Part 8 (1/2)
To Meg's great surprise the speaker's voice came from the further of two beds, and a wan pale face, belonging to an elderly woman, raised itself a little from the pillow.
”Did you want me to come in?” asked Meg, hesitating with a fluttering heart.
”Yes. Mrs. Seymour's run down to find Jenny; she promised to be up early, and she ain't come. You're young Mrs. Seymour, I suppose?”
Meg blushed as she answered, ”Yes.” She had hardly ever heard herself called by her new name.
”She won't be but a minute. Sit down, will yer. You didn't 'spect to find some one here, by your looks?”
”No,” answered Meg.
The invalid shook her head.
”Ah, to think now I should see you before I've been made straight for the day, after all!”
Meg did not reply; but thinking it might be unkind to go back, she sat down on the edge of a chair, and tried to think of something to say.
”I've heard of you before to-day,” said her mother-in-law's lodger, with an attempt at a smile.
”Have you?” asked Meg.
”And what's more, I've done for you what I wouldn't ha' believed any one would ha' persuaded me to do. But it was all along of Jem's kindness, and Mrs. Seymour's kindness.”
”For me?” echoed Meg.
”For you. When Jem told me he wanted me to move up here, out of my back room--yours, as is now--I flatly refused, that I did.”
”Oh,” said Meg, ”was it you who did that for me?”
”Yes, I did, and I don't repent it. In fact, I'm mighty glad I did, for I'm a deal more comfortable up here than I was down there. Of course there's the smell of the was.h.i.+ng, but if it's bad I holler out to them to shut the door; and most times I don't mind it, and where I lie I can see 'em in there, going about and ironing, and fussing; and it ain't half so quiet and dull as it was. And then of nights, when I want anything, I can just give a call, and Mrs. Seymour's up in a minute! Jem said as it would be so, but I wouldn't credit it before.”
”And what made you decide?” asked Meg, wondering in this mixture of self-interest and helplessness what had been the reason that influenced her at the bottom.
”It was one night,” said the invalid with a softened look, ”I was took awful bad. I don't know what it was made me so bad; but I had told Jem that evening, flat, that nothing on earth should move me out of the room where I'd lain for ten years, and it was no use his asking me.
”Well, as I said, I was took awful bad in my chest, and I laid there groaning for a long time. At last I managed to knock the wall, and got Jem to come to the door.
”'Oh, I'm dying,' says I; 'come in and see what you can do for me, Jem.'
”He'd put on his things when he heard me first; and in he came and raised me up, and then he goes up-stairs and calls his mother. But as luck would have it, the neighbour on the ground floor was ill too, and Mrs. Seymour couldn't leave her for a moment just then.
”When Jem come up and told me that, I thought I should ha' died straight away. But he comes over to me as quiet and kind as any woman, and he says, 'Miss Hobson, don't you take on; I'll do all as I can for you, if you'll tell me what to do.'
”So I told him to prop me up, for I couldn't fetch my breath, you see; and he goes and gets some hot water from his mother's boiler, and puts a shawl over my head, and makes me breathe the steam; and when I was a little easier he gets me a cup of tea, as did me a world of good.
”Once or twice while he was bending over me when I was so very bad, he says to me sort of soft-like, 'Look to Jesus, Miss Hobson--there's nought but Jesus can save a dying soul.'
”But I heard him without taking much notice.
”When I was a bit better, and had done gasping so bad, he sits down by my side as kind as any nurse, and he says to me, 'Miss Hobson, I'm a deal more anxious for you to get the Breath of Life than ever I am for you to be able to breathe easy. I wish you would think of that!' he says.