And then came further trouble. Early in February, Monsieur d’Alberg
wrote an exultant letter to announce the birth of a son. Why a son was
so important to him none could say, but so it was; and, under the
influence of this joyful event, his heart expanded enough to impart
itself to Nora. He wrote a kindly as well as a triumphant letter; and it
gave her a feeling that one of her haters was thawing towards her.
He did not invite her to come over at that time; but he expressed a
wish that when Madame was recovered she would come and see the young
heir.
Madame, however, did not recover rapidly. Nora began at last to wonder
at the often-repeated bulletin: “Doing well, but continues weak.” She
wrote to say that, if Monsieur d’Alberg approved, she would like to
visit her mother. Perhaps her visit might invigorate her.
Monsieur d’Alberg wrote in reply to beg her to come. He did not say he
felt uneasy; but Nora imagined that he did so, and set off without
delay.
It did not need many looks in her mother’s face to convince Nora that
her days were numbered. Monsieur d’Alberg did not appear to see it,
physician though he was; but to the keen and searching eye of the sad
daughter it was plain. And, in fact, after a painless decay of six
weeks, Madame d’Alberg died.
Sad as were those weeks, they were not without sweetness. It was Nora
who once again was all in all to her mother. Monsieur d’Alberg was not a
man to invite to himself trouble and sorrow; and, as his eyes began to
open to the conviction that his wife was dying, he very thankfully
resigned her to Nora’s care. Not altogether in want of affection, he was
very kind, and, whenever he came, spoke gently both to mother and
daughter. It was more the wish to spare himself the sight of her decline
than from want of common feeling; and there was nothing but peace and
comfort around the dying bed of the well-meaning but weak woman.
Nor after her death did Monsieur d’Alberg shew any return of distrust
or dislike. He acceded to her wish of taking little Annora under her
protection for good; and with equal readiness to her taking the two
elder sisters for a long visit to Riddlemere. He was going, he said, to
break up his establishment for a time, to place his boy with a sister
who lived in some other part of Switzerland, and would let her know when
he intended to reform his household.
With three little sisters Nora therefore returned to Riddlemere, and a
good deal of life was introduced into the house. Sophy was still in
failing health, and in attending upon her, in amusing the children and
performing her usual duties, full occupation was provided. She was still
sad enough at heart, but was learning to control herself, and was
outwardly cheerful.
Before the close of the year, Riddlemere was destined to receive other
guests.
In the summer, Mrs. Devereux, after a long illness, in which her mind as
well as body failed, died. The child of whom Mr. Blair had spoken died
in the spring, and the blow, as he had imagined, gave the finishing
stroke to her strength. Mrs. Devereux died, and a month after her death
it could no longer be concealed that Mr. Devereux was mad.
Letitia had not been allowed to come to the house during her mother’s
illness, or after her death. Her very name caused Mr. Devereux
momentarily to lose his reason. But when the time came that the long
brooding insanity became a confirmed thing, she was sent for.
Poor Letitia was not very happy in her marriage; and when these family
cares devolved on her, she found but little help from her husband. He
did indeed ascertain for her the state in which the money matters stood;
but, finding these were not satisfactory, he declined to have any more
to say. It was necessary to place Mr. Devereux in some sort of
confinement, and to provide for the two children that were left. During
the past year Mr. Devereux had done little to increase his fortune, and
debts had accumulated; while the income which was settled on his wife
and Henry could not be touched till Henry’s return.
Letitia wrote to Henry; but she did not know where he was, and she knew
that his receipt of her letter was a doubtful event. He had at last
written to his mother, and had said that he had found employment, but he
also said that his life was an unsettled one. He gave a direction to
which letters were to be sent, but desired her not to be uneasy if no
answer was returned. He had, he said, no definite plans; when she wrote
to Australia he might possibly be in New Zealand, “or in any other
country on the face of the earth, except England.” The stormy passions
that drove him away, too evidently still raging within him.
Letitia had had but one strong feeling in her life. Natural affections
she certainly had, as was evident now, for she was oppressed with sorrow
and care, and something of remorse, too, at the death of her mother, and
the state of her father, and her home. But she had only consciously
indulged one feeling, and to this she now clung. It was not a passion
that made her happy, but she had taken it to herself, and to that
passion or feeling, now become a duty, she was resolved to give her
life’s devotion. When she saw, therefore, that she was to find no help
or sympathy from her husband in her cares for her family, she resolved
that she would take the burden on herself, and refrain from annoying him
by word or look.
But in order to bear this burden without annoying him, she took a step
which no other consideration would have made her take. She appealed, and
in no haughty tone, to Nora. Her letter to Nora was a good one. Its tone
would, in a man, have been called manly; for it acknowledged faults in
the past, and yet, without abject expressions, asked that they should on
this occasion be forgotten. She said she had a young brother and sister
to provide for until Henry’s return, and could not from circumstances
receive them herself. It was not money, she said, that she asked for
them, but care. She was herself inexperienced in such things, and wished
for the advice and assistance of one better fitted to offer it.
It would be difficult to say whether pleasure or surprise predominated
in Nora’s mind on the reception of this letter. She had been led to form
ideas of Letitia’s character different from what it portrayed. But the
fact was, Letitia herself was changed. Devotion even to a bad husband
was better for the character than the life of idle discontent which she
had led at home; and the better parts of her character were beginning to
emerge from darkness.
Unwilling to say anything that might wound, Nora simply answered the
letter with the assurance of her willingness to give both assistance
and advice; and then requested her faithful servant, Stephen Fanshawe,
to go to Letitia and discover her wishes.
Her own wish, she told him, was to receive and keep the children until
Henry’s return; but prudence made her unwilling to make the proposal, if
such should not be Letitia’s plan.
On going to Letitia, Stephen found that the plan was exactly what she
most approved. Her feeling of responsibility in arranging for the
welfare of the children was satisfied; and as the home might then be
broken up, there was good hope that the money matters might be
satisfactorily arranged in the course of a few months. This last subject
was of great importance to her. She of course had had no fortune, but
should there be a satisfactory arrangement of affairs, a fortune might
come to her, more or less; and whatever it were, it would gratify her
husband.
Nora came to London, to her guardian’s house, to receive the children.
She behaved with great prudence, making no advances to Letitia beyond
what the occasion required, and was gratified by receiving a visit from
her when the children were placed under her care.
There was no likeness to Henry in Letitia, and but little in the other
children. The one who had lately died, the little girl of four years
old, was the only one who had had any promise of the features, or of the
charm of disposition, of the elder son. But the children were harmless,
poor little shy things, who had had few pleasures and a careless
education, and were therefore more interesting to a kind heart than had
they been beautiful and charming.
She took them back to Riddlemere, and for the next seven months devoted
herself to her large family.
It was at the end of that time that the little event mentioned two
chapters back, broke the quietness of her life.