"I hate women who cry," he said, turning away. "You have always made a
great profession of caring for your mother. Go up-stairs now, and act
on it."
"How can I?" I repeated. "Father, why do you speak to me as you are
doing? My mother wants money, peace, rest."
"Exactly, Rosamund. Penury and a hard life are killing your mother. Go
up-stairs. Don't talk any more humbug. Get your mother what she wants.
Gray, the lawyer, has been here this morning."
"Oh," I said, "and he has told you?"
"He has told me that you can be rich if you please. He has told me also
the source from which the wealth can come. You think that I will shrink
from that source. I shrink from nothing that will save your mother.
Gray thinks it highly probable that you will act like a weak idiot."
"Father, did Mr Gray tell you what I had to do?"
"He did not. I did not ask him. Whatever it is, do it. Go up-stairs
now and see the doctors."
My father opened the drawing-room door and pushed me out. He locked the
door behind me. I heard him pacing the little room, and his groans of
agony reached me through the thin panels of the locked door. I stumbled
up-stairs. On the landing I met George. His hair was ruffled; his eyes
red and sunk into his head. He had evidently been crying--crying, hard
man that he was, until his eyelids were swelled and blistered.
"So you have come, Rose," he said; "that is well. You will put
everything right, of course?"
"You have seen Mr Gray, too," I whispered. "Yes, yes; for God's sake
don't lose a minute in putting things straight."
"But can I?" I whispered back. "Even money cannot always, always
save."
"You can but try," retorted George. "Go and speak to the doctors. Our
mother's life depends on your actions I am firmly convinced. Here is
Dr Johnson. Will you talk to my sister, doctor?"
The family physician motioned me into a spare bedroom. He introduced me
to the London doctor, and they began a semi-technical explanation of my
mother's case.
"Things are bad, but not hopeless," said Dr Keith. "If certain
measures are taken directly, there is no reason why Mrs Lindley may not
revive and gain strength, and have many years of life before her. Her
lungs are undoubtedly affected, but the worst mischief is in connection
with the heart. Listen, Miss Lindley. I have one emphatic direction to
give. Your mother must have _no more worries_."
"No more worries," I repeated under my breath. "Yes, yes, I
understand."
"You are looking very ill yourself, my dear child," said Dr Johnson.
"Never mind me," I said, turning away impatiently.
"But I must and will mind you," retorted our fussy little family doctor.
"Dr Keith, there is not a more admirable girl in the land than
Rosamund Lindley."
Dr Keith bowed an acknowledgment of my merits. Then he took his watch
out of his pocket.
"I really must catch the next train," he said. "Good-bye, Miss Lindley.
Johnson will go into the particulars of our proposed treatment with
you; but remember above all things, no worry. As much cheerfulness as
you can possibly manage; a generous diet, the best champagne--I have
ordered a special brand--and--and--I think we'll do. In all probability
in about a fortnight Mrs Lindley will be well enough to be moved by
easy stages to Cannes. Good-bye, Miss Lindley; keep up a brave heart."
Dr Keith went cheerfully out of the room. Perhaps he imagined that he
had given me excellent advice. Perhaps he had, if I could only have
acted on it. I rushed away to my room, bathed my face and hands, put on
slippers which made no sound, and my prettiest afternoon dress. Then on
tip-toe I went across the landing to my mother's room; on tip-toe my
father was coming up the stairs.
"Well, Rosamund, you have seen the doctors?"
"Yes, father."
"You know what they wish?"
"Yes, father."
"You will do it?"
"Yes--I will do it."
"Good girl. Kiss me. God bless you. George, George,--come here!"
George's red face had been peeping round his bedroom door.
"George, your sister will do what is required. By God's blessing we may
keep your mother with us yet."
"Thank you, Rosamund," said George. He bent his big sulky head and
kissed me lightly on my forehead. He, too, in his fashion, was blessing
me. I felt as if my heart would break.
I turned the handle of my mother's door and went in. There was no
confusion in this room. A bright little fire burned in the grate. One
of the windows was open about an inch. The room was sweet with the
perfume of violets. Somebody--my father probably--had picked a few from
the garden and brought them in. My mother herself was lying high up in
bed supported by pillows. There was a faint pink on each of her cheeks,
but the rest of her sweet and lovely face was white as death. Her
gentle eyes looked too bright, her lips wore too sweet a smile.
The moment I saw her the whole attitude of my mind changed. I ceased to
feel that I was about to do any sacrifice. I became eager--excited to
set the seal to that which would open wide the fairy doors of peace and
health and ease and luxury for my mother. I absolutely lived in her
life at that moment. I was nothing--she was everything. I rejoiced; my
heart even danced at the thought that it was in my power to bestow a
great gift upon her. I went up and kissed her.
"You look well, Rose," she whispered, reading the joy which filled my
eyes.
"Oh, yes, I am very well," I replied. "I am so glad to be back with
you, mother. I am going to stay with you night and day until you are as
strong as you ever were."
While I spoke I held her hand, which I softly stroked. In a few minutes
I stole out of the room. George was still lingering about on the
landing.
"Well, well?" he whispered.
"Don't whisper, George, but come down-stairs with me at once; I want to
write a letter, and I want you to take it for me."
I sat down at my mother's desk in the drawing-room and scribbled a hasty
line:
"Dear Mr Gray,--
"I will fulfil the conditions of Cousin Geoffrey's will. Please give
George a hundred pounds to bring back with him.
"Yours very truly,--
"Rosamund Lindley."
George was looking over my shoulder as I wrote.
"You must get some of that money in small change," I said, looking up at
him. "And then you are to buy all the things I have mentioned in this
list. Don't forget one of them, and come back by the first possible
train."
While I was speaking to George my father came into the room.
"It's all right," I said; "and George is going to town to get the things
we shall immediately require. Now go, George, and be quick. Father, I
want to speak to you."
"What is it, Rose?"
"Will you please go out and ascertain if the Priory is still to let?"
"The Priory! Are you mad, child?"
"No, I assure you I am quite sane. The Priory is a very pleasant sunny
house, beautifully furnished. The Ashtons only left it a week ago. If
it is still to let, please take it without a moment's delay. It is not
the least matter about the price. It faces due south, and has a lovely
garden. I think we may be able to remove my mother there to-morrow."