The morning succeeding the events last recorded, at an early hour, Mrs.
Colman was on her way to the dwelling of the now destitute and infirm
Walter Malcolm. She had new motives for the advancement of her
charitable purposes, and her interest in the sick girl had deepened
since she knew her to be the one whose infant steps her own husband had
guided. Hastening up the stairs she knocked at the door, which was soon
opened by Maggie, who looked weary enough with the fatigue of the past
night. The young girl had been very restless, she said, and she believed
that the fever was rapidly progressing. “But is she not a beautiful
creature?” remarked Maggie to her mistress, as she bent over the couch
and parted the rich curls from the fevered brow, “ah, ma’am, I have
nursed many a one before this in sickness—but never a person whose
appearance so won upon me as hers has.”
Alice Colman did not wonder at the observation—but as she now glanced
round the room she met the gaze of Julie’s father, and her morning
salutation to him was full of gentleness and sympathy.
Through the whole of that day Mrs. Colman maintained her station in the
chamber of sickness and poverty. The physician came at the appointed
hour, and gave it as his opinion that Julie was growing rapidly worse
and that there were even doubts whether in any case her life would be
spared. Oh! how the thought of her dying affected Mrs. Colman.
“Let every thing be done that may be of benefit to her,” she said
anxiously to the doctor, “spare no expense whatever if you think you can
by any means preserve her from the grasp of death. I will be answerable
for whatever remuneration you may require.”
And not even content with his advice, she sent for her own family
physician determined to try all the means she could for the preservation
of the life of her husband’s niece. She noticed that Walter Malcolm
looked very pale all day, but attributed it to anxiety for his daughter.
He seemed too languid to converse—but once, as she handed him a glass
of water, he said—“Lady, Heaven will reward your kindness to the
suffering.”
That evening when Alice Colman returned home, her husband surprised her
with the intelligence that Walter Malcolm was aware of her relationship
to him. Before she went there in the morning, Mr. Colman had advised her
on no account to allow his brother to suspect from whom he received the
needful aid, for he feared that Walter still entertained against him the
old feeling of hatred, and that it would awaken unpleasant emotions in
his heart if he knew that the brother he had deserted was now destined
to be his chief reliance. But the caution to his wife was unnecessary.
Walter Malcolm had made inquiries of Maggie concerning the family to
whom he was indebted, and from their minuteness Harry Colman was
confident that he had been recognised. And that his brother had not
forgotten his former aversion to him he deemed evident from the fact
that he had said nothing of his discovery, during the day, to Mrs.
Colman. The latter however thought differently. Julie’s father had
spoken his thanks for that draught of water too earnestly for her to
join in her husband’s belief, and she expressed her conviction that he
repented his past conduct, and that he merely wanted courage to confess
his penitence.
But day after day passed on, and yet there was no allusion to the
subject on the part of Walter Malcolm. Meanwhile his daughter had passed
the crisis of the fever and was declared convalescent. If the appearance
of Julie Malcolm in the hour of delirium had attracted the fancy of
Alice Colman and her nurse, how much more were they drawn toward her
when her mind was freed from the chains that bound it—for gentle and
loving-hearted, her grateful spirit manifested itself in various little
touching ways toward those who had watched over her during her dangerous
illness. When she grew stronger and was able to enter into conversation,
a perfect understanding arose between Mrs. Colman and herself that they
were always to be friends. Alice Colman felt that she already loved
Julie dearly—and the latter was not slow in returning the affection of
one whose timely succor had saved her life. Still the young girl
suspected not that they were kindred by law as in heart.
It was soon settled that when Julie became entirely recovered, she
should undertake the duties of governess to Mrs. Colman’s children, and
this new office was to afford her the means of support. A more suitable
residence had been sought by Alice Colman for Julie and her father, and
they were to remove into it as soon as the former had gained sufficient
strength to bear the fatigue. Two more weeks elapsed ere this last
project was effected—and they were then comfortably settled in their
new abode.
And still there was no sign from Walter Malcolm that he knew of his
brother’s agency in the change wrought in his affairs. He was now
generally reserved when Mrs. Colman was near, and his countenance often
wore a deep shade of gloom.