CHAPTER XL. IN TIME OF NEED.

Te Aroha News, Volume V, Issue 249, 24 March 1888, Page 10

CHAPTER XL. IN TIME OF NEED.

I do not know why. I camo over this morning to ask ; I thought it there was a misunderstanding, it might be removed. But all that is nothing now. 1b docs not nood to be spoken of. No ; I claim from past days tho right to act as your friend ; and you will not object to anj thing 1 do — you cannot object if you think why it is done." Her eyelids had been growing moist; two £>ioab touts rolled down her cheeks. She quickly brushed them abide. "How many rooms have you in there — one or two V" he asked. She could not answer fora moment; then sho suid :—: — "Ono 100 m, and a dressing-room. It is very convenient. I can .shut the door behind mo when 1 come out liko this." " Then tho diossing-room will do for the nurse. Well, I must bo oil" now. I will see you again m tho svoning. And don't you think of making one word more of protest; and don't have any anxiety—the house will be managed for you all right. There's another thing ; mind you keep yourself up; oat and chink well, for thai is the best safeguard against catching infection. And tnncy what, the outlook for your little boy would be if you fell ill yourself. Woll, goodbyo just no\»' !" She called him back, and ho protended not to bee that sho was struggling with an emotion that she could not conooal. "I —l must offer you my hand," she said, in rather a shaky voice, " and—and I cannot tell you how I thank you ; but some day 1 will " "Oh, it ib nothing; we aro neighbours, you know," ho said," lightly, and away ho went. Ho t»trode rapidly o(T to the railway station, armed with those &elf-impos>ed duties, and glad enough to be able to do so much for Sabina. Na>, he would have gone rejoicing "as a stiong man to run a race" but tor recurring thoughts of the sick little lad lying in that lonely chamber. Well, what could bo dono ior him should. Alined iti London, ho forthwith arranged about the trained nurse being sent down that e\oning; then ho drove out to Notfcing Hill and told his housekeeper what he wanted of her, and gave her all the necessary instructions: and then he went along to Janie, with his brief and troubled story. " And I want you to do me a good turn," he said to her. "1 think you told me that Sabina took no wine—for economy's sake, I suppose. Now she must. But she won't take it if it isn't there ; I mean she won't send for it. Well, I have a hansom outside ; will you drive along with me to my w ino merchant's, and your&elf order somu wines, and givo her address, and write a noto in the othce telling her that they are a New Year's present or something of the sort, and insisting on her j using the wine, if she means to keep well during this trouble? Of course it will go | down to my account." " To your account ? But what would Phil say if he heard of such a thing'!" Janie exclaimed. "He need not hear of such a thing," said the tempter. " Oh, yes, I should have to tell him,'' the honest Janie rejoined. "However, Sabio must not be allowed to sufter. I will tell you what I will do. I will go along and order the wine and send it to her and write to her, and then you and Phil can fight as to who is to pay for it." "Excellent, most excellent! Come along !" he ?aid at once. And they went out, and he put her into the hansom and drove oil towards Piccadilly. Jn the wine merchant's office Janie's choosing was pretty much of a farce ; and at last she protested. " Mr Lindsay, if you order such expensive wines*, Sabie will know quite well that it wasn't I who sent them." " How will she know ? By the quality of them ? Not likely, she is a woman." " Then if she doesn't know the quality, why send her such wines?" Janie asked. " Because I don't want her poisoned." This business over, he gob a four-wheeler to convey Janie home, reserving the hansom to take him down to Victoria. " Remember," he said, " that though she may not write to you, you may write as much as you like to her. And you may send her magazines and illustrated things, and so forth, it you have them to spare ; but I will take care that she has plenty of these." " It Sabio only knew," said Janie, looking at him with kind eyes, "that she has one friend." " Only one ?" he said, with a smile. " I thought you had a little liking for her. Well, ncvet mind. By tho way, it you do go and tell thib story about the wine to Master Phil, just ask him to mind his own ousiness. I won't be interfered with. Good-bye !" " Good-bye ' Givo my love to Sabio, and say I shall be down to ccc her in a day or two." So 3hc drove away ; and he made forthwith for Victoria Station, not ill-satisfied so far with his day's work.

