Baby is quite well and happy, in fact all trace of her illness has
passed away; but Natalie is worn and weary with tending her pet and
bearing with Louis's hasty temper; she is pale and wan, but ever sweet
tempered. "Hark, baby, there's papa." Izzie ran to meet him. He raised
her in his arms and caressed her, scarcely noticing his fond little
wife, who would have been made happy by a kiss or kind word. Tired and
weary, but with a heart ache which was harder to bear, Natalie lay on
the sofa, she was nothing to him, that was clear.
"Love papa, baby, love papa," he said. Little Izzie threw her arms round
his neck and kissed him, then struggled to get away, "What's the
matter," he asked. "Love mamma, Izzie want's to love mamma." She ran to
her mother and repeated the action. Natalie caught the child in her
arms, kissing her passionately. "Izzie, my darling Izzie," she murmured,
while large tears fell on the child's face. Taking up her pinefore Izzie
gravely wiped her own face, and then tenderly endeavored to dry her
mother's tears, whispering don't cry mamma, Izzie don't like to see
mamma cry," and she nestled to her mothers side, stroking her hair and
kissing her repeatedly. Nothing would have induced Izzie to leave her
mother then, even had Louis attempted it, but he did not, he stood by
the mantlepiece watching them, with an unpleasant sensation, that baby
had no power to dry those tears. He remained there a long time, his head
resting on his hand, while Natalie and baby fell asleep together. From
time to time a deep, deep sigh would escape from Natalie, which was not
pleasant for Louis to hear. Sarah came for baby, but he desired her to
leave her there. After a while, he thought it was not best that she
should be there, and went softly to the sofa and took her away. As he
did so, he remarked for the first time--aye, for the first time--the
worn unhappy expression of Natalie's sweet face, which did not leave it
even in sleep, and stooping over her gave the kiss and kind words to his
sleeping wife, which he had withheld when she might have been made happy
by them. He carried the child to its nurse, then went to his surgery,
busy among his drugs he could not but think of Natalie. How pale she
looked, how fragile she had become, how languid and listless she seemed
of late, he had noticed that, and with no pleasant feeling did he
remember, that he had done so, only to chide her for being lazy. How
blind he had been, he saw plainly enough that she needed change of air,
she should have it, she should pay his uncle Macdermott a visit, and
take Izzie with her, but what should he do without Izzie, he asked
himself, but with surprising magnanimity, he refused to consider that
question. He had been a little inattentive perhaps lately and owed her
some amends, so Izzie should go with her. He knew very well that Natalie
would never go without her, and, truth to tell, he had his misgivings as
to how Izzie would behave without her mother, so, as he really thought
it needful, it was as much necessity as kindness, that brought him to
this decision.
Natalie submitted passively to all their arrangements, but, on the
evening previous to their departure, when Louis was enjoying a cigar in
the library, after superintending all the preparations for the next
day's start, Natalie came fondly to his side, and laying her hand softly
upon his shoulder, said in a voice that trembled with emotion, "I cannot
go, do not ask me, Louis, I cannot, will not leave you," and her head
sank on her hand, as she again murmured "do not ask me."
"Pooh, Natie, what nonsense," he answered, laughing.
"No Louis, I cant, you promised that you would come for a week, so I
will wait until you can take the week, and then we will go together, but
not now alone, O, not alone," and she sobbed out on his shoulder the
pent up anguish of her heart. He drew her to him with more kindness than
he had shown for a long time.
"You will not send me away," she whispered.
"Now, Nattie dear, be reasonable, you know you are not strong, and I
want you to get your roses back, and a week would be too short a time to
benefit you much, so in four weeks time I will come for two, that will
do, won't it."
She shook her head, "I have a terrible dread of the journey, no Louis,
I will not go, I will wait till you can come with me."
Louis was not one to submit to opposition, his brow grew dark and the
fierce light was kindling in his eye. She should go, once for all he
would not brook this resistance. After he had decided to let Izzie go to
please her, and save all fuss, was this to be the end of it? no. "It is
too late to say that now," he said, "a few weeks will soon pass, and
this idle fear is childish."
"I should have spoken before, only I did so wish to please you if I
could."
"No, Natalie," he said, sternly, "you do not care whether I am pleased
or not, you think of nothing but your own foolish fancies."
"Don't be cross, Louis, it is because I love you so much that I want to
stay, don't send me away, O Louis, don't."
"Now, Natalie, you are enough to provoke a saint," he said, angrily,
"cross, indeed, no wonder if I am, don't let me hear another word about
it, you go to-morrow."
Natalie saw that any more opposition would inevitably cause one of those
fierce bursts of passion of which she ever stood in mortal dread; she
glanced at his darkened countenance and was silent, but her heart was
heavy.
"Come, we will take a turn on the lawn the moon is so bright," he said.
They walked in the moonlight, those two, husband and wife not three
years, but the happy brightness had faded out of her face, and the girl
not twenty walked by his side with a weary step, as if life were almost
a burden. She resolutely checked her tears, and silently paced the lawn,
while her thoughts wandered back to the beautiful home in the south of
France, where she first met the man who had proved so different a
partner to what, in her love and trust, she had fondly imagined, and
then she wished so fervently that she might even yet be to him all that
she had hoped. But he did not want her with him, he would be glad when
she was away, oh, he did not love her, or he would not thus cruelly
insist upon her going. She had it in her heart even yet to throw herself
into his arms and entreat him to let her stay, but she felt that it
would be useless, besides she dare not offer further resistance to his
will. She looked up into his face and knew she dare not.
His eyes were fixed upon her, "why Natalie," he said, laughing, "anyone
would think I was an ogre to see your countenance." But it was not a
pleasant laugh. Then the hardest thought that she ever had towards him,
came to her mind, and she thought that he was acting very like one.
Louis paused as they were about to enter the house saying, "You will not
worry me any more, if you do it will be useless and only make me harsh,"
his manner was stern, determined and chilling in the extreme. Natalie
shivered, "I will go," she replied in a choking voice, then flew up the
stairs and alone in the dark gave vent to the grief that was breaking
her heart. "Little fool," murmured Louis between his firmly closed
teeth, "what a plague she is."