RALPH'S NURSE.
SO passed the summer months, and autumn, too, glided by swiftly. Yet,
in spite of all her hard work and all her care, Ruth had been obliged
to spend part of the money she had hoped to keep for winter use. Ollie
wanted shoes, and then she herself required a new pair; and though she
put off getting them as long as she could, she had to get them at last.
Mrs. Cricklade, too, who had at first refused to take rent from her,
now, seeing that Ralph Trulock had "taken them up," as she put it, made
her pay a shilling a week for her attic—though the old woman seemed
half ashamed of herself, too, for taking it. She advised Ruth to tell
Mr. Trulock, knowing that he could pay it. But Ruth never told him; she
thought it would be like asking for further help; and from his way of
living she believed him to be very poor, and therefore felt the more
grateful to him for the help he already gave her, particularly that
fourpence a week for Ollie. For of course Ollie soon discovered the
truth about this payment, and at once told Ruth.
So the few pounds she had had in store had begun to melt away; and
Ruth, to Ralph's dismay, began to look pale and thin. When really cold
weather came, he found that the girl never lighted her tiny fire until
Ollie was coming home from school; and though she was well and warmly
dressed, she seemed to suffer terribly from the cold.
Poor Ralph! he already spent upon these children more than the portion
of his savings which he had supposed would satisfy his conscience;
and yet his conscience was not satisfied, and his very heart ached
for Ruth. He thought of applying to the Cloudesleys for help for the
children; but Mr. Cloudesley had made it very plain that he considered
the little Garlands as being under Ralph's special care; besides, the
Cloudesleys were not rich, and he was ashamed to go to them after what
had passed between himself and May. The rector had been obliged to go
abroad again for the winter; there was no one to help the children but
Ralph himself.
Often, when Ruth tidied up his place on Sunday afternoon, while Ollie
chattered away to him, he thought how pleasant it would be to bring
them home to live with him. He had a right to have some one to keep
house for him, and could easily get leave to keep, Ollie; for, as I
have said, the rules at Lady Mabel's Rest were very few, and were
framed for the express purpose of making the inmates comfortable. But
if he did this, he must give up his idea of saving; and that meant that
he must lie under an obligation to Arnott and the rest for ever. Nay,
that he must feel grateful to them; for a feeling of fair dealing made
him certain that if he accepted the kindness, it would be his duty
to be grateful. Grateful! Thankful to Arnott and the rest for their
charity! And all that he might support a couple of children who had no
claim upon him. No; he could not and he would not, and that was the end
of the matter. But the matter would not be ended! Ralph could get no
peace of mind, and he sometimes almost hated sweet May Cloudesley for
having said the words which had caused him all this worry.
It was an early winter, and snow fell in October, which is not common
even in Fairford—though Fairford is a cold place. Ralph, stinting
himself more than ever in his vain attempt to walk two ways at once,
found himself one morning unable to rise from his bed. A sudden, severe
attack of rheumatism, such as he had suffered from once before, had
seized him, and there he lay, groaning and helpless. When the milk-boy
clattered his can against the hall door, Ralph succeeded in making
him hear his shouts; and desired him to tell the warden that he was
ill, and could not stir. But the boy, a lazy, stupid fellow, contented
himself with telling Mrs. Short, to whose house he went next. And Mrs.
Short, delighted at the opportunity of prying into Ralph's affairs,
not only did not tell any one else, but having eaten an excellent
breakfast, went to pay a visit to her sick neighbour.
Ralph's door was open, thanks to the milk-boy, and the keen frosty wind
rushing into the house made it very cold indeed. Mrs. Short shivered,
and almost thought she would turn back and send word to the warden; but
curiosity—no, no, not curiosity, for she murmured to herself, "I'm that
good-natured, I must see the poor feller—" prevailed, and shutting the
door, she went upstairs. Ralph had heard the sounds of her approach,
and was very glad to have his door shut, for the cold was excessive.