Ai.Fj was going we'll; and it was with a cheerful equanimity ho set about makingmatters as easy as might be for the anxious mother. From the very outset he had pre sinned to exercise a certain authority over her ; ho found he could get along betterthat way ; he did as he chose, without waiting for her permission. Otic afternoon she said to him :—: — "Mv Lindoay, do you think you could get a man from the village—l mean, do you think it would bo fair to ask anyone to come into the room " "To do what?" ho said. "I can't help thinking that one of the windows is not quite close at the top ; and lam afraid of the smallest draught. Both the muse and 1 have tried to move tho top sash ; but we cant. Would it be fair to ask a man from the village to try ?" For answer he pushed aside the heavy and saturated curtains, and went by her into the sick-room, " Which one is it ?" he asked. She protested; bub he took no heed of hei protest. " 1 am nob going anywhere where there are children," ho said, briefly. ' " But yourself?" "I am not much afraid of that. Which sash is it?" She showed him ; and with little trouble the window was securely jammed up and fastened. Then he had to dismiss the littlo maidservant Elizabeth. Her mother < came bothering about the place with idiotic precautions and whining fears ; at last he told her to take her daughter away with her. Then he installed his own housekeeper," who forthwith got down from London a relative of hers to help her with the cooking. These dispositions being made, there remained for him only to cudgel his brains as to what he could send for to solace Sabina's imprisonment — books, magazines, reading-lamps, flowers, big flanksofEau-de-Cologne—every-thing he could think of, and everything of the best. He had no need to fear the ingratitude shown by the Lady Greenslooyea to her lover. He asked only for friendship ; and ho gob it. When a summons brought Sabina to the door, and when sho pulled aside tho curbaina a little way, her face

I would light up when she found that it was |ho who was on the landing. The em barJ rassed reticence thafc bad pu/z/lod htm ao much was almost eutivoly gone. She was glad to see him ; she waa very grateful for all he was doing for her ; and she strove to show her sense of his kindness in hor manner towards him. Nor was ho ill to please — when it was Sabina who stood before him, talking to him, her 030.-$ gontlo and veilwishing 1 as in the olden days. The way of his life at this time was as follows : — All the morning and mid-day he was at work, at Burford Mrklge. Then, us the dusk of the afternoon came on, ho would take train to Witsteacl, and walk to Wayside Cottago, whore he had to hear report?, opon parcels, and the lilto. Hi.s recompense for that troublo was a protracted chat with Sftbina, she standing half hidden by the curtains, ho leaning against the balustrade at the top of the stairs. Thereafter lie would set out for Burford Bridge by road, i For about this timo in tlio evenings there ' was now shining in the southern heavens a croscont moon, daily gaining in size and brilliancy, and over that there was a large silver-clear planet — a celestial cup and ball, as it wore -and he was contemplating a series of drawings of moonlit, skies Ue had tried one before, his method being to have all his materials ready within doors, then to go out and got as accurate a mental record of appearances as he could obtain, and then to go quickly in and place those impiessionp, as nearly as he could, on paper. The critics were facetious, of course : somo of them indignant. They declared that lie mado tho moon lidiculou&ly small; that ho must ha\c boen looking at it through the wrong end of a telescope. They asked him where he found tho little touches of yollow round tho edges of the silver-grey clouds. They disputed tho rain-bow-hues of his lunar haio. They suggested colour-blindness when ho painted a highway, on a night of full moon, of a purple-grey with a faint russet hue interfused. But he did not pay much heed to theso amateur observers, or non-observers. He was too much concerned about getting his work done ; and he chose to do that in his own way. They might call him perverse, pig-headed, obtuse ; they might call his drawings capricious, whimsical, meretricious ; somehow he did not mind. If they did not like his drawings, they could leave thorn ; they were not bound to buy them unless they wished. And, ad a matter of fact, they did not buy them ; but the public did; and many of his fellow-artists did. Now whon one painter goes