not exactly ill--I mean she is not worse than usual, but her +life is bound up in your father's. It would be a dreadful thing for your +sisters and yourself if your mother were to die. Your coming here at +this moment may mean her salvation. I have to go to her now, to tell her +that her dying husband has sent for her. Will you follow me into the +room? Will you act according to your own impulses? I am sure God will +direct you. Stay where you are for a minute--try to be brave. Follow me +into the room as soon as you can." + +Dorothy left the drawing room. As she went away, she heard the young man +groan. She did not give herself time to think--she opened the parlor +door. + +Mrs. Staunton was sitting in her favorite seat by the window. Her face +was scarcely at all paler than it had been a week ago. She sat then by +the window, looking out at her trouble, which showed like a speck in the +blue sky. The shadow which enveloped her whole life was coming closer +now, enveloping her like a thick fog. Still she was bearing up. Her eyes +were gazing out on the garden--on the flowers which she and the doctor +had tended and loved together. Some of the younger children had +clustered round her knee--one of them held her hand--another played with +a bunch of keys and trinkets which she always wore at her side. + +"Go on, mother," said little Marjory, aged seven. "Don't stop." + +"I have nearly finished," said Mrs. Staunton. + +"But not quite. Go on, mother; I want to hear the end of the story," +said Phil. + +Mrs. Staunton did not see Dorothy, who stood motionless near the door. + +"They got so tired," she began in a monotonous sort of voice--"so +dreadfully tired, that there was nothing for them to do but to try and +get into the White Garden." + +"A _White Garden_!" repeated Phil. "Was it pretty?" + +"Lovely!" + +"Why was it called a White Garden?" asked Marjory. + +"Because of the flowers. They were all white--white roses, white lilies, +snowdrops, chrysanthemums--all the flowers that are pure white without +any color. The air is sweet with their perfume--the people who come to +live in the White Garden wear white flowers on their white dresses--it +is a beautiful sight." + +"It must be," said Marjory, who had a great deal of imagination. "Are +the people happy?" + +"Perfectly happy--rested, you know, Marjory. They are peaceful as you +are when you are tucked up in your little bed." + +"I like best to play and romp," said Marjory in a meditative voice; "but +then, you see, I am never tired." + +"Dorothy is standing at the door," exclaimed Phil. "Come in, Dorothy, +and listen to mother's beautiful story." + +"Do you want me?" asked Mrs. Staunton, standing up. She began to +tremble--the children looked at her anxiously. + +Dorothy went straight up and took her hand. "Dr. Staunton wishes to see +you," she said. "Will you come with me?" She looked anxiously toward the +door. + +Mrs. Staunton put up her hand to her head. "Good-bye, my darlings," she +said, looking at the little pair, who were gazing up at her with puzzled +faces. "Go and play in the garden, and don't forget the White Garden +about which we have been speaking." She stooped down and deliberately +kissed both children, then she held out her hand to Dorothy. "I am quite +ready," she said. + +At that moment George entered the room. He put his arms round his +mother. He was a big fellow--his arms were strong. The muscles in his +neck seemed to start out, his eyes looked straight into his mother's. + +"You have got _me_, mother; I am George," he said. "Come, let us go to +my father together." + +Mrs. Staunton tottered upstairs. She was not in the least surprised at +seeing George, but she leaned very firmly on him. They went into the +sickroom, and when George knelt down by his father's bedside, Mrs. +Staunton knelt by him. + +The doctor was going deeper and deeper into the valley from which there +is no return. Earthly sounds were growing dim to his ears--earthly +voices were losing their meaning--earthly sights were fading before his +failing eyes. The dew of death was on his forehead. + +Mrs. Staunton, whose face was nearly as white, bent down lower and lower +until her lips touched his hand. The touch of her lips made him open his +eyes. He saw his wife; the look on her face seemed to bring him back to +earth again--it was like a sort of return wave, landing him high on the +shores of time. + +His impulse was to say, "Come with me--let us enter into the rest of the +Lord together;" but then he saw George. George had thrown his arm round +his mother's waist. + +"Let me keep her, father," said the young man. "Don't take her yet, let +me keep her." + +"Yes, stay with the lad, Mary," said the doctor. + +It was a final act of self-renunciation. His eyelids drooped over his +dying eyes--he never spoke again. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + +George stayed at Whittington for a week; he followed his father to the +grave. Mrs. Staunton clung to him with a sort of feverish tenacity; +whenever he came into the room, her eyes followed him. A sort of +wistful, contented expression came into them when he sat down beside +her. During all the time George was in the house she never broke down. +At last, however, the time came when he must leave her. + +"I must go back to my work," he said; "but you are coming to London +soon, then I'll be with you every evening. You know my father has given +you to me to take care of. It will be all right when we are in London +together." + +"Yes, my boy," she replied, "it will be all right then. I don't +complain," she added; "I don't attempt to murmur. I shall go to him, but +he cannot return to me; and I have got you, George, and he gave me to +you. I am willing to stay with you just as long as you want me." + +It was late that night when George left his mother's room. Effie was +standing in the passage--the brother and sister looked at each other. +Effie had come home the day after Dr. Staunton's death. + +"Come out with me for a bit, Effie," said her brother. They went into +the garden, and she linked her hand through his arm. + +Dorothy Fraser had now returned to her duties in London; the Stauntons +were to go up to town as soon as ever the cottage could be sold. It had +belonged to the doctor. George was to live with them when they were in +town, and perhaps Effie would be able to follow the great wish of her +mind. There was just a possibility that she might be able to be trained +as a hospital nurse. She looked up at George now. + +"You have been such a comfort to us," she said. "Dorothy told me +everything; and I know that if you had not come just at the opportune +moment, we should have lost our mother as well as our father. I'll do +all in my power to hurry matters, so that we can come to London before +the winter." + +"Yes," said George. He was a finely built young fellow, with a handsome +face. He was not the least like Effie, who was dark and rather small, +like her mother. George had the doctor's physique; he had great square +shoulders, his eyes were frank and blue like his father's, but his mouth +wanted his father's firmness. + +"Effie," he said. "I don't know how I am to bring myself to confide in +you." + +"Confide in me?" she said, with a little start. "We always did tell our +secrets to one another, but all this terrible trouble seems to have put +childish things away. Have you really a secret, George, to tell me?" + +"I don't know how I can tell it to you," he replied; his lips +quivered--he looked down. Effie clasped his arm affectionately. + +"You know I would do anything for you," she said. + +"Yes; I know you are the best of girls, and you're awfully pretty, too. +I know Fred Lawson will think so when he sees you." + +"Who is he?" + +"A friend of mine--a right good fellow--he is a medical student at St. +Joseph's Hospital. I have often met him, and he has talked to me about +his own sisters, and one day I showed him your photograph, and he said +what a pretty girl you were. Somehow, Effie, I never thought of you as +pretty until Fred said so. I suppose fellows don't think how their +sisters look, although they love them very dearly; but when Fred said +it, it opened my eyes. Dear, dear, why am I talking like this, when time +is so precious, and I--Effie, when I came down that day to see my +father, I was in trouble--great trouble; the shock of seeing him seemed +to banish it from my mind, but it cannot be banished--it cannot be +banished, Effie, and I have no one to confide in now but you." + +"You must tell me of course," said Effie; she felt herself turning pale. +She could not imagine what George's trouble was. The night was dusk; she +raised her eyes to her brother's face--he avoided meeting them. He had a +stick in his hand, and he began to poke holes in the gravel. + +"How much money have we got to live on?" he asked abruptly. + +"How much money have we to live on?" repeated Effie. "I believe, when +all is collected, that there will be something like a hundred a year for +mother and Agnes and Katie and the two little children. Of course I am +going to support myself _somehow_, and you are naturally off our hands." + +"It's awful," said George; "it's awful to be so starvingly poor as that. +Why, I get a hundred a year now; fancy five people living on a sum on +which I never can make both ends meet!" + +"What is the matter with you, George? How queerly you speak! You knew we +should be awfully poor when father died. You are going to pay for your +board, are you not, when you come to us, and that will be a great help." + +"Yes, of course; I vow and declare that I'll give mother at least half +of what I earn." + +"Well, that will be fifty pounds--a great help. My idea for myself +is--but----" Effie stopped abruptly. She saw that George was making an +impatient movement. "I'll tell you another time," she said in a gentle +voice. "You have something now to tell me, have you not?" + +"I have--God knows I have. I want to get two hundred and fifty pounds +somewhere." + +"Two hundred and fifty pounds!" exclaimed Effie. George might just as +well have asked her for the moon. + +"I don't understand," she said, after a pause. + +"No, and I never want you to, Effie," replied the young man. "I can't +tell you what I want the money for, but it's a matter of life and death. +I thought I had made up my mind"--a husky sound came into his throat--"I +made up my mind to tell everything to my father when I came down that +night--I could have told him. It was not a sort of thing to talk to you +about, but I thought I could tell him; he died, and he gave me mother. +He left mother with me. You know perfectly well, Effie, that our +mother's life hangs on a thread. You know she must not have a shock, +and yet--Effie, Effie, if I don't get that L250, she will have such a +shock, such a terrible shock, that it will send her to her grave!" + +"I must think," said Effie. "I cannot answer you in a moment." + +"Is there no earthly way you can help me? I must be helped," said George +in a frantic voice. "I have got six weeks longer--I must get that L250 +in six weeks, or--no, I can't tell you." + +"Yes, you must try--I won't help you unless you try." + +"Well, then--here goes. If I don't get it, I shall have to go +to--_prison_." George's voice sank to a hoarse whisper. + +Effie could not suppress a cry. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +"Then you have done something wrong," said Effie, loosening her hold of +her brother's arm and backing to a little distance. He could scarcely +see her face in the ever increasing darkness, but he noticed the change +in her voice. There was an indignant note of pained and astonished youth +in it. Effie had never come face to face with the graver sins of life; +the word "prison" stunned her, she forgot pity for a moment in +indignation. + +"George," she said, with a sort of gasp, "father left mother to you,--in +a sort of way he gave her up to you,--and you have done wrong; you have +sinned." + +"You talk just like a girl," said George; "you jump at conclusions. You, +an innocent girl living in the shelter of home, know as little about the +temptations which we young fellows have to meet out in the world, as +you know of the heavens above you. My God! Effie, it is a hard world--it +is hard, _hard_ to keep straight in it. Yes, I have done wrong--I know +it--and father gave mother to me. If you turn away from me, Effie, I +shall go to the bad--I shall go to the worst of all; there will not be a +chance for me if you turn from me." + +The tone of despair in his voice changed Effie's frame of mind in a +moment. She ran up to him and put her arms round his neck. + +"I won't turn from you, poor George," she said. "It did shock me for a +moment--it frightened me rather more than I can express; but perhaps I +did not hear you aright, perhaps you did not say the word 'prison.' You +don't mean to say that unless you get that impossible sum of money you +will have to go to prison, George?" + +"Before God, it is true," said George. "I cannot, I won't tell you why, +but it is as true as I stand here." + +"Then you will kill our mother," said Effie. + +"I know that." + +"And father left her to you. George, it cannot be. I must think of +something--my head is giddy--we have not any money to spare. It will be +the hardest fight in the world to keep the children from starvation on +that hundred pounds a year, but something must be done. I'll go and +speak to the trustees." + +"Who are the trustees?" asked George. He rose again to his feet. There +was a dull sort of patience in his words. + +"Mr. Watson is one,--you know the Watsons, father has always been so +good to them,--and our clergyman, Mr. Jellet, is the other. Yes, I must +go and speak to them; but what am I to say?" + +"You must not betray me," said George. "If you mention that I want the +money, all will be up with me. In any case, there may be suspicion. Men +of the world like Mr. Watson and Mr. Jellet would immediately guess +there was something wrong if a lad required such a large sum of money. +You must not tell them that _I_ want it." + +"How can I help it? Oh, everything is swimming round before my eyes; I +feel as if my head would burst." + +"Think of me," said George--"think of the load I have got to bear." + +Effie glanced up at him. His attitude and his words puzzled and almost +revolted her. After a time she said coldly: + +"What hour are you leaving in the morning?" + +"I want to catch the six-o'clock train to town. This is good-by, Effie; +I shan't see you before I go. Remember, there are six weeks before +anything can happen. If anyone can save me, you can. It is worth a +sacrifice to keep our mother from dying." + +"Yes, it would kill her," said Effie. "Good-night now, George. I cannot +think nor counsel you at present; I feel too stunned. The blow you have +given me has come so unexpectedly, and it--it is so awful. But I'll get +up to see you off in the morning. Some thought may occur to me during +the night." + +"Very well," said George. He walked slowly down the garden, and, +entering the house, went up to his own room. Effie did not go in for a +long time. She was alone now, all alone with the stars. She was standing +in the middle of the path. Often and often her father's steps had +trodden this path. He used to pace here when he was troubled about a +sick patient, when his anxiety about her mother arose to a feverish +pitch. Now his daughter stood on the same spot, while a whirl of +troubled thoughts passed through her brain. It had been her one +comfort, since that awful moment when Dorothy had told her that her +father was gone, to feel that George, in a measure at least, took that +father's place. + +George had always been her favorite brother; they were very nearly the +same age--Effie was only two years younger than George; long ago George +had been good to the little sister--they had never quarreled, they had +grown up always the best and warmest of friends. Their love had been +true--as true as anything in all the world. + +George had gone to London, and the first tiny spark of discontent had +visited Effie's heart. She would be so lonely without her brother. It +was so fine for him to go out into life, her own horizon seemed so +narrow. Then Dorothy came, and they had made friends, and Dorothy told +her what some women did with their lives. + +Effie had been fired with a sudden desire to follow in Dorothy's steps; +then had followed the dark cloud which seemed to swallow up her wishes, +and all that was best out of her life. George, at least, remained. Dear, +brave, manly George! The brother who had passed out of childhood, and +entered man's estate. + +Her father's last message had been to George--he had given her precious +mother into George's care. + +It seemed to Effie to-night, standing out under the stars, as if George, +too, were dead. The old George was really dead, and a stranger had taken +his place. This stranger wore the outward guise of her brother--he had +his eyes, his figure; his voice had the same tone, he could look at you +just in George's way, but he could utter terrible words which George had +never known anything about. He could talk of _sin_ and _prison_. He +could propose that Effie should rescue him at the risk of her mother's +livelihood. Oh, what did it mean? How was she to bear it?--how could she +bear it? She clasped her hands, tears filled her eyes, but she was too +oppressed, too pained, too stunned to weep long. Presently she went into +the house, and lay down on her bed without undressing. + +During the whole of that terrible night Effie scarcely slept. It was the +worst night in all her life. Toward morning she dozed a little, but +sprang up with a start, fearing that George had gone to London without +seeing her. For her mother's sake she must see him. Whatever happened, +her mother must never know of this calamity. Effie got up, washed her +hands and face, smoothed out her hair, and went downstairs. George was +already up, he was standing in the little parlor. He turned round when +he heard his sister's footsteps, and looked anxiously at her. + +"What a brute I am!" he said, when he saw the expression on her face; +"but I swear before God, Effie, if you will help me, I'll turn over a +new leaf; I'll never do a wrong thing again as long as I live--I swear +it." + +"Don't swear it," said Effie; "it seems to make it worse to do that. If +you did wrong once, you may again. Don't swear. Ask God to help you. I +don't know that I have been praying all night, but I have been trying +to." + +"Well, Effie, what have you determined to do?" he asked. + +"Is there no one else who can help you, George?" + +"Not a soul; I have only one friend, and that is Fred Lawson." + +"Oh, yes! I remember you spoke of him last night. Would he help you?" + +"He help me!" said George, with a hysterical laugh. "Why, he is the chap +I have wronged. There, don't ask me any more. If you can help me, I am +saved; if you can't, say so, and I'll go straight to destruction." + +"No, you shan't do that, George. I have thought of something--nothing +may come of it, but I'm going to try. It is terribly repugnant to me, +but I would sacrifice much to save my mother. If it fails, all fails." + +"I have thought," said George eagerly, "that, as the case is such an +extreme one, we might take some of the capital. There is a thousand +pounds; a quarter of that sum would put me right." + +"It cannot be done for a moment," said Effie, her face flushing hotly. +"That money must under no circumstances be touched; my mother and the +children depend on it for their bread." + +"I don't know what is to be done, then," said George in a hopeless +voice. + +"You must trust to me, George; I am going to try to help you in my own +way. If I fail, I fail; but somehow I don't think I shall. If I have any +news I will write to you soon; and now good-by, good-by." + +George turned and kissed Effie; she gave him her cheek, but her lips did +not touch his. She was willing to help him, but her love for the time +was dead or dying. + +The young man walked hurriedly down the village street. Effie stood in +the porch and watched him; his shoulders were bowed, he stooped. George +used to have a fine figure; Effie used to be proud of him--she was not +proud of her brother now. + +She went back to the house, and sat down listlessly for a time in the +little parlor--her hands were folded in her lap. It seemed to her as if +the end of all things had come. + +Presently the sound of the children's voices overhead aroused her; she +went upstairs, and helped Susan to dress them. Returning to the everyday +duties of life had a soothing effect upon her. She made a violent effort +and managed to put her trouble behind her for the time being. Whatever +happened, her mother must not see any traces of it. + +When the baby was dressed, she took him as usual to her mother's room. + +Mrs. Staunton sat up in bed and stretched out her arms to receive him. +Effie gave him to her mother, who began to kiss his little face +hungrily. + +"Has George gone, Effie?" said the mother. + +"Yes, mother, dear." + +"Did anyone see him off--did he have his breakfast?" + +"Yes, he had a good breakfast; I got it ready for him last night." + +"But did anyone see him off?" + +"I did." + +"That's right; I should not have liked him to have had his last meal by +himself. I miss him awfully. Effie, dear, how soon do you think we can +go to London?" + +"As soon as possible, mother--in about six weeks." + +"Six weeks!" exclaimed Mrs. Staunton. "I can't live without George for +six weeks." + +"Oh, yes, you can, mother--at least you'll try." + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +When Effie had finished the many small duties which fell to her share in +the household economy, she went up to her bedroom and hastily changed +her everyday dress for her best one. She did not take long about this +task. Her small face looked very pale and thin under the heavy crepe on +her hat. Taking up her gloves she ran down to the parlor where her +mother was sitting. Mrs. Staunton was busily mending some stockings for +George. A pile of his clothes lay on the table by her side. + +"I thought we might send these to London next week," she said, looking +up as her daughter entered the room. "George will want a really warm +greatcoat for the winter, and this one of your father's--why, Effie, my +dear----" She stopped abruptly, and gazed up at Effie's best hat. "Where +are you going, my love?" she said. "I thought you could help me this +morning." + +"I am going out, mother, for a little." + +"But where to? Why have you your best things on?" + +"I am going to the Harveys'." + +"To the Harveys'--to The Grange?" + +Mrs. Staunton shuddered slightly; she turned her head aside. "Why are +you going there?" she asked, after a pause. + +"I want to see them--I won't be long away. Please, mother, don't tire +yourself over all that mending now." + +"It interests me, my dear; I find it impossible to sit with my hands +before me. I am stronger than I used to be. I have got to live for +George; and George is young, he is entering life, he must not be saddled +with an old, ailing mother. I must get strong, I must get back my youth +for