"I suppose that Virginia will have told her."
"Let her know; it would be worse later. Write to her--you--when it is
hopeless."
"Yes," said Alvar.
"My love--my one love! And say she must come and see me once more. She
will--_I_ would go anywhere."
"Hush, hush! my brother; I understand you. I am to find out if Virginia
has written to her cousin; and if you are worse, I write and ask her if
she will come. I will do it."
"Thanks. I can't thank you. God knows how I love her."
"Not one more word," said Alvar, steadily. "Now you must rest."
"I shall get better," said Cherry.
But as the pain grew fiercer, and his strength grew less, this security
failed; and then it was well indeed for Cheriton that, be his desires
what they might, he believed with all his warm heart that it was a
loving Hand that had given him life both here and hereafter.
Time passed on, and Cheriton still lay in great danger and suffering.
It was a sorrowful Sunday in Oakby when his name headed the list of sick
persons who were prayed for in church. Every one could tell of some
boyish prank, some merry saying, some act of kindness that he had done;
and now that he was believed to be dying, be the facts what they might,
there was a sort of sense that he had been deprived of his rights by his
foreign brother.
"It had a deal better a' been yon black-bearded chap. What's he to us?"
many a one muttered.
Alas! that the thought would intrude itself into the father's mind,
spite of the gratitude he could not but feel!
But Alvar went on with his anxious watching, heeding no one but his
brother. That Sunday was a day of great suffering and suspense, and all
through the afternoon came lads from the outlying farms, children from
the village, messengers from half the neighbourhood to hear the last
report. Silence and quiet were still so forcibly insisted on, that even
Mr Lester was advised by the doctor to keep out of his son's room; but
Mr Ellesmere came up to the house at his request and waited, for all
thought that the useless prohibition would soon be taken away; and in
the meantime his presence was a support to the father and grandmother,
the latter of whom, at least, could bear to hear Cheriton praised.
Towards evening, Alvar, who had scarcely stirred all day, was sent
downstairs by Mr Adamson to get some food, and as he came into the
dining-room, where the customary Sunday tea was laid on the table, he
was greeted with a start of alarm. The two poor boys, tired, hungry,
and frightened, had arrived but a few minutes before, and were standing
about silent and awestruck.
Jack leant on the mantelpiece, with his lips shut as if they would never
unclose again; Bob was staring out of the window; Nettie sat forlorn on
one of a long row of chairs. Not one of them made an attempt to comfort
or to speak to the others; they were almost as inaccessible in the
sullen intensity of their grief as the two dogs, who, poor things!
shared it, as they sat staring at Nettie, as dogs will when they do not
comprehend the situation.
Alvar, with his olive face and grave dark eyes, looked, after all his
fatigue, less changed than Jack, who was deadly pale, and hardly able to
control his trembling.
"Ah! Jack," said Alvar, in his soft, slow tones, "he will be glad to
hear that you are come!"
Jack did not speak at first, and Alvar, as silent as the rest, went up
to the table and poured out some claret and took some bread.
"It's quite hopeless, I suppose?" said Jack, suddenly.
"No, do not say so!" said Alvar, half fiercely. "It is not so; but, oh,
we fear it!" he added, in a voice of inexpressible melancholy.
Jack could not utter another word--he was half choking; but Nettie,
unable to restrain herself any longer, began to cry piteously.
"Don't Nettie," said Bob, savagely.
"Ah!" said Alvar, "poor child, she is breaking her heart!" he went over
to her, and took her in his arms and kissed her. "Poor little sister!"
he said. "Ah! how we love him!"
The simple expression of the thought that was aching in the minds of all
of them seemed to give a sort of relief. Nettie submitted to be
caressed and soothed, and the boys came a little closer, and gave
themselves the comfort of looking as wretched as they felt.
"Now I must eat some supper, for I dare not stay," said Alvar; "and
you--you have been travelling--come and take some."
The poor boys began to find out how hungry they were, and Bob began to
eat heartily; while the force of example made Jack take a few mouthfuls,
till the vicar came into the room.
