A messenger had been dispatched early that morning from Woodburn to Ion
with the news of the arrival of Violet’s son; then Zoe and Rosie had
ridden over to Fairview with the tidings, and brought Evelyn back with
them.
They were all three on the veranda now, waiting and watching for the
coming of Captain Raymond, or Max with Lulu and Grace.
“What on earth can be keeping them?” exclaimed Rosie at length. “They
must be greatly taken up with that new-comer—my second nephew. How nice
and funny it seemed at first to be an aunt! but it’s quite an old story
now.”
“And I can never be one,” remarked Eva, between a sigh and a smile;
“though I confess the thought never struck me before.”
“Yes, you can; the same way that I am,” said Zoe. “Marry a man with
plenty of brothers and sisters, and you’ll likely find it easy enough.”
“Oh, here they come at last!” cried Rosie, “they’re just turning in at
the gates. It’s Max that’s with them, not the captain. I never can
remember to call him brother, as he wants me to.”
“Somehow they don’t seem a very gay party,” remarked Evelyn as the trio
drew near, “they don’t call to us, or wave their hands or any thing.”
“No,” said Zoe, examining them critically through an opera glass,
“there is something dejected in the droop of their figures, and the
girls have certainly been crying. Can it be that they are so distressed
over the new arrival?”
“No, I am sure not,” exclaimed Eva. “How could they? a baby is the
sweetest thing in the world, I think!”
“So do I,” said Zoe. “And Max and Grace were delighted when little
Elsie was born.”
“And Lu, I am sure, loves her dearly now,” said Rosie. “No, it can’t be
that. Oh,” with sudden affright, “what if Vi is very ill!” and she ran
hastily down the steps just as the ponies were reined in beside them.
“What’s the matter?” she asked breathlessly, “why are you so late? and
what have you been crying about? Oh, don’t tell me that—that any thing
is very wrong with Vi!”
“No; the doctor says she’s doing well,” replied Max, alighting and
beginning to assist the now bitterly sobbing Grace from the saddle.
Lulu slipped easily from hers to the ground. “It’s papa,” she said
tremulously, and with streaming eyes, “Thunderer threw him, and he’s
badly hurt. We’re not going to stay; we want to nurse him ourselves;
but he said we must come and tell you all about it, and then we could
come back.”
They had all three come up into the veranda by this time; Mr. and Mrs.
Dinsmore had joined the little group, and questions and condolences and
exclamations of sorrow and dismay were poured out in rapid succession.
“How did it happen? Where is he injured? What does the doctor say?”
“Oh, the dear, good captain!” cried Zoe, “it does seem too bad it
should have happened to him!”
“I’m very fond of him, and as sorry as I can be for him and Vi too;
it’ll most kill her not to be able to go to him and nurse him,” said
Rosie.
But Evelyn only clasped Lulu in her arms and wept with her.
“I really do hope—I think the doctor does too”—said Max, when the
excitement had calmed down a little, “that papa has received no
permanent injury, though he’ll have to suffer a good deal for weeks
with that wrenched ankle. I must go on to the village now,” he added,
“and I am to call for my sisters as I come back.”
With that he bowed a polite adieu, ran down the steps, mounted his pony
and rode away.
“Max is growing very manly,” remarked Zoe, gazing admiringly after him;
“quite the gentleman; but he always was that ever since I have known
him.”
Grandma Rose took the weeping Grace into her kind arms. “You are quite
worn out with your grief, dearie,” she said, “you must lie down and
rest till Max comes for you again,” and she led her into the house.
Evelyn had drawn Lulu to a seat, and with her arm round her waist, her
hand clasping hers, was trying to comfort her.
“Don’t cry, dear Lu,” she said, “your father is left to you, and he is
brave and patient, and will bear his pain well, while it will be such
sweet work to wait on him and nurse him.”
“Yes, indeed it will,” said Lulu, wiping her eyes. “Oh, if I could only
bear the pain for him!”
“He wouldn’t let you if you could,” said Eva.
“No, not he,” said Zoe; “he’s quite too fond of his children not to
prefer suffering himself, rather than to let them suffer.”
“That is quite true, I know,” assented Lulu. Then with a sigh, “We were
all so happy this morning, before—before papa’s accident; so glad over
the new baby; I hardly wanted to come away—though I had looked forward
so to this visit and expected such a pleasant time and so much fun—and
I tried to get papa to say he needed me at home to keep him from being
lonely, with Mamma Vi sick, but he wouldn’t; he didn’t want either
Gracie or me to be disappointed.”
