AN AWFULLY FRIVOLOUS GIRL.
Dr. Bentinck, the great London surgeon, arrived early on the following
morning. Poor Nora was quite conscious now, and in great pain. This
pain, however, was considered rather a good sign than otherwise, for had
the spine been much injured the little girl would have been numbed and
stupid. Dr. Bentinck examined his little patient with great tenderness
and care. His opinion, when it was given, was a great deal more
favourable than anyone dared to hope. He thought that Nora would
eventually be as well as ever again; but although he was sure that there
was no permanent injury to the spine, there was a great deal of present
distress and discomfort to be got through. The little girl must lie
perfectly still on her back for many weeks, and it would be many a long
day before the dancing, romping Nora of old would return to the Towers.
After the night of suspense and terror, however, which poor Mrs.
Lorrimer, by Nora's bedside, and Molly in her lonely little bedroom at
the Towers, had undergone, the great London doctor's news seemed all
that was delightful. Hester hurried to the Towers to put Molly's anxious
heart at rest, and Mrs. Lorrimer returned to the room where Nora was
lying very white and still.
Nora had received a shock the day before which must influence her during
all the remainder of her days. It seemed to shake all her little
artificial affected nature off and to reveal the real Nora, who was
frightened and weak and silly, and yet who had somewhere beneath her
frivolous exterior a real little heart of gold. If there was one person
whom Nora really adored, and in whose presence she was ever her truest
and best, it was her mother. She looked at her mother now as she
re-entered the room.
"Stoop down and tell me," she said in a whisper.
Mrs. Lorrimer bent over her.
"Yes, my love," she said. "What do you want to know?"
"Am I going to die, mother?"
"Die? not a bit of it, my darling. Dr. Bentinck has given us quite a
cheerful opinion of you. He says there is no very serious injury, and
that you will be your usual self by-and-by."
Nora's eyes brightened.
"I am very glad," she said. "I didn't want to die. I don't think I'm
quite fit."
"My little daughter will have learnt a severe lesson by this accident,"
said Mrs. Lorrimer; "but now you must lie still, love, and think of
nothing but how quickly you can get well again."
Nora closed her eyes, and Mrs. Lorrimer sat down in an easy chair by the
bedside.
The next day the little girl was considerably better, and Mrs. Lorrimer
proposed that she and Jane should return to the Towers and send Molly to
look after Nora. A good surgical nurse had arrived from town the evening
before; Molly's services, therefore, would only be of the lightest.
Mrs. Lorrimer went into the morning room, where Hester and Annie were
sitting together.
The moment she did so Annie jumped up and came to her.
"How is Nora?" she asked.
"She is much better, my dear; in fact, almost quite like her old self
to-day. She cannot, of course, move without the greatest pain, but when
she lies perfectly still she is tolerably easy."
"Then I may go to see her, may I not?" asked Annie.
"If you will promise to be very quiet. It would not do to excite her in
any way."
"There never was such a good nurse as Annie," exclaimed Hester. "She has
a soothing influence over sick people which is quite marvellous. Did I
ever tell you how she saved Nan's life years ago at Lavender House?"
"Oh, that's an old story," said Annie, laughing and reddening. "Well,
granted that I possess a sort of mesmerism, may I use it for Nora's
benefit?"
"Certainly, my love," said Mrs. Lorrimer, smiling affectionately at
Annie's bright face.
She ran off, singing as she went.
Nora was lying perfectly flat on the little bed which had been hastily
improvised for her in the study. The room was now turned into a
comfortable bedroom, but was also in part a sitting-room. A large screen
effectually shut away the bedroom part of the furniture and partly
screened Nora also.
Annie had not gone straight to the sick room. She had rushed first into
the conservatory and made frantic mad havoc amongst the roses there. The
choicest blooms, any quantity of unopened buds, were cut by her reckless
fingers. She gathered a whole quantity of maidenhair to mix with the
roses, and then, a tender colour on her own cheeks, her dark eyes bright
as well as soft, she appeared like a radiant vision before the tired,
sad eyes of the sick child.
Nora was just well enough to feel the monotony of her present position,
to think longingly of the life of active movement which was hers at the
Towers. Even lessons in the old schoolroom, even that hateful darning
and mending to which she had to devote a portion of her time each day,
seemed delightful in contrast to her present inertia. She was thinking
of Friar's Wood and of Annie's bright face just when Annie herself,
looking like a bit of the summer morning, appeared in view.
"Now, don't get excited," said Annie smiling at her. "You'll see such a
lot of me during the next few weeks that you need not get into a state
just because I've come into the room. I feel that in a certain fashion I
am to blame for your accident, so I am going to take your amusements
upon my shoulders; and if you just allow me to manage matters, I'll
promise that you shan't have a dull time while you are getting well.
Have you a headache?"
"No, not a bit."
"That's all right; then you won't mind my talking. Are you fond of
pretty things?"
"Yes, very fond."
"Well, I'll sit here, just where you can comfortably see the flowers and
me. I expect we'll make a very pretty picture, but you need not say so.
I wonder where there's a looking-glass. Oh, yes, in that corner,
decently covered with an antimacassar. Well, then, glass, you have got
to uncover for my benefit. I wish to see whether I look pretty or not."
Annie danced up to the glass; Nora could watch her each movement.