the length of buying another painter's work — of actually buying it — that is the extremest form of praise. Tho fever declaring itself to bo of a mild form, and all things going on favourably, those little conversations between Sabina and Walter Lindsay were of quite a cheerful cast ; and she had become very frank with him — except now and again, when fehe seemed to recollect herself, and to throw a reserve over her manner in a way that puzzled him. Ordinarily, however, she was most friendly, and showed no hesitation ; aboub asking him to do anything for her ; once, indeed, she was nearly going beyond tho bounds of discretion. "Mr Lindsay," she said, recalling him as ho was about to leave. " I forgot something. I had a letter from my father this morning. Would you mind sending him a note saying why it is I cannot answer it ?" " Won't that look rather odd ':" he said, "I don't suppose Sir Anthony e\cr heard of me." " Nevor heard of you? Why, ho has two of your landscapes in the drawing room." " And who advised him to buy them ?" he asked, with a vague hope. " I wish I could say I did," she answered, honestly. " But it was Lady Zumbra did. And I am certain both of them know that you know me." " I am afraid Sir Anthony would be a little surprised to get such a note from me—" " Oh, never mind, then," she said, promptly; "Janie is coming down tomorrow — she will write for me." And yet he did not rehuse to do Sabina a service. " If you wish, I will send him woid— as from an outsider - that the little boy is ill ; and then he will come down and see you himself." " Papa come down here — to a house where there is fever ?" she said, with ,\ smile. II It's little you know him. He would think you had gone mad if you suggested .such a thing. He would tell you that there is nothing in the world moro wicked and foolish than running unnecessary risks. Why, it was his fear of infection that made him turn me out of tho house. And if he wore to como down, I know how I should be lectured. Oh, shouldn't 1 catch it ! 'I told you so. I warned you what would happen if you wouldn't give up going to those slums. Here is your own child ill now !' " " But there are no slums in Witstead ?" "Oh, that doesn't matter," Sabina said cheerfully. "It would be enough that I used to visit slums years ago. However, I think you are right ; probably papa would bo surprised. Janie will write when she comes to-morrow. And in the meantime I must consider how I am to thank her for sending me all that wine." " That is a simple matter at all events.'' " How ?" " You have only to tell hf>r that, you have beon using some of it. Do you know," he continued — for it was most astonishing how, on one pretext or another, he would keop lingering on that dusky landing, while the beautiful silver crescent of tho, moon, far away in the southern skies, was shining tor him in vain, and slowly sailing onwards to the west — "that I can never quite mako out why it is that Janie is so impressive- a person. When you como to think of it, there is nothing about her of the kind that ordinarily impresses people. She is not beautiful— the honest truth is that she is raiher plain ; she hasn't a grand manner ; sho is neither brilliant, nor sarcastic, noi audacious in any way whatever, she has bub little in tho way ot flocks and herds — and her jewels would bo despised by a grocer's wife. Sho ought to bo an insignificant kind of creature — one you would pass by without notice and forget. But sho isn't anything of the kind, to those who know her. She is a very decided personality. There is some curious distinction about her that I can't quite make out— you say to yourself, well, this plain little woman has something about her that one is forced to admire, and almost to reverence. She is not liko everyone else ; there is a certain distinction and nobility | about her somehow Spenser's 'Uegard of Honoui and Mild Modesty' somotimes occurs to mo— but, whatever it is, I know that in my little world Janie is a very distinct and important personality." "But isn't it simpiO enough?" Sabina said, in her bland way. "Everyone can see that, Janie is a true, honest, unselfish, warm-hem ted woman. What more V" " Oh, but you can say that about lots of women," ho answered, in a dissatisfied kind of way, " who have hardly any distinctive character at oil— who don't interest you at all. No ; there is something 'about Janio thut belongs definitely to her'•eelf." "At all events," said Sabina, with a smile, "it has nob caused you to fall out. You are still friends, I hope ?'

