"No," said the doctor; "he's not gaining ground as he should. Still
there's nothing really wrong. But I hardly know what to advise. What
he really should have, as I've told you before, is a complete change.
Can you not manage it? Not even to Devonshire or the Isle of Wight?"
Mrs Waldron shook her head sadly.
"I think even one of those would be about as impossible for us as the
South of France or Italy," she said. "But I will tell my husband what
you say. Of course, in a case of life or death--"
"But it is not so bad as that; I have never said it was," interrupted
the doctor. "Don't exaggerate it, my dear lady. If you _can't_ do as I
say, you can't, and we must do what we can, and hope the best. He will
outgrow his present weakness I have no doubt. But he has come through
so much that I was beginning to be rather proud of him, and this
unfortunate back-cast is rather disappointing. I had set my heart on
his growing up really strong and hearty, and I quite believe he might if
he could get a thorough good start. That is the real state of the
case."
"Thank you! Yes, I think I quite understand," replied Mrs Waldron.
But she sighed as she spoke; and the doctor felt sorry for her, but he
had to hurry away; and after all he came across people in worse plight
than the Waldrons every day of the week, and he could not afford to
spend much time or thought in sympathy.
The plight was bad enough, nevertheless, it seemed to Mrs Waldron, as
she went back to the drawing-room where Jerry was lying covered with
shawls and sheltered as well as could be from the draughts and insidious
chills that it is so difficult entirely to defy in a small house, where
one seems always running against a door or a window. The boy, to her
eyes sharpened by anxiety, was doing worse than not gaining ground. He
was, she began to believe, losing it. And some bitter enough tears rose
to her eyes as she sat down to go on with the work at which Dr Lewis's
visit had interrupted her.
"Mamma," said Jerry's thin weak voice, "don't you think Charlotte is
really _very_ pleased to have got the German prize?"
"Yes, my boy; I think she is. And she deserves to be so--she worked
very hard indeed for it."
"She would have been dreadfully disappointed not to get it," said he
again. "Though all the same," he went on thinking to himself, "it is a
little provoking to think that she would have got it any way, and that I
went and caught this horrible cold for nothing. Only I would never have
known how good Claudia was but for all that, and _perhaps_ she would
still have tried for the prize. I wish she would write to me again!
I'm sure she would if she knew how tired I am of being ill, and of
everything."--"Mamma," he went on again aloud, "doesn't this winter seem
dreadfully long, and it's only a fortnight and four days past Christmas?
Charlotte and the boys only began lessons again three days ago. I wish
I could go back to school too, mamma. Oh, I do wish the summer would
come. I think I shouldn't care to live if it was to be always winter."
His words startled his mother. She got up and came over to him.
"What makes you so gloomy, my old Jerry?" she said; "it isn't like you."
"I don't mean to be naughty and impatient, mamma," he said; "it's just
that I'm so tired--so tired of the cold, and the darkness, and the
grimness," and his eyes turned with almost a shudder from the window
towards which they had glanced instinctively. He knew so well what the
prospect outside must be; for it was raining heavily, one of
Wortherham's very ugliest days. "Oh, how I should like just to see and
feel the sun, and the blue sky above! I feel as if I could drink the
sunshine, mamma; I am so thirsty for it."
Mrs Waldron sighed a little.
"It is as if he felt the want of it by instinct," she said to herself.
"There are places in the world where there is sunshine even at this
season, my Jerry," she said aloud. "I wish I could send you to one of
them."
Jerry's eyes sparkled.
"Yes, wouldn't it be lovely?" he exclaimed. "I wonder if it is to one
of those places that they are going;" he added.
"Who?" asked his mother.
"The girl at Silverthorns--Miss Meredon, and old Lady Mildred. She said
in her last letter, you know, mamma, that perhaps they were going to
France. How nice it would be if we could all go! Sometimes one can't
help wishing to be rich, mamma."
"Or at least not so poor," his mother agreed with a rather wintry smile.
"I can't help wishing it when it is anything any of my darlings seem to
want that I can't give them, especially my poor old Jerry, who has had
suffering enough in his life."
"Mamma, dear, sweet mamma, don't speak like that," said Jerry, softly
stroking her cheek with his little thin hand. "I mustn't grumble, I
haven't anything to grumble about, when I have you and Charlotte and
papa and them all. And it isn't grumbling to wish for the spring, is
it? It is so nice even to think of the woods out at Gretham, with the
primroses and violets all coming out. Oh, I do hope I shall be quite
well by then, so that I can often walk out there on half-holidays!"