his sake. Don't be long away, Effie, dear. I wonder you like to go +to the Harveys' under the circumstances, but you know best. Children are +very independent nowadays," concluded Mrs. Staunton, with a sigh. + +Effie went up to her mother and kissed her, then she softly left the +room. + +The day was a particularly fine one, the sun shone brightly upon the +little High Street. Effie walked quickly; she soon turned into a shady +lane, the lane led her into the highroad. By and by she stopped at the +gates of The Grange. + +The woman of the lodge came out when she saw her. This woman had been +fond of Dr. Staunton, and she recognized Effie. + +Effie's little figure, her heavy black dress, her crepe hat, her white +cheeks and dark eyes, all appealed with great pathos to the woman. She +ran towards her with outstretched hands. + +"Miss Effie, my dear, you're welcome," she said. She caught Effie's +little white hands in her hard, toil-worn ones. "You are welcome, Miss +Effie," she repeated; "it is good of you to come. Eh, dear, but it goes +to the heart to see you in that deep black! Come in and rest, my dear +young lady--come in and rest." + +"I cannot just now, Mrs. Jones," replied Effie. "I am in a hurry--I want +to go up to see the Squire on business." + +"And how is your mother, poor lady--how is she bearing up, my dear?" + +"Wonderfully," said Effie. "I'll come and see you another day, Mrs. +Jones." + +"Eh, do! you'll be more than welcome. I long to hear all about the +doctor, poor man, and how he went off at the end. The last words of the +pious are always worth listening to. I'll be glad to hear particulars, +if you can give me half an hour some time, Miss Effie." + +"Some time," said Effie. + +She walked on, trembling a little. The woman's words and her eager look +of curiosity were dreadful to her; nevertheless, she knew that her +father, under similar circumstances, would have been very patient with +this woman. + +By and by she arrived at the heavy front door of the old Grange. She +walked up the steps and rang the bell. + +The door was opened almost immediately by a servant in livery. He knew +Effie, and asked her in. + +"Is the Squire at home?" she asked. + +"I am not sure, miss, but I'll inquire. Will you step in here while I go +to ask?" + +The man opened the door of a little sitting room. Effie went in, and he +closed it softly behind him. + +After what seemed a very short time, she heard eager steps coming along +the hall--the room door was flung open, and Squire Harvey, accompanied +by his wife, came in. + +Mrs. Harvey looked like a shadow--but her sweet face had a tender +blush-rose color about it, her eyes had the intensely clear look which +long illness gives; she was better, but she looked so frail and delicate +that Effie's heart went out to her. + +"My dear child," said Mrs. Harvey, "how good, how very good of you to +come! I am only just downstairs. Dr. Edwards only allowed me down +yesterday, but I could not resist coming to welcome you myself. Won't +you come into my sitting room? It is just at the opposite side of the +hall. I'll send Rhoda upstairs to fetch little Freda. She will be so +enraptured at seeing you. Come, my dear. Now that we have got you, we +won't let you go in a hurry. I think it so sweet of you to come to see +us, and under the circumstances. Don't you think it is sweet of her, +Walter, dear?" + +Squire Harvey had more perception of character than his wife. He noticed +how white Effie's face grew; he noticed the pathetic trembling of her +hands. + +"My dear," he said, "perhaps Miss Staunton wishes to see me by herself. +I understood from the servant that she had asked for me." + +"Yes, I did want to see you very much," said Effie. + +"Of course, dear little thing," interrupted Mrs. Harvey; "but I'll stay +while you talk to her. I am immensely interested in you. Miss Staunton. +I can never forget, as long as I live, what you and yours have done for +us." + +"Please don't talk of it now," said Effie. "I mean--I know how kindly +you feel, and indeed I am not ungrateful, but I cannot bear to talk it +over, and I want very badly, please, to say something to the Squire." + +"Come with me to my study, Miss Staunton," said the Squire. + +He opened the door, and Effie followed him. + +"Be sure you make her stay, Walter, when your business is over," called +Mrs. Harvey after him. "I'll send for Freda to my boudoir. Miss Staunton +must stay to lunch. It is delightful to see her again, and it is so +sweet of her to come to see us." + +The thin, high voice kept calling these words out a little louder and a +little louder as Effie followed the Squire down one long corridor after +another, until at last they entered his special study. + +He shut the door at once, and offered her a chair. + +"If I can do anything for you, you have but to command me," he said. + +"I see you are in great trouble," he continued. "Pray take your own +time. I have nothing whatever to do--I can listen to you as long as ever +you like." + +Poor Effie found great difficulty in using her voice. For one dreadful +moment words seemed to fail her altogether. Then she gave a swift +thought to her mother, to George, and her resolve was taken. + +"I want to make a very queer request of you, Mr. Harvey," she said. "It +may not be possible for you to grant it. For my father's sake, will you +promise that you will never tell anyone what I am now asking you, if you +don't find it convenient to grant it to me?" + +"I'll keep your secret, of course," said the Squire. "But permit me to +say one thing before you begin to tell it to me: there's not the +slightest fear of my not granting it. There is nothing that you can +possibly ask of me, that, under the circumstances, I should think it +right to refuse. Now, pray proceed." + +"I want you," said Effie--she gulped down a great lump in her throat, +and proceeded in a sort of desperation--"I want you to lend me 250 +pounds. I'll pay you interest--I think five per cent. is fair +interest--I'll pay you interest on the money, and return it to you by +installments." + +There was not the least doubt that Effie's request startled the Squire. +The amount of the money required was nothing to him, for he was a very +rich man; but the girl's manner, her evident distress, the look of +shame and misery on her face, surprised him. He guessed that she was +borrowing the money for another, but for whom? + +"I can see you are in trouble," he said in his kindest tone. "Why don't +you confide in me? As to the money, make your mind easy, you shall have +it; but girls like you don't as a rule borrow a large sum of money of +this kind. Do you want it for yourself?" + +"No." + +"You won't tell me who it is for?" + +"I cannot, Mr. Harvey. Please don't ask me." + +"I won't ask you anything that distresses you. As you are talking of +money, you will forgive me for saying that I am told that your mother is +left badly off." + +"No; that's a mistake," said Effie. "She has money. My father left her +very well off for a man in his position. He insured his life for a +thousand pounds, and my mother had a little fortune of her own, which +brings in about sixty pounds a year." + +"And you think your mother well off with that?" said the Squire in a +tone of almost amused pity. + +"Yes, for a woman in her position," said Effie in almost a proud tone. +"Forgive me," she said; "I know that, after the request I have just +made, you would be justified in asking me any questions, but I would +rather not say any more about my mother. If you'll lend me the money--if +indeed you will be so good, so noble--when can I have it?" + +"When do you want it?" + +"I must have it before six weeks are up, but the sooner the better." + +"You shall have it in a week. Come here this day week and I'll give you +a check for the amount."' + +"A check!" said Effie; "but I would have to pass that through mother's +bank--and--and she might know." + +"Are you really asking for this money without your mother's knowledge, +Miss Staunton?" + +"Yes; my mother is not to know. Mr. Harvey, the object of our lives is +to keep all anxiety from our mother--she must never know." + +"Forgive me," said the Squire, after a pause. "I know a great deal about +business, and you very little. Would it not be best to open an account +in your own name? I am told that you propose soon to go to London. I +would introduce you to my bankers there, who would be very glad to open +an account with you; and if at any time you should have need of +assistance, Miss Staunton, you would give me the privilege of helping +you. Remember, but for me and mine you would not now be fatherless. You +must see that you have a claim on me. Allow me to fulfill that claim in +the only possible way in my power." + +"You are good, you are more than good," said Effie, rising. "But this is +all I really need. I'll pay you the interest on the money every half +year." + +"Oh, that doesn't matter. I earnestly wish you would take it as a gift." + +"Thank you, but that is impossible." + +Effie stood up; she had nothing further to say. + +"May I take you to my wife's room now?" said, the Squire. "I know she is +waiting to see you, she is longing to be friends with you. Her recovery +has been wonderful; and as to little Freda, she is almost herself again. +You would like to see Freda, would you not?" + +"Yes," said Effie, "but not to-day--I must hurry back to my mother. I +don't know how to thank you, Mr. Harvey. Will you please tell +your--your wife that I cannot stay to-day?--my mother wants me. Thank +you--thank you." + +The Squire himself showed Effie out. He stood for a moment by his open +hall door, watched her as she walked slowly down the avenue. + +"That is a plucky little thing," he said to himself. "Now, what in the +world does she want that money for? Not for herself, I'll be bound. I do +hope she has got no disreputable relations hanging onto her. Well, at +least it is my bounden duty to help her, but I wish she would confide in +me. She is a pretty girl, too, and has a look of the doctor about her +eyes." + +"Where is Miss Staunton?" asked Mrs. Harvey, coming forward. + +"Vanishing round that corner, my love," returned the Squire. "The fact +is, the poor little thing is completely upset, and cannot face anyone." + +"But her business, Walter--what did she want?" + +"Ah, that's the secret--she made me swear not to tell anyone. It is my +opinion, Elfreda, that the child has got into trouble. We must do what +we can for her." + +"I wish she would come here and be Freda's governess," said Mrs. Harvey. + +The Squire looked at his wife. + +"That's a good thought," he remarked; "and we might give her a big +salary--she is so innocent, she would not really know anything about it. +We might give her two hundred a year, and then she could help her +mother; but I doubt whether she would leave her mother--she seems simply +bound up in her." + +"It is our duty to help her," said Mrs. Harvey, "whatever happens. If +she won't come to us, we must think of some other way." + +"Yes we must," said the Squire. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +In less than six weeks the Stauntons were settled in London. George had +taken lodgings for them in a cheap part of Bayswater. The rooms were +high up in a dismal sort of house. There were a sitting room and three +small bedrooms. George occupied one--Effie and the girls another--Mrs. +Staunton, the baby, and little Phil the third. It seemed to Effie as if +they had always lived in this uninteresting house, looking out on that +narrow dismal street. They knew nobody. Their lives were very dull. Mrs. +Staunton occupied herself over George, morning, noon, and night. She +mended his clothes with scrupulous care; she washed his shirts herself, +and took immense pride in bringing the fronts up to a wonderful polish. +There was not a young man in the City who went to his daily work with +such snowy collars as George, such neat cuffs, such a look of general +finish. This work delighted Mrs. Staunton--it brought smiles to her eyes +and a look of satisfaction to her face. + +Effie had got the money from Mr. Harvey, and had handed it without a +word to George. + +He took it; his face flushed all over--tears filled his eyes. + +He said, "God bless you, Effie; you are the bravest, best sister a man +ever had"; and then he went out of the room and out of the house. + +"He never asked me where I got it," thought poor Effie; "and now there's +the interest to pay, and how can it possibly be taken out of our hundred +a year? Mother must never, never know; but how is that interest to be +paid?" + +The Stauntons had been settled about a fortnight in their new home, when +Dorothy came to pay them a visit. + +She was very busy in her hospital life. She came in with her accustomed +eager, purposeful walk. She sat down on the nearest chair, and began to +talk cheerfully to the children and sympathetically to Mrs. Staunton. + +As soon as she had an opportunity, however, she drew Effie aside. + +"Now, my dear," she said, looking straight into Effie's brown eyes, +"when are you coming to us?" + +"Oh, if I could come," exclaimed Effie, "I should indeed be happy, but I +don't see any chance of it." + +"I do. You are not really wanted here; Agnes is growing a big girl. Your +mother is devoted to your brother George; provided he comes home every +evening, she scarcely gives a thought to anyone else. You can be spared, +Effie, and it will be good for you. You do not look a bit the same girl. +You have lost your 'go' somehow. You are very young. It is wrong to have +a look like that when one is only twenty. You ought to come to the +hospital, and there is a vacancy now for a probationer, if you can take +it." + +"If I dare to," said Effie, "but it does not seem right." + +"Yes, I believe it is right. I know the matron of St. Joseph's Hospital +so well that I think I can arrange with her that you should spend a part +of every Sunday at home--at least, while you are training Agnes. The +fact is, Effie, you are a born nurse, and it is a sin to lose you to the +profession." + +"I should like to come beyond anything," said Effie. "It is the very +highest wish of my heart. The last night that I ever saw my dear father +he spoke to me on this subject. He used to hate lady-nurses, but you won +him over, Dorothy, and he said, if the time came, I could go with his +blessing." + +"Then surely that settles the matter," exclaimed Dorothy. "I'll speak to +Mrs. Staunton before I leave to-day." + +"Oh, no; don't! Mother seems quite happy and comfortable. I would not +for the world do anything to upset or distress her." + +"If it upsets and distresses her, you must give it up, that's all," said +Dorothy, "but it is worth sounding her on the subject. Don't say a word, +Effie, I'll speak to your mother about it." + +Effie looked puzzled and anxious. + +"I would give anything to go," she murmured to herself. "It is torture +to live on here, thinking of nothing but how to make a hundred pounds a +year pay everything that is expected of it. Then I should be one off the +family purse, for all my expenses would be paid by the hospital. Yes, +surely it must be right. At any rate, I'll allow Dorothy to speak." + +When tea was over, George, who had come in, and was as usual devoting +himself to his mother, tried to coax her to come out with him a little. + +"No, not to-night," said Dorothy suddenly. "I have something very +special to say to Mrs. Staunton--perhaps you would stay and listen too, +George?" + +George did not mind being called by his Christian name by Dorothy. She +was regarded by the Stauntons as part and parcel of the family. + +"I'll do anything to oblige you," he said, giving the handsome nurse a +look of genuine admiration. "Come, mother, if we are not to go out, we +can at least sit near each other." + +He drew up a chair close to his mother as he spoke, and put one of his +arms round her neck. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and sat there +in perfect content. + +After a time one of his strong hands closed over hers. She had never, +even in the doctor's time, felt more warmly and happily protected. + +"Yes, Dorothy, what have you to say?" she remarked. "George and I are +all attention." + +"George and you!" laughed Dorothy. "I never saw such a devoted pair. +Why, you are just like a pair of lovers." + +"Well, we are lovers, aren't we, mother?" said the son. + +"Yes, my boy," she replied. "No love was ever stronger than that which +binds us together." + +"I love to hear you say that," remarked Dorothy; "but now I want to talk +on quite another matter. I am very anxious about Effie." + +"Effie!" said Mrs. Staunton, just glancing at her daughter. "What about +her? She seems quite well. Are you well, Effie?" + +"Yes, mother, I am perfectly well," replied Effie. + +"Oh, it is not that," said Dorothy, a touch of scorn coming into her +voice. "Effie may be well in body, but she is just starved in soul." + +"Starved!" said Mrs. Staunton, with a start "What do you mean, Dorothy?" + +"Oh, never mind her, please, mother," said Effie in distress. "I am all +right, really." + +"No, she is not," continued Dorothy. "She is not right in the way I +should like to see her right. The fact is, she wants a change." + +"Poor child!" said Mrs. Staunton. "We are not rich enough to think of +changes." + +"The sort of change she wants will not cost you any money. The fact is, +I want her to become what Heaven has intended her to be, a thoroughly +trained hospital nurse. There is a vacancy now for a probationer at St. +Joseph's, and I can get her admitted at once. May she come? That's the +main point to consider." + +Mrs. Staunton looked at Effie. Effie looked back at her mother. + +It seemed to Effie at that moment as if she would have given anything +for her mother to say, "No, I cannot spare her." On the contrary, Mrs. +Staunton said in a calm voice: + +"I leave the choice entirely to Effie herself. If she thinks she can be +spared, she may go. The fact is, Effie, my love, your--your dear father +spoke to me on this subject the very night he was taken ill. He seemed +to wish it then; that is, if you cared for it yourself. If you are still +of the same way of thinking, I for one should not think it right to make +the slightest opposition." + +"But how are you to do without her?" asked George in some dismay. + +"Oh, I can manage--I am not the helpless old woman you seem to consider +me, George. I really feel better and stronger every day. The more I do +for you, the less of an invalid I seem to be. Effie has been quite +tiresome lately, trying to manage the money, and taking all care off my +hands, but I am quite capable of seeing to matters myself; and then +Agnes is growing a big girl, she can go out to buy what I shall order." + +Effie looked very pale. She sat perfectly still for a moment. Then she +stood up. + +"Very well, mother, I'll go," she said in a subdued voice. "When can you +be ready for me, Dorothy?" she continued. + +"In a week's time," said Dorothy. "There are certain preliminaries to be +gone through, but I will send you a paper of our rules. You must fill up +a form--in short, you must do exactly what you are instructed to do on +the paper. You will probably be admitted before this day week." + +Dorothy said a few more words, and then took her leave. Effie +accompanied her out on the landing. + +"I think you make a mistake in letting Effie go, mother," said George, +when he was alone with his mother. + +"Not at all, my son. The fact is, fond as I am of my dear Effie, she +takes almost too much control lately of our money affairs--I shall be +glad to get them into my own hands. There are very many comforts which I +could give you, darling, which are simply put out of my power by Effie's +determination to keep the family purse." + +George said nothing. He stooped to kiss his mother's cheek. + +He had not looked at matters from that point of view before. He allowed +his mother fifty pounds a year, which was half his present income, and +it suddenly occurred to him that he was making a very generous +allowance, and that he should have a full share of the benefit. + +"What I have been thinking is this," said Mrs. Staunton. "Out of the +fifty pounds a year which you, dear boy, give us, we ought to provide a +certain portion of your wardrobe. You really want new shirts. I +suggested to Effie a week ago that I should like her to buy some fine +lawn, as I wanted to make them for you, and she said at once that we +could not afford it. But never mind, dearest; when mother is put into +her own position again, you shall have the best shirts of any young man +in the City." + +Now, George was really satisfied with his present shirts, but if his +mother chose to make him better ones he did not care to oppose her. He +hoped that he would be asked out a little in the evenings during the +coming winter, and he wondered if his mother could possibly squeeze an +evening suit for him out of the allowance he gave her. He did not +express this thought, however, at the present moment, and as Effie +re-entered the room the two changed the conversation. + +George went out for a little, and Effie took up some needlework, sitting +where the lamp in the center of the table fell full upon her bright +brown hair. + +"I wonder, Effie," said Mrs. Staunton in a tone of almost discontent, +"that you did not speak to me before now on this subject. I cannot bear +to think that a child of mine does not give me her full confidence. You +know I am the last person in the world to keep you drudging and toiling +at home when you yourself long for a wider field of usefulness." + +"Yes, mother, I know that," said Effie in a grave voice "The fact is," +she continued, "I did not think it would be possible for you to spare +me; but if you can, and you think it right for me to go, I shall of +course be delighted, for I have long had my heart in this work." + +"You are like all other modern girls," said Mrs. Staunton in that +provokingly inconsistent way which characterized her; "you are not +satisfied in the home nest. Well, well, I have got my boy, and I must +not complain." + +"Oh, mother, dear mother, you have got us all." Effie rose from her +chair, went over and knelt by her mother's side. + +"I would give anything in the world," she said, looking full at Mrs. +Staunton, "for you to say that you are going to miss me awfully." + +The sight of her pretty face softened the mother's heart. + +"Of course I shall miss you, my darling," she said, "You always were the +best of girls; but I don't wish to stand in your way. I know you will be +happy where your heart is, and your father wished it. That, in my +opinion, settles the matter." + +"Well, I have a week," said Effie more cheerfully, standing up as she +spoke. "I must do all in my power to instruct Agnes. I must teach her +the little economies which I have been trying to practice." + +"No, you need not do that, Effie. When you go to the hospital I intend +to resume full control of the family purse." + +Effie hesitated, and looked anxiously at her mother as she said this. + +"I wish it, my love, so there's no use in discussing the matter," +continued Mrs. Staunton. "I know exactly what we have got to spend--L150 +a year. It is very little, indeed, but I rather fancy I am as good a +manager as my child. I have at least a wider experience to guide me. Out +of that income dear George provides a third. It seems to me, Effie, that +we should give him rather more comforts than he has had lately for this +generous allowance." + +"Oh, mother! George really wants for nothing." + +"I cannot agree with you. I should wish him to have beer at supper every +night." + +"I do not think it can be managed. There is not a penny to spare." + +"Well, my dear, we will see. It is also only just that a proportion of +his money should be devoted to providing him with suitable +underclothing." + +"Oh, mother, mother, have you thought of the thousand and one things +which are required for the children and yourself? Surely George can +manage to buy his own clothes out of the fifty pounds which he reserves +for his personal expenses." + +"That's so like a girl," exclaimed Mrs. Staunton, clasping her hands. +"She knows about as little of a young man's life as she does of his +Greek and Latin. Well, my love, we will propose no changes while you are +at home. You must go to the hospital with a light heart, taking your +mother's blessing with you." + +"A light heart, indeed!" thought poor Effie when she reached her room +that night. "A light heart, with mother spoiling George as hard as ever +she can! I wonder how the others are to fare when George is to be +treated like a prince in every way, and I wonder how that interest is to +be met. Oh, dear! oh, dear! but it shall be paid somehow. Well, I +suppose I am doing right. Mother would not have been content with this +state of things much longer, that's more than evident, and then my dear +father wished it. Yes, I'll take up my new life--I trust it will bring a +blessing with it--but oh, mother, how anxious you make me!