Part 66 (1/2)

”Yes, dear; your father is coming up.”

The boy came forward to help, but his mother whispered, ”He'd rather come up by himself.”

William had just strength to walk into the room; they gave him a chair, and he fell back exhausted. He looked around, and seemed pleased to see his home again. Esther gave him some milk, into which she had put a little brandy, and he gradually revived.

”Come this way, Jack; I want to look at you; come into the light where I can see you.”

”Yes, father.”

”I haven't long to see you, Jack. I wanted to be with you and your mother in our own home. I can talk a little now: I may not be able to to-morrow.”

”Yes, father.”

”I want you to promise me, Jack, that you'll never have nothing to do with racing and betting. It hasn't brought me or your mother any luck.”

”Very well, father.”

”You promise me, Jack. Give me your hand. You promise me that, Jack.”

”Yes, father, I promise.”

”I see it all clearly enough now. Your mother, Jack, is the best woman in the world. She loved you better than I did. She worked for you--that is a sad story. I hope you'll never hear it.”

Husband and wife looked at each other, and in that look the wife promised the husband that the son should never know the story of her desertion.

”She was always against the betting, Jack; she always knew it would bring us ill-luck. I was once well off, but I lost everything. No good comes of money that one doesn't work for.”

”I'm sure you worked enough for what you won,” said Esther; ”travelling day and night from race-course to race-course. Standing on them race-courses in all weathers; it was the colds you caught standing on them race-courses that began the mischief.”

”I worked hard enough, that's true; but it was not the right kind of work.... I can't argue, Esther.... But I know the truth now, what you always said was the truth. No good comes of money that hasn't been properly earned.”

He sipped the brandy-and-milk and looked at Jack, who was crying bitterly.

”You mustn't cry like that, Jack; I want you to listen to me. I've still something on my mind. Your mother, Jack, is the best woman that ever lived. You're too young to understand how good. I didn't know how good for a long time, but I found it all out in time, as you will later, Jack, when you are a man. I'd hoped to see you grow up to be a man, Jack, and your mother and I thought that you'd have a nice bit of money. But the money I hoped to leave you is all gone. What I feel most is that I'm leaving you and your mother as badly off as she was when I married her.” He heaved a deep sigh, and Esther said--

”What is the good of talking of these things, weakening yourself for nothing?”

”I must speak, Esther. I should die happy if I knew how you and the boy was going to live. You'll have to go out and work for him as you did before. It will be like beginning it all again.”

The tears rolled down his cheeks; he buried his face in his hands and sobbed, until the sobbing brought on a fit of coughing. Suddenly his mouth filled with blood. Jack went for the doctor, and all remedies were tried without avail. ”There is one more remedy,” the doctor said, ”and if that fails you must prepare for the worst.” But this last remedy proved successful, and the haemorrhage was stopped, and William was undressed and put to bed. The doctor said, ”He mustn't get up to-morrow.”

”You lie in bed to-morrow, and try to get up your strength. You've overdone yourself to-day.”

She had drawn his bed into the warmest corner, close by the fire, and had made up for herself a sort of bed by the window, where she might doze a bit, for she did not expect to get much sleep. She would have to be up and down many times to settle his pillows and give him milk or a little weak brandy-and-water.

Night wore away, the morning grew into day, and about twelve o'clock he insisted on getting up. She tried to persuade him, but he said he could not stop in bed; and there was nothing for it but to ask Mrs. Collins to help her dress him. They placed him comfortably in a chair. The cough had entirely ceased and he seemed better. And on Sat.u.r.day night he slept better than he had done for a long while and woke up on Sunday morning refreshed and apparently much stronger. He had a nice bit of boiled rabbit for his dinner. He didn't speak much; Esther fancied that he was still thinking of them. When the afternoon waned, about four o'clock, he called Jack; he told him to sit in the light where he could see him, and he looked at his son with such wistful eyes. These farewells were very sad, and Esther had to turn aside to hide her tears.

”I should have liked to have seen you a man, Jack.”

”Don't speak like that--I can't bear it,” said the poor boy, bursting into tears. ”Perhaps you won't die yet.”

”Yes, Jack; I'm wore out. I can feel,” he said, pointing to his chest, ”that there is nothing here to live upon.... It is the punishment come upon me.”