"What do you think?" cried Rose, bursting into the school-room. "Everard
is coming home."
"Oh, is he? I'm so glad," returned Alice.
"Yes; mamma had a letter to-day. He is better, and is coming home for
change of air and mamma's good nursing. It was not Everard who wrote the
letter, but the doctor, who is coming with him as far as Markham, and
papa is to meet them there."
"When?" inquired Alice.
"To-morrow."
"And papa is away."
"Oh, he will be back to-night. Why, there is a carriage; I wonder who it
is," she exclaimed, running to the window.
"How can you be so silly, Rose," interposed Isabel.
"Oh, it is Everard," she shouted, without heeding Isabel's remonstrance,
"and that must be the Doctor. Oh, I'm so glad Everard has come," and she
danced about the room with glee.
"Rose, what a noisy child you are!" exclaimed Isabel, going to the
window with the rest; but when she saw the Doctor, she became deadly
pale, and had to lean against the window frame for support, but she had
ample time to recover herself, as they were all too much occupied to
observe her.
"How terribly ill he looks," said Rose.
"And how dreadfully weak," returned Alice. "I'm sure that gentleman was
at Grace's party, only I forget his name."
"Oh, mamma and Grace are both out; who is to do the honors, won't you,
Miss Leicester?"
"Oh, no."
"Do, there's a good creature," pleaded Rose. But Isabel was firm. "It
will seem so queer," urged Rose.
"Alice, dear, _you_ must go."
Oh no, indeed, I can't; please excuse me, Miss Leicester."
"Oh let _me_ go," pleaded Rose, "I shall manage far better than Alice."
"You!" exclaimed Isabel, "nonsense! Alice has more thought, besides she
has the advantage of two or three inches in height, at all events."
Alice remonstrated.
"Not another word, Alice, you have to go," said Isabel; and Alice
thought she had never seen Miss Leicester so peremptory.
Isabel was not afraid to trust Alice. Once fairly installed as hostess
she would do very well, though shy at first.
"But he seems so very ill, and I shall not know what to do," said Alice.
"You must tell them they were not expected until to-morrow, to explain
your mamma's absence; and I will order up some refreshments, and tell
Norris to have your brother's room ready for him."
Poor Alice looked quite scared at the ordeal that was before her.
"Mind you manage nicely, Allie dear, and make your brother comfortable,"
said Isabel, kissing her. And Alice, with a great sigh, left the room.
Isabel would have been content to have done "the honors," as Rose termed
it, had the Doctor been any other than Louis, but under the
circumstances she was determined not to do so. Though firmly resolved to
abide by this decision, she did not feel very comfortable, as she
thought it not improbable that Everard would send for her. Indeed, he
did tell Alice to bring her, but Alice, with her usual blunt manner,
answered that Miss Leicester had refused to come, and had sent her. As
Isabel had foreseen, Everard soon retired to rest after his journey, and
she would have been nicely in for a long _tete-a-tete_ with Louis, which
she did not choose. As it was, she sent Rose to help her sister to
entertain the Doctor until her mamma came home; and, taking Amy with
her, Isabel retired to her own apartment, to prevent the possibility of
meeting him.
The absentees returned early, and Mrs. Arlington came herself to request
that Miss Leicester would endeavor to make the evening pass pleasantly
to the gentlemen, as she and Grace had an engagement that evening, and
as it was to be the ball of the season Grace did not wish to give it up.
"Pray, excuse me, Mrs. Arlington," Isabel began.
"Stay, Isabel, I know what you would say. The Doctor goes with us.
Everard and his father will be alone, and I think you can find a song,
a book, or something to amuse them."
"I will try," said Isabel, well content now that Louis was not to be of
the party.
"One word more, Miss Leicester," said Mrs. Arlington, dismissing Amy.
"I disapprove very much of the children being sent to entertain
visitors, and I hope it will not occur again."
Isabel felt hurt, but merely replied, "under the circumstances it might
be excused."
"No, Isabel, no; I cannot see any justifiable reason. It is more than
two years since Dr. Taschereau was married, and if you have not got over
that affair you ought to have done so, that is all I can say."
"I have, I have," exclaimed Isabel, warmly, "but still you could not
expect me to meet him."
"I don't see why you should not; it would have been better to have done
so than, by acting as you have, lead him to suppose that you have not
overcome your former attachment."
"It is utterly impossible, for him to think that," returned Isabel
hotly, "I told him differently long ago; no," she added indignantly,
"I have not the slightest shadow of affection for him; but I cannot,
will not, subject myself to his insufferable insolence. You don't know
him, or you would not expect me to do so," and the hot tears welled up
into her eyes.
