Part 53 (1/2)

”My dear! hate the sight of her own husband, who is given back to her from the dead? Ay, I have much to hear. Why did you never write to us, Herbert? But there! you have all that to explain to her by and by.”

”Yes; and you must tell me about the children,--my little Janie,” he returned, in a choked voice.

”Ah, the dear angels! But, Herbert, you must be careful. n.o.body speaks of them to Magdalene, unless she does herself. You are impetuous, my dear; and Magdalene--well, she has not been herself since you left her. It is pining, grief, and the dead weight of loss that has ailed her being childless and widowed at once. There, there! just so. We must be tender of her, poor dear! and things will soon come right.”

”You need not fear me, Barby. I have learned my lesson at last. If I only get my wife back, you shall see--you shall see how I will make up to her for all I have ever made her suffer! My poor girl! my poor girl!” And then he shaded his face, and was silent.

Phillis had stolen out in the garden, and sat down on a little bench outside, where pa.s.sers-by could not discern her from the road, and where only the sound of their voices reached her faintly. Now and then, chance words fell on her ear,--”Magdalene” over and over again; and ”Janie” and ”Bertie,”--always in the voice she had so admired. By and by she heard her own name, and rose at once, and found them looking for her.

”Here is my good angel, Barby,” observed Mr. Cheyne, as she came up smiling. ”Not one girl in a thousand would have acted as bravely and simply as she has done. We are friends for life, Miss Challoner, are we not?” And he stretched out his hand to her, and Phillis laid her own in it.

”I was a bit harsh with you, dearie, was I not?” returned Miss Mewlstone, apologetically: ”but there! you were such a child that I thought you had been deceived. But I ought to have known better, craving your pardon, my dear. Now we will just go back to Magdalene; and you must help my stupid old head, for I am fairly crazy at the thought of telling her. Go back into the parlor and lie down, Herbert, for you are terribly exhausted. You must have patience, my man, a wee bit longer, for we must be cautious,--cautious, you see.”

”Yes, I must have patience,” he responded, rather bitterly. But he went back into the room and watched them until they disappeared into the gates of his own rightful paradise.

Miss Mewlstone was leaning on Phillis's arm. Her gait was still rather feeble, but the girl was talking energetically to her.

”What a spirit she has! just like Magdalene at her age,” he thought, ”only Magdalene never possessed her even temper. My poor girl! From what Barby says, she has grown hard and bitter with trouble. But it shall be my aim in life to comfort her for all she has been through!”

And then, as he thought of his dead children, and of the empty nursery, he groaned, and threw himself face downward upon the couch.

But a few minutes afterwards he had started up again, unable to rest, and began to pace the room; and then, as though the narrow s.p.a.ce confined him, he continued his restless walk into the garden, and then into the shrubberies of the White House.

”My dear, I am not as young as I was. I feel as if all this were too much for me,” sighed Miss Mewlstone, as she pressed her companion's arm. ”One needs so much vitality to bear such scenes. I am terrified for Magdalene, she has so little self-control! and to have him given back to her from the dead! I thank G.o.d! but I am afraid, for all that.” And a few more quiet tears stole over her cheeks.

”Thinking of it only makes it worse,” returned Phillis, feverishly.

She, too, dreaded the ordeal before them; but she was young, and not easily daunted. All the way through the shrubbery she talked on breathlessly, trying to rally her own courage. It was she who entered the drawing-room first, for poor Miss Mewlstone had to efface the signs of her agitation.

Mrs. Cheyne looked up, surprised to see her alone.

”Jeffreys told me you and Miss Mewlstone had gone out together on a little business. What have you done with poor old Barby?” And, as Phillis answered as composedly and demurely as she could, Mrs. Cheyne arched her eyebrows in her old satirical way:

”She is in her room, is she? Never mind answering, if you prefer your own counsel. Your little mysteries are no business of mine. I should have thought the world would have come to an end, though, before Barby had thrown down the third volume of a novel for anything short of a fire. But you and she know best.” And, as Phillis flushed and looked confused under her scrutiny, she gave a short laugh and turned away.

It was a relief when Miss Mewlstone came trotting into the room with her cap-strings awry.

”Dear, dear! have we kept you waiting for your tea, Magdalene?” she exclaimed, in a flurried tone, as she bustled up to the table. ”Miss Challoner had a little business, and she thought I might help her.

Yes; just so! I have brought her in, for she is tired, poor thing! and I knew she would be welcome.”

”It seems to me that you are both tired. You are as hot as though you had walked for miles, Barby. Oh, you have your secrets too. But it is not for me to meddle with mysteries.” And then she laughed again, and threw herself back on her couch, with a full understanding of the discomfort of the two people before her.

Phillis saw directly she was in a hard, cynical mood.

”You shall know our business by and by,” she said, very quietly. ”Dear Miss Mewlstone, I am so thirsty, I must ask you for another cup of tea.” But, as Miss Mewlstone took the cup from her, the poor lady's hand shook so with suppressed agitation that the saucer slipped from her grasp, and the next moment the costly china lay in fragments at her feet.

”Dear! dear!--how dreadfully careless of me!” fumed Miss Mewlstone.

But Mrs. Cheyne made no observation. She only rang the bell, and ordered another cup. But, when the servant had withdrawn, she said, coldly,--

”Your hand is not as steady as usual this evening, Barby;” and somehow the sharp incisive tone cut so keenly that, to Phillis's alarm, Miss Mewlstone became very pale, and then suddenly burst into tears.

”This is too much!” observed Mrs. Cheyne, rising in serious displeasure. She had almost a masculine abhorrence to tears of late years; the very sight of them excited her strangely.