MON PERE.
Maggie's ideas of apoplexy or paralysis were not very definite, and she
only understood that something very terrible had happened to her
foster-father, whom she loved as though he had been her real parent.
Leo was hardly less affected, though, being a boy, his susceptibility
was not so keen. His first feeling was one of indignation that the
banker had not told him before of the misfortune which had overtaken
the family. It was cruel to have kept Maggie from her father a single
moment longer than was necessary.
"Where is poor father now?" asked Maggie, as she adjusted her hood, and
wiped the tears from her eyes.
"He is at my house; but you need not worry about him," replied Mr.
Checkynshaw. "The doctor has attended to his case, and he shall have
everything he needs."
"Where do you live, sir?" asked Leo.
"No.--Pemberton Square."
"Come, Maggie, we will go to him," added the boy.
"I want you to go with me, and show me where Fitz lives," interposed
the banker.
"He lives at No.--Atkinson Street, up the court," answered Leo, rather
coolly, as he picked up his cap and comforter.
"I want you to show me the house."
"I must go with Maggie."
Mr. Checkynshaw looked as though the barber's serious illness was of no
consequence, compared with his affairs.
"We can go that way, Leo, and you can show him the house as we pass
through Atkinson Street," said Maggie, leading the way to the door.
This arrangement was satisfactory to the banker; the house was locked,
and Leo led the way out of the court. The humble abode of Mrs.
Wittleworth was pointed out to Mr. Checkynshaw; and, after he had been
admitted, Leo and Maggie hastened to Pemberton Square, so sad and
sorrowful that hardly a word was spoken till they reached the lofty
mansion of the great man. With trembling hand Leo rang the bell; and
Maggie's slender frame quivered with apprehension while they waited for
a reply to the summons. Lawrence answered the bell more promptly than
when its call had disturbed him at his dinner.
"Is Andre Maggimore here?" asked Leo, timidly.
"Who?" demanded Lawrence.
"Andre Maggimore--the barber--the hair-dresser," replied Leo.
"You mane the man that had the fit," added the servant. "Indade, he's
here, thin."
"How is he?" asked Maggie, her heart bounding with fear lest she should
be told that her poor father was no more.
"He's a little better; but the docthor says it'll be a long day till he
is able to handle his razors again. What's this he called the disase?
The para-_ly_-sis! That's just what it is!"
"Poor _mon pere_!" sighed Maggie.
"We would like to see him, if you please," added Leo.
"And who be you? Are you his children?" asked Lawrence.
"We are."
"I'm sorry for you; but he's very bad," added Lawrence, who had an
Irish heart under his vest, as he closed the front door.
"Is he--will he--"
Poor Maggie could not ask the question she desired to ask, and she
covered her face and wept.
"No, he won't," replied Lawrence, tenderly. "He won't die. The docthor
says he's comin' out of it; but the para-_ly_-sis will bodther him for
a long time."
Maggie was comforted by this reply, and she followed Lawrence up stairs
to the chamber where Andre lay. He had been conveyed from Elinora's
dressing-room to an apartment in the L, over the dining-room, where the
banker and his friends smoked their cigars after dinner. He was lying
on a lounge, covered with blankets, and the housekeeper was attending
him.
"Poor _mon pere_!" exclaimed Maggie, as she threw herself on her knees
on the floor by the side of the sick man's couch, and kissed his pale,
thin face.
[Illustration: POOR MON PERE.--Page 84.]
Leo bent over his father's prostrate form, and clasped one of his silky
hands, which now felt so cold that the touch chilled his heart. The
doctor had just come in to pay his patient a second visit, and stood by
the lounge, regarding with interest the devotion of the boy and girl.
Andre had "come out" of the fit, and recognized his children, as he
always called them. He smiled faintly, and tried to return the pressure
of Leo's hand, and to kiss the lips of Maggie, pressed to his own; but
his strength was not yet equal to his desire.
"I think it would be better to remove him to the hospital," said the
doctor to the housekeeper. "He will be well nursed there."
"No, no, no!" exclaimed Maggie, rising and walking up to the physician.
Her idea of the hospital was not a very clear one, and she did not
consider it much better than a prison; at least, it was to her a place
where sick people who had neither home nor friends were sent; a place
where other hands than her own would lave her father's fevered brow,
and administer the cooling draught. To her it was sacrilege to permit
any but herself to nurse him; and she felt that it was a privilege to
stand day and night by his bed, and hold his hand, and anticipate all
his wants. Her womanly instincts were strong, and she heard with horror
the suggestion to take the sufferer to the hospital.
"Your father would be very kindly cared for at the hospital," said the
doctor.
"But it would not be his own home!" pleaded Maggie. "O, he so loves his
own home! He always staid there when he was not in the shop. It would
break his heart to send him away from his own home when he is sick."
"Have you a mother?" asked Dr. Fisher, kindly.
"I have not; but I will nurse him by day and night. I will be mother,
wife, and daughter to him. Do not send him away from me--not from his
own home!" continued Maggie, so imploringly that the good physician had
to take off his spectacles and wipe the moisture from his eyes.
"We will take good care of him at home," added Leo.
"Very well," replied the doctor. "He shall be removed to his own home,
since you desire it so much. Lawrence, will you send for a carriage?"
"I will, sir," answered the servant, leaving the room.
