Part 120 (1/2)
Maria walked slowly to and fro in the sunny path, saying a word or two to David now and then, but choosing safer subjects; the weather, the flowers under his charge, the vegetables already nipped with frost. She looked very ill. Her face thin and white, her soft sweet eyes larger and darker than was natural. Her hands were wrapped in the cloak for warmth, and her steps were unequal. Crusty David actually ventured on a little bit of civility.
”_You_ don't seem to get about over quick, ma'am.”
”Not very, David. But I feel better than I did.”
She sat down on the bench, and Meta came flying to her, spade in hand.
Might she plant a gooseberry-tree, and have all the gooseberries off it next year for herself?
Maria stroked the child's hair from her flushed face as she answered.
Meta flew off to find the ”tree;” and Maria sat on, plunged in a train of thought which the question had led to. Where should they be at the gooseberry season next year? In that same dwelling? Would George's prospects have become more certain then?
”Now then! Is that the way you dig?”
The sharp words came from Margery, who had looked out at the kitchen window and caught sight of Miss Meta rolling in the mould. The child jumped up laughing, and ran into the house for her skipping-rope.
”Have I been out half an hour, do you think, David?” Maria asked by-and-by.
”Near upon 't,” said David, without lifting his eyes.
She rose to pursue her way slowly indoors. She was so fatigued--and there had been, so to say, no exertion--that she felt as if she could never stir out again. Merely putting on and taking off her cloak was almost beyond her. She let it fall from her shoulders, took off her bonnet, and sank into an easy-chair.
From this she was aroused by hearing the gate hastily opened. Quick footsteps came up the path, and a manly voice said something to David Jekyl in a free, joking tone. She bounded up, her cheek flus.h.i.+ng to hectic, her heart beating. Could it be George?
No; it was her brother, Reginald Hastings. He came in with a great deal of unnecessary noise and clatter. He had arrived from London only that morning, he proceeded to tell Maria, and was going up again by the night train.
”I say, Maria, how ill you look!”
Very ill indeed just then. The excitement of sudden expectation had faded, leaving her whiter than before. Dark circles were round her eyes, and her delicate hands, more feeble, more slender than of yore, moved restlessly on her lap.
”I have been very feverish the last few weeks,” she said. ”I think I am stronger. But I have been out for a walk and am tired.”
”What did the little shaver die of?” asked Reginald.
”Of convulsions,” she answered, her bodily weariness too great to speak in anything but tones of apathy. ”Why are you going up again so soon?
Have you a s.h.i.+p?”
Reginald nodded. ”We have orders to join to-morrow at twelve. The _Mary_, bound for China, six hundred tons. I know the mother would never forgive me if I didn't come to say good-bye, so I thought I would have two nights of it in the train.”
”Are you going as second officer, Reginald?”
”Second officer!--no. I have not pa.s.sed.”
”Regy!”
”They are a confounded lot, that board!” broke out Mr. Reginald, explosively. ”I don't believe they know their own business. And as to pa.s.sing any one without once turning him, they won't do it. I should like to know who has the money! You pay your guinea, and you don't pa.s.s.
Come up again next Monday, they say. Well, you do go up again, as you want to pa.s.s; and you pay another half-guinea. I did so; and they turned me again; said I didn't know seamans.h.i.+p. The owls! not know seamans.h.i.+p!
I! They took me, I expect, for one of those dainty middies in Green's service who walk the deck in kid gloves all day. If there's one thing I have at my fingers' ends it is seamans.h.i.+p. I could navigate a vessel all over the world--and be hanged to the idiots! You can come again next Monday, they said to me. I wish the _Times_ would show them up!”