But when at the door of his bare little room appeared the squat form
and round face of his inquisitive neighbour, the old man positively
groaned. For her part, Mrs. Short no sooner saw how ill he looked, than
she squeaked dismally, and exclaimed:
"For my sake, Mr. Trulock, don't tell me you've got anything
infectagious! Seeing your door wide open, and no signs of you about, I
made bold to come and see if you was poorly; for as my poor Matthew,
that's dead and buried, poor man, used to say, I'm that good-natured
that I always want to know what's the matter with my neighbours,
and what I can do for 'em. But there, good-nater is one thing, and
infectagious diseases is another, and is my dread all my days. Can't
you even speak? Oh la! I doubt he's dying. Oh, Mr. Trulock, are you
actially a-past speaking?"
"No!" thundered Ralph. "If you will give me time, Mrs. Short, I will
speak, never you fear."
"And is it infectagious?" inquired Mrs. Short, earnestly.
"Infectagious" was the word she used; and without ever having followed
"Alice" through the looking-glass, she had made this portmanteau word
for herself, by mingling together infectious and contagious.
Had Ralph been wary, he would have abstained from replying, and her
fears might have got the better of her "good-nater;" but he was in such
pain, and was besides so annoyed at her presence, that he incautiously
replied:
"No! I never heard that rheumatism was catching, ma'am."
"Rheumatism! Now what a mercy, neighbour that it is no worse; and that
it was Martha Short, and no other woman, that came to you! For my poor
Matthew was that martyr to rheumatism, that I've heard him say more
than once, that between his bones and my clack, he wished he was dead;
which dead he is now, poor dear man, and so I hope he's satisfied. As
to his saying that about my clack, it was only because he was ill, you
know; for when in 'ealth, my Matthew loved to hear me speak, and I
often wished for his sake that I was more inclined that way than I ever
was. For I'm a silent woman, and that's the truth," she concluded, with
a sound between a titter and a sigh, expressive of modesty and merit
combined. "And you've had no breakfast, I'll be bound," she added.
"I don't want any," growled Ralph. "If you'll kindly let the warden
know that I am ill, and should be glad to see the doctor, that's all I
shall trouble you to do for me."
"Trouble! Did any one ever know Martha Short to name trouble when a
neighbour wanted her in his house? And what could Mr. Hingston do
for you; or the doctor either, honest man? Doctors ain't no use for
rheumatism, not a bit. Warmth and a good nuss—and you shall see what a
nuss my Matthew lost in me when he died!"
Ill as he was, Ralph was tickled by this very extraordinary notion, and
gave utterance to a short, cross-sounding laugh. Mrs. Short beamed upon
him.
"Why, there now! that's right, you're in better sperrits a'ready. Now
I'll go down and bring up some coal, and I'll light you a fire; and
then I'll boil a kettle and make you a stiff glass of punch, and you'll
get a good heat and be all right again before, night."
Ralph looked serious enough now.
"Mrs. Short," said he, "I will not have a fire, thank you; and there
are no spirits in the house."
Mrs. Short had a store of spirits in her own house, and yet, strange to
say, her good-nature did not prompt her to offer him any.
"A cup of tea, then," said she, "that's next best;" and she bustled
downstairs before he could speak. What Ralph endured, lying there
helpless, and listening to that woman fussing about downstairs,
ransacking cupboards and tumbling out the contents of drawers—no one
will ever know. She brought up coal, in spite of him, and lighted a
blazing fire. Then she made some tea, and insisted upon his drinking it
too; nay, when she found that he could not hold the cup to his lips,
she actually fed him with it. It got very cold in the process, and was
besides so strong that it made him feverish. Then she piled more coal
on the fire, and went home to see after her dinner. She had never been
silent all this time for five seconds together, so her departure was a
great relief.
It was on the third day of Ralph's illness that Ruth Garland, getting
alarmed about him, because it was so long since he had been to see her,
actually laid aside her work, put on her warm jacket, and ran down the
hill to Lady Mabel's Rest, to see after her kind friend. She met Mr.
Hingston, the warden, in the gate. Hingston knew her, having often seen
her with Ralph, and stopped to speak to her.
"Well, Miss Garland, I suppose you have come to inquire for Mr.