Mrs Waldron tried to answer cheerfully, but it was not easy. There was
a cold misgiving at her heart, which she dared not, would not give words
to. What would the sunshine or the spring-time, or primroses or
violets, or anything sweet and lovely be to her, be to them all, without
their quiet, patient little lame boy? How poorly do those understand a
mother's love who speak of one of several children as less precious than
an only child! In a sense the intertwining bonds seem indeed but to
make the whole affections stronger where a large circle is included by
them.
Jerry seemed to have some notion of the thoughts in his mother's mind.
"You are sure it would make me quite well to go to one of those warm
places?" he said again, after a little pause.
"Dr Lewis thinks so," said Mrs Waldron.
She had not meant to tell him so much, but she was feeling in a way,
reckless.
"He _must_ go abroad," she said to herself. "He must and he shall. I
will tell Edward so this evening, and at whatever cost and sacrifice it
shall be done."
And though the resolve seemed a wild one, though she had no faintest
idea how it was to be carried out, her heart felt curiously lighter when
she had made it.
Charlotte looked anxiously at Jerry when she came home from school that
afternoon. He was lying asleep on his sofa, and her mother made a
little sign not to disturb him as the girl opened the door.
"Is he no better to-day, mamma?" she whispered, as she sat down quietly
beside her mother in the further corner of the room.
"Much as usual, I think," Mrs Waldron replied, in the same tone.
"Perhaps in himself he has been a little brighter. He was interested in
what we were talking about."
"Yes?" and Charlotte looked up inquiringly.
"Dr Lewis was here this morning. He examined Jerry thoroughly again,
and still says the same thing. There is no actual disease, it is only
weakness and want of tone that he speaks of. But those may be the
beginning of anything! Charlotte, my dear, I have been feeling nearly
desperate about Jerry."
Then she went on to tell the girl all that the doctor had said--all that
she had been thinking and resolving in her own mind.
She found full sympathy.
"Yes, mamma," Charlotte agreed, "at all costs it must be done. But
where should he go, and with whom, and how?"
"I don't think it matters very specially where," Mrs Waldron replied,
"so long as it is a bright and sunny place. But how? Ah, I wish I
knew! I am so ignorant of all those winter places--I don't know which
are the cheapest. I fancy they are all dear! Jerry has been writing to
his friend, Miss Meredon, again. She wrote to him that she and her aunt
are going abroad. I wish--I wonder if we could get any information from
them."
"Oh, no," Charlotte interposed hastily; "don't let us put ourselves
under any more obligation to them. I don't want to be horrid, mamma,
but that girl seems to be _always_ coming in my way. Even now that she
has left school for a while, the next thing is we must hear of her going
abroad for the winter like a princess, just when we'd give _anything_ to
be able to send Jerry."
"Charlotte, my dear, you really are unreasonable," said Mrs Waldron.
"I thought you were grateful to this young girl, as we all are, for her
kindness to Jerry. You told me yourself that you would never again say
she was spoilt, or selfish, or any of the terrible things you had made
up your mind she _must_ be."
"I know I did," said Charlotte half penitently. "I did not mean to
speak that way; but oh, mamma, it makes me wild to think about Jerry--he
does look so white and thin?" She got up as she spoke, and went across
the room on tip-toe, and stood for a moment looking down at the sleeping
boy, her eyes filling with tears. "Mamma," she said again as she
returned to her mother, "we _must_ manage it."
But two or three days went by without any solution to the problem
offering itself. Mr Waldron was exceedingly busy just at this time,
and his wife shrank from saying much to him about what was constantly in
her thoughts, till she had some at least _possible_ plan to suggest. At
last one night a sudden idea struck her.
"I will write to Mrs Knox," she thought; "she may know of some place,
some kind of _pension_, perhaps, or some doctor's family, where Jerry
would be well cared for, on pretty moderate terms. And once we hear of
such a place we just _must_ find the money somehow,"--and her mind ran
over the few treasured pieces of silver plate in their possession,--"and
Edward must take him there. Only will he not be terribly home-sick,
alone among strangers?"
But Charlotte agreed that it seemed the only thing to do. The letter to
Mrs Knox was written, and that evening after dinner Mr Waldron, his
wife decided, must be told of all Dr Lewis had said. Dinner-time drew
near, however, and instead of Mr Waldron there came a boy from his
office with a note to say that he was not to be waited for; he had been
detained unexpectedly, but would be home before long.
"How unlucky," sighed Mrs Waldron. "I cannot send the letter without
talking to your father, and he will come home so tired. Arthur," for
Arthur as well as Charlotte was in her confidence, "can you manage to
keep Ted and Noble quiet in the school-room so that I can speak to your
father uninterruptedly? Tell them he will be tired, and will like to be
quiet."
