Book: Uncle Max

R >> Rosa Nouchette Carey >> Uncle Max




My new patient was likely to give me plenty of occupation. I found the
poor little fellow, looking very forlorn and dull, lying in a dark corner
of a large chilly garret, which was evidently shared by two or three
brothers.

Mrs. Bell, who had left her washing-tub to accompany me upstairs, stood
drying her arms on her apron, and talking in a high-pitched querulous
voice. 'No one can say I have not been unfortunate this year,' she
grumbled. 'There's Bell, he gets worse and worse. I fetched him myself
out of the Man and Plough last Saturday night, where he was drinking the
money that was to buy the children bread. "Do you call yourself a man or
a brute?" I says, but in my opinions it's wronging the poor bruteses to
compare them with such as him. "Work!" says he; "why don't you work
yourself?" when I am at that wash-tub from morning till night.'

'And now poor Robin is adding to your trouble, Mrs. Bell,' I observed,
with a pitying look at the child's white face and large wistful eyes.

'Ay, he has gone and done it now,' she returned, with a touch of motherly
feeling; 'it was a slide those bad boys had made, and Robbie came down on
it with his crutch under him. He is always in trouble, is Robbie, has had
more illnesses than all the children put together; there is nothing Robin
can't take: whooping-cough,--why, he nearly whooped himself to death;
measles and scarlet fever,--why, he was as nearly gone as possible, the
doctor said. He has always been puny and weakly from a baby. But there's
Bell, now, makes more of a fuss over Rob than over the others; if there
is anything that will keep him away from the Man and Plough, it is Rob
asking him to take him out somewhere.'

'Ay, father's promised to sit with me this evening,' observed Robin, in
a faint little treble.

'Then we must make the room comfortable for father,' I said quickly.
'Mrs. Bell, I must not hinder you any more; but if you could spare one
of the girls to help me tidy up a little.'

'Ay, Sally can come,' she returned; 'the place does look like a piggery.
You see, Tom and Ned and Willie sleep here along of Robin, and boys know
naught about keeping a place tidy; Sally reds it up towards evening. But
there, doctor said Robbie must have a fire, and I've clean forgotten it:
I will send up Sally with some sticks and a lump or two of coal.'

Mrs. Bell was not a bad sort of woman, certainly, but, like many of her
class, she was not a good manager; and when a woman has ten children, and
a husband rather too fond of the Man and Plough, and is obliged to stand
at her washing-tub for hours every day, one cannot expect to find the
house in perfect order.

We had soon a bright little fire burning, which gave quite a cheery
aspect to the large bare attic; the sloping roof and small window did not
seem to matter so much. With Sally's help I moved Robin's little bed to a
lighter part of the room, where the roof did not slope so much, and where
the wintry sunlight could reach him. Robin seemed much pleased with this
change of position, and when I had washed and made him comfortable he
declared that he felt 'first-rate.'

I had so much to do for my patient that I was obliged to let Sally tidy
up the room in her usual scrambling way. The child had been sadly
neglected by that time, and he was getting faint. I had to prepare some
arrow-root for his dinner, and then hurry off to the Marshalls' before I
had my own. I was obliged to omit my visit to Phoebe that day, and divide
my time between Mrs. Marshall and Robin. When I had given Robin his tea,
and had put a chair by the fire for father, I went off, feeling that I
could leave him more comfortably. The eldest boy, Tom, a big, strapping
lad of fourteen, who went to work, had promised to keep the other boys
quiet, 'that the little chap might not be disturbed,' and as Robin again
declared that he felt first-rate, if it weren't for his arm, I hoped that
he might be able to sleep.

'Father stopped with me ever so long, until the boys came to bed,' were
Robin's first words the next morning; 'and doctor came, and said we
looked quite snug, and he is going to send father some books to read, and
some papers, and father said he was more comfortable than downstairs, as
I did not mind his pipe, and Tom has hung my linnet there,' pointing to
the window, 'and if you open the cage, miss, you will see him hop all
over the bedclothes, and chirp in the beautifullest way.'

We had a great deal of cleaning to do that day. I shall never forget Lady
Betty's face when she came upstairs and saw me down on my knees at work
in my corner of the room; for Sally was little, and the room was large,
and I was obliged to go to her assistance.

'Good gracious, Miss Garston!' she said, in quite a shocked voice, 'you
do not mean to tell me that you consider it your duty to scrub floors?'

'Well, no,' I returned, laughing, for really her consternation was
ludicrous, 'I should consider it a waste of strength, generally; but
we never know what comes in a day's work. Sally is so little that I am
obliged to help her.'