Her steps were as light as a sylph's, nothing rattled in the sick-room
as she moved about it. She took up a comb and re-arranged her dark,
curling hair. She placed a rose in her belt, nodded to her own bright
image, and then, seating herself before a small table, began to arrange
the flowers. "Nora, you can't think what a mass of roses there are in
the green-house this morning. Of course the garden is full, too, but I
did not wait to go to the garden to get these for you. You can watch me
just as long as you fancy and then shut your eyes. These half-open buds
are to be placed on a table close to you, where you can smell them. The
other flowers we'll put here and there about the room. It's a good
thing you were brought into this pretty study, for from where you lie
you can fancy you are in a sitting-room, and that you are just having a
stretch on the sofa to rest yourself. Fancy goes a long way, doesn't
it?"
"I don't know," replied Nora. "I'm afraid I can't fancy that."
Tears filled her eyes as she spoke.
"How cool you look," she said presently, "and--and active and happy."
"It wouldn't do for me to look unhappy when I am with you, would it?"
asked Annie. "Now tell me, do you like this dress?"
"Yes, it's very pretty. What stuff is it?"
"Only pink cambric, trimmed with pink embroidery. Would you like me to
make you one?"
"What do you mean?"
Nora's eyes brightened perceptibly.
"What I say," replied Annie. "I made this dress for myself. I make all
my dresses, for I am not at all well off; in short, I am poor, and Mrs.
Willis is so sweet and dear that she gives me a couple of hours every
day to devote to needlework. In consequence I have got some pretty
things, although they cost next to nothing. Now, I think you and I are
something alike. We are both dark, and we have both got bright colour.
Oh, I don't mean that you have a bright colour just now, you poor little
darling; but when you are well, you are sweet, like a wild rose. Suppose
I make you a pink cambric frock, and a white one and a blue one? I have
got a white and a blue. When you're well again you'll look quite lovely
in them, Nora. What do you say?"
"I'd like it awfully," said Nora. "You are very good, very good; but I
haven't got any money. I--I am even poorer than you."
"Are you? How delightful. I adore _poor lady_ girls, because they are
always contriving, and that's so interesting. We'll make the dresses out
of odds and ends, and they shan't cost you a penny."
"It's very good of you," said Nora. She was too weak to argue and
protest, and the vision of her pretty little self in alternate dresses
of pink and white and blue cambric was decidedly refreshing.
She lay and looked at Annie and acknowledged to herself that she made a
pretty, a beautiful, picture, and the discontented lines round her mouth
vanished, and the time did not seem long.
That evening Molly, excited and in high spirits, arrived on the scene.
Molly was absolutely trembling as she came into the room where Nora was
lying; but although her love was ten times deeper, she had not Annie's
marvellous tact, and soon contrived to tire poor Nora dreadfully. The
nurse seeing this sent her away, and Molly came back to Hester with a
very crestfallen expression of face.
"I can't make out how it is," she said; "but Nora does not seem a bit
glad to see me."
"Oh, nonsense," said Hester; "what do you mean?"
Annie was sitting in a corner of the room busily engaged over Henry
Kingsley's novel, "Geoffrey Hamlyn." She did not raise her eyes, but
bent her curly head still lower over the fascinating pages. Nan had gone
to spend a few days at the Towers, and the great house at the Grange
seemed very quiet and still.
Molly sank down into a chair near Hester.
"I have been so excited about this meeting," she said. "Nora is almost
my twin-sister, and I have suffered so terribly about her. I cannot tell
you the relief and joy of being allowed to come here to look after her,
but now I fear I shall be next to no good."
"Well, you'll be no end of good to me," said Hester; "and, of course,
Nora will like to have you by-and-by, but she is still very weak and
cannot bear the least excitement."
"But nurse tells me that you, Annie, spent some hours in her room
to-day."
At these words Annie sprang to her feet, and "Geoffrey Hamlyn" fell with
a bang to the floor.
"I did spend hours in her room," she said, "and I don't think I tired
her; but, then, perhaps you kissed her a lot, Molly?"
"Kissed her?" exclaimed Molly; "I should think so, at least a hundred
times."
"Oh, good gracious, how dreadfully fatiguing for a sick person. Well,
you see, I didn't kiss her once, nor even touch her."
"But you aren't her sister," said Molly.
"No, no; and that is the reason that I am a very good person to be with
her, because I amuse her without exciting her. All I did to-day was to
sit in the room where she could see me, and arrange some flowers and
have a little talk about dressmaking."
Molly opened her eyes in astonishment. Nora had been at the brink of
death. Had not Molly spent a whole night in fervent and passionate
prayers for her recovery? Did not Nora love Molly, and did not Molly
love Nora as only loving sisters can love? and yet Molly exhausted poor
Nora, while Annie Forest, who was a stranger, soothed her.
Molly looked at Annie now without in the least comprehending her, and
for the first time in all her gentle life a distinct sensation of
jealousy was aroused within her.
Annie left the room a moment later, and Hester turned to Molly.
"I see you don't understand Annie," she said.
"Yes, I'm sure I do; what an awfully frivolous girl she must be. Fancy
her talking of dress to Nora, and she so ill."
"But it did Nora heaps of good; nurse said she was quite jolly this
afternoon, and that Annie was the companion of all others for her."
"Don't say that again, Hester," said Molly; "it makes me feel quite
wicked."
"I know well," replied Hester, "that Annie is thoughtless."
"Thoughtless? I should think so; but for her Nora would never have been
hurt."
"But she has the warmest heart in the world," continued Hester. "I did
not understand her for a long time. Indeed, Molly, I don't mind telling
you that once I hated her; but, oh, if you could only see Annie at her
best. She can be--yes, she can be noble."
Molly stared in non-comprehension.