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +In a week's time Effie found herself an inmate in the great hospital +which, for present purposes, we will call by the name of St. Joseph's. +It was situated in the east of London. Dorothy had been trained here, +and was now superintendent of one of the wards. + +Effie was to go up for a month's trial. At the end of that time she +would be paid at the rate of twelve pounds the first year, and twenty +pounds the second. Her training would take two years. A certain amount +of her uniform would be also provided, and everything found for her with +the exception of washing. + +She did not soon forget the evening of her arrival. She had said good-by +to her mother, had kissed the children, had given Agnes all final +directions, and at last found herself in the cab which was to take her +to St. Joseph's. It drew up presently outside one of the large entrance +doors. + +A lady, who was called the Home Sister, received Effie very kindly, and +offered her a friendly cup of tea. The hour of her arrival was about +four in the afternoon. She was then taken up to her own room, and +instructed how to put her cap on, and how to wear her new uniform in the +neatest and most compact way. Her dress was a pretty lilac check, and +she wore a cap with a frill round it, and long tails at the back. Her +apron bib was high to the collar in front, and fastened with straps +which crossed at the back. Nothing could be neater and more serviceable +than the dress. + +The kind Sister, having seen that Effie was all right, gave her a +friendly smile, and then led her along several dim passages, up and down +many stairs, until she finally found herself in a long, light ward, +where from thirty to forty women were lying in bed. The Home Sister +introduced Effie to the Sister of the ward, who went by the name of +Sister Kate. Sister Kate nodded to her, said a word or two in a very +busy voice, and then Effie found herself practically on the threshold +of her new life. The Sister who had been kind to her during tea, who had +shown her to her room, and instructed her how to dress, had vanished. +Sister Kate looked far too busy and anxious to be worried by questions; +and Effie, capable and active as she always was, found herself, for the +first time in her life, with nothing to do, and overcome by strange +nervousness. She was too much embarrassed to be of real use. Her face +was burning with blushes. Sister Kate was tired with her long day's +work. There was a great deal to be done to put the ward straight for the +night, and she really had no time to devote to the probationer. The +women lying in their beds seemed to have eyes and ears for no one but +Effie. Between sixty and seventy eyes turned on her wherever she moved, +whatever she looked at, whatever she did. Some of the eyes in the pale +and harassed faces looked kindly and interested, some of them merely +amused, some of them cross and discontented. Effie knew that these women +would be querulous and even rude under the touch of strange and +untutored hands. + +At last the night nurses arrived, the bell rang, and Sister Kate came +forward to show the new probationer the way to the dining hall. + +Here were several long tables, where the nurses, all dressed exactly +alike, sat down to supper. Effie took her place, and quickly discovered +that the others were far too tired and hungry to pay any attention to +her. She felt too excited to eat, and sat watching the faces of those +around her. + +Supper was immediately followed by prayers, and then came bed. Effie's +first evening as a probationer was over. + +She did not know whether to cry or to laugh as she laid her head on her +pillow. The reality was so different from anything her fancy had +painted. The practical character of the work, the absence of all +sentiment, the real illness, the real burden of humanity, seemed to +press down upon her. + +She had thought, a week ago, when Dorothy proposed that she should come +to St. Joseph's, of the delight of being in the same hospital with her +friend, but she now discovered that she was unlikely to see much of +Dorothy even though she lived under the same roof. Dorothy was Sister of +a ward, and that ward was not the one where Effie was to serve her +probationership. She had the comfort of a very small room to herself, +and was just closing her eyes in sleep, when the handle of the room door +was softly turned, and Dorothy, looking beautiful in her Sister's dress +of soft navy serge, came in. + +"So here you are, you poor little thing," said Dorothy, bending over +Effie and kissing her. "I have just come in for one minute to say God +bless you. You have come, the ice is broken. You have a fine career +before you. Don't be discouraged by what you saw to-night." + +"Oh, I am so lonely!" said Effie, with a quiver in her voice. "I was +sure when I came here that I should be in the ward with you, Dorothy." + +"No, my dear, that was not possible," replied Dorothy. "Of course I +should have been very glad if it could have been arranged, but I had no +voice in the matter. As it cannot be, dearest, try to believe that this +is just the best thing that could have happened to you, to be flung at +once, as it were, on your own feet. You will thus gain experience +without having a crutch like me to lean upon. I know the first night is +very bad, but you will soon learn your duties and become intensely +interested in the life. You are with Sister Kate, are you not?" + +"Yes," said Effie. "She scarcely spoke to me--I never felt so awkward in +my life, and I know that I was never half so clumsy." + +"Of course," said Dorothy, with a smile. "Don't I know the feeling well? +It all passes over, my love, and far more quickly than you have the +least idea of. Remember you have got the power--those little hands are +capable, that head holds a steady and sensible brain. Why, Effie, you +have gone through far worse times than this without flinching. Surely, +surely you are not going to break down now?" + +"Oh, I won't, I won't!" said Effie, with a sob; "but I felt lonely, very +lonely, and it was so very kind of you to come to see me." + +"Of course I have come to see you--I am only too delighted to do +anything in my power for you. I would have rushed down to share your cup +of tea on your arrival, but a bad case was just being brought into the +ward, and I could not leave. Now, I must go to bed myself, or I shan't +be fit for work to-morrow. Good-night, Effie. I have arranged that you +are to spend every second Sunday at home." + +"Oh, how good you are--how thankful I am!" exclaimed Effie. + +Dorothy was leaving the room, when she turned back. + +"I forgot to tell you that you are very lucky to be under Sister Kate," +she said. "There is not a nurse in the whole hospital who trains as she +does, and her probationers always get the best certificates at the end +of the two years of training." + +"She looks so severe and hard," said Effie. + +"She is a little severe, and some people may call her hard, but she has +a tender heart under all that strict, somewhat cold manner, and then +she is so just. My dear, when you know more of hospital life you will be +thankful that you are with a just and patient Sister. Sister Kate is +both. She will soon recognize you, Effie, for what you are. Now +good-night, my love." + +Dorothy went away, and soon afterward Effie fell asleep. + +The next morning she was awakened by a bell, at what seemed to her +something like the middle of the night. She had to dress herself +quickly, and then go into the ward and begin her duties. + +She found, somewhat to her surprise, that she had to begin her nurse's +life as a sort of maid-of-all-work; she had to scrub floors, to clean +grates, to polish handles--it seemed to her that she never had a moment +to herself from morning till night. Her feet felt very sore, her back +ached. Once or twice she felt so dreadfully fagged that she wondered if +she could keep up. But through it all, growing greater and greater as +the days went on, there came a sense of full satisfaction, of something +accomplished, something done, of the feeling that she was being trained +thoroughly and efficiently, so that at the end of her time of probation +she might be able to say, "There's one thing which I can do _well_." + +When the first Sunday came she was glad to hurry home. She went back +brimful of news, and looked forward to the quiet time in her mother's +little parlor with great delight. + +Mrs. Staunton was glad to see her. The children were all dressed in +their black frocks, and looked neat and comfortable. George was in the +room. It seemed to Effie as if she did not recognize his coat--she +wondered if it could possibly be a new one. + +She arrived at home a little before the midday dinner, and presently the +landlady came in to lay the cloth. This used to be Agnes' occupation. +Effie did not say anything while the woman was in the room, but when she +went out she remarked on this change. + +"Oh, it's all right," said Mrs. Staunton. "I pay half a crown a week +extra, and the landlady now waits on us. It is much more comfortable, I +assure you, Effie, and worth the extra bit of money." + +Effie colored; she gave Agnes a reproachful glance, but did not say +anything. + +Agnes turned her back with a little sniff. + +"Why, Effie," she said suddenly, "How coarse your hands have got! What +in the world have you been doing?" + +Effie laughed. + +"Polishing, cleaning, and scrubbing," she said. "In short, doing very +much what Mrs. Robinson's little maid of all-work does down in the +kitchen here." + +"Oh, dear, dear!" exclaimed Agnes; "if those are a nurse's duties, you +won't catch me going in for that sort of profession." + +"It's awfully interesting," said Effie. "I have, of course to begin at +the bottom, but I like it very much." + +While she was speaking, there came a knock at the door. George went to +open it, and a young man came in. George brought him up to introduce him +to his mother. + +"This is my great friend, Fred Lawson, mother," he said. "Effie, let me +introduce you to Lawson--Lawson, this is my sister Effie." + +Effie bowed. She felt the color rushing all over her face. Lawson was +the man whom George had wronged in some mysterious way. Lawson was the +man for whom that dreadful L250 was required. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +They all sat down to dinner, which Effie further noticed was a great +deal more luxurious than when she held the purse strings. There was a +nice little joint of roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, and one or two +vegetables. This course was followed by an apple tart and custard; and +then the board was graced with some russet apples and walnuts and a +bottle of port wine. + +Effie felt such a sense of consternation that she could scarcely eat +this pleasant food. But Mrs. Staunton, George, Lawson, and the younger +children enjoyed the dinner thoroughly. When the beef was taken away, +there was very little left on the joint; and as to the fruit tart, it +vanished almost as soon as it was cut. Effie could not help wondering to +herself how L150 a year could meet this lavish style of living. + +Lawson talked very pleasantly during dinner. After glancing toward Effie +several times, he suddenly remarked: + +"I cannot help feeling that I know your face," said he. "Where and when +have we met before?" + +"I saw you last night," said Effie, with a smile. + +"You saw me last night! What in the world do you mean?" + +"Yes," said Effie. "Don't you remember No. 17, in B Ward? You came in to +stop that terrible hemorrhage from the lungs from which she was +suffering." + +"B Ward at St. Joseph's?" exclaimed Lawson. + +"Oh, my dear Effie, now I beg of you not to allude to horrible things at +dinner," exclaimed Mrs. Staunton. + +"No, mother; I am sorry I mentioned it." Effie colored up. + +"What have you to do with St. Joseph's?" said Lawson. + +"I am a probationer in B Ward, under Sister Kate." + +"Never! how extraordinary! Now I remember, you are the girl who held the +basin. So you really are a probationer! A fresh one! Have you been there +long?" + +"Just a week." + +"Well, let me congratulate you on one thing, you held that basin without +shaking it; I expect you have got plenty of nerve. Of course, I knew I +must have seen you before; I never forget a face." + +Lawson presently went out with George for a walk. Agnes dressed the +children and took them with her to the Sunday school, and Effie was +alone with her mother. + +"Come and sit by me, darling," said Mrs. Staunton. "It is so very nice +to have you home again; I miss you very much, my dear daughter. But I am +really getting better. George wants me to consult Dr. Davidson at St. +Joseph's Hospital. He thinks that your dear father may have been +mistaken about my heart, and that it may get quite strong and well +again." + +"If you feel better, I don't think I would consult anyone," said Effie, +trembling a little. + +"Well, dear, well, there's no hurry about it. But I always notice, +Effie, and it distresses me not a little that any suggestion of +George's you are likely to pooh-pooh; now, surely that is scarcely fair +to him, dear fellow? You must notice, my love, how cheerful and pleasant +we have made this room. George insisted on my getting new curtains--only +white muslin, you careful child. They cost really very little, but they +do make such a difference in the effect. Then he has also determined +that I shall live better, plenty of meat and a little port wine. It is a +most _false_ economy, my dear, not to attend to one's diet. There's +nothing else keeps up the health." + +"Yes, mother, I know all that; but good, expensive, nourishing things +have to be paid for." + +"Now, Effie, don't let me hear you begin that dismal plaint. Do you +really mean to insinuate that I, your mother, would go into debt for +things?" + +"Oh, no, dear mother! how could I think that?" + +"You imply it, my love, by your manner." + +Effie sighed. + +It was hopeless to argue or remonstrate. She felt as if the little home, +so different from the beloved one in Whittington, was in reality +constructed over a volcano--any day it might collapse. The weight of +sorrow which pressed against her heart as she thought of this, of her +father, of the old life, quite crushed the brave spirit for the moment. +Where was George's honor? How dared he lead his mother into these +extravagances, when he knew, too, when he knew---- + +Effie clasped her hands tightly together. She restrained her emotions +with an effort, and turned the conversation to indifferent matters. + +Mrs. Staunton was certainly in better spirits. There was a little color +in her cheeks, and some of the old sweet brightness in her eves. + +When George had been absent about an hour, she grew restless and +_distraite_; she left her seat by Effie's side, and, going to the +window, looked up and down the street. + +"I hope the rain isn't coming on," she said; "he forgot to take an +overcoat." + +"Who, mother?" + +"George." + +"But really, mother dear, he isn't sugar; he won't melt." + +"There you are again, Effie, making little of your brother. It so +happens that he has a nice new coat on to-day, and I don't want it to +get shabby at once." + +"A new coat! How did he buy it?" + +"I lent him a little money for the purpose; he didn't go into debt, so +you need not think it." + +"I wonder you were able to spare the money." + +"Oh, yes; some of my dividends fell due, and were paid on Monday. I lent +George three pounds; I think he has got a wonderful coat for the money. +He will pay me back as soon as he gets his own salary. Ah! and there he +is, dear fellow, and that nice-looking young man, Mr. Lawson. Effie, now +do ring the bell; Mrs. Robinson ought to have tea on the table." + +With a great effort Effie kept from making remarks which she knew would +only irritate her mother. + +She said to herself, "There's no help for things to-day. The person to +talk to is George; he ought not to allow mother to rush through her +money in this way. I wonder if I am doing wrong in giving up my +home-life to the hospital; but no, I don't think I am. Mother would have +insisted on managing the money in any case." + +Mrs. Robinson appeared with the tea-tray. There was a little jug of +cream and a shilling Madeira cake; there was also a great plate of +thick bread and butter for the children. The tea-tray was placed on the +table, and George and Lawson took their tea standing. Effie helped them. +Lawson looked at her once or twice, and thought what a wonderfully nice +face she had, how true her eyes were, how good she seemed altogether. + +"She's altogether of different metal from her brother," thought the +young man. "I wish with all my heart he were like her; but although +there is something lovable about him, and we are chums, of course, yet I +never feel quite sure of myself when in his company." + +The meal which followed was quite merry. Phil and Marjory had gone up to +the top of their class in Sunday school; Agnes was promoted to teach a +class of very little children; Katie was going in for the Junior +Cambridge Examination, and eagerly consulted Effie about some books +which she was obliged to procure. Effie promised to give her the money +out of her first month's salary. + +"But that will be some time off," she said, "for I am only going through +my month's trial now, so you must be patient, Katie." + +"I'll lend you the money," said George, stroking his sister's hair. + +He looked so affectionate and handsome, and so manly and good-humored, +that it was impossible not to feel pleased with him. Mrs. Staunton's +eyes quite beamed as she glanced at her eldest son. + +"Now, mother, I am going to sit near you," he said. He drew his chair +close to his mother, and began to talk to her in a low tone. + +Effie and Lawson exchanged a few words over hospital work. He would make +an enthusiastic doctor some day! he loved the profession and thought it +the noblest in the world. He reminded Effie a little of her father. + +The quick hours flew all too fast. Effie's time was up. She went back to +the hospital with a curious sense of uneasiness, but equally also of +rest and refreshment. It was nice to think that George had such a good +friend as Fred Lawson. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +Two months passed away without any special incident. Effie's month of +trial being over, she was now established at St. Joseph's as a regular +probationer. Her salary of twelve pounds a year began from the day her +second month commenced. All those qualities which Dorothy was quite sure +that Effie possessed were coming abundantly to the fore. She had tact, +she had courage, she had nerve. She was also absolutely unselfish. Self +was not in the foreground with her; the work which she had to do, the +work which she meant to carry through in the best possible manner, in +the bravest spirit, with the most conscientious sense of duty, ever +filled her mental horizon. Sister Kate began to trust Effie. She began +to smile at her now and then, and to give her not quite so much +floor-scrubbing and grate-polishing, and a little more work to do for +the patients themselves. + +The patients liked to call Effie to smooth their sheets, to turn their +pillows, to give them their drinks. One or two of them, when they had an +odd moment, began to make little confidences to her. She learned their +histories almost at a glance. She also studied their fancies; she began +to find out the exact way Mrs. Robinson liked her gruel flavored, and +how Mrs. Guiers liked her pillows arranged. Effie made no fuss over the +patients,--fuss and favoritism were strongly against the rules,--but +notwithstanding, she was a favorite herself. + +More than one pair of tired eyes looked at her with longing and +refreshment as she passed, and more than one pair of wearied lips smiled +when she came near. + +Two months went by in this fashion--very, very quickly, as such busy +months must. It was found impossible to allow Effie to go home every +Sunday, but she went, as a rule, every second one. + +Things seemed to be going fairly straight at home. The extravagance she +had noticed on her first Sunday was not repeated to the same extent. +Mrs. Staunton seemed decidedly better, and Effie gave herself up with a +thankful heart to her work. + +It was now the middle of winter, close upon Christmas-time. The weather +outside was bitterly cold, although, in the ward, Effie scarcely felt +this. She wore her neat lilac print dress just the same in winter as in +summer. + +One day, about a week before Christmas, when a thick yellow fog was +shutting out all the view from the high ward windows, Effie was doing +something for No. 47, a poor, tired-looking woman of the name of Martin, +when Lawson, the young medical student, came suddenly into the ward. He +had been sent by the house physician to take notes on a certain case. +This case happened to be the very one which Effie was attending. When he +saw Effie a peculiar expression passed over his face. It was against the +strictest of all rules for the medical students ever to address a word +to the probationers; even the necessary duties required of them had to +be conveyed through a Sister or a ward nurse. Effie was helping poor No. +47 to drink a little milk and soda water. As she put the glass back in +its place, Lawson came close to her. He said abruptly: + +"I am very anxious to have a conversation with you about George." + +She colored crimson when he addressed her. + +"Yes," she said. + +"Nurse!" exclaimed Sister Kate's voice at that moment, in a harsh, sharp +tone, "go at once and make up the fire at the other end of the room." + +Effie went off, trembling and disturbed. + +The fact of Lawson having specially addressed her passed out of her mind +immediately, but the mention of George's name filled her with fear. + +It was the first time in her hospital life that she absolutely forgot +the rules laid down for her conduct. Sister Kate, who had the eyes of a +hawk, noticed when Lawson bent over to speak to the pretty little +probationer. It was her duty to correct the faintest attempt at flirting +on the part of the probationers and medical students. She felt shocked +at Effie, who was fast becoming a favorite of hers, permitting such a +thing for a moment, and, when next Effie had anything to do for her, +quite resumed her icy manner toward her. + +No. 47 required some special attention again that evening--she was +feverish, and not going on well. She called Effie to her side in an +eager voice. + +"You might turn my pillow again for me, dear," she said. "You know how +to hitch it right under the small of my back, better than any of those +other nurses. There now, that's better. Stoop your head a bit, love. I +believe if you go downstairs into the hall near the surgery, you are +safe to see that young doctor; he is sure to be in the dispensary about +this time, and you might catch him when he is going out." + +"Hush!" said Effie. "I know you mean kindly, but you ought not to talk +like that." + +"Oh, my love, I know, I know," said the woman, with a wink. "We was all +young once--I am three-and-forty, and have never had a mate. I missed my +chance when I was young. Don't you miss yours, nurse." + +Effie turned pale with indignation; but then, seeing that the woman +meant kindly, she tried to smile. + +"I am very much obliged to you," she said, "but things aren't a bit the +way you think." She then went off to perform her other duties. + +Sister Kate spoke to her sharply. + +"Nurse," she said, "I hope you remember the rule which forbids +favoritism--I noticed that you stayed longer than was necessary with No. +47." + +"She complained a good deal of her back, Sister, and I was arranging her +pillows for her." + +"Don't try to deceive me," said Sister Kate. "You know perfectly well +that you did not spend all that time arranging a pillow. Now, go and +help to bring up the teas." + +Effie turned to her duties with a tingling sensation in her eyes. + +It was the first time since her arrival at St. Joseph's that her work +seemed almost impossible to her. Her heart quite ached with longing to +know what Lawson had meant. What had he to tell her about George? As she +thought, her fears grew greater and her memory of the hospital rules +less and less. + +She determined at any risk to try and see Lawson that evening. It would +be impossible for her to venture down into the central hall of the +hospital, but she knew for certain that he would come into the ward +again late that evening. + +Sister Kate would be off duty at nine o'clock, and Sister Alice, the +night superintendent, was not nearly so strict. Effie hovered about near +the door; she knew she was disobeying rules, for she ought to have gone +to bed soon after nine o'clock. No one noticed her, however. The night +nurses were all busy taking up their different duties, and Sister Alice +was talking to the house physician at the farther end of the ward. + +Suddenly Effie, standing near one of the doors, saw Lawson coming +upstairs; she ran to him without a moment's hesitation. "What have you +to tell me about George?" she said. + +He colored, and looked almost annoyed when she spoke to him. + +"I cannot tell you here," he said in a hasty voice. "Are you going home +next Sunday?" + +"No; it's my Sunday in--unless I could get one of the other probationers +to change with me." + +"I wish you would manage to do that; I really want to see you very +badly. If you'll go home on Sunday, I'll call in the course of the +afternoon, and then I can walk back with you to the hospital. Now, go at +once--you must not be seen talking to me." + +Effie flew down the corridor to her own little room. + +That night she could scarcely sleep; she felt oppressed with all kinds +of forebodings. The idea of her having broken one of the rules, and, in +fact, laid herself open to dismissal, never once entered into her head. + +She was still the faithful nurse--the earnest-minded, gentle, good girl, +who would give up her whole life to the alleviation of the sufferings of +others. The fact of Effie having a dual life, of having a nature which +could not forget the old home ties, was not likely, however, to be +recognized in the hospital. + +The next morning at breakfast she noticed that one or two of the +probationers giggled a little when they saw her. She sat down in her +usual seat, and one of the girls nudged her elbow. + +"Well," she said, "you're no better than the rest of us." + +"What in the world do you mean?" said Effie, coloring scarlet. + +"Oh, don't be so sly!" said the girl, with a poke which she intended to +make playful. "He is a very good-looking young fellow, too; only, if you +don't want to get into mischief, don't let Sister Kate see it." + +"I know what you mean," said Effie in a steady voice; "but you are +altogether mistaken. I scarcely know Mr. Lawson; he only spoke to me +yesterday because he happened to be a great friend of my brother's." + +"Oh, the usual thing," laughed the girl. "It's so very convenient to +have brothers; is it not, Lucy?" + +The girl addressed as Lucy grinned, and Effie felt very uncomfortable. + +At dinner that day, it suddenly passed through her mind that she must, +by hook or by crook, induce one of the probationers to change Sundays +with her. Lucy was usually a good-natured girl. Her people did not live +in town; as a rule she spent her Sundays out with her aunt-in-law. +Effie went up to her when she had a moment to spare. + +"Lucy," she said, "I wish you would do something for me." + +"To be sure I will, Effie," she replied--"anything in my power." + +"I want to go home very badly next Sunday; do you think it would be +possible for me to change with you?" + +"Heigh-ho!" said Lucy, "You want to meet Mr. Lawson; I know your sly +little ways." + +"No, indeed, it is not true," began Effie; but then she stopped, for she +knew it was true. She would meet him. "Oh, how little Lucy knows the +burden that is pressing on me!" thought the poor girl. + +Tears suddenly rose to her pretty brown eyes. + +"I cannot explain things to you," she said; "I would if I could. You +must believe in me and trust me. I have a great deal of anxiety. Oh, it +has nothing to do with the hospital; it is about my home life. There is +a great burden laid upon me. I want very much to go home on Sunday. +Indeed, Mr. Lawson has little to do with the real burden, only I believe +he can tell me something." + +"I know you are a good girl," began Lucy, who became grave on the spot. +"Of course you shall take my turn if Sister Kate will allow it." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +Sister Kate made no objection, and Effie hurried home in a state of +excitement which she could scarcely restrain. Mrs. Staunton did not +expect her, and the poor girl felt her heart sink low in her breast when +she saw that her unexpected arrival scarcely gave satisfaction. There +was a nice white cloth on the table, and a large bunch of flowers in a +pretty cut-glass jug stood in the center. An attempt at dessert again +graced the board, and Effie noticed that a bottle of sherry and a bottle +of port stood on the little sideboard. + +She felt a sense of dismay. + +"Even mother is beginning to keep things from me," she said to herself. +"It is all George, of course! They did not expect me home to-day, so +they are having a particularly good dinner. Is it possible that even +mother would try to deceive me? Oh, dear, dear! how changed all our life +is, now that father is no longer here!" + +There had never been the faintest shadow of concealment about the honest +doctor, and while with her husband Mrs. Staunton was the most +straightforward woman imaginable; but, alas! her character was a weak +one--she was now completely under George's influence, and George had +learned to walk in those crooked paths which those who begin to do wrong +are always tempted to follow. + +He came in presently, looking particularly handsome and manly. He had on +a nice new coat; and his beautifully got-up collar showed off his fresh +young face to the best possible advantage. + +Mrs. Staunton called him up at once for Effie to criticise. + +"Doesn't he look well in a white silk tie?" she said. "I like white ties +better than colored ones for him, and they are not so expensive either, +for I can wash them myself." + +"I wonder all that washing does not fag you, mother," said Effie. + +Before Mrs. Staunton could reply, Mrs. Robinson appeared with the +dinner, and the family sat down to an excellent meal. + +Effie saw quite plainly that it would be useless for her to attempt to +expostulate. Mrs. Staunton, after her first start of unconcealed dismay, +was very affectionate to her daughter. She told Effie that she thought +she looked a little pale, and wondered whether all that nursing was not +too much for her. + +"No, mother, I love the work," said Effie. + +"But that is not the question, my love," said Mrs. Staunton, shaking her +head. "The question is this: is it undermining your health?" + +"Well, in any case I should have to earn my living," said Effie. "I +could not possibly afford to do nothing at home. As well earn it as a +nurse as in any other way, and I love nursing beyond anything else in +the world." + +"You always were an obstinate dear little girl, was she not, George? +But, after all, Effie----" Here Mrs. Staunton paused and looked at her +son. "I think I might tell Effie?" she said, giving him a bright nod. + +"Oh, I don't suppose there is anything to make a fuss over," replied +George. He colored as he spoke, and looked out of the window. He could +easily hoodwink his mother, but it was difficult to meet Effie's clear +eyes and not to feel sure that she was reading him through, and seeing +him as he really was. + +Agnes jumped up, saying it was full time to go to Sunday school; she +carried off the children with her, and George, his mother, and Effie +were alone. + +"Sit down in your usual chair, George," said his mother. He did so, +bringing up the port wine as he spoke, and pouring out a glass, which he +insisted on his mother drinking. He tossed off one or two glasses +himself, after which his eyes grew bright and steady, and a color came +into his cheeks. + +"Yes, tell Effie," he said. + +"I think you might do so, George; I am so proud of you." + +"No, mother. I like to hear you describing me; you make me feel such an +awfully fine fellow." + +George laughed as he spoke. + +"Well, then, Effie," said his mother, "you will in future learn to +appreciate our dear George as he deserves. The fact is this: he has just +got a rise in his salary of a whole hundred a year. George is now +earning two hundred a year; and he has arranged, dear fellow, to give me +one hundred a year, in order that I may have those little comforts which +he thinks I require." + +"Is that really true?" said Effie, coloring. "Oh, what splendid news!" +She looked eagerly at George as she spoke. She longed to jump up, throw +her arms round his neck, and kiss him. + +"Is this true?" she repeated. "Oh, I am so glad! We do want the money so +badly." + +George stooped to flick off a speck of dust which had settled on his +immaculate shirt-cuff; his eyes would not meet Effie's. + +"Of course it is true," he said in a bravado sort of voice. "You don't +suppose I would tell mother a lie, do you?" + +"Oh, Effie! how could you doubt him?" said Mrs. Staunton, almost crying. + +"No, mother, I don't doubt him," Effie replied. She walked to the +window. Her momentary pleasure was over; she knew, just as well as if +George had told her, that the whole thing was a fabrication. If he had +more money, he was not getting it in his situation. His look, his +attitude, joined to the few words Lawson had said to her, made Effie +quite certain on that point. Burning words half rose to her lips, but +she checked them. She did not doubt George. She read the truth in his +eyes; what fell from his lips was nothing. + +Mrs. Staunton kept on talking. "We shall have real comforts at home +now," she said. "I am, as my boy says, a wonderful manager." + +"The best in all the world," interrupted George; "there never was such a +mother." + +Mrs. Staunton's eyes quite shone with pleasure. + +"What I was thinking was this, Effie," she continued, "that if you +really are not strong enough to go on with your work, we can now afford +to keep you at home." + +"Of course we can," said George. + +He had scarcely said these words, half turning his back on Effie as he +spoke, when the room door was opened by Mrs. Robinson, and Lawson was +announced. + +When he saw his friend, George suddenly turned pale. He recovered +himself in a moment, however, and went forward to meet him, speaking in +a loud and bragging voice. + +"Is that you, Lawson? Welcome, old chap. We did not expect you to-day, +but we are right glad to see you, of course." + +"You will stay and have tea with us, won't you, Mr. Lawson?" said Mrs. +Staunton in her sweet voice. + +"Yes, certainly," said Lawson. + +He had given Effie his hand when he came into the room, but he scarcely +looked at her. + +He sat down near Mrs. Staunton, and began to talk to her in his usual +bright way. She yielded after a moment to his charm. Lawson was a young +fellow with a great amount of general information; he had also abundance +of tact, and he knew how to suit his words to Mrs. Staunton's +requirements. + +When George saw his friend talking to his mother, he went up to Effie +and stood near her. + +"Come to this end of the room," he said abruptly. + +Effie followed him. + +"I am likely to make quite a pile of money," he said, speaking in a low +voice and glancing toward his mother. "I know you think badly of +me,--it's awfully hard on a fellow when his sister thinks badly of +him,--but, nevertheless, I am likely to be in a real good way of +business soon. And what I want to say now is this, Effie. I am anxious +to pay back that L250 which you borrowed for me." + +"I wish you would," said Effie. + +"Well, I dare say I can give you fifty pounds toward it this week. +Squire Harvey won't require the whole of the money back at once." + +"Oh, he doesn't require it at all," said Effie. "It is I who require it. +It is my honor and the honor of my dead father that demands it. It ought +to be paid back, and you ought to do it." + +"Don't speak so loudly--you do get so excited about things," said +George. + +Effie lowered her voice. Lawson, as he talked to Mrs. Staunton, glanced +sharply at her. + +Tea was brought in, and Effie had to take her place at the tea-tray. +George's words had made her feel more uncomfortable than ever. It was +absolute nonsense to suppose that he could be earning money at this +rate. + +After tea, Effie had to go back to the hospital. + +"Good-by mother," she said. "I won't see you now for a fortnight." + +Mrs. Staunton got up and put her feeble old arms round her daughter's +neck. "Good-by, my darling," she said. "Take care of yourself; don't +overwork yourself. Remember it is unnecessary. You have got a home, and +a dear, noble, faithful brother to provide for you." + +"Yes, Effie, you are heartily welcome to all that I can give you," said +George in a lofty tone. + +Effie pressed her lips to her mother's, kept her arms for one moment +round her neck, and then turned away with tears in her eyes. + +"Good-by, George," she said, holding out her hand. + +"I'll see you back to the hospital," said George. + +"Don't do that. It is a beautiful evening; mother would like you to take +a walk with her." + +"And I'd have the greatest pleasure in seeing Miss Effie home, if she +would let me," said Lawson. + +George hesitated for a moment. For some reason, which was more than +evident, he did not want Effie to be alone with his friend. + +He looked at his mother. She did not catch his eye, or she would have +read his wish by instinct. The evening was really very fine, and she +liked to walk round the square leaning on George's arm. When well +enough, too, she liked him to take her to church. + +"I think I'd enjoy a little walk with you, George," she said. "The +evening is quite like spring--Wonderful weather for so near Christmas; +the air is as mild and soft as milk; and as Mr. Lawson has so kindly +promised to see Effie back, perhaps you'd come?" + +"All right," said George. "By-by, Effie; you'll hear from me, perhaps, +in the course of the week." + +Effie went downstairs, followed by Lawson. As soon as ever they got out, +he looked her full in the face. + +"You must be greatly amazed," he said, "at my presuming to bother you +about your family affairs." + +"Oh, no!" she replied. "I think you are kind, but your words have made +me very anxious." + +"Then," said Lawson, "you see for yourself that things are not all +right." + +"I have known that for some time." + +"George is a great friend of mine," continued Lawson. "We saw a good +deal of each other when he first came to town--he was a right jolly sort +of fellow then; it was only about six months ago that, all of a sudden, +he seemed to change. I suppose he took up with some bad companions, but +I really can't say for certain." + +"But what about him now?" said Effie, in a voice almost irritable with +anxiety. "Have you anything fresh to tell me?" + +"You heard him, probably, say to your mother that he had a rise of +salary?" + +"Yes." + +"The fact is," continued Lawson, "I know that not to be true." + +Effie also in her heart of hearts knew it not to be true, but she could +not bear to hear a stranger abuse her brother. + +"How can you be sure?" she said, somewhat inconsistently. + +"How can I be sure?" he retorted. "This is not a matter of sentiment, I +happen to know. George is working with a relative, it is true, but Mr. +Gering is one of the hardest men in the City. Everyone who understands +him knows the system on which he works, and a relative has no more +chance with him than another. George will have to take his rise step by +step at something like the rate of ten pounds a year. Perhaps he has +told your mother that he has had quite a large rise." + +"He said a hundred a year; he said he was now receiving two hundred a +year." + +"What is to be done?" said Lawson, "Something ought to be done to stop +it. Your mother will certainly live beyond her means, and then you will +all get into no end of a mess. Do forgive me for taking an interest; the +fact is, George was a great friend of mine once." + +"Oh, please don't give him up!" said Effie. "If good men turn against +him, what chance has he, poor fellow?" + +"I won't, if you wish me to look after him," said Lawson, giving her a +quick glance. + +At this moment two nurses from St. Joseph's Hospital, who were crossing +the street, saw Effie. They noticed her earnest face, the sparkle in her +eyes; they also observed the glance which the handsome young medical +student gave her. The women nudged one another, smiled, and went on. + +Effie never saw them. + +"Let us walk a little faster," said Lawson, who was not so unobservant. +He felt vexed that the women should see him with Effie, but now that he +was with her he must at least unburden his mind. + +"George told me," said Effie,--"perhaps it is not wrong to repeat it to +you,--that he is likely to make a great deal of money." + +"Did he? Did he tell you that--did he happen to say how much?" + +"Well, he spoke as if money were very easily earned," said Effie. "He +said something about getting fifty pounds this week." + +"I must tell you the truth," said Lawson. "There's no help for it. Your +brother will go straight to the bad if he is not rescued, and that at +once." + +"What do you mean? Oh, how you frighten me!" + +Effie's face was as white as a sheet. + +"I am ever so sorry," said Lawson; "but what is the use of keeping back +the truth? George has had no rise of salary--indeed, if he is not +careful, he is mother has gone far beyond our means. She hasn't +[Transcriber's note: text of this paragraph in original is as shown and +ends abruptly at this point.] + +"Then how does he get his money?" + +"He gets it by gambling." + +"Gambling! Oh, no! oh, no!" said Effie. + +She had the horror of that vice which a pure-minded, well-brought-up +girl must ever have. + +"It is true," said Lawson; "it gives me the greatest pain to tell you +anything so bad of your brother, but there's no help for it." + +"But how do you know?" interrupted Effie. + +"I know by the best of evidence. I have had my suspicions for some time, +but I happened to see him coming out of one of those places last +week--yes, I must tell you, I saw him coming out of a gambling den. I +think he goes night after night. At present he is winning more than he +loses, but that is always the game for drawing fellows on." + +"It must be stopped," said Effie. She felt quite faint and sick. If her +mother knew this it would kill her on the spot. + +They had nearly reached the hospital, and Effie turned and faced +Lawson. + +"You don't half know what this means to me," she said. "George is not +exactly like an ordinary brother. When my father died quite suddenly of +diphtheria some months ago, he left my mother in George's care. If +George goes to the bad now, she will certainly die; you must have +noticed for yourself how she is wrapped up in him." + +"Yes; no one could fail to notice it. I think her love for him +beautiful; and he loves her, too. Poor fellow! that is his great +redeeming point." + +"Oh, I don't call it real love," said Effie, almost with passion--"to +deceive her as he does--to do wrong, and that sort of wrong. Oh, I think +my heart will break!" + +Tears choked her voice, she had the greatest possible difficulty in +keeping them back. Lawson took out his watch. + +"You are not late," he said. "Let us take a turn round this square." + +They had entered an old-fashioned square where there were very few +people. They walked round and round the dismal central garden for some +time. Lawson talked, and Effie listened. After a time they decided that +George's perilous downward career must be stopped at any cost. Lawson +said he would make it his business to see George the following evening, +to tell him quite frankly what he knew, and, in short, to compel him, if +necessary, to do what was right. + +"He'll be obstinate," said Effie--"I know he'll be hard to deal with. +Oh, what shall we do?