'Why can't Mrs. Bell do it?' asked Lady Betty indignantly.

'Mrs. Bell has hardly time to cook the children's dinner. Please don't
look so shocked. I don't often scrub floors, and I have nearly finished
now. What have you brought in that basket, little Red Riding-Hood?' for
in her little crimson hood-like bonnet she did not look so unlike Red
Riding-Hood.

'Oh, Giles asked Gladys to send some things for poor little Robin, and
she packed them herself. There is a jar of beef-tea, and some jelly, and
some new-laid eggs, and sponge-cakes, and a roll or two; and Gladys hopes
you will let her know what Robin wants, for he used to be her little
scholar, and she is so interested in him.'

Of course I knew Lady Betty would chatter about me when she returned
home, but I was rather vexed when Mr. Hamilton took me to task the next
morning and gave me quite a lecture on the subject; he made me promise at
last that I would never do anything of the kind again. I hardly know what
made me so submissive. I think it was his threat of keeping any more
patients from me, and then he seemed so thoroughly put out.

'It is such folly wearing yourself out like this, Miss Garston,' he said
angrily. 'I wonder why women never will learn common sense. If you work
under me I will thank you to obey my directions, and I do not choose my
nurse to waste her time and strength in scrubbing floors. Yes, Robin boy,
I am very angry with nurse; but there is no occasion for you to cry about
it; and--why, good heavens! if you are not crying too, Miss Garston! Of
course; there, I told you so; you have just knocked yourself up.'

His tone so aggravated me that I plucked up a little spirit.

'I am not a bit knocked up,'--and, in rather a choky voice, 'I am not
crying; I never cry before people; only I am a little tired. I was up all
last night with Mrs. Marshall, and you talk so much.'

'Oh, very well,' rather huffily; but he was in a bad humour that day. 'I
won't talk any more to you. But I should like to know one thing: when are
you going home?'

'In another hour; my head aches, rather, and I think I shall lie down.'

'Of course your head aches; but there, you have given me a promise, so I
will not say any more. Try what a good nap will do. I am going round by
the Lockes', and I shall tell Phoebe not to expect you this afternoon. It
won't hurt her to miss you sometimes; it will teach her to value her
blessings more, and people cannot sing when they have a headache.' And he
walked off without waiting for me to thank him for his thoughtfulness.
What did he mean by saying that I was crying, the ridiculous man, just
because there were tears in my eyes? I certainly could not fancy myself
crying because Mr. Hamilton scolded me!

I had a refreshing nap, and kept my dinner waiting, but I must own I was
a little touched when Mrs. Barton produced a bottle of champagne which
she said Mr. Hamilton had brought in his pocket and had desired that I
was to have some directly I woke. 'And I was to tell you, with his
compliments, that his sister Gladys would sit with Robin all the
afternoon, and that Lady Betty was at the Marshalls', and he was going
again himself, and Phoebe Locke was better, and he hoped you would not
stir out again to-day.'

How very kind and thoughtful of Mr. Hamilton! He had sent his sisters
to look after my patients, that I might be able to enjoy my rest with a
quiet conscience. I was sorry that he should think that I was so easily
knocked up; but it was not over-fatigue, nor yet his scolding, that had
brought the tears to my eyes. To-day was the second anniversary of
Charlie's death, and through that long, wakeful night, as I sat beside
poor Mary's bed, I was recalling the bitter hours when my darling went
down deeper into the place of shadows,--when he fought away his young
life, while Lesbia and I wept and prayed beside him. No wonder a word
unnerved me; but I could not tell Mr. Hamilton this.

When we met the next day he asked me, rather curtly, if the headache had
gone; but when I thanked him, somewhat shyly, for the medicine he had
sent, he got rather red, and interrupted me with unusual abruptness.

'You have nothing for which to thank me,' he said, in quite a repellent
tone. 'I am glad you obeyed orders and stopped at home; I was afraid you
might be contumacious, as usual,'--which was rather ungracious of him,
after the promise he had extracted from me.

I questioned Robin about Miss Hamilton's visit; she had remained with the
boy some hours, reading to him and amusing him, and, in Robin's favourite
language, 'getting on first-rate; only, just as I was drinking my mugful
of tea, parson comes, and Miss Hamilton she says she will be late, and
gets up in a hurry, and--'

'Wait a minute, Robin: do you mean Mr. Cunliffe or Mr. Tudor?'