“But can’t you come anyhow?” asked Rosie, hospitably; “there are plenty
of people there to nurse and wait on your papa.”
“O Rosie, I couldn’t bear to be away from him when he is suffering! And
I’m ’most sure he’d rather have me to wait on him than any body else (I
don’t mean Mamma Vi, of course); but than Christine, or Alma, or any of
the servants. I thank you, all the same, though, for your kindness in
asking me.”
“You needn’t,” Rosie returned; “it’s almost pure selfishness; for I
expected to enjoy your company very much.”
At that Lulu’s face lighted up with pleasure for the moment; it was so
nice, she thought, that at last Rosie had become really fond of her.
Max wasted no time in doing his errand, and was back again at Ion
sooner than any one expected to see him; but Lulu and Grace were ready
and eager to go home.
On their arrival at Woodburn, the doctor came out to help them
dismount, and with so cheerful a face that their hopes rose.
“How is papa? May we go to him?” they asked, eagerly.
“Doing very well; there’s not much amiss with him, I think, except the
sprained ankle, and a brave, patient man, such as he, will not make
much of that. Yes, you may go to him. If you behave well, as I have no
doubt you will, your presence will be a comfort rather than an injury,”
replied the doctor; then added, laughingly, “Odd as it may seem, he is
certainly very fond of you all.”
Hardly waiting to hear the end of the sentence, they hastened to avail
themselves of the permission.
The captain was in great pain, but lay with his eyes on the door,
his ears attentive for the sound of childish footsteps; and as his
three children appeared at the threshold, his face lighted up with a
welcoming smile.
“Ah, my darlings, I am glad to see you,” he said; “come to me, all of
you,” extending his hand, “I want a kiss and a loving word from each.”
They waited for no second invitation, but ran to him, put their arms
about him, half-smothered him with caresses, and with mingled smiles
and tears, poured out assurances of their ardent love and sympathy in
his sufferings.
“Ah!” he said, noting the traces of tears on their cheeks and about
their eyes, “it grieves me to see how your young hearts have been
wrung on my account! Gracie, pet, you look worn out. Max, my son, help
her up-stairs to her room, and she must lie down and rest till dinner
time.
“Lulu, daughter, you may go along, change your riding-habit for a
house-dress, and when you have seen Gracie comfortably established in
her bed, come back and be papa’s little nurse.
“Max, when Gracie needs you no longer, come and report to me about the
errand I trusted to you.”
“Yes, sir, I will,” returned Max, taking Grace’s hand and leading her
away, while Lulu lingered a moment to give their father another hug and
kiss, saying joyfully, “Thank you ever so much, dear papa! I’m so glad
I may be your little nurse! I shall just love to wait on you and do
every thing I can to help you to forget your pain. O papa, if I could
only bear it for you!”
“My dear, loving little daughter,” he said, with emotion, and holding
her in a close embrace, “it would be far worse to me to see you suffer
than to bear the pain myself. Don’t be so distressed for me, my child,
it is no more than I can very well bear; especially remembering those
sweet Bible words: ‘We know that all things work together for good to
them that love God,’ and that my kind heavenly Father will not suffer
me to have one pang that is not needed to make me fit to dwell with him
at last.”
“Papa,” she said, gazing wonderingly into his eyes, “it does seem to me
that you are as good as you can be now, so I don’t see why you should
ever have any pain or trouble at all.”
“‘The Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward
appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart,’” he quoted.
“My little daughter can’t see her father’s heart, but God does, and
though he sees there love to him and an earnest desire to live to his
honor and glory, he sees also remains of the old evil nature born in us
all, and that has to be taken entirely away before we can be fit for
heaven; so in his great love and kindness he sends trouble and trial to
root it out.
“‘Whom the Lord loveth he correcteth; even as father the son in whom he
delighteth.’”
“Or the daughter,” murmured Lulu thoughtfully; “yes, I see how it is
that you punish me to cure me of my faults, even though you love me
very much.”
“_Because_ I love you very much,” he corrected. “It would often be much
easier, and more agreeable to me to let them pass unnoticed. But go
now, my child; Gracie will be wanting you.”
She had scarcely gone when Max returned, and sitting down by his
father’s side, proceeded to give a satisfactory report of what he had
been doing in the village.
There were some improvements in progress on the estate to which the
captain strongly desired to give personal oversight; but his injuries
now made this impossible, unless by bringing them to a halt till he
should be able to get about again.