--what shall we do? I am quite certain that already +my mother has gone far beyond our means. She hasn't been half careful +enough since I left her. If George stops getting money in this way +she'll wonder and question. I doubt very much whether you can have the +least influence over him. What is to be done?" + +"Don't be so down-hearted," said Lawson. "He requires a man to tackle +him--a man who really knows the temptations young fellows meet. If +you'll allow me to say so, Miss Staunton, I don't think the case quite +hopeless; anyhow, you may be quite sure I'll do my best for him." + +"Thank you," said poor Effie; "you are more than good, and I do trust +you." She hurried back to the hospital; but, to her dismay, when she got +there, found that she was a quarter of an hour late. + +Absolute punctuality in returning from any outdoor pleasure is expected +from all nurses. She hurried upstairs, hoping that she might gain her +room, put on her cap and apron, and return to the ward before Sister +Kate had time to miss her. This might have been the case--for Sister +Kate had been very much occupied with some anxious cases during the +afternoon--had not one of the nurses, who had a spite against Effie for +being prettier and cleverer than herself, drawn Sister Kate's attention, +to the fact that the young probationer was behind her time. This nurse +had seen Effie walking with Lawson. Immediately her spirit of jealousy +and envy was up in arms; she did not for a moment consider what injury +she might do the poor girl by her false and unkind words. + +"Nurse Staunton is late," she said. "I don't know how I am possibly to +get the ward in order for the night unless I have some help." + +"I must speak to her," said Sister Kate, glancing at the clock, and +looking a little annoyed. "This wasn't her Sunday to go out, either. I +cannot let the rules be broken in this way. Let me know as soon as ever +she comes in." + +"I suppose there's some excuse to be made for her," said the nurse, +speaking in a knowing way. "She's a very careful, good sort of girl, but +there _are_ times when the best of us forget ourselves." + +The woman knew that Sister Kate would interpret her words as she wished +her to do. She went off in a hurry to perform her duties, and when Effie +entered the ward, Sister Kate received her with marked coldness. + +"You are very late, nurse," she said. "Where have you been?" + +"I have been at home with my mother." + +"Was your mother ill? Is that your excuse for being behind your time?" + +"No; mother was well--better than she has been for some time." + +"Then why are you late?" + +"The fact is, I was walking with a friend, and forgot to notice the +hour." + +"That's no excuse. You have certainly behaved very carelessly, and have +put the other nurses out by not being in time to take your duties. Who +was the friend with whom you were walking?" + +Sister Kate had no right to ask this question, but she felt much +provoked at the moment, and the color which rushed all over Effie's face +excited her curiosity. + +"Perhaps you'll think I did wrong," said Effie, looking up at her almost +defiantly. "The friend was Mr. Lawson. He knows my brother very well; he +was talking to me about him. I cannot refuse to speak to him when I see +him out of doors, can I?" + +"Don't be pert, nurse! You know it is one of the strictest rules of the +hospital that none of the nurses are to speak to the medical students." + +"I know; and I don't wish to speak to him in the hospital." + +"See you don't, or you'll be dismissed at once; in fact, the less you +know of any of the medical students, the better for you. I am very sorry +that this young man knows your brother. I should not have had anything +to do with you, had I been aware of this fact." + +"How absurd and unjust!" murmured Effie under her breath. She turned +away--she felt absolutely cross. + +Sister Kate called her back. + +"Now, bustle about," she said. "The supper-trays want to be taken away; +the women are perfectly tired of waiting to be settled for the night." + +Effie moved mechanically about her duties. Her heart felt sick. She did +not think she could remain much longer under Sister Kate's care. "If she +treats me like this," thought the proud girl, "I cannot endure it. Mr. +Lawson is nothing to me--he is only my brother's friend. He is good, and +wants to help us in an hour of great perplexity. What shall I do? I feel +tied and fettered in every way." + +She laid her head on her pillow only to burst into tears. She cried +herself to sleep. All the world seemed black to her. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +Effie saw very little of Dorothy Fraser, but on the following day, to +her great surprise and pleasure, as she was leaving the dining-hall, +Dorothy came up and spoke to her. + +"You have a minute to spare," she said; "just come out on this balcony +and talk to me." + +Effie obeyed her. + +"What do you want with me, Dorothy?" she asked. + +"I wish to know why you look so pale and worried--you seem to have +displeased Sister Kate, too." + +Effie very nearly burst into tears, but she restrained herself. + +"I'll tell you what it is," she said. "It is the most unjust thing!" + +She then mentioned in as few words as possible the circumstance of +Lawson having spoken to her--of her great anxiety about George--and of +her having walked back with the young medical student from her home on +the previous evening. + +Dorothy looked very grave while Effie was speaking. + +"It is unfortunate," she said. "This is just the sort of thing that +injures a girl at the commencement of her hospital life." + +"But it is so ridiculous and unjust," said Effie. "What in the world can +Mr. Lawson be to me?" + +"Oh, nothing, of course, my dear," replied Dorothy. "But still the rules +cannot be too strict on this point. You know I am not a prude, but all +girls are not like you, Effie; and, in short, Sister Kate is in the +right. Someone must have seen you walking back with Mr. Lawson, and must +have told her, or hinted, at least, at the state of the case. Nothing +else would have induced her to question you." + +"She had no right to speak to me about acquaintances that I meet out of +the hospital." + +"Strictly speaking, she has no right; that's why I say she must have got +a hint." + +"Oh, well, never mind her," said Effie. "I won't speak to Mr. Lawson +again, unless I meet him out of doors, where I can, and shall, whatever +Sister Kate may say." + +"Effie, you must be careful." + +"I don't want to think of myself at all. Can't you see how miserable I +am about my mother and about George?" + +"Yes; it is a most wretched business. I am more sorry for you than I can +say." + +"Oh, I wish something could be done," said Effie. "I feel tired and +fettered here--I feel almost wild. I cannot devote myself to my +necessary duties." + +"Poor child," said Dorothy in her caressing voice. "Let me think: I must +help you in some way. Suppose I go to-day to see your mother? I had a +chance of having the whole afternoon to myself, but, as I had nowhere in +particular to go, was determining not to avail myself of it, but now I +can be of use to you." + +"Oh, Dorothy! would you really go to see mother? It will be of the +greatest possible use. You have such tact--you can say things that no +one else would venture to say; and then if only you could see George!" + +"I'll take the thing up somehow," said Dorothy; "you shan't be dragged +and worried to death, you dear, brave little girl. Give me a kiss, +Effie, and go back to your work. Between Mr. Lawson and me, we will +pull you through this trouble, see if we don't!" + +"Do you know Mr. Lawson, Dorothy?" + +"Know him! Of course I do. He is one of the very nicest fellows here--as +good as gold and as steady as a rock, and with such a beautiful +enthusiasm for his profession--he'll make a splendid doctor by and by. +Yes, Effie, don't mistake me: it is not the man I object to, it is the +fact that he is a medical student, and that you are a nurse. So many bad +things have been said about nurses and medical students that all nurses +worthy of the name have to make up their minds to show the world that +they can and will nurse without even the thought of flirtation coming +into their head." + +"You're right, of course," said Effie, with burning cheeks. "But it's a +shame, it's horrible! How can anyone think I wish to flirt?" + +She turned away--she was obliged to go back to her duties; but her heart +felt much lighter after her conversation with Dorothy. + +That afternoon Sister Kate, watched Effie as she would, could find no +fault with her. She was attentive, tactful, kind, and considerate; a +little bit of her old pleasant cheerfulness had also returned to +her--her face looked less careworn. + +The fact is, she was leaning on Dorothy, and felt the comfort of +Dorothy's strong support. + +The patients were only too glad for Effie to do things for them; and No. +47, who was very weak and low, smiled whenever the girl approached her +bedside. + +"Hold my hand, love, whenever you have a minute to spare," said the poor +creature. "I feel low like, awfully low; I am going down--down, and it +supports me to hold your hand; you're a good girl, anyone can see that." + +"I try to be," said Effie, tears springing to her eyes. + +"Ah, it's well to be good," continued the woman. "When we come to lie as +I'm lying now, we think a sight of goodness." + +"I hope you'll soon be better," said Effie. + +"Never, my love, never again. I'm going out--that's what is happening to +me; it's a lonesome thing to die, but I don't feel so lonesome when I'm +holding your hand." + +Effie came to the poor creature as often as she could. Once again the +fascination of the life she so dearly loved drew her out of herself, and +enabled her to forget the heavy home cares. + +In her bedroom that night Sister Dorothy paid her a visit. + +"Well, Effie," she said, "I've news for you. Mr. Lawson saw George last +night. He spoke to him quite frankly, and said that, if he did not +immediately give over this awful gambling, he'd go and see his cousin, +Mr. Gering." + +"And what did George say?" asked Effie. + +"Oh, he promised as faithfully as possible that he'd give it up. Mr. +Lawson seemed quite pleased with him, and said he didn't think he'd have +been so penitent and so easily influenced as he has been." + +"But will he give it up?" questioned Effie. + +"He promised to. Of course he is anxious at not being able to earn more +money, for the foolish fellow encouraged your mother to be extravagant, +and now there are several debts which must be met somehow. What's the +matter with you, Effie? Why do you start?" + +"How can I help it? Debts would kill mother. Perhaps I ought to tell +you, Dorothy--you have been so good to me, and I trust you so much that +I don't think it can be wrong to tell you any trouble which concerns +me." + +"No, of course it isn't. Speak out what is in your mind, Effie." + +"Well, George was in trouble that time he came to see father--that time +when father was dying. He owed Mr. Lawson--I can't tell you how, I +can't tell you why--L250. He said that if the money were not paid back +within six weeks, that he, George--oh, Dorothy, how can I say it?--that +he'd have to go to--to _prison_! He said he must have the money; I felt, +too, that he must have the money; for our mother's sake. So I went to +see Squire Harvey, and he--he lent it to me." + +Dorothy sat down on the side of the bed. Effie's story made her feel +very grave. She paused for a moment, puzzled what to say. + +"He lent me the money," continued Effie, looking straight at her friend +with her bright eyes. "I know he never wants it back again, but he must +have it back." + +"Oh, yes! he must have it back," exclaimed Dorothy. + +"Well, he lent it to me," continued Effie, with a sigh; "and I thought, +of course, that George would be all right after that, and I arranged +that the Squire should have his interest regularly. I thought my own +salary would nearly cover that." + +"It can't be done," interrupted Dorothy. "Your salary barely pays for +your washing and your few out-of-pocket expenses. It's absolutely +impossible that you can live here without a penny; the little you earn +must go to yourself." + +"Then there's nothing for it," said Effie; "I must go where I can earn +more. I hate the thought beyond all words, but I must--I must do it!" + +"You don't mean to tell me that you would give up your life as a nurse?" + +"Do you think for a moment, Dorothy, that I'd give it up willingly? It +makes me sick to think of relinquishing what has been my dream ever +since I was a little girl; but I see plainly that I must do something to +earn money to help mother; and then, if George does keep straight, +perhaps we may all be happy some day." + +Tears choked Effie's voice, her eyes grew dim. + +"What do you think of doing, dear?" said Dorothy in a gentle voice. + +"I'll go to the Harveys and ask them to take me as a governess for +Freda. I fancy, somehow, that they might be induced to give me a good +salary--something like fifty or sixty pounds a year, and I can teach a +child like Freda very well indeed, for her father saw that I was well +educated. There's nothing else for it, I can see that; but it breaks my +heart all the same." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +Dorothy talked a little longer to Effie. When at last she left her, the +poor girl felt soothed and strengthened. She dropped off to sleep, to +dream of the old days when she was living in the pretty little cottage +in Whittington, and when she longed so earnestly to go out into the wide +world. Effie woke long before it was time to get up. She thought of her +dream, and sighed heavily to herself. She was in the wide world now with +a vengeance. Did it look as fair, as rose-colored, as fascinating, as it +used to look in her early dreams? No; the reality was bitter enough. She +would have given a great deal at that heavy moment of her life to turn +back the page and be a child at home again. + +The nurses' bell rang, and she got up quickly. Next week she was to take +her turn at night-nursing. She was getting on well, and, notwithstanding +the small cloud which now existed between her and Sister Kate, Sister +Kate knew Effie's value. There are nurses and nurses. Many girls who go +as probationers to the great hospitals are thoroughly unsuited to the +life; their qualifications are not those essential to the good nurse; +they are destitute of tact, of presence of mind, of that tenderness +which can be firm as well as gentle. But Effie was an ideal nurse; her +soft and gentle ways, her kind yet firm glance, the cleverness she +showed, the tact she displayed, all proved to Sister Kate that the young +probationer might one day be a valuable help to her. She was angry with +Effie at present, but she was determined to leave no stone unturned to +help the girl and train her thoroughly in her noble profession. + +During that night Sister Kate had thought of Effie. She had noticed her +pale face during the past day, the sadness in her eyes, the heaviness in +her steps, and her heart smote her a little, a very little. + +"I don't believe that girl could do anything mean or underhanded," she +reflected. "Of course it is tiresome that she should know any of the +medical students, but I believe I can trust her word that she will never +speak to this young man except out of the hospital." + +Accordingly, Sister Kate met Effie the next morning with much of her +old pleasantness. Effie's sad heart bounded again in her breast when +Sister Kate spoke kindly to her, and she went about her duties with the +determination not to leave even the smallest matter undone. Thoroughly +but carefully she went through all the minutiae of those everlasting +cleanings and brushings. + +At last her morning's work was over, and now came the crucial moment +when she must speak to Sister Kate. The doctors had gone their rounds, +the patients were all settled for the morning. Effie came up to Sister +Kate in one of the corridors. + +"Can you spare me a few moments of your time?" she asked. + +The Sister looked up at the tall clock in the passage. + +"Do you want to see me about anything important?" she asked. + +"Yes, it is something important." + +"Well, come into my private room; I can give you five minutes." + +Sister Kate sat down--Effie stood before her. + +"I'll try and tell you what I want as briefly as possible," she said. "I +wish to know if I can be spared to go out this afternoon?" + +"It is not your afternoon out. What do you mean?" + +"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't necessary. The fact is, there's great +trouble at home, and I--I must see my mother, and perhaps I may have to +make another visit." + +Sister Kate frowned. + +"I don't wish not to sympathize with you, of course," she said, after a +pause, "but the fact is, nurses should detach themselves as much as +possible from home-life. The nurse who really gives herself up to her +splendid calling has to try to forget that she has a home. She has to +remember that her first duties consist in taking care of her patients +and in learning her profession." + +"Then I can't be a nurse," said Effie, the color rushing into her face. + +Sister Kate looked at her and shook her head. + +"I am very sorry," she said, after a pause. "The fact is, I had great +hopes of you--you have many of the qualifications which go to make a +splendid nurse; I won't recount them here. I had, as I said, great hopes +of you, but your words now make me fear that, excellent as those +qualifications are, they are overbalanced." + +"By what?" asked Effie. + +"By sentimentality--by nervous overworry about matters which you should +leave in other hands." + +"I have no other hands to leave them in; the fact is, home duties must +always be first with me. I've got a mother and several young brothers +and sisters. I am the eldest daughter. I cannot let my mother suffer, +even to indulge what has been for a long time the great dream of my +life. It is very probable that I shall have to give up being a nurse." + +"How can you? You are engaged here for three years." + +"I must beg of the Governors of the hospital to let me off; the case is +a special one--the trouble under which I am suffering is most +unexpected. I fear, I greatly fear, that I shall be obliged to leave the +hospital for a time." + +"I am truly sorry to hear that," said Sister Kate. "Does your friend +Miss Fraser know of this?" + +"Yes." + +"I hope it may not be necessary. As I said, you have the making of a +good nurse in you. You want to go away for a few hours? Well, I'll try +and manage it. Perhaps when you go home and see your people, you will +find that it is unnecessary for you to sacrifice yourself to this +extent. Anyhow you can have from two till five to-day. Now go and much +in train for the afternoon as you can. You can stay out from two till +five. I hope you'll have good news for me when you return." + +"I hope I shall," said Effie; but her heart felt low. She had little +expectation of being able to continue the life which she longed to +perfect herself in. At two o'clock she went out, and did not take many +minutes in reaching her mother's door. + +Mrs. Staunton looked surprised to see her. + +"What is the matter. Effie?" she said. "How white and worn you look! Why +have you come back to-day?" + +"I wanted to see you, mother, so I got an afternoon off duty. Sister +Kate was kind--I begged of her to let me come. I have a great longing to +see you." + +"Well, my dear, I'm all right. The fact is, I get better and better." + +Mrs. Staunton was seated by the window. She was making a pinafore for +little Marjory--her needle flew in and out of the stuff. She was +trimming the pinafore with narrow lace. Effie took it up and sat down by +her mother. + +"Your hands tremble, mother; are you really well?" + +"Oh, yes, my love; yes! You look at me as if you thought there was +something the matter. Have you--Effie, your looks frighten me." + +"Don't let them frighten you, dear mother. You know the greatest longing +of my heart is to help and serve you. If there is anything worrying +you, you'll tell me, won't you?" + +"I will," said Mrs. Staunton. She paused and looked at her daughter. +"There's nothing _exactly_ worrying me," she said, after a pause, "but +still I feel a little bit anxious." + +"You'll tell me, won't you?" + +"You won't scold me, Effie?" + +"As if I could, mother darling!" + +"Well, perhaps I did a rash thing--poor dear George!--You know how +devoted I am to him, Effie?" + +"Oh, yes, mother darling, anyone can see that." + +"Well, the fact is, I--I yielded to his entreaties. Perhaps I ought not +to tell you, Effie--perhaps it will displease him." + +"Yes, do tell me," said Effie. "There ought not to be any secrets in +one's family. I ought to know--I will know. You are worried about +something, and I will know what your burden is. What is it, mother?" + +"I'll tell you in a few words. There's nothing in it, after all. Shortly +after you left us, George persuaded me to put my money into the City +Bank in his name. He said it seemed such folly to have two accounts for +such very small sums." + +"You did it?" said Effie, her face turning white. + +"Yes, yes, I knew you would reproach me. I won't be reproached--I +won't!" + +"I will not say a word, dearest, dearest mother. Take my hand--your hand +does shake so. Now tell me all about it." + +"Oh, it's nothing, my love, really, only----" + +"Yes, mother--only?" + +"Only this morning I asked George to fill in a check for me before he +went to town. He did so. It was for five pounds. He seemed vexed at my +requiring so much, but I said I couldn't do with less, for there was the +landlady to pay, and the butcher has been so troublesome with his bills. +I couldn't do with less than five pounds, and George drew a check for me +for that amount. I sent Aggie with it straight to the bank, and----" + +Mrs. Staunton's face became very pale, her hand shook more violently +than ever. + +"Yes, mother?" said Effie. + +"They sent it back. Effie, with 'No _effects_' written across the back. +I am sure there must be a mistake, but they told Aggie that George had +overdrawn his account, and that they couldn't cash this check--there +were no effects, that was it." + +"No effects!" said Effie, her face scarlet. "But hadn't you some of your +money still left in the bank?" + +"Yes, I had over fifty pounds. I put the money into the bank in George's +name over a week ago. It was to last us for some time. Oh, Effie, don't +look at me with those reproachful eyes! I feel faint." + +Effie got up quickly; she poured some sal-volatile into a wineglass, +and, filling it up with water, brought it to her mother to drink. + +Mrs. Staunton was soon better. The passing weakness went off quickly. + +"What is to be done?" she said, raising her eyes to her daughter. "Oh, I +am so glad you don't scold me, Effie." + +"Of course I don't, mother darling. You must have money, you can't get +on without it." + +"That's just what I say. I am sure I am as saving as woman could be, but +the expenses are so heavy." + +"Yes, of course." + +"I'm expecting George in every minute," said Mrs. Staunton. "He has very +likely put the money back into the bank now. He is doing such a splendid +business that perhaps he drew the fifty pounds--meaning to return it at +once. He has such a capital head for making money--really, I never knew +such a boy. I dare say he has put it back _doubled_." + +"Oh, mother, don't you know better?