"I cannot hear my son's friend aspersed, Miss Leicester, especially when
he is my guest," said Mrs. Arlington, stiffly, "at the same time I
don't, of course, mean to justify his former conduct towards you; and
with regard to the children, do not let it occur again. You may make
yourself happy about the doctor, as he returns by the early train in the
morning, for he is anxious about his little girl, who is only now
recovering from a serious illness."
On entering the drawing-room, Isabel found Everard on the sofa looking
very pale and rather sad. "I am sorry to see you so ill," she said,
"I came to give you a little music, but I'm afraid you will not be able
to bear it."
"On the contrary I think it would do me good; but why would you not come
this afternoon?"
"I am here now."
"But why not before? Was it not unkind?"
"It was not so intended."
"Will you not give me the reason?
"You must not ask me; believe that I had sufficient cause." The words
were not such as he would have, but the manner was so winning that he
could not choose but be satisfied. "I am here now, solely on your
account, to amuse you as you like best. You must have been very ill,"
she said, regarding him kindly.
"Yes, I am awfully weak," he returned, "it seems so strange to me,
I have usually been so strong."
"You will soon get strong here," replied Isabel, cheerfully.
"Not if you plague me as you did this afternoon," he said reproachfully.
"Don't be angry," she pleaded.
"Not angry, but hurt," he said.
"I couldn't help it," she answered, almost with a sob.
"It did seem a chilling reception, a strange coming home, so cold, so
utterly without welcome, and I had longed so much to come.
"It was not my fault they were all out."
"Yes, they were all out, and you wouldn't come."
"You are angry," she was crying now, her face down on her hands.
"I am a brute," he said.
"Oh, no; but I am a naughty girl," and seating herself at the piano, she
asked what he would have. She had not thought of the seeming neglect,
she had not thought what he would feel at finding Alice the only one to
receive him. She could not help it she told herself, perhaps so, but she
had been selfish, very selfish; she was sorry, sorry that Everard should
take it so hardly; but even so, did it occur again, she could not act
differently. "What will you have," she asked.
"You know my favorites."
"Ah, that is right; I was just going to send for you," said Mr.
Arlington, who now entered. "I see you know what will please him most;
I don't know what we should do without you," he added warmly. "You don't
know how good she has been to me, Everard, she is a good substitute for
my gay party-going daughter, but for her I don't know what I should do
now Emily is away." She is not good to me, thought Everard, and then a
ray of hope sprung up, as he thought of her very kind manner, but no,
had he not been led into thinking so before, but whenever he had touched
ever so lightly on the old topic, he had been repelled.
Isabel felt sad to-night, and could only sing plaintive melodies, and
then felt annoyed to think that she had failed to accomplish the purpose
for which she came. But she was mistaken, these songs harmonized better
with his present mood than more gay ones would have done.
Everard did not seem to gain strength. Isabel did her best to relieve
the weariness of the long, long days: bringing the children into the
library in the afternoon in order that he might share their amusement as
she read aloud, and in various ways endeavored to lessen the monotony of
the time. She would, perhaps, have acted more wisely had she not done
so, for Isabel's was a very tender nature, and her gentle sympathy was
very pleasant to Everard, but it only served to keep up the conflict
between hope and fear, which was specially hurtful to him just now, when
he needed perfect repose. But she thought Grace and her mother
neglectful, and strove to make up for it. She often sent one of his
young sisters to sit with him, but Rose was not allowed this privilege
as often as the others, though on the whole she was best. Alice was too
quiet, and Amy too apt to dwell on the perfections of her dear Miss
Leicester, while Rose, her wild spirits subdued in the presence of her
sick brother, but only sufficiently so to prevent her being oppressive,
was just the cheerful companion that was good for him, her vigorous,
healthy, happy-in-the-present style had a good effect. She was never at
a loss for a topic for conversation, and her quick perception enabled
her to detect at once when he grew tired, and then she would immediately
employ herself in some quiet manner. She never sat contemplating him
thoughtfully with eyes so like his own, as Alice too often did, as if
she would read his very soul.
There did not appear to be much of "Mamma's good nursing" to which Rose
had alluded. True it was a very gay season, and Mrs. Arlington's duties
were very onerous. "You know, Everard," she said, "that Grace cannot go
out alone, so that my time is so much occupied, that I fear I must
appear very neglectful, but you understand it is not my wish to leave
you so much," and Everard assented. But when he had a relapse, then she
gave up society, and was all the attentive mother.
Louis was very skilful and had got him through a very severe illness,
how severe they had not known till now. Mrs. Arlington sent the children
into the country to be out of the way, and Isabel of course went with
them.