"All right, mother; I'll see to it," and a moment or two later certain
ominous sounds from the school-room announced that Arthur was favouring
his younger brothers with a specimen of certain strong measures he
intended to resort to, should occasion arise, such as their "kicking up
a row or making fools of themselves when mamma wanted to be quiet."
He achieved his purpose, however. Mrs Waldron was alone, and the house
was unusually silent when their father came in; he went straight to the
drawing-room.
"You must be very tired, Edward," said Mrs Waldron, starting up, "and
hungry too. You have not had dinner."
"Yes, thank you; I have had all I want," he replied. "Tea then, or
coffee?"
"In a little while, perhaps, but not just yet. I'm glad you are alone,
Amy; I want to talk to you. How is Jerry to-day?"
"Much the same. I want to talk to you too--about Jerry--about what Dr
Lewis has been saying," Mrs Waldron began.
Her husband looked up sharply, and then she noticed that he was very
pale, and as she mentioned the doctor's name he started.
"Not anything worse? You are not trying to break anything dreadful to
me, Amy," he said hoarsely. "What a mockery it would all seem if it had
come too late!" he added, as if speaking to himself, in a lower voice,
though not so low as not to be heard by his wife. But she did not stop
to ask the meaning of his words--she was too eager to set his anxiety at
rest.
"Oh, no, no," she said; "there is nothing new. It is only that Dr
Lewis does so very earnestly advise--"
"His going abroad for some months," interrupted Mr Waldron, his face
clearing. "Yes, I know that. You spoke of it a little the other day;
but I did not know till to-day that he urged it so very strongly."
"Till to-day," repeated Mrs Waldron, bewildered; "how did you hear it
to-day? Has Dr Lewis been to see you?"
"No," said her husband, with a rather peculiar smile, "it was not from
him I heard it. Why did you not tell me how much he had said about it,
Amy?"
"I have been going to do so all these last days," she said; "but I
waited to think over any feasible plan before saying more to you. I
knew you were busy and worried. And even now I have but little to
propose," and she went on to tell of her letter to Mrs Knox, and her
hopes of some advice or help in that quarter. Mr Waldron listened and
again he smiled.
"I think I have a better plan than that to talk about," he said. "You
will scarcely believe me, Amy, when I tell you that I have this
afternoon a letter from Lady Mildred Osbert offering to take charge of
Jerry at Cannes for some weeks, or months--in fact for as long as it
would be well for him to stay there."
"From Lady Mildred!" Mrs Waldron ejaculated. "Edward! How ever did
she know about his being ordered to go?"
"For that, and perhaps for the idea itself, we have to thank that young
niece of hers, Charlotte's schoolfellow. Jerry told us how kind the
girl was to him, and in writing to her he must have said, quite
innocently, of course, what Dr Lewis wished for him. They are leaving
themselves for Cannes to-morrow; but Lady Mildred proposes that--that
_I_ should take Jerry to them next week."
"_You_?" said Mrs Waldron, growing pale with suppressed anxiety and
excitement. "Oh, Edward, you have more to tell me. What should she
want to see you for, when she has always so completely ignored us as
relations, unless there is some great change in some way."
"Yes, Amy; there is a great change. That is what I wanted to tell you.
The reason I did not come home earlier as usual to dinner was that I
wanted to think it over quietly, to take it in as it were, before I
tried to tell you about it. I have felt as if I were dreaming since I
got the letters."
"Letters?" half whispered Mrs Waldron; "were there more than one then?
You said the one about Jerry was from Lady Mildred herself."
"Yes; but it referred to another--a long and clear and most important
letter from the London solicitors; it was in fact written by old Miller
himself. I will show it you afterwards, but just now I want merely to
tell you the drift of it all."
"I think I can guess it," said Mrs Waldron; "Lady Mildred has found out
that she has been unfairly prejudiced against you, and she wants now to
do something to help us. It will be a great boon, whatever it is--this
offer for Jerry alone has lifted a terrible weight from my mind. But
how has she changed so?"
"My dear Amy, don't run on so fast. It is true that Lady Mildred has
changed, but there is a great deal more to tell. You heard of Mr
Osbert's death, the General's elder son? Well it appears that the
second one, the only other--is dying. He has been in a hopeless state
for years, but Lady Mildred did not know it. Mr Miller evidently
thinks it was concealed purposely. She has had very little
communication with the Osberts, and she has always thought of the sons
as certain to succeed, as the General is an old man. But, do you see,
Amy, as things are, there will be no Osbert to succeed?"
Mrs Waldron looked up bewilderedly.
"But it is all in Lady Mildred's hands, is it not?" she said. "She can
leave Silverthorns to her own family, can she not?"
