SUNSHINE AND CLOUDS.
"A friend who is both intelligent and well-affected is the most
valuable of all possessions."--_Herodotus_.
About a fortnight after this eventful afternoon, Olivia received a note
from Greta begging her to bring her work and to spend a few hours with
her. The invitation was a pressing one. "Please do not disappoint
me," she wrote, "for I want to talk to you so much. I think I can
promise that we shall have no interruption. Alwyn is going up to town
for the afternoon, and will not pay his usual call." And then Olivia,
who had planned to have tea with Aunt Madge, put off her visit until
another day, and sent a verbal message of acceptance.
It was one of those late October days, when a touch of frost in the air
gives a hint of the approaching winter, and the bright little fire in
Greta's pretty morning-room was very welcome.
Greta was sitting at her embroidery frame as usual. Her deep mourning
was relieved by the little knot of white chrysanthemums and red leaves
that she wore, and her fair, serious face looked bright and animated.
"Dear Olive, it was so good of you to come," she said, as she ensconced
her guest in a big easy-chair. "I suppose you guessed that I wanted
you particularly," and Olivia nodded.
"I could hardly sleep thinking about it all. Olive, we have settled
the day. Mr. Gaythorne gave Alwyn no peace, and so he was obliged to
speak to me. He said it was very soon to ask me, and that he would
willingly have given me more time, but that in his father's state of
health any delay would only harass him, so I said that I would be ready
by the middle of December. I hope you do not think I am wrong?"
"No, indeed. I think you are very wise."
"Alwyn was so grateful," went on Greta; "he knew my objection to a
winter wedding; but, as he says, it will be so nice to begin the new
year together; and, after all, what do these outward things matter? At
first I thought I would be married in my travelling-dress, and go
straight away from the church; and then I remembered how Alwyn once
said that brides ought always to wear white, that it was symbolical and
poetical, and that you agreed with him."
"Marcus thought just the same!" returned Olivia; "and though I was in
mourning for dear mother, Aunt Madge bought me a lovely white cashmere.
Alas! I have never worn it since, but sometimes I take it out and look
at it. I remember how pleased Marcus was with it. Shall you wear silk
or satin, Greta?" and then Greta owned that she had already decided on
a rich ivory-coloured silk.
"But we will not discuss my _trousseau_ just yet," she observed,
blushing. "There is plenty of time for that. I shall have seven weeks
for my preparations. I want to tell you about yesterday, Olive. You
know I had promised to have luncheon at Galvaston House, and that Alwyn
was to fetch me, but before we left this house it was all settled, and
after luncheon Alwyn told his father. The dear old man was so pleased;
he made Alwyn bring down his mother's trinkets, a pearl necklace and
some diamond stars, and such splendid rings that he had given her, and
he told Alwyn that they were all for me; you know I never cared much
for jewelry, but Alwyn will always want me to be well dressed, so I
shall have to be smart. I think I liked best a little cross set with
diamonds, that Olive used to wear; he gave me that, too."
"How pleased Alwyn must have been."
"Yes, and, of course, I was pleased, too; and then Mr. Gaythorne made
Alwyn take me over the house. What a handsome house it is, Olive! I
like it ever so much better than Brunswick Place. I had no idea it was
so large, but Mr. Gaythorne said that Italian palaces had spoilt him,
and that he must always have plenty of space. There is a room on the
first floor opening into the conservatory that will make a charming
morning-room, and then the studio is so lovely. Alwyn has been buying
such beautiful things, and there is to be a corner fitted up for my
use, where my embroidery frame can stand. I shall so love to watch him
work; but oh, Olive, is it not absurd? Mr. Gaythorne talks of
refurnishing the drawing-room, but it is not the least necessary. I
want you to convince him of this, and to beg him not to spend money so
needlessly. I have so many nice things of my own; all this beautiful
china and those inlaid Japanese cabinets. A new carpet and a little
fresh cretonne is all that is needed. And I know Alwyn agrees with me."
"Very well, then, we must bring Mr. Gaythorne to reason."
"I took Mrs. Crampton into confidence," went on Greta, "when she showed
me the kitchen and store-rooms. What a nice creature she is, and how
admirably she manages! There is to be another maid kept, so I asked if
I might bring Merton; she has been with us so many years that I should
dislike to part with her, and Alwyn has promised to speak to his
father."
