Marcia did not know why her heart felt like lead as she walked back the
short distance between the railway station and her father's house; why
all the joy seemed to have gone out of her, when there was no apparent
reason. It was a glorious summer evening, the sky was studded with
innumerable stars, which would shine more brightly in an hour or so, as
soon as the rays of the sun had quite departed from the western horizon.
There was not a cloud anywhere. Nevertheless, a very dense cloud
rested over the girl's heart.
She went into the house, and the first thing she noticed was the fact
that there were no lights burning anywhere. She glanced up at the
invalid's room; there was no light in the window, no brightness. What
could be wrong? Oh, nothing, of course. Nesta might not be a good
nurse, but she could not be so careless as that.
She let herself in with her latch key, and was met by Susan in the hall.
Susan had her hat on.
"What is it, Susan?"
"I beg your pardon, Miss? I have only just come in. It was my evening
out. I came back a whole hour before my time because I was anxious
about Missis. I suppose cook has seen to her."
"Cook? But where are the young ladies? Where is Miss Nesta?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know? And where are the other young ladies?"
"I don't know either. Oh, yes, though, they had tea in the garden with
the Misses Carter and young Mr Carter, and then they went a bit of the
way home with them. I ran down the garden and brought in the best
china, they would have it from the drawing room, and then I slipped out,
for I didn't want to lose any of my time. It was such a good
opportunity, you see, Miss, for master and Mr Horace were both dining
out at the Club this evening, and I thought the young ladies could
manage to light up for themselves."
"They don't seem to have done so. How is my mother? How long has she
been alone?"
"I don't know, Miss. Shall I run up and see?"
"No, light up as quickly as you can, please. Get cook to help you if
necessary. Don't be out of the way. I will go to my mother."
Marcia had called Mrs Aldworth mother on many occasions; but there was
a new tone in the way in which she said "my mother," which fell upon the
servant's ears with a feeling of reproach.
"I wonder now--" she thought. "I wouldn't have gone out, but she was in
such a beautiful sleep; I just crept in on tiptoe and there she was
smiling in her sleep and looking as happy as happy could be. So I said
to myself--`Miss Nesta'll be in in no time, and if not there are the
other young ladies.' So I went to cook and said--`Cook, be sure you run
up to Missis when she rings her bell.'"
Susan had now returned to the kitchen.
"You didn't hear Missis ring by any chance, did you, Fanny?" she said to
her fellow servant.
"No, I said I'd go up to her if she did ring."
"Then it's all right," said Susan.
"Why, what's the matter? How white you are."
"I--I don't quite know. But Miss Marcia came back and seemed in no end
of a taking, at the house not being lit up."
"Let Miss Marcia mind her own business," said Fanny, in a temper.
"Don't you say anything against her, Fanny. Oh, my word, there's the
bell, now. I hope to goodness there's nothing wrong."
Susan rushed upstairs; her knees, as she expressed it, trembling under
her. She burst open the door.
"Send Fanny for the doctor at once. Get me some hot water and some
brandy. Be quick; don't wait a moment. Above all things, send Fanny
for the doctor. Tell her to take a cab and drive to Dr Anstruther's
house. Be as quick as ever you can."
Marcia had turned on the gas in her mother's room and lit it, and now
she was bending over that mother and holding her hand. The poor woman
was alive, but icy cold and apparently quite unconscious. The girl felt
herself trembling violently.
"They have neglected her; I can see that by the look of the room," she
thought. "The window still open, the blinds still up, the position of
this sofa--all show that she was neglected. And I, too, left her. Why
did I go? Oh, poor mother; poor mother."
Tears streamed from Marcia's eyes; they fell upon the cold hand. Marcia
put her fingers on the pulse; it was still beating, but very feebly.
Susan hurried up with a great jug of hot water, and the brandy bottle.
"Mix some brandy quickly for me, Susan; make it strong. Now, then, give
it to me."
With some difficulty Marcia managed to put a few drops between the blue
lips, and the next minute the invalid opened her eyes. She fixed them
on Marcia, smiled, shuddered, and closed them again, collapsing once
more into unconsciousness.
It was in this condition that Dr Anstruther found her when he entered
the house a quarter of an hour later.
"I feared it," he paid, just glancing at Marcia.
"No, it is not death," he added, seeing the look of appeal and
self-reproach in the girl's eyes; "but it might have been. Had you been
a few minutes later we could have done nothing. Now, then, we will get
her into bed."
He managed very skilfully, with Marcia's help and with that of the
repentant and miserable Susan, to convey the poor invalid to a bed,
which had already been warmed for her. She then sat by her,
administering brandy and water at short intervals, and holding her wrist
between his fingers and thumb.
"That's better," he said, after a time. "Now, then, Miss Marcia, will
you go downstairs and prepare a nice cup of bread and milk and bring it
up to me? she must manage to eat it. She has been absolutely starved;
she has had nothing at all since her early dinner."
Marcia flew out of the room.