"She can _legally_ leave it to anybody, but she considers herself
absolutely bound by her husband's expressed wishes; and those were that
it should never leave the family. Mr Miller says, that failing the
Osberts, the Squire instructed Lady Mildred to look up all remoter
connections; but till now, it does really seem very strange, she did not
know, had no idea that we were the nearest. Mr Miller has been a good
friend in the matter; he has, I suppose," and here Mr Waldron laughed a
little, "made inquiries about us and found all satisfactory. He has
removed all Lady Mildred's prejudices against me, and what I care for
most, against my poor grandmother. And,"--Mr Waldron hesitated,--"Amy,
it seems impossible, her intention therefore is now to make _me_ the
next proprietor of the old place."
Mrs Waldron was silent for a moment.
"It seems too much," he said again. "I don't deserve it," her husband
went on.
This gave her power to speak.
"You not deserve it!" she exclaimed. "Oh, Edward, could a man deserve
it more? How you have toiled, how you have kept up your spirits through
all! If you said _I_ didn't deserve it--I have been often so
faint-hearted and depressed. I don't think--I _don't_ think we shall be
spoilt by prosperity; we shall always know so well what a struggling
life really is; it will be so delightful to help others. And oh,
Edward! Arthur and Noble can go to college, and Ted into the army!
That is to say if--will it make any difference at once?"
"Yes; Lady Mildred's idea is that we should at once, at least very
shortly, go to live on the estate, and that I should take charge of
things. There is a very good house, at present occupied by one of the
farmers, which can easily be made a capital house for us. It is so
pretty, I remember it well; how delightful it will be to see you there,
Amy! Lady Mildred, of course, will have the big house for her life, but
she will be glad to feel free to come and go--the place has been growing
a great charge to her. This is the rough sketch of her plan only. Of
course there are numberless details to be arranged, and for these she
wishes to see me. Then again, _in case_ the General survives her he
would have a right to some provision for his life, though it is very
certain he would never wish now to be master of Silverthorns--he is
quite broken down--and even had he inherited the place, he says he never
would have come to live there. But Lady Mildred thinks it right to see
him, and she wishes me to see him too. Miller says she is determined
that none of the old prejudice against me shall be left; she is not a
woman to do things by halves, once she has made up her mind. So, thanks
to Miss Meredon, the idea of offering to take Jerry for a time fits in
with my going to Cannes. And there we can talk all over."
Mrs Waldron sat gazing into the fire.
"Edward," she said, "I feel as if I were dreaming. Tell me--should we
not let the poor children know this wonderful news at once?"
"Arthur and Charlotte, perhaps,--they deserve it," he replied, getting
up as he spoke to summon them.
And then again the whole had to be told.
Arthur's pleasant face literally beamed with delight.
"Oh, papa!--oh, mother!" he exclaimed. "I can't believe it. It is like
a fairy tale. Why did you never tell us before that we were half
Osberts?"
"I had meant to tell you before long," said Mr Waldron; "but I had a
horror of raising vague expectations. I knew too well what I had
suffered from my false position as a child."
"Yes," said Arthur, thoughtfully; "I see." And then, as a sudden idea
struck him, "Fancy its coming after all through the female branch.
Papa, the ghost will be laid."
"Yes," said Mr Waldron, smiling; "the ghost will be laid."
"I bet you anything,"--Arthur went on--"I bet you anything, that the
first thing old Jerry will say when he quite understands it, will be,
`I'm so glad for the poor ghost.'"
"And if we never hear anything more of the ghost," said Charlotte,
speaking almost for the first time, "Jerry will be more than ever
convinced that he _did_ hear it. Papa," she added with a little
hesitation, "won't Lady Mildred's niece, Miss Meredon, be dreadfully
disappointed when she knows all this? Perhaps she has heard all the
talk about Lady Mildred's intending to make her her heiress?"
"I hope not," said Mr Waldron; "she has certainly hitherto shown a most
friendly spirit to us. I should be grieved for our good fortune to
cause disappointment to any one."
"And then she must be so rich and grand already, I don't suppose it
would matter much to her," said Charlotte.
"I don't know about that: the Meredons are not a rich family by any
means," said Mr Waldron.
"I shall always love that girl," said Mrs Waldron enthusiastically.
"It is her doing about Jerry. Oh, Charlotte, darling! to think that all
our poor little plans for sending him abroad are to be so delightfully
replaced."
"May I tell him, mamma?" said Charlotte eagerly; "to-morrow, not
to-night, of course! I will take care not to startle him. But it would
be _so_ nice. And I will tell him how kind _she_ has been--he is very
fond of her," she added with a slightly reluctant honesty.
"You must be fond of her too, my dear child," said her father.
"I would like to be, at least I think so," said Charlotte, and a vision
rose before her of Claudia's sweet, appealing face. "I have been horrid
to her, I know," she added to herself, "but she was rather queer at
school."