Olivia listened and approved; there was no mistaking Greta's happiness;
she looked on the bright side of everything, and would allow of no
drawbacks. When Olivia ventured to hint that Mr. Gaythorne might be
trying at times, Greta only smiled and said, "That was very likely,
only Alwyn managed him so beautifully, and she hoped in time to do the
same. I know that he dislikes visitors," she went on, "but, as you and
Dr. Luttrell are exceptions, I do not so much mind, and I shall be
quite happy with Alwyn."
"Oh, no doubt," returned Olivia, in her quick, decided way; "but you
must remember, Greta dear, that we owe a duty to our fellow-creatures,
and you must not allow Mr. Gaythorne to carry his misanthropical views
too far. There is no need for him to be troubled with visitors; he is
far too ailing for much fatigue and exertion; but surely you and Alwyn
can entertain your friends in your own rooms," and, though Greta
hesitated and looked rather alarmed at the idea of opposing her
formidable father-in-law-elect, she was soon brought to acknowledge
that society would be good for Alwyn.
"There is no hurry, we can be quiet this first winter," she said; "but,
of course, if people call upon me, I shall return their visits, but we
cannot settle beforehand. I shall first wait and see what Alwyn
wishes, and you must own, Olive, that I have not led a gay life here."
"By-the-bye," observed Olivia, suddenly, "what have you decided to do
with this house and furniture?" but Greta had evidently not taken these
matters into consideration.
"All the best things will go to Galvaston House, I suppose," she
replied, looking round her, "but most of the furniture is old-fashioned
and not up-to-date. I suppose people would call it handsome, and, of
course, the oak in the dining-room is in thoroughly good taste. I must
talk to Alwyn about it; perhaps it might be let furnished. Dear father
used to say selling furniture was such a mistake,--one never got the
full value."
"I remember how grand I thought it the first day I called," returned
Olivia, smiling. "The drawing-room with that beautiful conservatory
opening out of it, and the plush curtains, and those luxurious couches
made me feel so shabby. But I suppose the drawing-room at Galvaston
House is still better. The glass door opening on the garden is so
pleasant, and those Venetian cabinets and that carved settle are really
beautiful."
"Yes, and it would be such a pity to modernise the room. Besides, what
does one want with a drawing-room at all? I am sure I never enter
mine. I shall live in the morning-room and the studio, and I suppose
in the evenings we shall be in the library. Ah, you are laughing,
because I have thought it all out in this matter-of-fact way, but I
assure you I hardly slept last night." And then by mutual consent they
began on the mysteries of the _trousseau_, and they had not half
finished when Olivia looked at the clock and declared that she had
stayed too long.
"The world goes up and the world goes down and the sunshine follows the
rain," says the old song, and human life is certainly made up of
passing clouds and gleams of sunshine.
While Alwyn superintended the decorations of the new rooms at Galvaston
House, and brought his artistic taste to bear on every petty detail for
the use of his lady-love, and while Greta busied herself over her
_trousseau_, Dr. Luttrell was engaged from morning to night among his
patients.
With the damp, foggy days of November had come the dreaded epidemic,
influenza. All the doctors were overworked, and more than one of them
succumbed to the malady,--amongst them Dr. Bevan.
Marcus, who had been devoting himself to his poor patients, suddenly
found the charge of a large practice thrown on him, and had scarcely
time to take his meals. For a few days Dr. Bevan was extremely ill,
and even when a short change had recruited his health it was evident
that he would never be able to do the same amount of work again.
"He has been overworking himself for years," Mrs. Bevan said to Marcus,
with tears in her eyes; "but he would never spare himself, and now Dr.
Randolph says that this utter breakdown is the result. Oh, it is all
very well for him to say that it is better to wear out than rust out,
but if a man has a wife and children he has no right to risk his life
in this way. It might not hurt a younger man to rise from his bed
night after night in the depths of winter, but for my husband it is
simply suicidal. When he gets well he must and shall have a partner.
What is the use of waiting until Wilfred is ready to come into the
practice," for Wilfred Bevan, the eldest son, was at that time walking
the hospitals. And here Mrs. Bevan, with her comely face looking quite
worn and aged with anxiety, hurried away to sit with her husband.
