The strange house or, A moment's mistake
"Yes, I am sure she would. She is so poorly this morning that I cannot
worry her with telling her that he is not well. I hope an hour or two
will see him better. I suspect he took a chill yesterday."
So Gertrude went back to Daisy and Mollie, first, however, carrying
Randall a puzzle from her box to amuse him, of which he took no notice
beyond an abrupt "thank you," turning again to the fire as before.
CHAPTER XLIII.
"WAITING FOR YOU!"
THE morning passed away peacefully.
Daisy was angelic, and though Mollie had still her little supercilious
air which chafed Gertrude inwardly, she kept it enough within bounds to
avoid rebuke.
When they came out from lessons, Mollie found that her mother was no
better than she had been in the early morning, and nurse was busy with
her.
"It is one of her heart attacks," said Mollie in a reproachful tone to
Gertrude. "That is how she always is when she has any excitement or
alarm. She will be ill for days, I expect, and nurse will hardly be
able to leave her."
"I did not know she was subject to these attacks," said Gertrude.
"No, I suppose you did not, or, of course, you would have been more
particular about Randall—"
"But, Mollie, it was Randall's own doing."
"Oh, well, there are two opinions about that. At any rate, what with
the excitement about Lester, and now this about Randall, mother is
perfectly upset, and it is a great bother."
Gertrude did not pursue the subject. She gathered her books together,
wondering if she could be spared to go to her sister, but not liking to
employ Mollie as her messenger to ask this question.
Daisy came in at the moment and settled the difficulty.
"Miss Ashlyn, mother is not well enough to visit your sister to-day.
But would you please go and enjoy yourself. Mother hopes Mrs. Leigh
will have good news for you, and that you will be able to help her."
Gertrude sent a message in reply. And then the dinner gong rang, and
they went down to their rather forlorn meal, Mollie presiding instead
of her mother, and Randall sitting at the side, but eating very little
and talking less.
The moment after dinner, the girls dressed to go to their cousins,
Randall went back to the nursery, and Gertrude was set free.
When she went out, anxious as she was to get to her sister, as she
turned to shut the gate, her eyes fell upon the Strange House, and she
thought of Mrs. Swift.
No, she must hasten on to see Rose, she thought.
And yet—yet—it would not take five minutes to greet the poor, desolate
woman who had so recently lost so much.
A moment's indecision, and then she turned that way and walked up the
garden path.
Her ring at the bell brought Mrs. Swift very quickly to the door.
A haggard face, with anxious, sunken eyes, met hers.
"Mrs. Swift! You have been ill," exclaimed Gertrude.
"It's my husband!" was her abrupt answer. "He will not have a doctor,
and I'm at my wits' end!" She opened the door wide, and Gertrude
stepped within it.
"What is the matter?"
"I do not know!"
"Is he very bad?"
"Well, not to say very bad, but he's too ill to leave his bed. We were
going to move at once, but now we can't, and he says he shall stay till
Christmas."
"I will come and see him to-morrow, if I can," said Gertrude. "I am on
my way to visit my sister and her little boy."
"Little Lester, miss?" asked Mrs. Swift, forgetting for a moment her
own anxiety.
"Yes."
"It was kind of you to tell me, miss. Has he been to a doctor yet,
miss?"
"Yes; I have not seen my sister yet, but I believe he has been."
"I hardly dare to ask, miss,—I am sure I have no right; but—does the
doctor give any hope, miss?"
"I can hardly tell you, because I know so little myself. But I think he
does hope that time may improve him. Time and care, and sunshine and
sea air."
Again Mrs. Swift gave one of her long, deep-drawn breaths. "Ah! He did
not have all those with me," she said sadly.
"No, Mrs. Swift. Shall you think me unkind if I say that the doctor
gave it as his opinion that he was brought away just in time?"
Mrs. Swift nodded sadly. "I knew it," she said. "Oh, miss, if you had
not come along that night, and had not stopped to speak to me! Oh,
miss, how can I thank you?"
"Do not thank me, but God," said Gertrude gently. "Now I must go, but
tell your husband from me that I do entreat him to have a doctor;
perhaps he would accept a message from me?"
"He thinks a deal of you, miss, in a quiet way—"
"Then say so, and remember that you have a mighty Saviour now to help
you in everything. Tell Him all about your husband, and He will do for
you what you cannot do yourself."
She hastened away, and sped to the high-road, where she hoped to meet
with a cab or omnibus which might expedite her journey to the Great
Northern Hotel.
As she turned the corner, pacing up and down with quiet, patient step,
was a figure which she instantly recognized.
It was walking away from her, but when it came to the next road, it
turned and came towards her slowly.
"Otto!" she exclaimed. "Whatever brought you here?"
"I have been waiting for you! Your note told Rose you would come in the
afternoon. I have been waiting for you for a long time, Gertrude!"
CHAPTER XLIV.
A SHORT DRIVE.
THEY walked down the hill together, Otto looking out for a cab, but
saying very little.
"At last I can talk to you!" he exclaimed when they were seated.
"Gertrude! I have accepted Dr. Blank's offer, and I am to go abroad for
a year with his patient!"
"It will do you good, Otto—you have been overworking for a long time."