Andre had turned his eyes towards the group, and appeared to understand
the matter they were discussing. He smiled as he comprehended the
decision, and made an effort to embrace Maggie, when she again knelt at
his side; but a portion of his frame was paralyzed, and he could not
move.
"Your father may be sick a long time," said Dr. Fisher.
"I'm so sorry! But I will take such good care of him!" replied Maggie.
"He needs very careful nursing."
"O, he shall have it! He would rather have me nurse him than any other
person. I will watch him all the time. I will sit by his bed all day
and all night," added she, with womanly enthusiasm.
"You will wear yourself out. You are not strong enough to do without
your sleep."
"I am very strong, sir. I do all the work in the house myself. I know
how to make gruel, and porridge, and beef tea, and soup; and _mon pere_
shall have everything nice."
The doctor smiled, and felt sure that no better nurse could be provided
for the sick man.
"Where is your mother?" he asked. "Is she living?"
"I have no mother. Leo has no mother. We are not Andre's own children;
but we love him just the same, and he loves us just the same."
"But who was your mother?"
"I don't know."
"Doesn't Andre know?"
"He does not."
"You have some kind of a history, I suppose," added the doctor, greatly
interested in the girl.
"_Mon pere_ don't like to talk about it. He seems to be afraid that
some one will get me away from him; but I'm sure I don't want to go
away from him; I wouldn't leave him for a king's palace."
"Why do you call him '_mon pere_'?"
"He taught me to call him so when I was little. Andre's father was an
Italian, and his mother a French woman; but he was born in London."
"Where did he find you?"
"At the cholera hospital."
"Where?"
"I don't know. He always looked so sad, and his heart seemed to be so
pained when I asked him any questions about myself, that I stopped
doing so long ago. When I was five years old, he found me playing about
the hospital, where hundreds and hundreds of people had died with
cholera. I had the cholera myself; and he came to play with me every
day; and when they were going to send me to an orphan asylum, or some
such place, he took me away, and promised to take care of me. Ah, _mon
pere_" said she, glancing tenderly at the sick man, and wiping a tear
from her eyes, "how well he has kept his promise! I can't help thinking
he loved me more than any real father could. I never saw any father who
was so kind, and tender, and loving to his child as Andre is to me."
"And you don't know where this hospital was?"
"No, sir; and I don't want to know. _Mon pere_ thinks my parents died
of the cholera; but Andre has been father and mother to me. He would
die if he lost me."
"And your brother--was he taken from the cholera hospital?" asked the
doctor.
"No, sir," replied Maggie, rising and speaking in a whisper to the
physician, so that Leo should not hear what she said. "Andre had to
leave me all alone when he went to the shop, and he went to the
almshouse to find a poor orphan to keep me company. He found Leo, whose
father and mother had both died from drinking too much. He took him
home, and _mon pere_ has been as good to him as he has to me."
"His name is Leo--the Lion?"
"No, sir; not the lion. _Mon pere_ called him Leopold, after the King
of Belgium, in whose service he once was; but we always call him Leo.
He is a real good boy, and will get the medal at his school this year."
"The carriage has come, sir," said Lawrence, opening the door.
The arrangements were made for the removal of the barber to his house.
The hackman and the man servant came to carry him down stairs in an
armchair, and the doctor was to go with his patient, and assist in
disposing of him at his house. Andre was placed in the chair, covered
with blankets, and the door opened in readiness to carry him down.
Maggie kept close to him, comforting him with the kindest words, and
adjusting the blanket so that the rude blasts of winter might not reach
him.
"Lawrence!" called Elinora, in a petulant tone, from the dressing-room
on the same floor.
Under the circumstances, Lawrence was not disposed to heed the call;
but it was so often and so ill-naturedly repeated, that Dr. Fisher told
him to go and see what she wanted, fearful that some accident had
happened to her. The man went into the hall. Elinora had come out of
her room in her impatience, arrayed for the party she was to attend.
Another hair-dresser had been sent for to complete the work which Andre
had begun; but the young lady was more than an hour late, and
proportionally impatient.
"Are you deaf, Lawrence? The carriage has come," pouted Elinora.
"That's not the carriage for you, miss. It's to take the barber to his
own place," replied Lawrence.
"That horrid barber again! I shall not get over the fright he gave me
for a month! I will take this carriage, and he may have the other when
it comes," said she, walking to the stairs. "Go down and open the door
for me."
"If you plaze, miss, you can't go in this carriage. It's for the sick
man."
"I don't care what it's for! I'm in a hurry, Lawrence. I must have the
first carriage."
"Indade, miss, but we have the sick man up in the chair, ready to take
him down the stairs. It's very bad he is."
"Let him wait! Go down and open the door, as I tell you."
"I beg your pardon, miss, but the docthor--"
"If you don't do what I tell you this instant, I'll ask pa to discharge
you."
Dr. Fisher came out to ascertain the cause of the delay. He explained
that the carriage had been ordered to convey the barber to his home,
and he insisted that it should be used for that purpose. Andre was his
patient, and he would not permit any further delay. Elinora pouted and
flouted, and hopped back into her chamber.
Andre was borne carefully down the stairs, and placed in the carriage.
Maggie and the doctor entered the vehicle with him, and they were
driven to the barber's own home, where he was placed upon his bed in
the front room.