A GRAVE QUESTION.
"I am sorry, Rob, that my answer is not what you wish it to be."
"But, Frank, think what a winter in Italy would mean to the child."
"Yes, if you can get her over there by wireless. But you speak of going
by steamer, and I need not remind you of the cold and dampness of an
ocean voyage at this season."
"I had not thought of that." Mr. Selwyn rose and began pacing to and
fro. "How soon _will_ Mary be equal to the trip, Frank?"
"Not before the first of June at the earliest. Her recovery, judging
from the past two weeks, will be very, very slow. Why do you take this
trip just now? Can't you put it off for six or seven months?"
"No, Frank, that is not possible. We have been waiting for this chance
to open a branch of the business in Rome, and now that it has come, we
must act promptly."
"Then let Bryce or Ryan go. Bryce has no one but himself to think of."
"His father would have been just the man to put the thing through; but
young Bryce is not his father by any means. For one thing, he does not
know the business well enough. Ryan says that he is too old to begin to
learn Italian; and as I have a fair knowledge of that language, he
thinks I should go. I made no objection, because I thought it would be a
splendid chance to take Mary away from the winter here. Do you really
think that it would be a risk, Frank?"
"So great a risk that I am almost sure you would have a burial at sea."
"_Frank!_"
"I mean it, Rob. A mere trifle would bring on a relapse; and a long sea
voyage is no trifle."
"But what are we to do? Elizabeth will never consent to my living in
Italy for a year unless she and the children can be with me."
"She is right about that. Her place is with you."
"But she cannot leave Mary----"
"Why not, Rob?--You know that I would be the last one to ask that
question if there was any other way of solving the problem; but since
there is not, why cannot Mary be left with me? I need not assure you
that she will be taken care of to the best of my ability."
"You have more than proved that, Frank. If she were your own child, you
could not show greater love for her. And she almost worships you."
"Yes, I flatter myself that I come a close second to you and Elizabeth
and the babies, and I promise to do all in my power to lessen the pain
of this separation for her. She is the one who will suffer most, for she
is not old enough to see the matter in the proper light. To us, a year
is only twelve short months which pass all too quickly; but to a child,
it is an eternity. I am sorry that this trial should come upon her now
after all that she has been through."
"That is just it, Frank,--not only for her but for all of us. It seems a
terrible thing to be separated from her now for so long a time, when we
came so near to losing her. I am sure that Elizabeth will not consent to
leave her----"
"Then Elizabeth will have to remain at home. Here she is to speak for
herself."
"What plan is afoot now, gentlemen? You look as sober as judges,"
laughed Mrs. Selwyn.
"An ocean voyage followed by a year in Italy is a subject for rather
serious thought, is it not?"
"No, indeed, Rob. I should say it is a very pleasant subject. Who among
our friends has this treat in store for him?"
"It happens that, in this case, the pleasure is not unmixed with pain."
"But is it not always so, Rob? Is there not a thread of sorrow running
through every earthly joy?"
"Yes, even our little Mary has found that out. I think I told you how
perfectly happy she was over the twins; but in less than fifteen
minutes, she found cause for sorrow in the fact that there was not a
third baby to be called Frank."
"Yes, I remember. But you have not answered my question about our
friends who are planning a trip to Europe."
"Your husband's name heads the list, Elizabeth; and it remains for you
to decide whether he will go alone, or have the company of any other
members of the family."
"You are joking, Frank."
"I was never more in earnest."
"I wish from my heart that he was joking, Elizabeth," and Mr. Selwyn
repeated some of the facts of the case.
"And are your partners aware that your wife has not only herself but
three children to get ready for this trip? However, we shall manage. As
you say, the pleasure will be marred to some extent by the pain of
parting from this good, old brother of ours; but after all," and Mrs.
Selwyn seated herself on the arm of the Doctor's chair and ran her
fingers through his hair, "a year passes quickly, and the thought that
Mary is growing well and strong in the wonderful Italian climate will
help you through the lonely hours. But, Frank," an anxious note sounded
in her voice, "do you think she will be equal to the trip in another
week? She is doing nicely, I know, but she has not yet been up even in a
chair."
"No, Elizabeth, Mary will not be able to make that trip next week nor
next month," the Doctor gently replied. "I have just explained to Rob
that an ocean voyage for her before the first of June will, without
doubt, have a very sad ending."
"Why, Frank! what are we to do? I cannot think of allowing Rob to go
away alone and live hotel life for a whole year! And Mary--oh, after the
agony of that awful week, I cannot bear to be parted from her now when
she needs me so much!"
"I have just thought of a plan which I think should work pretty well. I
shall sail alone next Monday, and you and the children, with Aunt Mandy,
of course, will follow me early in June."
"No, no, Rob, I cannot listen to such a plan." Mrs. Selwyn crossed the
room to her husband's side. "If it were a case of a month or six weeks,
I might consider it; but I shall never consent to your living hotel life
for half a year. What if you should become ill? Think of the time it
would take me to reach you. No, no, I must be with you. We shall find a
cosy little place on the outskirts of Rome and make it our home. But
Mary----" and the poor little mother bowed her head on the father's
shoulder.
"Mary will be safe with me, Elizabeth," urged the Doctor. "She will be
loved and cared for as if she were my own child. I shall arrange my
affairs so as to take her South to a warm, dry climate, after Christmas,
and remain there until the first of May. Then, I think Maryvale will be
the best place for her with our own sister to keep a watchful eye on
her. The Sisters and many of the pupils are old friends of hers, and I
shall go out to see her two or three times a week. She will have
country air and country food; and when you return in the fall, you will
not know your tanned, rosy-cheeked little lass. Yes, Mary will be far
better off there than alone here during the day with the servants. You,
Elizabeth, will need Aunt Mandy, and I think you will find Tom very
useful, Rob. I shall close the house and take some apartments in the
building where my office is. Liza will keep house for me. But I would
advise you to say nothing of all this to Mary before Saturday. She will
be stronger then and better able to bear the thought of separation from
you."