"I could not help that—it was so important for me to make the most of
my time. But, Gertrude, he holds out a hope for my future which has
made all the difference to me. But the greatest difficulty is, you said
you did not care to live in London—?"
"But that makes no difference to your plans, Otto, unless you meant
that you wanted mother to come—"
"I don't want mother! I want you. Of course it makes all the difference
in the world. You know that well enough."
Gertrude was silent. How could she answer such words?
"What is the plan?" she asked, after a pause.
"Dr. Blank thinks he will have work for me to help him with, while I
complete my medical studies. I told him—Gertrude, I told him that there
was a certain dear girl whom I loved with all my heart, and that my
great object was to make a home for her. He bid me work and hope."
"That is always best," said Gertrude, with a little smile.
"Do you bid me work and hope?"
"Certainly I do, Otto. Have I not always?"
"Then at the end of the year (for he pays me well, Gertrude), if I can
find a house, can you bear to come right into the heart of London and
make a very small beginning with me?"
"I never guessed you wanted that!" she said, turning her eyes towards
his face. "Otto, do you really mean what you have said?"
"I have meant it for years! At first I thought I must not, and put it
away. But lately I found that it was a great blessing and a great gift,
one I could not dismiss unless I ought. There is no ought about it, is
there? Gertrude, you knew all this long ago!"
Whether she had guessed it or not, it was very different to hear him
saying it all. But the cab was nearing her sister's hotel, and there
was one thing she did want to tell him, if she could say nothing else.
"You must not think—oh, Otto, never think for one moment that living in
London would be any trial to me if—"
"Go on, Gertrude—if what?"
"If you wanted me to."
"Ah! Do I not? But you knew that, when you said what you did the other
day."
Gertrude shook her head.
"It was what you said then that made me dare to accept Dr. Blank's
offer."
The cab had almost reached the hotel. In a moment it drew up abruptly.
Otto sprang out; he handed her from their humble conveyance, and led
her straight up to her sister's room.
Gertrude felt once more as if all were a dream, all but Otto's hand,
which did not let hers go till he had brought her right into her
sister's presence, announcing, in a voice that was full of joy—
"Rose! I've brought her. And though we have not had time to say a
quarter of the things we would, yet she has promised to be my wife, and
come and make me happy when I come home next year!"
Of course Rose looked very glad too. And for a few minutes, Gertrude
could do nothing but bend over little Lester, hiding her hot
cheeks against his curls, while Otto and Rose and Fritz exchanged
congratulations.
Then Rose came over to where she sat, and knelt down by her and Lester.
"How does he look?" she asked yearningly, laying her hand on her
child's.
Gertrude was gazing in his little face.
"I think he looks decidedly less frail than two days ago. Not so
pinched and weary."
"That is what 'I' said!" exclaimed Rose joyfully. "Fritz was afraid it
was my fancy."
The child lay on the sofa with a light shawl thrown over him, his eyes
open and turning to watch them as they moved about, but without any
recognition in them.
"When he knows me," said Rose softly, "I shall begin to hope—really."
"Ah! You hope now, little mother," said Fritz tenderly. "Hope? Why if I
had as much faith in some things as you have in Lester's knowing you by
and by, I should be on the high-road to being all you want me to be!"
He spoke lightly, covering an earnest thought beneath his jest.
"I have faith in both," said Rose, looking up, "or rather, I have faith
in God about you both."
They all knew that she spoke truly. But what seemed such a very simple
matter to some people was an insurmountable difficulty to Fritz.
"I can't make myself a Christian," he thought. And forgot that Rose had
often responded,—
"No, dear Fritz, but He says, 'Him that cometh unto Me, I will in no
wise cast out.' You have not tried to come yet."
CHAPTER XLV.
TILL WEDNESDAY.
"WE only wanted to see you before we went home," said Rose, when
Gertrude, having taken off her hat, had settled herself into one of the
luxurious arm-chairs, with Lester on her lap. "I am very anxious to get
home, to say nothing of telling all to dear mother."
"I shall see them off to-morrow morning, and then go down to Dr.
Blank's country house," said Otto. "He says I am to be introduced to
the invalid boy, and am to spend Sunday with them."
"Them?" echoed Gertrude.
"I did not tell you that it is his brother and sister who are going for
this long sailing voyage, for the sake of their only son, who is heir
to their fortune."
"And what will you have to do with the boy?"
"He needs constant care and watching, and yet bright companionship. I
don't know that I shall suit in that latter respect. Perhaps I shall
now."
He smiled archly at Gertrude, but went on with his explanations, which
were intensely interesting to her, as she had heard hardly anything
that day at Kensington.
"Then, when I have spent a year in going round the world, he says I am
to come back and finish my studies. He says I shall have a good deal
of time on board ship, for the boy's parents take his education upon
themselves, and take infinite pains with him."
"Is he mentally afflicted, then?" asked Gertrude.
"It is of that nature; he is improving, and they have hopes that he
will be quite restored eventually."
"How sad it must be for them!" said Gertrude.
"Yes, very. They do little else than go about with him from place to
place. But they have boundless confidence in Dr. Blank."
"No one who has been to him for advice could feel anything else," said
Rose. "Gertrude, I should like you to have seen how he took to Otto
from the first. His eyes seem to see everything."