The event which occurred in Mr. Loveday's house in Church Alley, and
which caused him perhaps the greatest excitement in his life, will be
explained by the following letter which Nansie wrote to her husband
two months after the conversation between her and her uncle narrated
in the last chapter:
"My Own Dear Kingsley,--
At length I am strong enough to write to you, and it is a great joy to
me to sit down once more to speak to the beloved wanderer of whom I
think night and day. I am sure that you must be with me, in spirit,
even in my dreamless sleep. You will not be sorry to know that you are
not the only one now the thought of whom makes my heart a garden of
flowers. I have a sweet treasure--surely the sweetest that ever
blessed a happy woman--lying at my feet, and you will not begrudge me.
Oh, my dear Kingsley, if you were with me at this moment, and we were
looking down together on the lovely, innocent face of our darling, you
would think as I do, that heaven itself was shining in the little room
in which I am writing! Everything is so strangely beautiful that I can
scarcely believe I am living the same life I lived till I became a
happy, happy mother. It is not the same--it is sweeter, purer, more
precious; I seem to hear angelic music even in the silence which
surrounds me. I know what produces it. I put my face close to my
darling's mouth, and I can just hear her soft breathing.
"You will forgive me, will you not, for not having written to you for
so long a time? I could not help it, you see. I know from your last
letter that you received the one my uncle wrote to you, and that you
would have flown to my side if you had had the means. It seems so
cruel that you should be in such straits for money. Why do you not ask
Mr. Seymour straightforwardly to pay you what he must owe you? It must
be a good sum by this time. But perhaps it is wrong of me to say to
you, why do you not do this or that?--for surely you must know what is
best to be done, and the right time to do it. It is easy to judge for
others, is it not, my dearest? I have the fullest faith and confidence
in you; and, my dear, you must not worry about me. My uncle is the
dearest friend I could have met with. He is kindness itself, and I
feel that he loves me as if I were his daughter. And I have money--not
much, Kingsley, dear, but enough--to go on with. Before baby came I
earned some, and presently, when she can crawl, and walk, and
speak--oh, Kingsley, the wonder of it!--I shall earn more. Uncle is so
good to me that I need very little; but still some things are
necessary which uncle does not understand about, and he has not more
than he knows what to do with. Then, of course, I am an expense to
him; but he never makes the least mention of that--he is too
considerate, and I know he is glad to have me with him--and to have
baby, too, although I fancy he does not quite know yet what to make of
the darling. Indeed, I half think he is frightened of her. I see him
sometimes looking at her when she is asleep with such a funny look in
his eyes that I can hardly keep from laughing. The idea of a great big
man being frightened of a little baby! But, Kingsley, dear (I would
not confess it to anybody but you), I, too, am frightened of baby a
little sometimes, when she lies in my lap, staring at me solemnly with
her beautiful eyes--the color of yours, dearest--wide, wide open,
without even so much as a blink in them. She seems to be reading me
through and through. 'What are you thinking of, darling?' I whisper to
her; and though of course she cannot answer me, I am sure that she
understands, and that I should be very much astonished if I knew what
was passing through her mind. She is going to be a very wise little
body--I can see that--and very sweet and beautiful, and a great
blessing to us. But she is that already, the greatest, the most
precious that has ever fallen to my lot. You see, my dear husband, I
look upon baby and you as almost one person; I cannot think of one
without the other, it is impossible to separate you; so that when I
say that baby is the greatest blessing that was ever given to me, I
mean you as well as our darling....
"I have been obliged to stop; baby woke up, and we had a happy hour
together. Now she is asleep again. She is so good, not at all fretful,
as some babies are, and when she cries (which is really not often) it
is a good healthy cry, which makes uncle say that her lungs are in
fine condition....
"I have been reading over what I have written, and I stopped at the
part where I speak of baby presently being able to walk and talk. Long
before that, my dear Kingsley, I hope that you will be with us, and
that we may be all living together. Do not think I am desirous of
urging you to any other course than that which you consider right, but
the happiness of our being together again would be so great! Is there
any chance of Mr. Seymour coming to England and settling down here,
and keeping you as his secretary at a fair salary? Then we could have
a little home of our own, and you could go to Mr. Seymour in the
morning and come home in the evening, and we should have one day in
the week to ourselves. It is not a very great deal to ask for, but if
some kind fairy would only grant it I should be supremely happy.
Surely, surely, the future must have something good in store for us!
"I have told you in my letters all about Timothy Chance, and how good
and helpful he has been. Well, my dear Kingsley, until baby came I
looked upon Timothy as my knight, my own special cavalier whom I could
depend upon for service at any hour I chose to call upon him; but I
think now that he has divided his allegiance, at least half of it
going to baby. Timothy is an extraordinary lad, and uncle has a great
opinion of him. Putting his duties in uncle's business out of the
question, and putting baby and me out of the question, Timothy seems
to have only one idea--eggs and fowls. He is now the proud owner of
four fine hens, and his spare minutes (not too many) are devoted to
them. He reads up every book he can lay hands upon that treats of
fowls, and is really very clever in his proceedings. He made me laugh
by saying: 'If fowls won't lay they must be made to lay;' and he
studies up food to coax them. It is very amusing; but Timothy is so
earnest that you cannot help respecting him, and respecting him more
because he is successful. He shows me his figures, and is really
making a profit every month. He is now drawing out plans for
constructing a movable fowl-house, in compartments, each compartment
accommodating eight fowls, and capable of being taken down and put up
again in a wonderfully short time. Uncle says the plans are as nearly
perfect as possible, and that he should not wonder if Timothy made a
fortune one of these fine days. Timothy has insisted upon my accepting
two new-laid eggs a week. Uncle and he had some words about them at
first, uncle wanting to pay for them and Timothy refusing to accept
any money; but the good lad was so hurt and took it so much to heart
that I persuaded uncle to let him have his way.
"Why do I write all this to you, dear Kingsley? To show you that I am
in the midst of kindness, and that although you have not as yet been
very fortunate, there is much to be grateful for. Remember our
conversation, my darling, and never, never lose heart. Courage!
courage! as you have said many times; and it will help you to feel
assured that there are loving hearts beating here for you, and friends
holding out willing hands. Why, if a poor, imperfectly educated lad
like Timothy looks forward to making a fortune out of such simple
things as eggs, what may you not do, with your advantages and
education? All will be well, and there is a happy future before us.
"I am tired, and have a dozen things to do, or I would keep on talking
to you for hours. But I must really finish now. Baby sends you her
dearest, dearest love. Indeed she does. I asked her, and upon my word,
Kingsley, dear, she crowed and laughed. She is the most wonderful
thing in the world, there is no doubt of that. I kiss her a hundred
times for her dear papa, and I blow her kisses to you, and kiss them
into the words I am writing. Our hearts are with you; our dearest love
is yours. Oh, my darling! to close this letter is like bidding you
good-bye again. Take all our love, which is forever blossoming for
you. I close my eyes, and think that you are by my side; and I press
you to my heart, which beats only for you and our darling child. What
name shall I give her?
"Good-bye, and God bless and guard you, my own dear love.
"Your faithful, loving wife, Nansie."