--how can he do that? But now let us +talk of something else. Here's Agnes, that's right. Agnes, will you get +some tea for mother? She's quite weak and upset. I'm going out. I must +hurry, for I've to be back at the hospital at five. I'm going out, but +I'll come to see you mother, before I return to the hospital. Get the +tea, Agnes; don't be long about it." + +Agnes put a little kettle on the fire. + +"Do you know about--about the check?" she asked Effie in a whisper. + +"Oh, yes; don't make a fuss over it--it will be all right." + +"Mrs. Robinson says she must be paid--she is owed four weeks' rent, and +she won't let it go on any longer." + +"I'll see her when I come back," said Effie. "Now, do take care of +mother. I won't be away a minute longer than I can help." + +"Won't you have a cup of tea first, Effie?" + +"No, no; I've no time." + +Effie ran downstairs, and went out into the street. She felt nerved and +braced now. The moment of indecision was past--the moment for definite +action had arrived. There was no question with regard to her duty. It +lay plain and straight before her. + +She happened to know that the Harveys were in town. They were staying in +Eaton Place. She took an omnibus, which presently brought her into the +neighborhood of Victoria; a few minutes afterward she rang the bell at +their hall door. + +A man-servant, whom she did not know, opened it. + +"Is Mrs. Harvey at home?" asked Effie. + +"I believe so," he replied, "but I'm not sure if she can see anyone." + +"Perhaps she will see me if you give her my name," said Effie in a +gentle voice. "Say Miss Effie Staunton, please, and that I am anxious to +see her on pressing business." + +The man withdrew, inviting Effie as he did so into the hall. + +"He takes me for a servant," she said to herself. "Well, what matter? +That truly is only a pinprick." + +In a minute or two he returned, with a changed expression on his face. + +"Follow me upstairs, please, miss," he said. "My mistress will see you." + +Effie followed him up some low stairs--her feet sank into the rich +carpets. The contrast between this luxurious house and the severity of +the hospital sickened her. + +"I shall choke if I live here," she said to herself. But then she +crushed all thought of self. + +The men led her up two or three short flights of stairs. At last he +knocked at a door, before which a rich curtain hung. A voice said "Come +in," and Effie found herself in Mrs. Harvey's presence. She was seated +in a deep armchair; her maid stood before her, holding out different +rich brocades and silks which had just been sent round for her to see. + +"That will do, Carey," she said, when she saw Effie. "You can take all +those things away. Tell Madam Miller that I have decided on this blue +silk crepon, and this rose-colored silk. I'll call round to be fitted +to-morrow morning. Now, Miss Staunton, I'm sorry to have kept you +waiting. How do you do? I am so glad to see you." + +Mrs. Harvey was not so impulsively glad as she had been the last time +she saw Effie. The doctor's death--the death he had died for her--seemed +removed into the background; her existence was absorbed in pleasure, in +gayety and excitement. She had an affectionate, kindly nature, however, +and one glance into Effie's sad eyes softened her toward the poor girl. + +"Well, what can I do for you?" she said. "How are you? Why, you are a +nurse--you are in nurse's dress--how capital! What a splendid idea!" + +"Yes, I am a probationer at St. Joseph's," said Effie. + +"Oh my dear child, that's splendid for you, of course; but I trust you +have brought no infection in your clothes." + +"No," said Effie, with the faintest of smiles. "I have nothing to do +with any of the infectious wards. I am quite safe. I want to speak to +you." + +"I shall be very glad to listen to you, my dear. You know, of course, +that the Squire and I take the deepest interest in you and in your +family. By the way, how is your dear mother, and how are all those +pretty girls and boys getting on?" + +Effie could not remember that Mrs. Harvey had ever seen her mother--why, +therefore, should she speak of her as "dear"? and as to the boys and +girls, they were not specially remarkable for their good looks, and if +they were, Mrs. Harvey knew nothing about it. She answered these +conventional inquiries in a quiet voice. + +"I hope you'll forgive me," she said, at the first possible pause, "but +I am in a very great hurry. I have promised to be back again at St. +Joseph's at five o'clock, and it's nearly four now. May I tell you what +I really came about?" + +"Oh, yes, of course, of course!" + +"Do you remember, before I came to London, the very kind offer you and +the Squire made me?" + +"Of course," said Mrs. Harvey, "if you mean our wish that you should +become governess to little Freda. But Freda goes to a kindergarten now. +Carey takes her around every morning, and Rhoda goes to fetch her at +dinner time. The life seems to suit her very well. Of course we did wish +for you very much, but as you could not come--oh, no doubt you have +chosen wisely." + +Mrs. Harvey yawned; she stretched out her hand and rang the bell. The +servant appeared almost immediately. + +"Tea for two," she said, "and be quick, Andrews." + +"I can't wait for tea," said Effie, rising. "I am very much obliged. I +only came to say that circumstances would make me inclined to accept +your offer now, but as you don't want a governess there's nothing more +to be said." + +"Oh, it's so sweetly good of you, Miss Staunton, and had matters been +different we should have been pleased. Well, good-by, if you must go. +Where did you say your mother lived?" + +"A long way from here." + +"But do give me her address. I should be so pleased to drive round and +see her some day. Perhaps she would go for a drive with me. What a good +idea! Yes, I'll come. Where did you say you lived?" + +Effie had not said anything. + +Mrs. Harvey held out her limp, long hand. "Good-by, Miss Staunton. You +know I take a great interest in you," she exclaimed. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +Just at this moment the door was opened, and the Squire came in. He was +of different stuff from his wife. When he saw Effie, his face beamed +with pleasure, and he held out a big, hearty hand. + +"Miss Staunton!" he exclaimed. "Why, this is a pleasure! Oh, you must +not run away; you must sit down and tell me all about yourself--I've +been longing to hear about you. How is your brother in the City, and +your mother? I do hope she is a little better. And all those other lads +and lasses? Sit down, my clear child, I insist on it--I have lots of +things to say to you." + +Mrs. Harvey, who was standing near the mantelpiece, came gently forward +when the Squire began to speak. She looked at Effie with new interest. +Her face was long and pale, she had no color in her lips, her light hair +was very fashionably dressed. She wore a dress of the latest mode, and +her thin fingers were loaded with rings, which flashed and shone +whenever she moved her hand. + +Effie hated those flashing rings--she turned her head so that she need +not see them. + +Mrs. Harvey began to talk in a high falsetto voice to her husband. + +"Do you know, my dear," she exclaimed, "that Miss Staunton has just been +so kind? She came here to offer her services for Freda; but you know +dear Freda is getting on so capitally at the kindergarten, that---- Why, +what in the world is the matter, Walter?" + +"Matter!" exclaimed the Squire in his hearty voice. "Why, that we won't +be such fools as to reject Miss Staunton's offer. I was told only a few +minutes ago that that kindergarten is simply full of whooping-cough and +measles--children sickening with them and going home almost every day. I +was going to say that Freda must be moved." + +"Oh, I should think so, indeed," said Mrs. Harvey. "Whooping-cough and +measles! how terrible! and I never had whooping-cough--why, I shouldn't +be able to go out for the whole season. I do hope and trust the dear +child hasn't contracted the infection. Dear Miss Staunton, of course +you'll come. It is exactly what we'd like best. How soon can you +come?--to-morrow?--to-night?" + +"Neither to-morrow nor to-night," said Effie. "But if you really wish +for me, and if we agree as regards terms, the day after to-morrow." + +"What do you mean by saying if we agree as to terms?" asked Mrs. Harvey. + +"I want a big salary," said Effie, looking up bravely at the two, who +were watching her with half-amused, half-anxious expression. "I want to +come to you, and to leave the work which I love best, because I hope you +may be induced to give me an exceptional salary. I want the money +because my mother and my--my young brothers and sisters are almost--at +least they will be, if I don't get it, almost starving." + +Effie spoke in jerks. She had the greatest difficulty in keeping back +her emotion. It was dreadful to have to plead with these rich +people--these people who knew nothing whatever of her sore need--to whom +money was so plentiful as to have lost its freshness, its desirability, +its charm. It was awful to look into their faces--to see the blank, +non-comprehending stare which came into Mrs. Harvey's pretty blue eyes, +and to notice the puzzled expression on the Squire's face. + +"You can't mean that?" he exclaimed. "You can't mean there's any chance +of that?" + +"There is a chance of it, but not if I come here. I know how kind you +are, how noble you have been to me. I'll come to Freda. I'll do +everything for her; I'll teach her, and I'll play with her, and I'll +love her, and I'll nurse her if she is ill, but oh, do please be +generous and give me as big a salary as you can." + +"What do you expect--what do you think fair?" asked the Squire. + +"I thought--I know it seems a great deal, but I thought you might be +willing to give me sixty pounds a year." + +"Bless you, my dear child!" exclaimed the Squire; "if you'll accept it, +we'll give you a hundred and fifty." + +"No, I couldn't accept that," said Effie. "It is not fair." + +"Why not? We couldn't get anyone else to exactly take your place for the +money; and remember we have plenty of money." + +"I'll take a hundred a year, because I am in sore distress," said Effie, +after a brief pause; "and--and will you pay me monthly, and may I have +my first month's salary in advance? I wouldn't ask it if they didn't +want it _terribly_ at home. Will you do this?" + +"Yes, with pleasure," said the Squire. "I insist on your accepting ten +pounds a month--that will be one hundred and twenty a year. Now, will +you have a check, or shall I give you the money in gold and notes?" + +"The gold will be the most acceptable," said Effie. "Oh, I feel so +ashamed!" she added. + +"Why should you? You give us an equivalent. Besides, it makes matters +more tolerable. I cannot forget----" + +"Oh, don't, Walter--don't allude to that awful time!"--cried Mrs. +Harvey. + +The Squire shut up his lips. He took a little bundle of gold out of one +of his pockets and put ten sovereigns into Effie's hand. + +"It is a bargain," he said. "I cannot tell you how relieved we are. +You'll be with us the morning after next? Elfreda, my love, we must tell +our little Freda what a pleasure is in store for her." + +"Yes, I am more than delighted," exclaimed Mrs. Harvey. "This plan suits +me in every way. You won't fail us, Miss Staunton? for, in case Freda by +any chance has taken that awful whooping-cough, you can keep her in +isolation from the very first." + +"Oh, yes!" said Effie, smiling; "but I dare say she is all right." + +She shook hands with her new employers and left the house. + +The gold was in her pocket. She felt that she had sold herself and her +mission in life for ten sovereigns. "It is the present need which makes +the thing so desperate," she said under her breath. "If George has drawn +all the money, they have absolutely nothing to live on; but more will +come in, and there's this to go on with. We'll manage somehow now." + +She returned to the lodgings, but before she went upstairs she had an +interview with the landlady. + +"What do you charge my mother for rent?" she asked. + +"Well, Miss Staunton," exclaimed the woman, "with the dinners and one +thing and another, I am obliged to make it a pound a week." + +"That is a great deal too much," said Effie. "I don't suppose it is too +much for your rooms, but it is more than we can afford just now. When we +first came to you, you agreed to let us the rooms without attendance for +fifteen shillings a week. We cannot by any possible management afford to +pay more." + +"But Mrs. Staunton wished for attendance, miss--she said it made all the +difference; there was half a crown for attendance and half a crown extra +for kitchen fire." + +"But the kitchen fire was included in the fifteen shillings a week." + +"Then there wasn't late dinner." + +"Surely there is no late dinner now?" exclaimed Effie. + +"Oh, yes, miss; every evening Mr. Staunton requires a nice little bit of +dinner sent up when he comes home. You see, miss, it is quite impossible +for me to have extra fires without charging for them." + +"Certainly. Well, I don't think there will be any extra dinner in +future. And now please tell me exactly how much is due to you." + +"Four pounds, miss; but if I'm paid one, on account, I shan't mind +waiting. I'd be really sorry to dislodge such a nice lady as your +mother, Miss Staunton." + +"Here is the money in full," said Effie. "Will you give me a receipt?" + +"Oh, with pleasure, miss. Won't you sit down? I hope, Miss Staunton, +nothing will induce your good mother to move from here. I will do +everything in my power to make her comfortable." + +"You must understand," said Effie, "that in future she only pays fifteen +shillings a week without extras. My sisters Agnes and Katie are quite +old enough to do all the waiting which my mother requires. In fact they +must do so, for we can't afford to pay a penny more." + +"Am I to understand, miss, that there's no late dinner?" + +"Certainly not." + +"Very well; I am sure I'll do all in my power to oblige." + +Effie left her, putting her receipt carefully in her pocket as she did +so. She went upstairs and entered the little sitting-room where her +mother was now pacing quickly and restlessly up and down. There was a +deep flush on her cheeks, and a look of despair in her eyes. + +"Oh, Effie, you've come!" she exclaimed, the moment she saw her +daughter. "George has been in. There's something wrong, I know--I know +there is. He came in just for a minute and he kissed me, and said he +wasn't coming home to-night, and he--he looked _wild_. He stuffed a few +things into a bag, and said I wasn't to expect him back to-night. I +didn't dare ask him about the money. What--what can be the matter, +Effie?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +Effie did all in her power to soothe her mother. It was past the hour +for her return to St. Joseph's, but under the present circumstances she +could not give this matter a thought. Mrs. Staunton was strung up to a +terrible condition of nervousness. She walked faster and faster about +the room; she scarcely spoke aloud, but muttered words under her breath +which no one could hear. At every footfall on the stairs she started. +Sometimes she went to the door and flung it open--sometimes she went to +the window and pressed her face against the glass. Darkness set in, and +the lamps were lit in the street. Katie went to the window to pull down +the blinds. + +"No, don't touch them," said Mrs. Staunton fretfully--she still kept +staring out into the street. Presently she called Effie to her. + +"Doesn't that man turning the corner look something like George?" she +exclaimed. + +Effie looked eagerly. + +"No, that's not George," she said. + +"Agnes, you have better sight," called Mrs. Staunton to her next +daughter; "come and watch with me--we are sure to see him soon. It can't +be that he has gone away for the night--for the whole night. Isn't that +him? Look at that man,--that one crossing the road--that one in the +waterproof. Oh, how hard it is raining! If George is out much longer, +he'll be drenched to the skin. Aggie, look; and you, Katie, can't you +watch? Now, _that_ man, isn't that George?" + +"No, no, mother!" answered the poor children, in affright. + +Mrs. Staunton kept on making exclamations. Again and again she cried out +hopefully that surely George was coming now; but George himself never +really appeared. Effie knew that she would get into hopeless disgrace at +St. Joseph's. No matter! she could not leave her mother at such a +moment. Each instant she became more anxious about her. She called Agnes +aside, and told her that she had put a stop to the late dinner, and also +to the extra attendance, but as probably some dinner had been ordered +for that evening, she had better go down and bring it up, as Mrs. +Staunton must be forced to eat at any cost. + +Agnes tripped out of the room, and presently returned with a couple of +pork chops and some baked potatoes. She flung them down on the table, +exclaiming that the tray was heavy. She looked cross, and evidently +seemed to think that Effie was making a great fuss over nothing. + +"Why can't George be away for a single night without everyone getting +into such a state?" she murmured. + +Effie took the tray from her and gave her a look of reproach. She laid +the cloth herself, and made the table look as pretty as she could. She +then went to her mother, drew her gently but firmly away from the +window, and, making her sit down, tried to coax her to eat. + +Mrs. Staunton looked at the chops with dazed eyes. + +"Those were for George," she exclaimed. "What a shame to bring them up +before he has come into the house! They'll be cold and sodden, and he +hates his food sodden. You don't suppose I'm going to touch my boy's +dinner? No, not I! Put the chops down in the fender, Aggie. When George +comes in, I always ring the bell twice. How careless of Mrs. Robinson! +Effie, my dear, I don't think we can stop with her if she treats us in +this fashion. It's perfectly disgraceful to cook George's food before he +is ready for it." + +Agnes began to explain that George was not coming home, but Effie +silenced her with a look. She saw, to her horror, that her mother's mind +was beginning to wander. She was really expecting George--who had not +the faintest idea of coming back. Poor Effie saw there was nothing for +it but to humor her mother. She put the food inside the fender, and +then, going to a davenport in a corner of the room, wrote a hasty letter +to Dorothy Fraser. + +"We're in great trouble," she wrote. "I know you can't come. I know it +is absolutely impossible for you to come, but neither can I go back to +St. Joseph's this evening. Please tell Sister Kate, make any excuse for +me you like--say anything that comes into your head. My career as a +nurse is ended." + +A big tear dropped from Effie's eyes as she wrote these last words. She +folded up the letter and gave it to Agnes. + +"Agnes," she said, "you must take this at once to St. Joseph's +Hospital." + +"Oh, I don't know how to get there," said Agnes, "and I was never out so +late before in the evening." + +"I am sorry to have to send you--stay, you had better take Kate with +you. It would be better for the two of you to be together. Put on your +hats and your warm jackets; don't be longer away than you can help--you +have just to give this note to the hall porter and come straight back. +You must take the red omnibus that goes along Oxford Street, and----" + +Effie added a few more practical directions. Agnes' eyes sparkled at the +thought of a little variety in her dull life. Katie ran willingly into +her room to fetch her own and her sister's hats and jacket's. They were +dressed in a very short time. Effie heard them running downstairs, and +listened to the slam of the hall door. She had now set the irrevocable +seal to her own act. She had deliberately turned her back on the life +that she loved. She stood for a moment with a dizzy feeling in her +head; then, with a little prayer which she sadly needed, to help her, +she put aside all regret, and turned with a brave heart to face the dark +present and the gloomy future. + +Mrs. Staunton stood near the window, with her back to her daughter. +Effie listened with a sick heart to her mutterings. She knew that her +mother could not possibly get better if she refused to eat. + +She was wondering what to do, and how she could dare to leave her, when +a quick step was heard running up the stairs, and the next moment Fred +Lawson came in. + +Effie never to her dying day forgot the feeling of relief, of almost +joy, which ran through her heart when she saw his clever, resolute face. +He came in, in his usual quick, brisk, determined way--stopped short a +little when he saw her, and then glanced significantly at her mother. + +Mrs. Staunton had turned as eagerly as Effie when she heard the quick +footsteps. Now her face was an absolute blank--she had come a step +forward,--her hands suddenly fell to her sides. + +"My mother is not well," said Effie. "She's upset." + +"No, I'm not upset; you're greatly mistaken," said Mrs. Staunton. "Why +should I be upset? There's not a happier woman in Christendom than I am. +It's true my beloved husband has left me, but then I have got my +boy--there never was a braver boy. How do you do, Mr. Lawson? Pray +forgive me for not shaking hands with you when you came into the +room--the fact is, I have been expecting George. His dinner is in the +fender. The landlady did very wrong indeed to send it up before I rang +for it. I always ring twice for George's dinner, don't you understand? +It is a good plan. George likes his meals hot and tasty. No wonder--he +earns them; he is a dear, good, _clever_ fellow--he is getting a fine +salary. Did you happen to meet him on the stairs? Perhaps you passed +him--he is a little late, just a little late. Effie, can you tell me if +Mr. Lawson has good sight? If he has, perhaps he'll come and watch by +the window. I'm watching, but my eyes are a little weak at times. I +might not see George when he is really there. Will you come and see, Mr. +Lawson? He ought to be coming now, my dear boy,--my dearest,--my boy!" + +Lawson gave Effie a glance. In a moment he read the true position. The +poor weak brain had suddenly given way. He went up gently to Mrs. +Staunton, and took one of her hot hands in his. + +"When George comes in," he said, "I'll be here, and I'll tell him about +his dinner. I know he'll be late to-night, and you mustn't wait up for +him any longer. Come, Miss Effie will put you into bed. When you are in +bed I'll give you something to make you sleep. Come now, don't delay; +you're quite worn out. If you don't go to bed you'll be ill, and then +you'll be of no use to your son." + +"Do you really think so?" said Mrs. Staunton. "Yes, I mustn't be ill; +George doesn't like it--it quite frets him. He is not like his dear +father. He wants a cheerful home--no wonder, he is young, dear lad, he +is