When the red gleams of the early sunshine shone into that window from
which Nettie had looked out last night, the wintry light came in with
agitating revelations not simply upon another morning, but upon a new
world. As usual, Nettie's thoughts were expressed in things tangible.
She had risen from her sleepless bed while it was still almost dark, and
to look at her now, a stranger might have supposed her to be proceeding
with her last night's work with the constancy of a monomaniac. Little
Freddy sat up in his crib rubbing his eyes and marvelling what Nettie
could be about, as indeed anybody might have marvelled. With all those
boxes and drawers about, and heaps of personal belongings, what was she
going to do? She could not have answered the question without pain; but
had you waited long enough, Nettie's object would have been apparent.
Not entirely free of that air of agitated haste--not recovered from the
excitement of this discovery, she was relieving her restless activity by
a significant rearrangement of all the possessions of the family. She
was separating with rapid fingers those stores which had hitherto lain
lovingly together common property. For the first time for years Nettie
had set herself to discriminate what belonged to herself from the general
store; and, perhaps by way of softening that disjunction, was separating
into harmonious order the little wardrobes which were no longer to be
under her charge. Freddy opened his eyes to see all his own special
belongings, articles which he recognised with all the tenacious
proprietorship of childhood, going into one little box by themselves in
dreadful isolation. The child did not know what horrible sentence might
have been passed upon him while he slept. He gazed at those swift
inexorable fingers with the gradual sob rising in his poor little breast.
That silent tempest heaved and rose as he saw all the well-known items
following each other; and when his last new acquisition, the latest
addition to his wardrobe, lay solemnly smoothed down upon the top,
Freddy's patience could bear no more. Bursting into a long howl of
affliction, he called aloud upon Nettie to explain that mystery. Was he
going to be sent away? Was some mysterious executioner, black man, or
other horrid vision of fate, coming for the victim? Freddy's appeal
roused from her work the abdicated family sovereign. "If I'm to be sent
away, I shan't go!" cried Freddy. "I'll run off and come back again. I
shan't go anywhere unless you go, Nettie. I'll hold on so fast, you can't
put me away; and, oh, I'll be good!--I'll be so good!" Nettie, who was
not much given to caresses, came up and put sudden arms round her special
nursling. She laid her cheek to his, with a little outbreak of natural
emotion. "It is I who am to be sent away!" cried Nettie, yielding for a
moment to the natural bitterness. Then she bethought herself of certain
thoughts of comfort which had not failed to interject themselves into
her heart, and withdrew with a little precipitation, alarmed by the
inconsistency--the insincerity of her feelings. "Get up, Freddy; you are
not going away, except home to the colony, where you want to go," she
said. "Be good, all the same; for you know you must not trouble mamma.
And make haste, and don't be always calling for Nettie. Don't you know
you must do without Nettie some time? Jump up, and be a man."
"When I am a man, I shan't want you," said Freddy, getting up with
reluctance; "but I can't be a man now. And what am I to do with the
buttons if you won't help me? I shall not have buttons like those when
I am a man."
It was not in human nature to refrain from giving the little savage an
admonitory shake. "That is all I am good for--nothing but buttons!" said
Nettie, with whimsical mortification. When they went down to breakfast,
she sent the child before her, and came last instead of first, waiting
till they were all assembled. Mrs Fred watched her advent with apprehensive
eyes. Thinking it over after her first triumph, it occurred to Mrs Fred
that the loss of Nettie would make a serious difference to her own
comfort. Who was to take charge of the children, and conduct those
vulgar affairs for which Susan's feelings disqualified her? She did her
best to decipher the pale face which appeared over the breakfast cups
and saucers opposite. What did Nettie mean to do? Susan revolved the
question in considerable panic, seeing but too clearly that the firm
little hand no longer trembled, and that Nettie was absorbed by her own
thoughts--thoughts with which her present companions had but little to
do. Mrs Fred essayed another stroke.
"Perhaps I was hasty, Nettie, last night; but Richard, you know, poor
fellow," said Susan, "was not to be put off. It won't make any difference
between you and me, Nettie dear? We have always been so united, whatever
has happened; and the children are so fond of you; and as for me,"
said Mrs Fred, putting back the strings of her cap, and pressing her
handkerchief upon her eyes, "with my health, and after all I have gone
through, how I could ever exist without you, I can't tell; and Richard
will be so pleased----"
"I don't want to hear anything about Richard, please," said Nettie--"not
so far as I am concerned. I should have taken you out, and taken care of
you, had you chosen me; but you can't have two people, you know. One is
enough for anybody. Never mind what we are talking about, Freddy. It is
only your buttons--nothing else. As long as you were my business, I
should have scorned to complain," said Nettie, with a little quiver
of her lip. "Nothing would have made me forsake you, or leave you to
yourself; but now you are somebody else's business; and to speak of it
making no difference, and Richard being pleased, and so forth, as if
I had nothing else to do in the world, and wanted to go back to the
colony! It is simply not my business any longer," cried Nettie, rising
impatiently from her chair--"that is all that can be said. But I shan't
desert you till I deliver you over to my successor, Susan--don't fear."