Olivia had her own private anxieties. Those long solitary days were
very trying to her, but she never dared be long absent from home lest
she should miss one of Marcus's flying visits. His meals were taken at
any odd hour, but if he came in for a minute on his morning round there
was always a cup of good soup ready for him, or later in the day some
hot coffee. But perhaps the best cordial to the tired, harassed doctor
was the sight of his wife's bright face. He would drink the soup,
snatch up his little daughter for a kiss and go back to his work
refreshed, but even to him the strain was excessive.
Olivia, who was unwilling to damp Greta's cheerfulness, would pour out
her troubles to her Aunt Madge, and Mrs. Broderick would listen with
her usual sympathy.
"I hope it is not wicked of me, Aunt Madge," she would say, "but I do
feel so worried and anxious. Marcus declares he is quite well, but he
is so tired every night that he can hardly drag himself to bed, and
when morning comes he is not a bit rested. I think Dr. Bevan's illness
has made me nervous, for I am always dreading that Marcus will break
down too."
"Women need lot of faith, don't they, Livy? Doctors' wives as well as
soldiers' wives, but I am not sure that you need fear for Marcus. He
is really strong, and at his age a little hard work will not hurt him.
He has his laurels to gather, you must remember that. 'It is an ill
wind that blows no one any good.'" But Olivia, who was tired and
depressed, was not so ready to be comforted.
"I would rather go on being poor than see my poor boy work so hard,"
she said, mournfully. "But it is not only that, Aunt Madge. Marcus is
very tender-hearted, and it makes him so unhappy when he loses a
patient. Of course I know why he looked so dull last night, that poor
young fellow Basil Greenwood is dead."
"Yes, I know; Dr. Randolph was called in," returned Mrs. Broderick;
"but a hundred physicians could not have saved him, the fever ran too
high."
"He was only eighteen and his poor mother doated on him, and now she is
ill too. They called Marcus up last night; he did not get back till
nearly five, but I had the fire lighted and some hot cocoa ready for
him. Marcus scolded me; he is always so afraid of my knocking up, but
I know he was glad of the cocoa. I tell Greta that I cannot be much
with her just now. I am so afraid of missing him when he comes in, and
of course she understands, but it is a little hard for her, poor child."
"Greta is very good," returned Aunt Madge. "She makes the best of
things. By-the-bye, what is this I hear of a grand new dress for the
wedding?" And then Olivia did brighten up a little.
Greta had begged in the most loving way that Olivia's dress and bonnet
for the occasion should be her gift, and the dark heliotrope silk and
dainty bonnet to match were at that moment in Greta's wardrobe.
"I tell Greta that it is far too handsome," replied Olivia, "and that
Marcus will object to my being so smart, but she only laughs at me.
There is such a lovely cape to go with it, but somehow, in spite of
Greta's kindness, I shall not enjoy it one bit, unless Marcus has time
to go with me."
"Oh, he will make time; don't be so lugubrious, Livy. You are just out
of heart about things, but we must have cloudy days some time. Don't
you remember what Longfellow says?
"'Nothing that is can pause or stay,
The moon will wax, the moon will wane,
The mist and cloud will turn to rain,
The rain to mist and cloud again,
To-morrow be to-day.'"
"Yes, and November fogs will pass too. Well, dear Aunt Madge, I must
go, and as usual you have cheered me up. What should I do without you,
I wonder."
"I am glad you find the old log useful," returned Mrs. Broderick, "so
come and grumble as often as you like. Greta is coming to tea with me
to-morrow, and Mr. Alwyn has promised to fetch her. Why don't you come
too, and you shall have a real Scotch tea, bannocks and scones and seed
cake," but Olivia shook her head at this tempting invitation. "Marcus
had asked her to go round to the model lodging houses," she said, "to
see two families in trouble. And then it was that poor boy's funeral."
And then Mrs. Broderick said no more.
"Poor Livy," she said to herself, as she lay alone in the twilight,
"one may make light of her little troubles, but they are real to her.
And I do not wonder that she worries over Marcus. Dr. Randolph was
only speaking of him this morning. He told me what a splendid worker
he was.
"'Bevan may be thankful to have got hold of such a man,' those were his
very words. 'But he must be prudent and not burn the candle at both
ends as Bevan did. "The foul fiend" has got hold of Harris now, he is
Dr. Mordaunt's partner, and was married a few weeks ago. Apollyon, as
we call it at our house, does not spare doctors,' but I hope, I really
do hope, that Livy has not heard this."