"Susan," she said, "Susan, what is the meaning of this?"
"Don't ask me, Miss; 'tain't my fault. When young ladies themselves are
born without natural affection, what can a poor servant gel do? Do you
think I'd leave _my_ mother? No, that I wouldn't. Poor lady, and she
that devoted to them. To be sure she have her little fads and fancies,
and her little crotchets, as what invalid but wouldn't have? But, oh,
Miss, to think of their unkindness."
"Don't think of it now; they will be sorry enough by-and-by," said
Marcia. "Help me to get some bread and milk ready."
She brought it up a few minutes later, steaming hot and tempting
looking. The invalid was conscious again now, and her cheeks were
flushed with the amount of brandy she had taken. She began to talk in a
weak, excited manner.
"I had such a long sleep and got so dreadfully cold," she said. "I
thought I was climbing up and up a hill, and I could never get to the
top. It was a horrid dream. Marcia, dear, is that you? How nice you
look in your grey dress, so quiet looking."
"Hush, Mrs Aldworth," said the doctor, in a cheerful voice, "you must
not talk too much just now. You must lie quiet."
"Oh, doctor, I've been lying quiet so long, so many hours. Oh, yes, I
remember--it was Molly. She had on a blue dress, a blue muslin and
forget-me-not bows, and she looked so sweet, and she said the Carters
were here--the Carters and--and--she was very anxious to go down to
them. It was natural, wasn't it, doctor?"
"Yes, yes. Aren't you going to eat your bread and milk?"
"I'll feed you, mother," said Marcia.
She knelt by her and put the nourishment between the blue lips.
"You are such a good girl, Marcia; so kind to me."
"Everybody ought to be kind to you," said Marcia, "and everybody will
be," she murmured under her breath.
"Marcia is an excellent girl; you have never said a truer word, Mrs
Aldworth," remarked the doctor.
"It was very disagreeable--that dream," continued the invalid, her
thoughts drifting into another quarter. "I thought--I thought I was
climbing up and up, and it was very cold as I climbed, and I thought I
was amongst the ice, and the great snows, and Molly was there, but a
long way down, and I was falling, and Molly would not come to help me.
Then it was Nesta, and she would not help me either, Nesta only laughed,
and said something about Flossie--Flossie Griffiths. Marcia, have you
seen Flossie Griffiths? You know I don't like her much, do you?"
"I have not seen her, dear. Don't talk too much. It weakens you."
"But I'm not really ill, am I?"
"Oh, no, Mrs Aldworth," said the doctor. "You have just had an attack
of weakness, but you are better; it is passing off now, and you have a
grand pulse. I wish I had as good a one."
He smiled at her in his cheery way, and by-and-by he went out of the
room. Marcia followed him.
"Some one must sit up with her all night," said the doctor, "and I will
stay in the house."
"Oh, doctor," said Marcia, "is it as bad as all that?"
"It is so bad that if she has another attack we cannot possibly pull her
through. If she survives until the morning, I will call in Dr Benson,
the first authority in Newcastle. The thing is to prevent a recurrence
of the attack. The longer it is stared off the greater probability
there is that there will be no repetition."
"I will sit up with her, of course," said Marcia. "She would rather
have me than any hired nurse."
"I know that. I am glad. But some one must see your sisters when they
come in."
It was just at that moment that a girl, somewhat fagged, somewhat shabby
looking, with a face a good deal torn, for she had got amongst briars
and thorns and underwood on her way home, crept up the narrow path
towards the house. This girl was her mother's darling, Nesta, the
youngest of the family, the baby, as she was called. Her time with
Flossie had, after all, been the reverse of agreeable. They had begun
their tea with every prospect of having a good time; but soon the mob of
rough people who had come to witness the donkey races discovered them,
and so terrified both little girls that they ran away and hid, leaving
all Flossie's property behind them.
This was thought excellent fun by the roughs of Newcastle; they scoured
the woods, looking for the children, and as a matter of fact, poor Nesta
had never got a greater fright than when she crouched down in the
brambles, devoutly hoping that some of the rough boys would not pull her
out of her lair.
Eventually she and Flossie had escaped with only a few scratches and
some torn clothes, but she was miserably tired and longing for comfort
when she approached the house. So absorbed was she with her own
adventures that she absolutely forgot the fact that she had run away and
left her mother to the care of the others. As she entered the house,
however, it flashed upon her what might be thought of her conduct.
"Dear, dear!" she thought, "I shall have a time of it with Molly
to-night; but I don't care. I'm not going to be bullied or browbeaten.
I'll just let Miss Molly see that I'm going to have my fun as well as
another. I wish though, I didn't sleep in the room with them; they'll
be as cross and cantankerous as two tabby cats."
Nesta entered the house. Somehow the house did not seem to be quite as
usual; the drawing room was not lit up; it had not been used that
evening. She poked her head round the dining-room door. There was no
appetising and hearty meal ready for tired people when they returned
home. What was the matter? Why, her father must be back by this time.