"Jack," he said quietly, "Cherry is so very anxious to see you that Mr
Adamson gives leave for you to go for one moment. Not the twins--they
must wait a little. Can you stand it?"
"Yes, sir," said Jack, though, great strong fellow as he was, his knees
trembled.
"Then, Alvar, are you ready? Have you really eaten and rested? You had
better take him in."
Jack stood for a moment beside the bed, without attempting a word,
hardly able to see that Cherry smiled at him, till he felt the hot
fingers clasp his with more strength than he had looked for, and his
hand was put into Alvar's, while Cheriton held them both, and whispered,
"Jack, you _will_--"
"Yes, Cherry, I will," said Jack, understanding him. "I will, always."
"There, that must be enough," said Alvar. "Jack is very good--he shall
come again."
"Oh! don't send me quite away," whispered Jack, as they moved a little.
"Let me stay outside. I could go errands--I'll not stir."
Alvar nodded, and Jack went out into the deserted gallery, where, of
course, he and Bob were not to sleep at present. The old sitting-room
was full of things required by the nurses, and Jack sat down on a little
window-seat in the passage, which looked out towards the stables. He
saw Bob and Nettie arm-in-arm, trying to distract their minds by
visiting their pets, and his grandmother, too, coming slowly and heavily
to look at her poultry. He had not seen his father, and dreaded the
thought of the meeting. Idly he watched the ordinary movement of the
servants, the inquirers coming and going, and he thought of the brother,
best-loved of all and most loving--oh! if he could but hear Cherry laugh
at him again!
Upstairs all was silent, save for poor Cheriton's painful cough and
difficult breathing; and presently it seemed to Jack that the cough was
less frequent, till, after an interval of stillness, the doctor came
out. Jack's heart stood still. Was this the fatal summons?
"Your brother is asleep," said Mr Adamson. "I feel more hopeful. I am
obliged to go, but I shall be here early. Every one who is not wanted
had better go to bed."
He went downstairs as he spoke, but Jack remained where he was, thinking
he might be at least useful in taking messages or calling people. He
had never sat up all night before, and, anxious as he was, the hours
were woefully long.
Once or twice his grandmother came to the head of the stairs, and Jack
signalled that all was quiet. At last, over the stable clock, the dawn
came creeping up; there was the solitary note of a bird, then a great
twitter and the cawing of the rooks.
Jack put his head out of the window, and felt the fresh, sharp air
blowing in his face. A cock crowed--would it wake Cherry? Some one
touched him on the shoulder; he drew his head in, and Alvar stood by his
side.
"He is much better," he said. "He has been so long asleep, and now the
pain is less, and he can breathe--he is much better."
Jack was afraid to speak, but he gave Alvar's hand a great squeeze.
"Now, will you go and tell my father this? Ah, how he will rejoice!
But do not let him come."
Jack sped downstairs and to his father's door, which opened at the sound
of a footstep.
"Papa, he is better. Alvar says he will get well."
Half a dozen hasty questions and answers, then Mr Lester put Jack away
from him and shut his door.
They could hardly believe that the relief was more than a respite, but
the gleam of hope brightened as the day advanced. Cherry slept again,
and woke, able to speak and say that he was better.
"And I must tell you, sir," said Mr Adamson, afterwards, "that it is in
a great measure owing to your son's good nursing."
Mr Lester turned round to Alvar, who was beside him.
"I owe you a debt nothing can repay. I can never thank you for my boy's
life," he said, warmly.
"Ah, do you _thank_ me? You insult me!" cried Alvar, suddenly and
fiercely. "Is he more to you than to me--my one friend--my
brother--_Cherito mio_!" And, completely overcome, Alvar clasped his
hands over his face and dashed out of the room.
Jack followed; but his admiration of Alvar's self-control was somewhat
shaken by the sort of fury of indignation and emotion that seemed to
stifle him, as he poured out a torrent of words, half Spanish, half
English, walking about the room and shedding tears of excitement.
"I say," said Jack, "they won't let _you_ go in to Cherry next, and then
what will he do?"