i Janio came clown che next day, and was" ■ mightily astonished to h'nd Walter Lindi wiy'n housekeeper in charge, for she had not i heard of the most recent arrangements. • Then she went upstairs— a little tremulous, i perhaps — not knowing how Sabina was • bearing her trouble. But the first glance ■ , she got ot her friend reassured her. . ' "Sometimes," Sabina said, when the first; inquiries wero over, "sometimes I almost think it is like playing at having" ; illness in the house— eveiy thing is made soeady and pleasant for us. It is not like a sick-room at all. If I could only show you '" " Why not ?" Janie said, and she made a step forward. Sabina held up her hand. " No, I will not allow it. It is not fair-to-other people. Mr Lindsay did come in — to shut a window for us ; but that waa none of my doing ; he did not wait for permission. But really if you saw how luxu t rious we are, Janie — tho t loves we have, and set eons, and reading-lamps, and toy.** lying about tho bed, and little ba&kots of flower* above the mantelpiece— you would pay that it was nursing made easy. Mr Lindsay seems to think that I am grieatly to be pitied because I shall be shut up in these two little rooms for some weeks to come. Lt's little ho knows what some people have to suffer when sickness comes into thsix poor home. But you and I know, Janie." "Aieyou quarrelling with him because he is bony ior you '!" Janie asked, reproachfully. ""Quarrelling? No. That is not likely. His kindness and thoughtfulness have jusfc gone beyond everything. Why, I cannob imagine how he came to think of so many things — what experience can ho have had of what is serviceable in a sick-room ? Well, no matter ; all I know is that I shall never forget his goodness to me — never, never, ne\er. " "That is spoken more like yourself, Sabie," her friend said ; and then she added, insidiously: "I suppose he comes over from Buriord Bridge now and again ?" " Every afternoon almost, when his work is finished. He waa here yesterday— and was speaking about you, by the way.. He said some \<svj pretty things about you.'* " Oh, well, I don't care who knows what my opinion of him is,." Janie made answer, boldly. "Of coiuse you don't. The two of you make a very excellent Society for Mutual. Admiration." " Yes— of you." The remark wa3 a quite innocent and unpremeditated one ; but it seemed to startleSabina somewhat. She instantly changed the subject. "I want you to do something 1 for me, Janie. There are one or two notes I must send : will you write them ? Mrs Reid will bring up a small table and a chair, if you< ask her, and the writing materials. And the note that goes to papa must be sprinkled with carbolic acid, or he will be frightened out ot his wits." So Janie set about her duties as amanuensis, and had no time to consider further why it was that Sabina had been so quickly startled oy an innocent mention of Walter Lindsays obvious admiration for her. But if, during this first fortnight, all seemed going well — if it almost "looked like playing at having illness "-—a timecame when that cheerful optimism was asked to pause and consider. Somehow the little boy did not recover his strength as he ought to have done. The fever had run its course, appatently in the mosfc satisfactory way ; and the doctor had not discoveied symptoms of any of the sequelae that frequently follow this dangerous disease; but all the same the child, instead of going forward to perfect health-, seemed to linger. Sabina perceived this- less than did the doctor and the nurse, or perhaps she shut her eyes to it; if any terrible doubt* hammered for entranco into her mind, she held that closed against them, and barricaded herself along with her dearest hopes. " You know," she said, one afternoon, to Walter Lindsay, "I am not in bho least; anxious to have the boy getting about soon. Oh, no ; not in the least. Of course, the risk of a chill m-ust be so much greater in this cold weather. 1 have alwaya thought that the hospitals showlda't keep to their rule of sending scarlatina patients out at the end of live or six weeks, when the weather is bitterly cold, or when the patient is of delicate constitution* Oh,, no. I should not be disappointed if Harry did not get out until— until the flowers came. Now, is thao not a poetical notion ?" she continued, with real ov affected cheerfulmess. "• When the primroses and blue-bells are thick in the woods, and the air quite soft, then If any will make his first appearance out-of-doors. Poor little inifce, he will have to bo carried ; you have no idea how his legs are wasted— of course — that is nothing unusual— oh. deal no, I have often seen children unable to stand when gettingup from a fever. Yes ; I suppose- he will have to be carried : and I am going to ask a favour from you when that great day comes— that splendid day— l am going to ask you to lend mo that enormous (Mat of yours with tho Canadian furs — " " I will give ib you, and gladly," said Lindsaj', at once. " Oh, no, no, no : it is only for the first day ; and we will wrap the dear in it ; and the nurse 'vill carry him out to look at the world again, and the primroses, and the woods. Why, wouldn't that make a subject for a picture— you might call ib 'The sick child's lirsc day out-of-doors '—the nurse in her hospital-dress ; and the poor little white face peeping out from the furs.'' • ' The poor little white face," she repeated absently— as if her eyes were turned backward, and lesarding the sick-room behind her. " And if you saw how thin and wasted his arms are— you remember the tramway-car you brought him we used to tie a long string to ifc, and put ifc at the furthest end of the room, and let him pull ib across to the bedside. But he has no strength for that now— or perhaps ib is that he does nob caro for ib any more " Tears trembled on her eyelashes; but tho momont he tried to comtort her with a few iea«suving words, she altered her tone. " Oh, that is nothing unusual," she said, quickly (as if she were eager to convince hVrself). "Ihavooften seen children likethat. It isn't the plump children who are safest in a fever— quite the reverse. And Harry has always been a particularly healthy child. Of course, ib will be a long time before ho has quite recovered his strength ; but I shall be satisfied when I once see him out-of-doors, with some blue-bells in his hand." 11 And if you don't object," Lindsay said, "I think 1 should like to come along and join that little excursion." But that evening he waited for the doctor. The doctor was grave and reticent : ho could not be got. to say anything beyond the merest commonplaces about the little boy's condition. - Lindsay walked somewhat slowly and thoughtfully homo that evening — away through 'the wan, still, moonlit country. An;l Ins mind was busy not with the coming years, but with tho coming weeks ; and there wero dark forebodings thab^do what he could, would press in upon him. * Once or twice he shivered slightly — as it some unknown to ror had glided by, touch ing him as ib went. Or perhaps it was that the night was bitter cold. (To be Continued.)

in America."