She went into the kitchen.
"Cook!" she said.
"Keep out of my way, Miss Nesta," said the cook.
"What do you mean? Where is my supper? I want my supper. Where are
all the others? Where's Molly? Where's Ethel? I suppose that stupid
old Marcia is back now? Where are they all?"
"That's more than I can tell you," said cook, and now he turned round
and faced the girl. "I only know that it's ten o'clock, and that you
have been out when you ought to be in, and as to Miss Molly and Miss
Ethel, I don't want to have anything to do with them in the future.
Here's Susan--she'll tell you why there ain't no supper for you--she'll
speak a bit of her mind. Susan, here's Miss Nesta, come in as gay as
you please, and asks for her supper. And where are the others, says
she, and where's Marcia, says she. And is she back, says she. Miss
Marcia is back, thank the Lord; that's about the only thing we have to
be thankful for in this house to-night."
"Dear me, cook, I think you are remarkably impertinent. I shall ask
mother not to keep you. Mother never would allow servants to speak to
us in that tone. You forget yourself, Susan."
"It's you that forgets yourself, Miss Nesta," said Susan. "There;
where's the use of stirring up ill will? Ain't there sorrow enough in
this house this blessed night?"
"Sorrow," said Nesta, now really alarmed. "What is it?"
"It's your mother, poor soul," said Susan. She looked into Nesta's face
and there and then determined not to spare her.
"Mother? Mother?"
For the first time the girl forgot herself. There fell away from her
that terrible cloak of selfishness in which she had wrapped herself.
"Mother? Is anything wrong with her?"
"Dr Anstruther is upstairs, and he is going to spend the night here,
and Miss Marcia is with her, and not a living soul of you is to go near
her; you wouldn't when you might, and now you long to, you won't be let;
so that's about the truth, and if the poor darling holds out till the
morning it'll be something to be thankful for. Why, she nearly died,
and for all that I can tell you, she may be dying now."
"Nonsense!" said Nesta. "What lies you tell!"
She stalked out of the kitchen. For the life of her she could not have
gone out in any other fashion. Had she attempted any other than the
utmost bravado, she must have fallen. In the hall she met Molly and
Ethel coming in; their faces were bright, their eyes were shining. What
a good time they had had. That supper! That little impromptu dance
afterwards! The tennis before supper! The walk home with Jim and
Harry. Jim escorted Molly home; he had quite forgiven her, and Harry
was untiring in his attentions to Ethel. Oh, what a glorious, glorified
world they had been living in. But, now, what was the matter! They saw
Nesta and looked into her face. Full of wrath they pounced upon her.
"Don't," said Nesta. "Don't speak. Come in here."
She took both their hands, dragged them into her father's study, and
shut the door.
"Look here, both of you," she said, "I've been beast; I've been the
lowest down sort of a girl that ever lived, but you have been a degree
worse, and we have killed mother. Yes, we have killed her."
Ethel dropped into a chair and clasped her side with one hand.
"You needn't believe me, but it's true. She was alone all the
afternoon, and Marcia came home, and she saw mother, who was nearly
gone, and the doctor is here and he is going to stay all night, and
perhaps she'll be dead in the morning, and we have done it--we are her
own children and we have done it. You and Molly and I; we have all done
it; we are monsters; we are worse than beasts. We are horrors. I hate
us! I _hate_ us! I hate us!"
Each hate as it was hurled from her young lips was uttered with more
emphasis than the last, and now she flung herself full length on the
carpet--the dirty, faded carpet, and sobbed as though her heart would
break.
"We're not to go to her--she won't have any of us near her. She won't
have us now--we gave her up--she was alone all the afternoon, and now we
are not to go to her, we are to stay away; that's what we are to do."
Molly was the first to recover her voice.
"It can't be as bad as that," she said.
Ethel looked up with a scared face. Molly's face was just as scared as
her sisters'. As she uttered the words she sank, too, in a limp
fashion, on the nearest chair. Then she unpinned her hat and flung it
from her to the farthest end of the room.
"You may stay there, you horrid thing," she said. Her gloves were
treated in the same manner. She looked down at the bows on her dress
and began unfastening them.
"I hate them," she said. "Mother called them pretty. I hate them!"
"What's the good of undressing yourself in that fashion?" said Ethel.
"She had the beginning of the attack when I was with her," said Molly.
"I am worse than you, Nesta, worse than you, Ethel, for you did not see
her. I gave her some sal volatile, and she got sleepy, and I put a
shawl over her and left her. I am worse than either of you."
"Well," said Ethel, rousing herself, "I don't believe it is as bad as
this. I don't think it can be. I'll go up and find out."
She went out of the room, but she tottered very badly as she went up the
stairs, glancing behind her as though fearful of her own shadow. There
was a light in the spare room; the door was partly open. She peeped in.
Dr Anstruther was there. He was pacing up and down.
"Ah!" he said, when he saw Ethel's face. "Come in."