"Then you don't feel any love for us, Nettie! It was only because you
could not help it. Children, Nettie is going to leave us," said Mrs
Fred, in a lamentable voice.
"Then who is to be instead of Nettie? Oh, look here--I know--it's
Chatham," said the little girl.
"I hate Chatham," said Freddy, with a little shriek. "I shall go where
Nettie goes--all my things are in my box. Nettie is going to take me;
she loves me best of you all. I'll kick Chatham if he touches me."
"Why can't some one tell Nettie she's to go too?" said the eldest boy.
"She's most good of all. What does Nettie want to go away for? But I
don't mind; for we have to do what Nettie tells us, and nobody cares
for Chatham," cried the sweet child, making a triumphant somersault out
of his chair. Nettie stood looking on, without attempting to stop the
tumult which arose. She left them with their mother, after a few minutes,
and went out to breathe the outside air, where at least there was quiet
and freedom. To think as she went out into the red morning sunshine
that her old life was over, made Nettie's head swim with bewildering
giddiness. She went up softly, like a creature in a dream, past St
Roque's, where already the Christmas decorators had begun their pretty
work--that work which, several ages ago, being yesterday, Nettie had
taken the children in to see. Of all things that had happened between
that moment and this, perhaps the impulse of escaping out into the open
air without anything to do, was one of the most miraculous. Insensibly
Nettie's footsteps quickened as she became aware of that extraordinary
fact. The hour, the temperature, the customs of her life, were equally
against such an indulgence. It was a comfort to recollect that, though
everything else in the universe was altered, the family must still have
some dinner, and that it was as easy to think while walking to the
butcher's as while idling and doing nothing. She went up, accordingly,
towards Grange Lane, in a kind of wistful solitude, drifted apart from
her former life, and not yet definitely attached to any other, feeling
as though the few passengers she met must perceive in her face that her
whole fortune was changed. It was hard for Nettie to realise that she
could do absolutely nothing at this moment, and still harder for her to
think that her fate lay undecided in Edward Rider's hands. Though she
had not a doubt of him, yet the mere fact that it was he who must take
the first step was somewhat galling to the pride and temper of the
little autocrat. Before she had reached the butcher, or even come near
enough to recognise Lucy Wodehouse, where she stood at the garden gate,
setting out for St Roque's, Nettie heard the headlong wheels of something
approaching which had not yet come in sight. She wound herself up in a
kind of nervous desperation for the encounter that was coming. No need
to warn her who it was. Nobody but the doctor flying upon wings of haste
and love could drive in that break-neck fashion down the respectable
streets of Carlingford. Here he came sweeping round that corner at the
Blue Boar, where Nettie herself had once mounted the drag, and plunged
down Grange Lane in a maze of speed which confused horse, vehicle, and
driver in one indistinct gleaming circle to the excited eyes of the
spectator, who forced herself to go on, facing them with an exertion
of all her powers, and strenuous resistance of the impulse to turn and
escape. Why should Nettie escape?--it must be decided one way or other.
She held on dimly with rapid trembling steps. To her own agitated mind,
Nettie, herself, left adrift and companionless, seemed the suitor. The
only remnants of her natural force that remained to her united in the
one resolution not to run away.
It was well for the doctor that his little groom had the eyes and activity
of a monkey, and knew the exact moment at which to dart forward and
catch the reins which his master flung at him, almost without pausing in
his perilous career. The doctor made a leap out of the drag, which was
more like that of a mad adventurer than a man whose business it was to
keep other people's limbs in due repair. Before Nettie was aware that he
had stopped, he was by her side.
"Dr Edward," she exclaimed, breathlessly, "hear me first! Now I am left
unrestrained, but I am not without resources. Don't think you are bound
in honour to say anything over again. What may have gone before I forget
now. I will not hold you to your word. You are not to have pity upon
me!" cried Nettie, not well aware what she was saying. The doctor drew
her arm into his; found out, sorely against her will, that she was
trembling, and held her fast, not without a sympathetic tremor in the
arm on which she was constrained to lean.
"But I hold you to yours!" said the doctor; "there has not been any
obstacle between us for months but this; and now it is gone, do you
think I will forget what you have said, Nettie? You told me it was
impossible once----"
"And you did not contradict me, Dr Edward," said the wilful creature,
withdrawing her hand from his arm. "I can walk very well by myself,
thank you. You did not contradict me! You were content to submit to what
could not be helped. And so am I. An obstacle which is only removed by
Richard Chatham," said Nettie, with female cruelty, turning her eyes
full and suddenly upon her unhappy lover, "does not count for much. I do
not hold you to anything. We are both free."
What dismayed answer the doctor might have made to this heartless speech
can never be known. He was so entirely taken aback that he paused,
clearing his throat with but one amazed exclamation of her name; but
before his astonishment and indignation had shaped itself into words,
their interview was interrupted. An irregular patter of hasty little
steps, and outcries of a childish voice behind, had not caught the
attention of either in that moment of excitement; but just as Nettie
delivered this cruel outbreak of feminine pride and self-assertion,
the little pursuing figure made up to them, and plunged at her dress.