young. Yes, I'll go to bed, and then I'll be all right in the +morning. Come, Effie, help your mother to bed." + +Effie took the poor woman out of the room. They went into the little +bedroom. She helped her mother to undress. When she saw her lay her head +on the pillow, she went back to the sitting room, where Lawson was +quietly standing. + +"I happened most fortunately," he said, the moment he saw her, "to have +some packets of bromide in my pocket. There is sal-volatile in the room. +I have made up a rather strong composing-draught for your mother. If she +takes it, she will sleep peacefully and will not be likely to wake until +the morning. Give it to her at once, and then come back to me--I have +something to tell you." + +Effie's trembling knees could scarcely support her as she went back to +the next room. + +"Has George come yet?" asked the mother. + +"Not yet, mother; won't you take this medicine, please?" + +"Yes, my love, yes. Effie, you are a very good girl--a great comfort to +me, my darling. I'm glad you never went to the hospital; it was a mad, +foolish scheme, and George never liked it. You are a great comfort to +me, and a great comfort to your dear brother. You'll be sure to give him +his dinner comfortably when he comes back, Effie?" + +"Yes, mother, yes. Now do go to sleep, dear mother." + +Mrs. Staunton drank off the medicine, laid her head on her pillow, and +closed her dim, dark eyes. Effie watched by her until she thought she +was dropping asleep. Pretty little Marjory was lying sound asleep in the +same bed. Phil opened his big eyes as his sister passed. + +"Is anything the matter?" he whispered. "Is anything wrong with George?" + +"Pray for him, Phil," said Effie, tears suddenly filling her eves. + +"Yes, yes," said the little fellow. "I always do." + +Effie went into the next room. + +"You have plenty of pluck, haven't you?" said Lawson, when he saw her. + +"I hope so--I had need to have." + +"Yes, I know that. Well, that unfortunate boy has put his foot in it at +last,--he is in trouble,--detectives are after him." + +"Detectives after George!" exclaimed Effie. "What can you possibly mean? +Oh, do tell me at once--don't leave me in suspense." + +"Sit down and I will tell you. Try not to agitate yourself, try to +listen to me quietly. Remember that a brave woman can always control her +nerves." + +Effie sat down when Lawson bade her. Something in his quiet but resolute +voice soothed her impatience; she looked up at him as he stood by the +mantelpiece, resting one arm on it. + +"The facts are these," he began at once; "Staunton has been going wrong +for a long time----" + +"I know it--I know it well," interrupted Effie. + +"Yes, I feared that you knew it. Poor fellow, soon after his arrival in +London he got with bad companions. He has naturally extravagant +tastes--they introduced him to some of those gambling saloons. Given a +weak nature, the love of money for the pleasure it can give, a will +weakened with self-indulgence, and the result is easy to forecast. +George has been going from bad to worse for months past. He has +sometimes won considerable sums of money, and these successes have +excited him to try again--with this devil's luck, as the saying is. Of +late, however, that luck has turned against him, and the events which +took place to-day are only the natural consequences." + +Effie rose slowly from her seat. + +"Go on," she said, coming up to Lawson. "What took place to-day? Go on, +please,--I am quiet,--I am prepared for anything." + +Lawson gave her a look of admiration. + +"You are a brave girl," he said briefly. "The world would be a better +place if there were more like you in it. Well, what took place is this. +Staunton won heavily at cards the night before last. Not content with +his gains, however, he persevered until the luck turned against him. +Before he left the gambling saloon he had lost all his gains, and was in +debt fifty pounds. To meet that debt he drew your mother's money from +the bank yesterday morning." + +"I know," said Effie, with white lips--"mother told me. She sent Agnes +to the bank to cash a small check. Agnes was told that George's account +was overdrawn. Yes, I know that. Is there more behind? Surely that must +be the worst." + +"Alas! I wish it were. This morning the poor fellow, while engaged in +his duties at Gering's office, met with the temptation for which he was +so ripe. It was a horrible one. He knew that your mother had not a +penny. His feeling for her I need not enter upon. He found himself in +the room with an open till, and took fifty pounds out of it. Soon +afterwards, he made an excuse to leave the office. He wandered about all +day in an indescribable state of misery. At last he summoned courage to +go to the bank and deposit forty-five of the fifty pounds. He then +rushed home, and, packing his things, prepared to run away. He said he +was certain to be taken if he stayed, and simply could not bring himself +to face the risk. He went to Waterloo, and to his horror discovered that +he was watched. A man, undoubtedly a detective in plain clothes, was +following him from place to place. The man watched him take his ticket +for Southampton, and noticed the corner in which he deposited his bag in +a third-class carriage. George seemed to lose his head at this crisis. +He managed to elude the detective, slipped out of the station, took a +hansom and drove straight to my rooms. Luckily I was at home. He made a +clean breast of everything to me. He is in my rooms now, and safe for +the time being, for no one will think of looking for him there. I want +you to come with me at once to see him, for there is not a moment to be +lost in deciding what is best to be done." + +"Yes," said Effie, "I will come." + +She felt stunned--her keenest feelings of anguish were lulled into +momentary quiet by the greatness of this blow. + +"I will write a note to Agnes," she said; "she is out--I had to send her +to the hospital to say that I could not return there to-night." Then she +added, her face turning whiter than ever, "If my mother knows of this, +it will kill her." + +"Your mother is the person to be considered, of course," said Lawson. +"But for her, I should say that the best thing possible for George would +be to undergo the punishment which he merits. As it is, however, matters +are different. Well, write your note, and let us be quick. That strong +opiate will keep your mother sleeping quietly until the morning. All +your sister has to do is to watch her." + +Effie drew a sheet of paper toward her, scribbled a few hasty lines on +it, folded it up, and left it where Agnes could see it the moment she +returned; then she followed Lawson into the street. + +He hailed a passing hansom, and they drove straight to his rooms on the +Embankment. + +The feeling of a dream remained with Effie all during that drive; she +kept rubbing her eyes and saying to herself, "It's only a dream--I shall +awaken presently and find myself back at St. Joseph's." + +The hansom drew up at the lodgings, and Lawson preceded Effie upstairs. +He threw open the door of his little sitting room. + +"Come in," he said. "Here is your sister, Staunton," he sang out. + +Effie entered. She found herself in a small bright room. The gas was +turned full on; one of the windows was open--a fresh breeze from the +river came in. George was seated on a horse-hair sofa at the farthest +end of the room. He held a small walking-stick in his hand, and was +making imaginary patterns with it on the carpet. His shoulders were +hitched up to his ears, his eyes were fixed on the ground. Effie looked +at him. She said: + +"George, I am here--I have come." + +He did not make any response. She gave a little cry when he took no +notice of her, and sank down helplessly on the nearest chair. + +Lawson strode across the room and grasped George's shoulder. + +"Look here, Staunton," he said; "you have got to pull yourself together. +I have brought your sister here to consult what is best to be done. Look +up, old chap! Take courage--all isn't lost yet. Now try and tell your +sister everything." + +"I have nothing to tell her," said George--he raised two lackluster eyes +and fixed them with a sort of dull stare on Lawson's face. + +"Don't talk folly--you have to tell her what you told me. You know the +position you are in--you may be arrested at any moment. No one can help +you but your sister; don't turn away from her." + +"Oh, I understand all that," said George, shrugging his shoulder out of +Lawson's grip. "I know well enough what has happened--I have gone under. +I'm only one more. I--I can't help it--I have nothing to say." + +Lawson looked at the big fellow almost in despair. He was really puzzled +what to do. This was the moment, however, for Effie to take the +initiative. She sprang suddenly to her feet, dashed the tears from her +eyes, and went up to her brother. She fell on her knees by his side, and +put her soft arms round his neck. + +"Think of the old days, Geordie," she said, "when we were both little +children. Think of mother and father, and the little old house, and the +apple tree in the garden. Don't you remember the day when that ripe red +apple fell, and we ate it bite about?" + +When Effie began to speak, George trembled. He avoided her eyes for a +moment longer, then he gave her a quick, furtive glance. + +changed voice. "Before God, I couldn't help it." +a changed voice. "Before God, I couldn't help it." +[Transcriber's note: These two fragmented lines appear, as shown, +at this point in the original text.] + +Lawson stepped softly out of the room. + +The moment he had done so, George said eagerly: + +"He has told you, hasn't he?" + +Effie nodded. + +"Then I needn't go over it. Let's talk of something else. How is +mother?" + +"She is very ill indeed--she watched for you all the evening." + +"Watched for me? But I told her I shouldn't be back to-night." + +"Yes; but she didn't believe you, or she forgot it--anyhow, she watched +for you, and when you didn't come, her mind began suddenly to wander; +she is in bed now--she is very, very ill." + +"Go on," said George; "hammer it in hard--I deserve it all." + +"Oh, George, why will you talk like that? Don't you believe in my love +for you?" + +"I believe in mother's love. It's the only thing I have left to cling +to. I believe she'd go on loving me even after this--I do truly." + +"Of course she would--nothing could turn her love from you. Now, won't +you let us consult together when Mr. Lawson comes into the room?" + +"There's nothing to be done--nothing; I'm perfectly safe to be committed +for trial, and then I shall get at least two years. Mother will die. And +I shall have gone under forever." + +"Nonsense! I have a thought in my head." + +"You?" George spoke with almost contempt. "You always thought a great +deal of yourself, Effie, but even you can't pull the ropes on the +present occasion. I'm a thief, and I must suffer the penalty. That's the +long and short of it." + +Effie rose suddenly and walked to the door. She called Lawson--he came +in at once. + +"I think George will talk over matters now," she said. "But before we +begin any discussion, I wish to say what I have made up my mind to do. I +don't know Mr. Gering, but that does not matter. I mean to go to see him +the first thing to-morrow morning, and beg of him not to prosecute +George. That is the only chance for mother's life, and I mean to try +it." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +When Effie said these words, Lawson gave her a startled glance, and +George's sulkiness seemed to vanish magically. He opened his lips as if +to speak, then closed them again; a rush of color spread over his face, +and he turned his head aside. + +"I fear it is impossible that you can do the least vestige of good, Miss +Staunton," said Lawson. "All the same it is a brave thought, and worthy +of you." + +George looked round when Lawson said this; he fully expected Effie to +explain herself more fully, to argue the point, and to give her reasons +for approaching Mr. Gering. To the surprise of both the men, however, +she was silent. After a little pause, she said, turning to Lawson: + +"Do you think George will be safe here until the morning?" + +"I do--perfectly safe," answered Lawson. + +"Then I will say good-night. I will come to you, George if I have news, +in the morning." + +"Oh, you won't have news," replied George; "there never was such a hard +nut to crack as old Gering." + +Effie made no reply. + +"Good-night," she said to her brother. + +He did not offer to kiss her, but he took her hand and gave it a silent +squeeze. It seemed to Effie then that she got near his heart. + +Lawson took her downstairs and put her into a cab. + +"You are only wasting your time in going to Mr. Gering," he said, as he +stood for a moment at the cab door. + +"I must waste it, then," replied Effie; "for, whatever the consequence, +I am going." + +"Then, if you will go, you had better do so early. Gering is always at +his office by nine o'clock. George may quite possibly be arrested +to-morrow morning, and brought before the magistrates at Bow Street at +ten or ten-thirty. When once he is arrested, Mr. Gering can do nothing. +The law then takes up the case, and prosecutes on its own account. You +will see, therefore, that if you wish to save your brother you must be +astir betimes." + +"I quite see, and thank you very much," said Effie. + +Lawson said good-by, the cab rolled away, and Effie soon found herself +back again at her own lodgings. + +She ran upstairs, to find that her mother was still sound asleep. She +sent the two tired girls to bed, and, lying down on the sofa in the +sitting room, tried to sleep. She had left her mother's door slightly +ajar, and knew that she would hear the least movement in the room. All +was perfect stillness, however, and presently Effie fell into a light +doze. + +She awoke long before the dawn of day, thought carefully over the whole +complex situation, and then rose and dressed herself. She slipped softly +into her mother's room. The opiate was still taking effect. Mrs. +Staunton's face looked pinched and drawn as it lay on the pillow, there +were blue lines under the eyes, and a blue tint round the lips which +spoke of heart trouble; but just at the present moment the spirit was at +peace, and the body resting calmly. + +"Poor mother!" murmured Effie; "poor, tried, faithful heart! If you +really knew what I know, you could not survive the shock. Oh, George! +who could have thought of this who remembered you in the old days? Yes, +I will do what I can to save mother and to rescue you. It is true that I +am only a weak girl, but sometimes girls like me have power. I will not +be afraid; I will go now to exercise all the power that is in me." + +Effie left the room; she went to the one where her sisters slept, +changed her dress and washed herself, and then waking Agnes, to tell +her to be sure to look after her mother, she ran downstairs. + +The landlady, Mrs. Robinson, met her in the passage. + +"Why, surely, Miss Staunton," she said, "you are not going out on a raw, +foggy morning like this without breakfast?" + +"Oh, I can't wait for breakfast," exclaimed Effie. + +"I have some tea in my sitting room--do come in, and let me give you a +cup, miss. Do, now--you're so white, you look as if you'd drop." + +"Thank you," said Effie, after a little pause. "I should be very glad of +a cup of tea," she added. + +The landlady bustled her into her little sitting room, seated her by the +fire, and would not leave her alone until she had swallowed a cup of tea +and a piece of toast. + +"I'm all the better for the tea," said Effie; "thank you very much." + +The unlooked-for kindness cheered the poor girl; she looked upon it as a +good omen. She walked quickly up the narrow street which led into the +larger thoroughfare, and was soon on her way to Mr. Gering's office in +Leadenhall Street. + +She arrived there just as the clock was striking nine. She did not allow +herself even to feel nervous, but, walking boldly in, asked to see Mr. +Gering at once. + +"Have you an appointment with him?" asked the clerk whom she addressed. + +"No; but I hope he will see me without that; my business is very +pressing." + +"What is your name, miss?" + +"Staunton." Effie hesitated for a minute, then she said abruptly, "I am +the sister of George Staunton, who is a clerk here." + +The moment she uttered the words every clerk in the place looked up with +interest, and one, coming up in a somewhat familiar way, said +cavalierly: + +"I don't think there's the least use in your troubling Mr. Gering; I may +as well tell you beforehand that he certainly won't see you." + +At this moment a man came out of an inner room. He spoke to the head +clerk, who gave him a bundle of letters. + +"Take these to Mr. Gering at once," he said. + +Effie followed this man with her eyes. + +The other clerks stared at her, expecting her to go. + +She looked at the one to whom she had first spoken. + +"Will you take my message to Mr. Gering?" she said. "Will you tell him +that Effie Staunton--George Staunton's sister--wishes to see him on most +important business?" + +There was much distress in her tone, but withal such firmness that the +clerk could not help looking at her with admiration. + +"I would gladly take your message, Miss Staunton, but it would be +useless. I know beforehand that nothing will induce Mr. Gering to see +you." + +"He must see me," replied Effie in a firm voice. "If no one here will be +polite enough to take him my message, I will go to him myself." + +Before one of the clerks could prevent her, Effie walked across the +large room, opened the door where the clerk who took Mr. Gering his +letters had vanished, and found herself the next moment in a handsomely +furnished room, where a portly old gentleman was seated at a desk. + +He looked up in unfeigned astonishment when he saw a pretty girl +standing near the door. + +As she did not speak for an instant, he raised his voice with an +inquiry. + +"May I ask what you are doing here?" he said. + +"I have come to speak to you about my brother," said Effie. + +"Your brother! What do you mean? Who is your brother?" + +"George Staunton." + +"Then, Miss Staunton, let me tell you that you have taken a great +liberty in coming to see me. You have forced your way into my room +unannounced. I must ask you to have the goodness to retire as quickly as +you came. If you do not leave my room this moment, I shall be forced to +compel you to go." + +"No, you will not," said Effie--"no, that is not like you. You would not +willingly be unkind to a suffering and innocent girl, when she forces +herself, against her true inclinations, against her real modesty, to +seek an interview with you. I come in great sorrow and despair, and you +are not the man who will treat me roughly--I don't fear it. You like to +say harsh words, but your heart is not harsh. I beg of you, therefore, +to listen to my story. I will not keep you long." + +"You are a very queer, courageous sort of girl," said Gering, after a +pause. "As you have come, I suppose I may as well listen to you; but +please understand at once that I have no mercy for your brother; that +his career here is ended." + +"That is only just and right. I have not come to plead with you to take +George back--I know that that would be asking too much. What I have come +to say I can say in a very few words." + +"They must be very few if you expect me to leave my business to attend +to them." + +Effie came close to where Mr. Gering was seated; he did not rise, nor +motion her to a chair. At this moment the clerk who had refused to take +her message entered the room. + +"Leave us for a moment, Power," said Mr. Gering. The man withdrew +immediately. + +"Thank you," said Effie. Then she added abruptly, "I won't keep you a +moment. I will tell you quite simply what I want. My brother George has +behaved very badly." + +"To put it plainly," interrupted Mr. Gering, "your brother George is a +scoundrel." + +"You may call him any names you please," said Effie; "I have not come +here to defend him. I know that he stole fifty pounds from you +yesterday." + +"Oh, you know that, do you?" + +"Yes. Forty-five pounds of that money he put into the City Bank in my +mother's name. That forty-five pounds you can have back within an hour. +We shall then be in your debt five pounds, which I want you to let me +pay you back. I have just secured a very good situation as a governess, +and am to be in receipt of one hundred and twenty pounds a year. I can +pay you back the money in about a month's time out of my own salary." + +"You are very conscientious," said Mr. Gering, with a slight sneer, "and +I shall be glad to have my money back. If that is all your business, +perhaps you will leave me." + +"No, it is not all my business. I want you to forgive George,--not to +prosecute him,--not to give him up to the law." + +"Ah! I thought that was coming. And why, pray, should I not prosecute +the young rascal? Don't you think he richly deserves punishment?" + +"Honestly, I do." + +When Effie said this, Mr. Gering's eyes twinkled for the first time. + +"Eh, eh!" he exclaimed. "I am glad we're of one mind on that point. We +both doubtless believe that punishment would be good for him." + +"We do." + +"Then why deprive him of anything so beneficial?" + +"Because of my mother." + +"Your mother! Is there a mother in the case?" + +"There is--a mother who lies now at the point of death. Let me tell you +her story." + +"I haven't read my letters yet, Miss Staunton." + +"Oh, never mind your letters! Let me tell you about my father and my +mother. Four months ago my father was alive. He was a country doctor. He +was very good, everyone loved him. He caught diphtheria, and died. My +mother has heart disease, and my father felt sure that the shock of +losing him would kill her. He loved her most tenderly. When he lay dying +he was certain that God would allow them both to leave the world +together. My mother was kneeling by his bedside; and George, my brother, +knelt there too. And my brother said. 