'Oh, the vicar, to be sure; and he seemed finely surprised to see Miss
Hamilton there. "So you've come to see your old scholar," he says,
smiling, and Miss Hamilton says, "Yes; but she must go now," and she
drops her glove, and parson looks for it, but it was too dark, and for
all his groping it could not be found. "I must just go without it," says
Miss Hamilton; "but I have got my muff, and it does not matter," and she
says good-bye, and goes away. Parson found it, though,' went on Robin
garrulously. 'When Sally lighted the candle he spies it at once, and puts
it in his pocket. "Miss Hamilton will be fine and glad when you tell her
it is found," I says to parson; but he just looks at me in an odd sort of
way, and says, "Yes, Robin, certainly."--'And you won't forget to give it
to her, to-morrow, sir?' but he did not seem to hear me. "Good-night,
my man," he said. "So Miss Hamilton did not think you were too old to be
kissed." And he kissed me just in the same place as she did. What did you
say, miss?'

'I did not say anything, Robin.'

'Didn't you, miss? I thought I heard you say "poor man," or something
like that. Is not Miss Hamilton beautiful? I think she is almost as
beautiful as my picture of the Virgin Mary. I asked parson if he did not
think so, and he said yes. Do you think she will come again soon?'

'We shall see, Robbie dear.' But, as I spoke, something told me that we
should not see Miss Hamilton there again.




CHAPTER XIX

THE PICTURE IN GLADYS'S ROOM


The days flew rapidly by, and I was almost too busy to heed them as they
passed. Each morning I woke with fresh energy to my day's work; the hours
were so full of interest and varied employment that my evening rest came
all too soon. I grew so fond of my patients, especially of poor little
Robin, that I never left them willingly; and the knowledge that I was
necessary to them, that they looked to me for relief and comfort, seemed
to fill my life with sweetness.

As I said to myself daily, no one need complain that one's existence is
objectless, or altogether desolate, as long as there are sick bodies and
sick souls to which one can minister. For 'Give, and it shall be given
unto you,' is the Divine command, and sympathy and help bestowed on our
suffering fellow-creatures shall be repaid into our bosoms a hundredfold.
I was right in my surmise: Miss Hamilton did not again visit her little
scholar; but Lady Betty came almost daily, and was a great help in
amusing the child. I was with him for an hour in the morning, and again
in the late afternoon; but Mrs. Marshall took up the greater part of my
time; she was growing more feeble every day, and needed my constant care.
Unless it were absolutely necessary, I was unwilling to sacrifice my
night's rest, or to draw too largely on my stock of strength; but I had
fallen into the habit, during the last week or two, of going down to the
cottage in the evening about eight or nine, and settling her comfortably
for the night. I found these late visits were a great boon to her, and
seemed to break the length of the long winter night, and so I did not
regret my added trouble. Poor Phoebe had to be content with an hour
snatched from the busier portion of the day; but she was beginning to
occupy herself now. I kept her constantly supplied with books; and Miss
Locke assured me that she read them with avidity; her poor famished mind,
deprived for so many years of its natural aliment, fastened almost
greedily on the nourishment provided for it. From the moment I induced
her to open a book her appetite for reading returned, and she occupied
herself in this manner for hours.

She never spoke to her sister about what she read, but when Kitty and she
were alone she would keep the child entranced for an hour together by the
stories she told her out of Miss Garston's books.

'Sometimes Kitty sings to her, and sometimes they have a rare talk,' Miss
Locke would say. 'I am often too busy to do more than look in for five
minutes or so, to see how they are getting on. Phoebe grumbles far less;
it is wonderful to hear her say, sometimes, that she did not know it was
bedtime, when I go in to fetch the lamp. Reading? ay, she is always
reading; but she sleeps a deal, too.'

I used to look round Phoebe's room with satisfaction now; it had quite
lost its stiff, angular look. A dark crimson foot-quilt lay on the bed,
a stand of green growing ferns was on the table, and two or three books
were always placed beside her.

Some gay china figures that I had hunted out of the glass cupboard in the
parlour enlivened the mantelpiece, and a simple landscape, with sheep
feeding in a sunny field, hung opposite the bed. Some pretty cretonne
curtains had replaced the dingy dark ones. Phoebe herself had a soft
fleecy gray shawl drawn over her thin shoulders. Mr. Hamilton again and
again commented on her improved appearance, but I always listened rather
silently; the evil spirit that had taken possession of Phoebe had not
finally left her; 'and why could not we cast it out?' used to come to
my lips sometimes as I looked at her; but all the same I knew the
Master-hand was needed for that.