Fortunately, however, he had all along talked freely with Max, of his
plans and purposes, giving the lad a thorough understanding of them;
for Max was a bright boy quite capable of comprehending his father’s
explanations; also it was very delightful to him to be taken into that
father’s confidence, and treated by him as one whose opinion was worth
having, and who was to some extent a joint proprietor with himself.
“Max,” said the captain, with a look of fatherly pride and confidence
that made the boy’s heart throb with pleasure, “you will have to be
my man of business now, reporting the progress of the workmen to me,
taking my orders and seeing that they are obeyed.”
“Will you trust me, papa?” cried the boy delightedly. “I’m sure it’s
very good in you!”
“I am very glad to have a son whom I can trust,” was the smiling,
kindly rejoinder. “I have entire confidence in you, and as you are
more fully acquainted with my plans and wishes than any one else, you
are the very one I prefer before all others, to see them carried out.”
He then went on to give some directions in regard to the work for that
day.
Before he had finished, both the doctor and Lulu had returned to the
room.
“Attending to affairs in spite of every thing, captain?” said the
doctor. “I should have supposed you were suffering enough with that
injured ankle to forget all about the improvements you are making on
the place.”
“I prefer to try to forget pain in interesting myself about something
else,” returned the captain, suppressing a groan and forcing himself to
speak lightly.
Arthur was changing the dressing on the wounded limb, Lulu standing
beside her father, with her hand in his, her eyes, full of love and
sympathy, fixed upon his face.
“Dear papa, are you in very much pain?” she asked. “Oh, I am so sorry
for you! I wanted Max to take his gun and shoot Thunderer, but he
wouldn’t without your leave.”
“Quite right,” was the quick rejoinder. “By the way, I had utterly
forgotten the horse. Do you know what has become of him?”
“He jumped over the hedge and ran away,” said Lulu.
“But was pursued and brought back,” added Arthur; “is in his stall in
the stable now, somewhat quieted down by his race of several miles, and
the journey back again.”
“Papa,” cried Lulu vehemently, “I wish you would have him killed;
because he deserves it, and I’m afraid he’ll kill you some day, if you
don’t. Doctor, don’t you think it would be best?”
“Possibly your father may be a better judge of that than either you
or I, my little girl,” was the reply. “I am inclined to suspect the
groom of being a worse culprit than the horse; that perhaps before
being brought from the stable Thunderer had been subjected to cruel and
irritating treatment which put him in a passion, and led him to throw
his rider without waiting to make sure that it was he who was to blame.”
Lulu’s heightened color and downcast eyes seemed to indicate that
she suspected the doctor of intending his remarks to have a personal
application.
“Do horses get into passions?” she asked.
“They have feelings and tempers pretty much like human creatures,”
returned the doctor, “and are certainly more excusable than they when
indulging a fit of rage.”
“Then I ought to have a good deal of charity for Thunderer,” remarked
Lulu, with a sigh. “But, papa, I do hope you’ll never mount him again.
Won’t you promise not to?”
“I promise not to for six weeks to come,” answered the captain,
laughingly, squeezing her hand and looking fondly into her eyes. “Don’t
you think she’ll make a careful nurse, doctor?”
“A capital one when she has gained experience.”
Lulu’s eyes sparkled.
“I mean to get that as fast as I can,” she said.
Both gentlemen laughingly asked, “How?”
“By nursing you, papa,” she answered. “I shall watch every thing the
doctor and Christine do for you, so that very soon I’ll be able to do
it for you myself.”
“Is she not a dear child?” her father said, passing his arm around her
as she stood by his couch, and gazing in her face with eyes shining
with love. “She gave up the week of holiday at Ion that she had been
looking forward to for so long, in order that she might wait upon and
comfort her father in his pain.”
“Ah, it is an old saying that love begets love,” the doctor remarked,
smiling on her also, “and I think an affectionate parent is apt to have
affectionate children.”
“I don’t deserve any praise for it,” Lulu said, though blushing with
pleasure even as she spoke, “because I prefer to be here with papa.”
“But a selfish child, who thought only of pleasing herself, would not
prefer it,” the doctor said, regarding her approvingly.
“I want to begin my work at once,” said Lulu. “What can I do for you
now, papa?”
“You may bring me a glass of ice-water and a fan,” he answered, and
she obeyed with a cheerful alacrity that proved the sincerity of her
professed desire to do something for him.