Trulock. He'll be all right again soon—Mrs. Short told me so last
night."
"Oh, sir, has he been ill, then?"
"He has been very poorly, but Mrs. Short has been taking good care of
him, and he refused to see me or have the doctor."
"I wish I had known," said Ruth.
"Well, knowing how fond the old man is of you and your little brother,
I wanted to let you know, but he sent me word not to do so, as he would
rather not have you coming to him. He said he wanted no one but Mrs.
Short."
Ruth looked at him with a startled air.
"No one but Mrs. Short! Oh, Mr. Hingston, did you hear him say that?"
"No; I tell you, he won't see me. He is a very old fellow, you know."
Ruth was young, and out-spoken, as young people are apt to be.
"I don't believe he did say it," said she, "and I will see him;" and
she marched on towards his house.
Mrs. Short, who was on the watch, darted out upon her. Now I must
explain that Mrs. Short, for reasons which will soon become evident,
was rather weary of her self-imposed task, and therefore not sorry to
see Ruth, though for appearance sake she pounced upon her, screaming—
"Stop, Ruth Golong!" For thus, and in no other fashion, did she
pronounce the name, declaring that she had it from Olivia before he
learned to say it in English. "You can't go to see Mr. Trulock; he's
ill in bed."
"I must see him, ma'am," said Ruth, firmly.
"Well, if he's angry, don't blame me, that's all. You'll find he has a
fancy in his head about you; I don't know where he got it from. I never
mentioned your name but once, to ask should I send for you; but you
mustn't mind that, sick folk has fancies. My Matthew, that's dead, was
full of 'em. Well, go if you will go. He's the miserablest old; there's
not a peck of coal nor a grain of tea nor anything whatever left in the
house, and he won't give me a penny to get things for him."
Ruth went on without replying; she opened the door and went in, turning
the key in the lock to keep Mrs. Short out. Her light step on the
stairs was heard by the poor old man, and it was with a look of hopeful
expectation that his stern old face was turned towards the door.
"What, Ruth!" he said: "you have come at last."
"Mr. Trulock! Oh, I would have been here before—I did not know that
you were ill. I am sure that woman told you that she had sent for me;
didn't she now?"
"She did; and that you would not come because you were very busy and
knew nothing of nursing; but I did not believe her, Ruth."
"Nor did I believe that you refused to see me, and the warden and the
doctor, but wished to have Mrs. Short and no one else! Oh, Mr. Trulock,
she's a dreadful woman."
"How did you get leave to come in, Ruth? I heard her voice outside."
"I did not ask leave. She said there was nothing left in the house; and
that you would not give her money to buy things for you. I suppose you
have no money just now; but never mind, I have some, you know."
"I succeeded then!" cried Ralph in triumph. "When I found that she
would come, and would not let any one else come, I made up my mind to
starve her out, and I have!"
"But you look as if you have starved yourself, too," answered Ruth,
looking anxiously at him.
"Now you will let me manage for you, won't you? Please do. I will go
out and get some things; and may I bring Ollie here when he comes home
from school, that he may not be lonely?"
"Certainly; and, Ruth, give me that box, and I will give you money to
buy what we want."
Ruth opened the box with a key which he gave her, and in it she saw a
sovereign and a few shillings. "Is this all you have?" she asked.
"All I have in the house," he answered, and did not perceive that she
understood him to mean that he had no more until his next payment came
in. He gave it all to her and said,—
"Make it go as far as you can, my child."
Ruth ran home (Mrs. Short kept out of sight), and left a message for
Ollie; then, with her needlework in a basket, she went out again and
made several purchases for Ralph. Followed by a man with a cart, in
which a bag of coal and her little parcels made a rather poor show,
she returned to the Rest. She stopped at the gate to tell the warden
that there had been some mistake, and that she hoped the doctor would
come to see Mr. Trulock; and then she set to work in earnest. But how
different were her neat-handed, quiet proceedings, to Mrs. Short's
incessant fuss and chatter! Ralph fell asleep and dreamed that his
Annie had come back to him.