Christmas Day fell this year on a Tuesday. On Sunday afternoon I had
finished my rounds and was returning home to tea, when, as I was passing
the Marshalls' cottage, Peggy ran after me bareheaded to say her father
had just arrived, and would I come in for a moment, as mother seemed a
little faint, and granny was frightened.

I hastened back with the child; for, of course, in poor Mary's state the
least shock might prove fatal. I found Marshall stooping over the bed and
supporting his wife with clumsy fondness, with the tears rolling clown
his weather-beaten face.

'I'm 'most 'feard she's gone, missis,' he said hoarsely. 'Poor lass,
I took her too sudden, and she had not the strength of the little un
there.'

I bade him lay her down gently, and then applied the necessary remedies,
and, to my great relief, my patient presently revived. It was touching to
see the weak hand trying to feel for her husband; as it came into contact
with the rough coat-sleeve, a smile came upon the death-like face.

'It is Andrew himself,' she whispered; 'I feared it was naught but a
dream, mother; it is Andrew's own self, and he is looking well and
hearty. Ay, lad,' with a loving look at him, 'I could not have died in
peace till I had seen you again; and now God's will be done, for He has
been good to me and granted me my heart's desire.'

Poor Marshall looked weary and travel-stained, so I beckoned Peggy out
of the room, and with her help there was soon a comfortable meal on the
table,--part of the meat-pie that was left from the children's dinner,
a round or two of hot toast, and a cup of smoking coffee.

The poor man looked a little bewildered when he saw these preparations
for his comfort, and he wiped his eyes again with his rough coat-sleeve.

'I have been so long without wife or child that I can't make it out to
see them all flocking round me again. There is Tim a man almost. Well,
I have been tramping it since five this morning, and I am nearly ready
to drop; so thank you kindly, missis, and with your leave I will fall
to.'

When I returned to Mary I found her looking wonderfully revived and
cheerful.

'Isn't it grand to think that the Lord has let me have my own way about
seeing Andrew?' she said, with a smile: 'he will be here now, poor lad,
to see the last of me and look after the children. Now, you must not let
me keep you, Miss Garston, for Andrew is that handy he can nurse as well
as mother there before she lost her eyesight. I have been a deal of
trouble to you, and now you must go home and rest.'

I was glad to be set at liberty, for I hoped that I might be in time to
attend evening service; but just as I had finished tea, and was trying to
think that I was not so very tired, and that it would not be wiser to
stay at home, the outer door unlatched, and the next moment there was a
quick tap at the parlour door, and Lady Betty bustled in, looking very
rosy from the cold.

'Oh, I can't stop a moment,' she said breathlessly; 'I have given Etta
the slip, and in five minutes she will be looking for me; but I took it
in my head to ask you to go and see Gladys. She is in her room with a
cold, and looks dreadfully dull, and I know it will do her so much good
if you will go and talk to her. Giles is out, and every one else, so no
one will disturb you: so do go, there's a good soul.' And actually before
I could answer, the impetuous little creature had shut the door in my
face, and I could hear her running down the garden path.

I had not seen Miss Hamilton since the evening Uncle Max discovered us
together, and I could not resist the temptation of finding her alone.
Lady Betty had said she was in her room, and looked dreadfully dull. I
had promised Max to be good to her, so of course it was my duty to go and
cheer her up. I made this so plain to my conscience that in five minutes
more I was on the road to Gladwyn, and before the church bells had
stopped ringing I had entered the dark shrubberies, and was looking at
the closed windows, wondering which of them belonged to Miss Hamilton's
room.

I was agreeably surprised when a pretty-looking maid admitted me. I had
taken a strange dislike to Leah, and the man who had waited upon us at
dinner that evening had a dark, unprepossessing face; but this girl
looked bright and cheerful, and took my message to Miss Hamilton at once
without a moment's hesitation. She returned almost immediately. Miss
Hamilton was in her room, but she would be very glad to see me, and the
girl looked glad too as she led the way to the turret-room. Miss Hamilton
was standing on the threshold, and met me with outstretched hands; she
looked ill and worn, and had a soft white shawl drawn closely round her
as though she were chilly, but her eyes brightened at the sight of me.