Freddy, in primitive unconcern for anybody but himself, rushed
head-foremost between these two at the critical instant. He made a
clutch at Nettie with one hand, and with all the force of the other
thrust away the astonished doctor. Freddy's errand was of life or death.
"I shan't go with any one but Nettie," cried the child, clinging to her
dress. "I hate Chatham and everybody. I will jump into the sea and swim
back again. I will never, never leave go of her, if you should cut my
hands off. Nettie! Nettie!--take me with you. Let me go where you are
going! I will never be naughty any more! I will never, never go away
till Nettie goes! I love Nettie best! Go away, all of you!" cried Freddy,
in desperation, pushing off the doctor with hands and feet alike. "I
will stay with Nettie. Nobody loves Nettie but me."
Nettie had no power left to resist this new assault. She dropped down
on one knee beside the child, and clasped him to her in a passion of
restrained tears and sobbing. The emotion which her pride would not
permit her to show before, the gathering agitation of the whole morning
broke forth at this irresistible touch. She held Freddy close and
supported herself by him, leaning all her troubled heart and trembling
frame upon the little figure which clung to her bewildered, suddenly
growing silent and afraid in that passionate grasp. Freddy spoke no
more, but turned his frightened eyes upon the doctor, trembling with the
great throbs of Nettie's breast. In the early wintry sunshine, on the
quiet rural highroad, that climax of the gathering emotion of years
befell Nettie. She could exercise no further self-control. She could
only hide her face, that no one might see, and close her quivering lips
tight that no one might hear the bursting forth of her heart. No one was
there either to hear or see--nobody but Edward Rider, who stood bending
with sorrowful tenderness over the wilful fairy creature, whose words of
defiance had scarcely died from her lips. It was Freddy, and not the
doctor, who had vanquished Nettie; but the insulted lover came in for
his revenge. Dr Rider raised her up quietly, asking no leave, and lifted
her into the drag, where Nettie had been before, and where Freddy, elated
and joyful, took his place beside the groom, convinced that he was to go
now with the only true guardian his little life had known. The doctor
drove down that familiar road as slowly as he had dashed furiously up to
it. He took quiet possession of the agitated trembling creature who had
carried her empire over herself too far. At last Nettie had broken down;
and now he had it all his own way.
When they came to the cottage, Mrs Fred, whom excitement had raised to
a troublesome activity, came eagerly out to the door to see what had
happened; and the two children, who, emancipated from all control, were
sliding down the banisters of the stair, one after the other, in wild
glee and recklessness, paused in their dangerous amusement to watch the
new arrival. "Oh! look here; Nettie's crying!" said one to the other,
with calm observation. The words brought Nettie to herself.
"I am not crying now," she said, waking into sudden strength. "Do you
want to get them killed before they go away, all you people? Susan, go
in, and never mind. I was not--not quite well out of doors; but I don't
mean to suffer this, you know, as long as I am beside them. Dr Edward,
come in. I have something to say to you. We have nowhere to speak to
each other but here," said Nettie, pausing in the little hall, from
which that childish tumult had died away in sudden awe of her presence;
"but we have spoken to each other here before now. I did not mean to
vex you then--at least, I did mean to vex you, but nothing more." Here
she paused with a sob, the echo of her past trouble breaking upon her
words, as happened from time to time, like the passion of a child; then
burst forth again a moment after in a sudden question. "Will you let me
have Freddy?" she cried, surrendering at discretion, and looking eagerly
up in the doctor's face; "if they will leave him, may I keep him with
me?"
It is unnecessary to record the doctor's answer. He would have
swallowed not Fred only, but Mrs Fred and the entire family, had that
gulp been needful to satisfy Nettie, but was not sufficiently blinded
to his own interests to grant this except under certain conditions
satisfactory to himself. When the doctor mounted the drag again he
drove away into Elysium, with a smiling Cupid behind him, instead of
the little groom who had been his unconscious master's confidant so
long, and had watched the fluctuations of his wooing with such lively
curiosity. Those patients who had paid for Dr Rider's disappointments in
many a violent prescription, got compensation to-day in honeyed draughts
and hopeful prognostications. Wherever the doctor went he saw a vision
of that little drooping head, reposing, after all the agitation of the
morning, in the silence and rest he had enjoined, with brilliant eyes,
half-veiled, shining with thoughts in which he had the greatest share;
and, with that picture before his eyes, went flashing along the wintry
road with secret smiles, and carried hope wherever he went. Of course it
was the merest fallacy, so far as Nettie's immediate occupation was
concerned. That restless little woman had twenty times too much to
do to think of rest--more to do than ever in all the suddenly-changed
preparations which fell upon her busy hands. But the doctor kept his
imagination all the same, and pleased himself with thoughts of her
reposing in a visionary tranquillity, which, wherever it was to be
found, certainly did not exist in St Roque's Cottage, in that sudden
tumult of new events and hopes.