THE RECTOR’S ILLNESS
‘Thou drooping sick man, bless the guide
That checked, or turned thy headstrong youth.’
THE thought of her brother’s kindness, and the effect of his consolation,
made Lilias awake that morning in more cheerful spirits; but it was not
long before grief and anxiety again took possession of her.
The first sound that she heard on opening the schoolroom window was the
tolling of the church bell, giving notice of the death of another of
those to whom she felt bound by the ties of neighbourhood.
At church she saw that Mr. Devereux was looking more ill than he yet had
done, and it was plainly with very great exertion that he succeeded in
finishing the service. The Mohun party waited, as usual, to speak to him
afterwards, for since his attendance upon Naylor had begun he had not
thought it safe to come to the New Court as usual, lest he should bring
the infection to them. He was very pale, and walked wearily, but he
spoke cheerfully, as he told them that Naylor was now quite out of
danger.
‘Then I hope you did not stay there all last night,’ said Mr. Mohun.
‘No, I did not, I was so tired when I came back from poor John Ray’s
funeral, that I thought I would take a holiday, and sleep at home.’
‘I am afraid you have not profited by your night’s rest,’ said Emily,
‘you look as if you had a horrible headache.’
‘Now,’ said Mr. Mohun, ‘I prescribe for you that you go home and lie
down. I am going to Raynham, and I will tell your friend there that you
want help for the evening service. Do not think of moving again to-day.
I shall send Claude home with you to see that you obey my prescription.’
Claude went home with his cousin, and his sisters saw him no more till
late in the day, when he came to tell them that Mr. Mohun had brought
back Dr. Leslie from Raynham with him, that Dr. Leslie had seen Mr.
Devereux, and had pronounced that he had certainly caught the fever.
Lily had made up her mind to this for some time, but still it seemed
almost as great a blow as if it had come without any preparation. The
next day was the first Sunday that Mr. Devereux had not read the service
since he had been Rector of Beechcroft. The villagers looked sadly at
the stranger who appeared in his place, and many tears were shed when the
prayers of the congregation were desired for Robert Devereux, and Thomas
and Martha Naylor. It was announced that the daily service would be
discontinued for the present, and Lily felt as if all the blessings which
she had misused were to be taken from her.
For some time Mr. Devereux continued very ill, and Dr. Leslie gave little
hope of his improvement. Mr. Mohun and Claude were his constant
attendants—an additional cause of anxiety to the Miss Mohuns. Emily was
listless and melancholy, talking in a maundering, dismal way, not
calculated to brace her spirits or those of her sisters. Jane was not
without serious thoughts, but whether they would benefit her depended on
herself; for, as we have seen by the events of the autumn, sorrow and
suffering do not necessarily produce good effects, though some effects
they always produce.
Thus it was with Lilias. Grief and anxiety aided her in subduing her
will and learning resignation. She did not neglect her daily duties, but
was more exact in their fulfilment; and low as her spirits had been
before, she now had an inward spring which enabled her to be the support
of the rest. She was useful to her father, always ready to talk to
Claude, or walk with him in the intervals when he was sent out of the
sickroom to rest and breathe the fresh air. She was cheerful and patient
with Emily, and devoid of petulance when annoyed by the spirits of the
younger ones rising higher than accorded with the sad and anxious hearts
of their elders. Her most painful feeling was, that it was possible that
she might be punished through her cousin, as she had already been through
Agnes; that her follies might have brought this distress upon every one,
and that this was the price at which the child’s baptism was to be
bought. Yet Lily would not have changed her present thoughts for any of
her varying frames of mind since that fatal Whitsuntide. Better feelings
were springing up within her than she had then known; the church service
and Sunday were infinitely more to her, and she was beginning to obtain
peace of mind independent of external things.
She could not help rejoicing to see how many evidences of affection to
the Rector were called forth by this illness; presents of fruit poured in
from all quarters, from Lord Rotherwood’s choice hothouse grapes, to poor
little Kezia Grey’s wood-strawberries; inquiries were continual, and the
stillness of the village was wonderful. There was no cricket on the
hill, no talking in the street, no hallooing in the hay-field, and no
burst of noise when the children were let out of school. Many of the
people were themselves in grief for the loss of their own relations; and
when on Sunday the Miss Mohuns saw how many were dressed in black, they
thought with a pang how soon they themselves might be mourning for one
whose influence they had crippled, and whose plans they had thwarted
during the three short years of his ministry.
During this time it was hard to say whether Lord Rotherwood was more of a
comfort or a torment. He was attached to his cousin with all the ardour
of his affectionate disposition, and not one day passed without his
appearing at Beechcroft. At first it was always in the parlour at the
parsonage that he took up his station, and waited till he could find some
means of getting at Claude or his uncle, to hear the last report from
them, and if possible to make Claude come out for a walk or ride with
him. And once Mr. Mohun caught him standing just outside Mr. Devereux’s
door, waiting for an opportunity to make an entrance. He could not, or
would not see why Mr. Mohun should allow Claude to run the risk of
infection rather than himself, and thus he kept his mother in continual
anxiety, and even his uncle could not feel by any means certain that he
would not do something imprudent. At last a promise was extracted from
him that he would not again enter the parsonage, but he would not gratify
Lady Rotherwood so far as to abstain from going to Beechcroft, a place
which she began to regard with horror. He now was almost constantly at
the New Court, talking over the reports, and quite provoking Emily by
never desponding, and never choosing to perceive how bad things really
were. Every day which was worse than the last was supposed to be the
crisis, and every restless sleep that they heard of he interpreted into
the beginning of recovery. At last, however, after ten days of suspense,
the report began to improve, and Claude came to the New Court with a more
cheerful face, to say that his cousin was munch better. The world seemed
immediately to grow brighter, people went about with joyful looks, Lord
Rotherwood declared that from the first he had known all would be well,
and Lily began to hope that now she had been spared so heavy a
punishment, it was a kind of earnest that other things would mend, that
she had suffered enough. The future no longer hung before her in such
dark colours as before Mr. Devereux’s illness, though still the New Court
was in no satisfactory state, and still she had reason to expect that her
father and Eleanor would be disappointed and grieved. Thankfulness that
Mr. Devereux was recovering, and that Claude had escaped the infection,
made her once more hopeful and cheerful; she let the morrow take thought
for the things of itself, rejoicing that it was not her business to make
arrangements.