'This is good of you, Miss Garston; I never expected such a pleasure.
That will do, Chatty; you can close the door.' And, still holding my
hand, she drew me into the room. It was a pretty room, but furnished
far more simply than Miss Darrell's. The deep bay-window formed a recess
large enough to hold the dressing-table and a chair or two, and was
half-hidden by the blue cretonne curtains; besides this there were two
more windows. Miss Hamilton had been sitting in a low cushioned chair
by the fire; a small table with a lamp and some books was beside her;
a Persian kitten lay on the white rug. On a stand beside a chair was a
large, beautifully-painted photograph in a carved frame; the folding
doors were open, and a vase of flowers stood before it.

'What has put this benevolent idea into your head?' she asked, as she
drew forward a comfortable wicker chair with a soft padded seat. 'I
thought I had a long, dull evening before me, with no resource but my own
thoughts, for I was tired of reading. I could scarcely believe Chatty
when she said that you were in the drawing-room.'

I told Miss Hamilton of Lady Betty's visit, and she laughed quite
merrily.

'Good little Betty! She is always trying to give me pleasure. She wanted
to stay with me herself, only Etta said it was no use for two people to
stop away from church. They have all gone, even Thornton and Leah. I
believe only Parker and Chatty are in the house.'

'Is Chatty the housemaid?'

'No, the under-housemaid; but Catherine's father is ill, so she has gone
to nurse him--'

'And Leah--who is Leah? I mean what is her capacity in the household?'
as Miss Hamilton looked rather surprised at my question.

'She used to be Aunt Margaret's attendant, and now she is Etta's
maid,--at least, we call her so,--but she makes herself useful in many
ways. She is rather a superior person, and well educated, but I like
Chatty to wait on me best; she is such a simple, honest little soul.
I know people say servants have not much feeling, but I am sure Chatty
would do anything for me and Lady Betty.'

'And you think Leah would not?' I asked, rather stupidly.

'I did not say so, did I?' she answered quickly. 'We always look upon
Leah as Etta's servant. She was devoted to her old mistress, and of
course that makes Etta care for her so much. To me she is not a pleasant
person. Etta has spoiled her, and she gives herself airs, and takes too
much upon herself. Do you know'--with an amused smile--'Lady Betty and I
think that Etta is rather afraid of her? She never ventures to find fault
with her, and once or twice Lady Betty has heard Leah scolding Etta when
something has put her out. I should not care to be scolded by my maid:
should you, Miss Garston?'

'No,' I returned, rather absently, for, unperceived by Miss Hamilton, my
attention was arrested by the photograph. It was the portrait of a young
man, and something in the face seemed familiar to me.

The next moment I was caught. A distressed look crossed Miss Hamilton's
face, and she made a sudden movement, as though she would close the
photograph; but on second thoughts she handed it to me.

'Should you like to see it more closely? It is a photograph of my
twin-brother, Eric. They think--yes, they are afraid that he is dead.'

Her lips had turned quite white as she spoke, and in my surprise, for
I never knew there had been another brother, I did not answer, but only
bent over the picture.

It was the face of a young man about nineteen or twenty,--a beautiful
face, that strangely resembled his sister's; the large blue-gray eyes
were like hers, but the fair budding moustache scarcely hid the weak,
irresolute mouth. Here the resemblance stopped, for Miss Hamilton's firm
lips and finely-curved chin showed no lack of power; but in her brother's
face--attractive as it was--there were clearly signs of vacillation.

'Well, what do you think of it?' she asked, with a quick catch of her
breath.

'It is a beautiful face,' I returned, rather hesitating. 'Very striking,
too. One could not easily forget it; and it is strangely like you: but--'

'Yes, I know,'--taking it out of my hand and closing the carved
panels,--'but you think it weak. Oh yes, we cannot all be strong alike.
Our Creator has ordained that, and it is for us to be merciful. Poor
Eric! He would be three-and-twenty now. He was just twenty when that was
taken.'

'And he is dead?'

'They say so. They think he is drowned; but we have no real proof,
and we cannot be sure of it. He is alive in my dreams. That is the best
of not really knowing,' she went on, in a sad voice: 'one can go on
praying for him, for, perhaps, after all, he may one day come back;
not from the dead,--oh no, I do not believe that for a moment; but if
he be alive--' her eyes dilating and her manner full of excitement.

I pressed her to tell me about him, adding softly that I could feel for
her more than any one else, as I had lost my own twin-brother. But she
looked kindly at me and shook her head.

'Not to-night, I do not feel well enough, and it always makes me so ill
and excited to speak about it, and we should not have time. Perhaps some
day, when I get more used to you. Oh yes, some day, perhaps.'

'Indeed, I do not wish to intrude upon your trouble, Miss Hamilton,'
I returned, colouring at this repulse. But she took my hand and pressed
it gently.

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