'Don't take mother away, father;' +and then father said to mother, 'Stay with George.' At that moment +something strange must have happened--all my mother's great love seemed +suddenly directed into a new channel. Her love for George since that +moment has been the passion of her life. He was not strong-minded." + +"No, indeed," interrupted Mr. Gering. + +"No; and he yielded to temptation and got into trouble, and--and lost +money. But all the time my mother has been imagining that he is the best +and steadiest fellow in London. She lives in a sort of golden dream +about him. If she learns the truth she will certainly die, and George +will be lost. He will then, as he himself expresses it, 'go under' +forever. He won't be able to stand the thought that through his sin and +weakness he has killed his mother." + +"I should hope not," interrupted Mr. Gering. + +"Therefore I want you to forgive him--it is your duty." + +"My duty, child! What right have you to come and talk to me about my +duty?" + +"Every right, if I can only make you perform it." + +"You are either impertinent or very brave, young lady. I was never +spoken to in this strain before." + +"Well, you see, it is a matter of life and death," said Effie. "I can't +mince words when life and death hang in the balance." + +"You're a queer girl--a queer girl; I don't know what to make of you. +'Pon my word, I'm sorry for that mother of yours--poor soul, poor soul! +It's a pity she didn't bring up her son as conscientiously as she did +her daughter. Now, you wouldn't have taken fifty pounds out of my till?" + +"No," said Effie. + +"I wish you were a boy--I'd give you that lad's place within an hour." + +"Thank you, but I don't think I should care to have it. Will you come +now and do your duty?" + +"Come! Where am I to come?" + +"To see George." + +"The rascal! Where is he?" + +"I'll take you to him." + +"Do you know that you are bullying me in the most shameful way, Miss +Staunton?" + +"I know that you have a very kind heart," answered Effie. + +At this moment the room door was opened, and Power came in again. + +"Mr. Fortescue has called, sir." + +"Tell Mr. Fortescue that I can't see him." + +"And Ford has sent round about that shipping order. When can you give +him his answer?" + +"Some time this afternoon." + +"But they want it this morning." + +"Well, they can't have it; I'm going out for a bit. Come along, Miss +Staunton; we can't let the grass grow under our feet." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +There come moments in the lives of all of us when we feel as if a +restraining and powerful hand were pulling us up short. We have come to +a full stop; we cannot go back, and we do not know how to proceed. These +full stops in life's journey are generally awful places. We meet there, +as a rule, the devil and his angels--they tear us and rend us, they +shake us to our very depths with awful and overpowering temptation; if +we yield, it is all over with us, we rush at headlong speed downhill. + +But, on the other hand, if in this pause we turn our back upon the +devil, good angels come in his place--they whisper of hope and a new +chance in life even for us. + +When Effie left George on that miserable evening, and when Lawson +retired presently to his room, the young man found that he had come to +such a fearful place of trial as I have just described. He was pulled +up short, and the devil was tempting him. At one side was the devil, at +the other he saw the face of his mother. It was impossible for him to +lie down and sleep. He fought with the devil all night. In the morning +there was neither victory nor defeat, but the young, smooth face looked +haggard and gray, and the upright, well-knit figure was bowed. + +Lawson came into the sitting room for a moment. + +"I am sorry I can't stay with you, George," he said. "I am due at St. +Joseph's at nine o'clock. Have you made any plans for yourself?" + +"No--at least, yes. I've had an awful night, Lawson, and there seems to +be but one end to it." + +"What is that?" + +"I must give myself up. I'm not the sort of fellow to play the hiding +game successfully. I'm safe to be caught sooner or later. I deserve +punishment, too--I've been doing badly for months. What I deserve, it +seems likely I'll have. In short, I think I'd better make a clean breast +of everything, and take my--my punishment like a man." + +"Do sit down for a minute," said Lawson. "There's a good deal in what +you say, and if you had only yourself to consider, I'd counsel you to do +it--I would, truly; but there's your mother to be thought of." + +"My mother! Don't you suppose I've been thinking of my mother all night? +It is the thought of my mother that maddens me--maddens me, I say. Look +here, Lawson, there's only one thing before me: I'll go first to mother +and tell her everything straight out, and then I'll give myself up." + +"You will?" said Lawson, with a start of sudden admiration. "Upon my +word, George, old chap, I didn't think you had the grit in you--I +didn't, truly." + +"Then you approve?" + +"It is the only thing to be done; she must hear it, sooner or later, and +no one can tell it to her as you can." + +"All right; I'll go to her before my courage fails me." + +George left the room without even saying good-by to his friend. + +When he left the house, he turned round and saw the man whom he had +noticed watching him the day before at Waterloo Station. + +"I'll be ready for you soon, my friend, but not quite yet," muttered the +young man. + +He walked quickly--the man followed him at a respectful distance. + +George let himself into his mother's house with a latch-key. He ran up +to the little sitting room. Agnes was bending with red eyes over a +kettle which was boiling on the fire. She was making a cup of tea for +her mother, who had just awakened. Katie was cutting bread and butter, +and Phil and Marjory were standing by the window. Marjory was saying to +Phil, "I 'spect George will be turning the corner and coming home in a +minute." + +"Hush!" whispered Phil: "hush, Marjory! George isn't coming back any +more." + +At this moment the door was opened, and George came in. Marjory gave +Phil a scornful glance, and flew to her big brother. Katie flung down +the piece of bread she was buttering and Agnes turned from the fire. +George put out his hand to ward them all off. + +"Where's mother?" he asked. + +"She's awake, but she has been very ill," began Agnes. "Oh, George, +George, do be careful; where are you going?" + +"To my mother," answered the young man. "Don't let anyone come with +me--I want to be alone with her." + +He went straight into the bedroom as he spoke, and shut the door behind +him. + +Mrs. Staunton was lying propped up high by pillows. The powerful opiate +had soothed her, but the image of George still filled all her horizon. +When she saw him come into the room, she smiled, and stretched out her +weak arms to clasp him. He came over, knelt by her, and, taking her hot +hands, covered his face with them. + +"You've come back, my boy!" she said. "I'm not very well to-day, but +I'll soon be better. Why, what is it, George? What are you doing? You +are wetting my hands. You--you are crying? What is it, George?" + +"I have come back to tell you something, mother. I'm not what you think +me--I'm a scoundrel, a rascal. I'm bad, I'm not good. I--I've been +deceiving you--I'm a thief." + +"Hush!" interrupted Mrs. Staunton. "Come a little closer to me. You're +not well, my dear boy--let me put my arm round your neck. You're not +well, my own lad; but if you think----" + +"I'm as bad as I can be, mother," said George, "but it isn't bodily +illness that ails me. I said I'd make a clean breast of it. It's the +only thing left for me to do." + +A frightened look came into Mrs. Staunton's eyes for a moment, but then +they filled with satisfaction as they rested on the dark head close to +her own. + +"Whatever you've done, you are my boy," she said. + +"No, no; a thief isn't your boy," said George. "I tell you I'm a thief," +he added fiercely, looking up at her with two bloodshot eyes. "You've +got to believe it. I'm a thief. I stole fifty pounds from Gering +yesterday--and I was bad before that. I won money at play--I've won and +lost, and I've lost and won. Once Lawson gave me two hundred and fifty +pounds to invest, and I stole it to pay a gambling debt, and Effie got +it back for me--she borrowed it for me. My father wouldn't have given +you to me if he had known that. I had it on my conscience when I was +kneeling by his deathbed, but I couldn't tell him then; and when he gave +you to me, I felt that I never could tell. Then we came to London, and I +began to deceive you. I told you a false story about that rise of +salary--I never had any rise; and I took your fifty pounds two days ago +out of the bank, and I stole money to pay it back again. That's your son +George, mother--your _true_ son in his _real_ colors. Now you know +everything." + +George stepped a pace or two away from the bed as he spoke. He folded +his arms. + +Mrs. Staunton was looking at him with a piteous, frightened expression +on her face. Suddenly she broke into a feeble and yet terrible laugh. + +"My son George," she said. "That explains everything. My son +still--still my son!" She laughed again. + +There came a knock at the outer door. + +"Don't go, George!" said his mother. + +"George, you're wanted," said Agnes. "Effie is here, and Mr. +Gering--they want to see you. Come at once." + +"Mr. Gering!" exclaimed the mother. "He was the man you took the money +from. He's coming to--punish you, to--George, you're not to go. Stay +here with me. I'll hide you. You're not to go, George--I won't let you, +I won't let you!" + +"Dear mother! dear, dearest mother! you must let me--I must take the +punishment. I've deserved it and I'm determined to go through with it. +Just say a wonderful thing to me before I go, and I'll be strong enough +to bear it--and to--to come back to you when it's over. Say you love me +still, mother." + +"_Love_ you!" exclaimed Mrs. Staunton. + +"Yes, mother, although I'm a thief." + +"Bless the boy! that has nothing to do with it. You're my boy, whatever +you are." + +"Then you do still love me?" + +"Yes, yes, yes! Of course I love the lad!" + +George went straight to the door and opened it. He walked straight into +the other room. + +"I'm ready to take the punishment, sir," he said, going straight up to +Mr. Gering. + +His manner and the look on his face amazed his late employer. + +"Eh--eh--well, young sir," he said, backing a step or two. "And so you +confess that you robbed me?" + +"I do." + +"And you know what lies before you?" + +"Yes." + +"Have you been deceiving that mother of yours again?" + +"No; I've been telling her the truth at last." + +"Effie, Effie!" called Mrs. Staunton from the bedroom. + +Effie ran to her mother. + +"Do you know, young man," said Mr. Gering, "that you have got a very +remarkable sister?" + +"Do you mean Effie? Oh, I always knew she was a girl in a thousand." + +"A girl in _ten_ thousand, more like. Do you know, young rascal, that +she has been pleading with me for you, and--'pon my word, it's +true--melting my old heart till I don't know what I'm doing? In short, +I've made her a promise." + +"A promise! Oh, sir, what?" + +"A promise that I'll let you off--all but the moral punishment. That, of +course, you'll have to bear." + +"Mr. Gering, is this true?" + +"Yes, it's true. I'm doing it all on account of your sister. You may +come back to the office to-morrow, and consider that you've got a fresh +start. Now, for goodness' sake, don't keep me any longer. Open the door, +one of you children, can't you? I must hurry back to my work." + + * * * * * + +That is the story, for George really did learn his lesson, and in his +case the new leaf was turned. He will carry the scars, however, of that +time of sin and suffering to his grave. + +Effie kept her promise, and went as governess to little Freda Harvey for +a time, but only for a time. When money affairs were straight again, she +gladly returned to the life which she really loved, and is now +superintendent of one of the wards at St. Joseph's. + +It is true that there are whispers afloat with regard to her and +Lawson--whispers which always give a feeling of consternation in the +ward which she manages so skillfully--but only Effie herself can tell if +there is truth in them or not. + +THE END. + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +HURST & COMPANY'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE + +A Volume of Cheerfulness in Rhyme and Picture + +KINDERGARTEN LIMERICKS + +By FLORENCE E. SCOTT + +Pictures by Arthur O. Scott with a Foreword by Lucy Wheelock + +The book contains a rhyme for every letter of the alphabet, each +illustrated by a full page picture in colors. The verses appeal to the +child's sense of humor without being foolish or sensational, and will be +welcomed by kindergartners for teaching rhythm in a most entertaining +manner. + +Beautifully printed and bound. In attractive box. Price, Postpaid One +Dollar. + +HURST & COMPANY, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +HURST & COMPANY'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE + +NEW BOOKS FOR GIRLS + +TUCKER TWINS BOOKS + +By NELL SPEED + +Author of the Molly Brown Books. + +Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price 60c. per volume. + +At Boarding School with the Tucker Twins + +There are no jollier girls in boarding school fiction than Dum and Dee +Tucker. The room-mate of such a lively pair has an endless variety of +surprising experiences--as Page Allison will tell you. + +Vacation with the Tucker Twins + +This volume is alive with experiences of these fascinating girls. Girls +who enjoyed the Molly Brown Books by the same author will be eager for +this volume. + +The scene of these charming stories is laid in the State of Virginia and +has the true Southern flavor. Girls will like them. + +We will send any title upon receipt of 60 cents per volume, or both of +them for $1.10. + +HURST & COMPANY, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +HURST & COMPANY'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE + +NEW BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE AND OLD PEOPLE WHO FEEL YOUNG + +PAUL AND PEGGY BOOKS + +By FLORENCE E. SCOTT + +Illustrated by ARTHUR O. SCOTT + +Cloth Bound. Price 60c. per vol., postpaid + +Here and There with Paul and Peggy + +Across the Continent with Paul and Peggy + +Through the Yellowstone with Paul and Peggy + +These are delightfully written stories of a vivacious pair of twins +whose dearest ambition is to travel. How they find the opportunity, +where they go, what their eager eyes discover is told in such an +enthusiastic way that the reader is carried with the travellers into +many charming places and situations. + +Written primarily for girls, her brothers can read these charming +stories of School Life and Travel with equal admiration and interest. + +We will mail promptly any book for 60 cents, or all three for $1.60. + +HURST & COMPANY, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +HURST & COMPANY'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE + +STORIES OF COLLEGE LIFE FOR GIRLS + +MOLLY BROWN SERIES + +By NELL SPEED + +Cloth. Illustrated. Price, 60c. per volume + +Molly Brown's Freshman Days + +Would you like to admit to your circle of friends the most charming of +college girls? Then seek an introduction to Molly Brown. You will find +the baggagemaster, the cook, the Professor of English Literature and the +College President in the same company. + +Molly Brown's Sophomore Days + +What is more delightful than a reunion of college girls after the summer +vacation? Certainly nothing that precedes it in their experience--at +least, if all class-mates are as happy together as the Wellington girls +of this story. Among Molly's interesting friends or the second year is a +young Japanese girl, who ingratiates her "humbly" self into everybody's +affections. + +Molly Brown's Junior Days + +Financial stumbling blocks are not the only thing that hinder the ease +and increase the strength of college girls. Their troubles and their +triumphs are their own, often peculiar to their environment. How +Wellington students meet the experiences outside the class-rooms is +worth the doing, the telling and the reading. + +Molly Brown's Senior Days + +This book tells of another year of glad college life, bringing the girls +to the days of diplomas and farewells, and introducing new friends to +complicate old friendships. + +Molly Brown's Post Graduate Days + +"Book I" of this volume is devoted to incidents that happen in Molly's +Kentucky home, and "Book II" is filled with the interests pertaining to +Wellington College and the reunions of a post graduate year. + +Molly Brown's Orchard Home + +Molly's romance culminates in Paris--the Paris of art, of music, of +light-hearted gaiety--after a glad, sad, mad year for Molly and her +friends. + +If you do not know Molly Brown of Kentucky, you are missing an +opportunity to become acquainted with the most enchanting girl in +college fiction. + +Any book sent prepaid for 60 cents, or the six for $3.50. + +HURST & COMPANY, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +HURST & COMPANY'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE + +Latest Books by Mrs. L. T. Meade + +NEW COPYRIGHT EDITIONS PUBLISHED EXCLUSIVELY BY US + +Cloth. Illustrated. Price, 60c. per volume. + +These beautiful volumes represent Mrs. Meade's latest writings. They are +juvenile in character, especially written for young folks. By +arrangement with her English publishers, we have obtained the exclusive +American rights, and these books cannot be procured in any other +edition. Each volume handsomely bound with individual designs; each +containing four original drawings. Those familiar with Mrs. Meade know +her reputation for clean, wholesome stories, and these books should be +in every home library. The titles named below comprise her latest +Juveniles. + +Oceana's Girlhood +A Wild Irish Girl +The Girls of Merton College +For Dear Dad +Kitty O'Donovan +Peggy from Kerry +The Queen of Joy +The Chesterton Girl Graduates +The Girls of King's Royal +The Lady of Jerry Boy's Dreams +A Plucky Girl +The Daughter of a Soldier +A Girl of High Adventure +Jill, the Irresistible + +Mrs. Meade requires no introduction to her many admirers and readers, +and these volumes will be a welcome addition to the book-shelves in any +home. + +We will send any title selected upon receipt of 60 cents, or any six +books for $3.50. + +HURST & COMPANY, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +HURST & COMPANY'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE + +MOTOR MAIDS SERIES + +By KATHARINE STOKES + +Cloth Bound. Illustrated. Price, 50c per vol., postpaid + +THE MOTOR MAIDS' SCHOOL DAYS + +Billie Campbell was Just the type of a straightforward, athletic girl to +be successful as a practical Motor Maid. She took her car, as she did +her class-mates, to her heart, and many a grand good time did they have +all together. The road over which she ran her red machine had many an +unexpected turning. + +THE MOTOR MAIDS BY PALM AND PINE + +Wherever the Motor Maids went there were lively times, for these were +companionable girls who looked upon the world as a vastly interesting +place full of unique adventures. + +THE MOTOR MAIDS ACROSS THE CONTINENT + +It is always interesting to travel, and it is wonderfully entertaining +to see old scenes through fresh eyes. It is that privilege, therefore, +that makes it worth while to join the Motor Maids in their first +'cross-country run. + +THE MOTOR MAIDS BY ROSE, SHAMROCK AND THISTLE + +South and West had the Motor Maids motored, nor could their education by +travel have been more wisely begun. But now a speaking acquaintance with +their own country enriched their anticipation of an introduction to the +British Isles. How they made their polite American bow and how they were +received on the other side is a tale of interest and inspiration. + +THE MOTOR MAIDS IN FAIR JAPAN + +In a picturesque villa among picturesque surroundings the Motor Maids +spend a happy vacation. The charm of Japan,--her cherry blossoms, her +temples, her quaint customs, her polite people,--is reflected in all +their delightful experiences. + +THE MOTOR MAIDS AT SUNRISE CAMP + +Most interesting of all interesting events recorded about the Motor +Maids are these relating to their summer in a mountain camp. The new +friends introduced in this book add the final touch of romance. + +Charmingly written books which will delight all girls who are fond of +outdoor life--and most girls are. The trips taken by these Motor Maids +would envy any girl, yet you can have all the pleasant experiences by +reading the stories. + +We will send any book upon receipt of 50 cents, or all six for $2.50. + +HURST & COMPANY, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +HURST & COMPANY'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE + +GIRL AVIATORS SERIES + +By MARGARET BURNHAM + +Cloth. Illustrated. 50c. Each + +The Girl Aviators and the Phantom Airship + +Roy Prescott was fortunate in having a sister so clever and devoted to +him and his interests that they would share work and play with mutual +pleasure and to mutual advantage. This proved especially true in +relation to the manufacture and manipulation of their aeroplane, and +Peggy won well deserved fame for her skill and good sense as an aviator. +There were many stumbling-blocks in their terrestrial path, but they +soared above them all to ultimate success. + +The Girl Aviators on Golden Wings + +That there is a peculiar fascination about aviation that wins and holds +girls enthusiasts as well as boys is proved by this tale. On golden +wings the girl aviators rose for many an exciting flight, and met +strange and unexpected experiences. + +The Girl Aviators' Sky Cruise + +To most girls a coaching or yachting trip is an adventure. How much more +perilous an adventure a "sky cruise" might be is suggested by the title +and proved by the story itself. + +The Girl Aviators' Motor Butterfly + +The delicacy of flight suggested by the word "butterfly," the mechanical +power implied by "motor," the ability to control assured in the title +"aviator," all combined with the personality and enthusiasm of girls +themselves, make this story one for any girl or other reader "to go +crazy over." + +Aviation is not confined to the sterner sex as has been shown by the +flights made by Harriet Quimby and other daring young women. Girls who +are fond of adventure will thoroughly enjoy reading these books, which +are wholesome and free from sensationalism. + +Price, postpaid, 50 cents per copy or the four books for $1.75. + +HURST & COMPANY, Publishers, NEW YORK + +----------------------------------------------------------------------- + +Transcriber's Notes: + +1. Punctuation has been normalized to contemporary standards. + +2. Missing text, truncated by printer: + p. 131: "mother has gone far beyond our means. She hasn't" + +3. Several places in the text suggest missing or incorrect text: + p. 15: "I met Effie the night a came home" + replaced with "I met Effie the night I came home" + p. 145: "Now go and much in train for the afternoon as you can." + No replacement made. + p. 120: "but she for certain that he would come" + replaced with "but she knew for certain that he would come" + +4. Superfluous, repeated disconnected text on two sequential lines: + p. 168: changed voice. "Before God, I couldn't help it." + a changed voice. "Before God, I couldn't help it." + +5. Typographic errors corrected: + seventh page of advertisements: + "terrestial" to "terrestrial." + "stumbling-blocks in their terrestrial path" + + p. 24 "undestad" to "understand." "Now you understand" + + p. 111 "helds" to "held." "when she held the purse strings." + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Girl in Ten Thousand, by L. T. Meade + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GIRL IN TEN THOUSAND *** + +***** This file should be named 19761.txt or 19761.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/7/6/19761/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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