ANOTHER PROMISE.
AT the slight bustle of their arrival, Mrs. Shaddock came to the
dining-room door, and when she saw them, she exclaimed joyfully—
"You have never got him?"
But Rose's face was an answer, while Gertrude said, in a low, broken
voice, which they would hardly have known to be hers, "We have got the
shadow of what he was."
Mrs. Shaddock said not another word, but led Rose into the bright warm
dining-room, placing her in an arm-chair, the rest following in silence.
Mr. Shaddock had returned from town, and when Gertrude saw him, she
went up to him at once.
"Mr. Shaddock, it is a terrible story, but if I tell it to you, no
indignation—nothing—can justify any one in making the thing known
without our permission. We have only got our darling back on those
terms."
She looked in his face appealingly. What if some stranger, who was
bound by no promise, should take the matter up?
"You may trust me, but what has happened?" asked Mr. Shaddock.
While the rest gathered round Mrs. Leigh, too anxious to see her little
boy to care, just then, to ask any questions.
Gertrude gave him a few particulars, and then both followed the others
to where Rose sat caressing her little boy, and trying to coax him to
reply to her endearments.
"'Why' does he not speak to me?" she asked at last piteously, meeting
Gertrude's eyes.
"He has been frightened," said her sister gently; "perhaps if we have
first-rate advice—"
"Frightened?" asked Rose. "Who—who could be so cruel—not Mrs. Swift?"
"No, dear Rose; it was a playful trick of her poor little boy."
"Poor?" echoed Rose sternly. "No wonder she asked me to forgive her!"
"And you did, darling," said Gertrude, kneeling down by her and
smoothing Lester's golden curls. "You will not take it back now! It was
not Mrs. Swift's fault—not that—"
"But Johnnie—that was his name, I remember now—where is Johnnie, who
frightened my little Lester?" She laid her hand on Gertrude's shoulder,
as if to impress her words.
And Gertrude, just fresh from Johnnie's grave and the woman's grief and
repentance, could find no voice to answer. She only looked in little
Lester's face and tried to think of suitable words.
"Where is he?" reiterated Rose.
"He is dead."
"Dead!"
"I have been at his grave to-night," said Gertrude. "If poor little
broken-hearted Johnnie had not been dead, nothing on earth would have
drawn your secret from the woman's lips. Little dead Johnnie has given
you back your child!"
Rose's eyes fell, and as her glance once more rested on her child, the
hard look which had for a moment clouded her sweet face passed away.
"Oh, forgive me!" she said, bending down to her child's face. "And
little Johnnie is dead, and I have you still—"
Mr. and Mrs. Shaddock signed to the rest to follow them from the room,
so that Mrs. Leigh might have time to recover from the shocks of the
last hour. And Gertrude, seeing their kind intention, went with them,
and was soon explaining all the circumstances to a breathless audience
in the drawing-room.
"But the child looks dying," said Mrs. Shaddock at last. "Can nothing
be done for it?"
"I hardly know," said Gertrude. "But, dear Mrs. Shaddock, I feel
ashamed to trouble you—but my sister is not usually distracted like
this—but if you could lend us a warm shawl, we will drive to the
nearest hotel, and put him to bed. Can you tell me which to go to?—And
may one of the maids get a cab?"
"You shall not go out again to-night!" exclaimed Mrs. Shaddock,
appealing to her husband. "We could not allow it, could we?"
"No, indeed," he answered heartily.
"I will go and prepare his bed at once," said Mrs. Shaddock, rising.
"Oh, mother, let me help!" exclaimed Mollie.
"And you, Daisy," said Mrs. Shaddock, turning at the door, "go and ask
cook to make a little bread-and-milk quickly, and carry it to Mrs.
Leigh, for the little boy. Oh, to think we should have the pleasure of
doing anything for such sufferers!"
Her eyes were tearful as she hastened away, and Gertrude thought that
she had not given her credit for so much heart.
Daisy sped on her errand, and waited while the order was carried out.
After two or three minutes she came up again, bearing the cup in her
hand.
And just as she was hesitating at the dining-room door, Conway came
across and opened it for her with an encouraging "Go in, Daisy; she
won't bite your head off," which reassured her very much.
Mrs. Leigh sat in the same position as before, but she had thrown off
her bonnet, and was now chafing her little boy's feet at the fire,
while traces of tears were on her cheeks.
"This is for little Lester," said Daisy, advancing shyly; "perhaps it
will help to make him warm."
"Thank you, dear," said Rose, taking it from her hand.
Daisy did not know whether she ought to withdraw, but Mrs. Leigh's next
words showed that her presence was welcome.
"Hold the cup while I put some in his mouth, dear. He was never like
this in the old days. But they frightened him—my dear little boy. By
and by, when he begins to remember mother, he will not be frightened
any more!"
She addressed the last words to the child, and he opened his quiet eyes
and looked in her face. Then as he perceived the spoon held to him, he
mechanically moved his mouth to receive the food.
"See, he understood me!" exclaimed Mrs. Leigh joyfully.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]