CHAPTER XXXII

WE COME HOME--MRS. BUNDLE QUITS SERVICE

The day my wife and I returned from our wedding trip to Dacrefield was

a very happy one. We had a triumphal welcome from the tenants, my dear

father was beaming, the Rector no less so, and good old Nurse Bundle

showered blessings on the head of my bride.

Frances was a great favourite with her. She was devoted to the old

woman, and her delicate tact made her adapt herself to all Mrs.

Bundle's peculiarities. She sat with her in the nursery that night

till nearly dinner-time.

"I must take her away, Nursey," said I, coming in; "she'll be late for

dinner."

"Go with your husband, my dear," said Nurse Bundle, "and the Lord

bless you both."

"I'll come back, Nursey," said Frances; "you'll soon see me again."

"Turn your face, my dear," said Nurse Bundle. "Hold up the candle,

Master Reginald. Ay, ay, that'll do, my deary. I'll see you again."

We were still at dessert with my father, when Bowles came hastily into

the room with a pale face, and went up to my wife.

"Did you send for Mrs. Bundle, ma'am, since you came down to dinner?"

he asked.

"Oh, dear no," said my wife.

"Cook was going upstairs, and met Missis Bundle a little way out of

her room," Bowles explained; "and Missis Bundle she says, 'Don't stop

me,' says she, 'Mrs. Dacre wants me,' she says, and on she goes; and

cook waits and waits in her room for her, and at last she comes down

to me, and she says--"

"But where _is_ Mrs. Bundle?" cried my father.

"That's circumstantially what nobody knows, sir," said Bowles with a

distracted air.

We all three rushed upstairs. Mrs. Bundle was not to be found. My

father was frantic; my wife with tears lamented that some chance word

of hers might have led the half-childish old lady to fancy that she

wanted her.

But a sudden conviction had seized upon me.

"You need not trouble yourself, my darling," said I; "you are not the

Mrs. Dacre Nurse Bundle went to seek."

I ran to my father's dressing-room. It was as I thought.

Below my mother's portrait, on the spot where years before she had

held me in her arms with tears, I, weeping also, held her now in

mine--quite dead.

THE END

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The Queen's Treasures Series

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COUSIN PHILLIS.

By MRS. GASKELL. Illustrated by MISS M. V. WHEELHOUSE. With an

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SIX TO SIXTEEN.

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A FLAT IRON FOR A FARTHING.

By MRS. EWING. Illustrated by MISS M. V. WHEELHOUSE. [_Nov_. 1908.

JAN OF THE WINDMILL.

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A Flat Iron for a Farthing; or, Some Passages in the Life of an only Son · 第 32 / 32 章