Part 11 (2/2)

”Not favourable, sir; we must trust more to the oars.”

”Then you and Ralph must row. Willie, I think I can trust you, but remember a great deal may depend upon your carrying your message correctly. Run home as quickly as you can by the lower wood, it's quite safe that way; tell mamma that Aleck is hurt, and that Rickson must go off for Dr. Wilson in the dog-cart at once; if Dr. Wilson cannot be found, he must bring Mr. Bryant; and James must bring down the carriage to wait for us at the lodge. Don't frighten your mamma; tell her as quietly and gently as you can. If you meet Mr. Glengelly, tell him first, and he will break it to mamma. Do you quite understand?”

”Yes, papa,” I replied, thankful to have something given me to do, and yet feeling as if I were in the midst of a terrible waking dream. After my father had taken the precaution of once again repeating his directions, I sped off up the steep hill-side, by way of the lower wood, towards home, whilst he gently lifted up my cousin and carried him to the boat.

I shall never forget that walk home--_walk_ I call it, though, wherever running was possible, I _ran_. The feeling of misery and terror that was upon me, seemed to be mocked by the gay twittering of the birds, and the dancing of the sunbeams through the leaves, and the familiar appearance of the laden blackberry bushes, and copses famous for rich returns in the nutting season. Everything in nature looking so undisturbed and unaffected by what was filling me with grief, appeared to add to my wretchedness. All the way along, I had the vision of my cousin's pale face before my eyes. True, he was not dead; but, child that I was, I had sufficient sense to know that often death followed an accident which was not immediately fatal, and _if_ he died it would be almost as though I had murdered him. I can remember trying hard to fancy it was a dreadful dream, and that I should wake up, as I had done on the preceding night, to find that my fears were all unreal; and as every step, bringing me nearer home, made this increasingly impossible to imagine, I changed the subject of my speculations, and took to remembering all the dreadful things I had ever read in history or story-books, of people dying of broken hearts, or living on and never smiling again, and fancying it was going to be the same with me; and I grew quite frightened, and trembled so much that I scarcely knew how to climb up the steep bits of the path.

I was still about a quarter of a mile from the house when I met Mr.

Glengelly, who was also on the search for Aleck. It was a wonderful relief to have some one to speak to after the long silence of the past hour, and to be cheered up by his a.s.surance that a broken arm was no very formidable accident after all, and that a little severe pain, and a few weeks invalidism, sounded very alarming, but would in reality pa.s.s quickly by.

”Then you think, perhaps Aleck won't die,” I faltered, struggling to get breath, for the haste in which I had come had made speaking difficult.

”Die!” echoed my tutor cheerily; ”why, Willie, people don't die of a broken arm! I broke my arm when I was a little boy of twelve, and you see I'm alive still.” I smiled faintly; it was so much better than anything I had expected to hear. ”It's true,” added the tutor, ”that there may be more than the broken arm, but we must hope for the best. In the meantime, Willie, you have had enough running, you are quite out of breath, and had better come the rest of the way quietly; I will go on and carry out your father's directions.”

When I reached home every one seemed in a bustle, and too busy to take any notice of me. My mother indeed spared time to tell me I had been a good brave boy to come home so fast with the message, and that I had better go and sit quietly to rest in the school-room; but she hurried away immediately to finish her preparations, and I found she was getting the spare room next to her own ready for Aleck, instead of the little room next to mine.

I had a lingering hope that Mr. Glengelly might appear in the school-room, but he had gone down with Bennet to the lodge to see if he could be of use when the boat came in, so that I was quite alone, and could only watch from the half-open door the doings of the servants as they pa.s.sed to and fro, all seeming in a flutter, and as if it lay upon them as a duty to move about, and run hither and thither, without any particular object that I could discover.

After about an hour, the sound of wheels on the drive announced the approach of the carriage. I sprang to my post of observation, and saw Aleck, still deathly pale, and unconscious, carried carefully in by my father and Mr. Glengelly, and my mother on the first landing of the stairs, looking terribly anxious but perfectly composed, beckoning them up, as she said to my father,--

”Everything is ready, dear, in the room next to ours.”

Then they all went up-stairs, and I saw nothing more until, a few moments later, Mr. Glengelly looked in and told me I was to go to dinner by myself, as he was going to drive to Elmworth at once, and my parents could not come down-stairs.

It seemed strange and forlorn to go into our large dining-room, and sit at the table all by myself, whilst James stood behind me and changed my plate, and handed me the dishes all in their proper order, as if I had been grown up. I was hungry, or rather, perhaps, stood in need of food, after the morning's exertions, but I felt quite surprised at my own utter indifference as to _what_ I had to eat, when I had the opportunity of an entirely free selection. I took my one help of tart, and a single peach, without the shadow of a desire such as is common to children, and which I should in happier times unquestionably have shared, to improve the occasion by a little extra allowance.

I had scarcely finished when my mother came in for two or three minutes.

”Mamma,” I said, running eagerly to her, ”do tell me, will Aleck die?”

”My darling,” she answered, ”we cannot say how much he is hurt until the doctor comes;” and she stooped down to kiss away the tears that came to my eyes when I noticed the sad, quiet voice with which she spoke, so unlike Mr. Glengelly's cheerful, re-a.s.suring manner. ”You must pray to G.o.d, my child, that if it be His will he may recover, and try to cheer up, because there is still hope the injury may not prove very serious; we must hope for the best. I am going to bring papa up a gla.s.s of wine and a biscuit; will you carry up the plate for me?”

Just as we were going up-stairs, she added, to comfort me,--

”Willie, my child, how thankful I feel that you had nothing to do with the loss of the s.h.i.+p.”

At which, observation--from her point of view, consolatory; from mine, like a dagger-thrust--I became so convulsed with sobs, that my mother slipped into the room where Aleck was, laid down the plate and the wine-gla.s.s, and returning again, took me down to the school-room, and simply devoted herself for some minutes to soothing me back into composure. She rose to go, but I clung to her dress; ”Mamma, mamma,” I entreated, ”don't leave me, please don't leave me.”

”I _must_ leave you, Willie,” she answered, ”and you must try to bear up bravely for my sake, and for Aleck's. You will do what you can to help in this sad time of trouble, and not add to my distress by giving way like this. You are over-tired, I think, and had better take a book, and stay here for the present, and lie down on the sofa and rest.

Afterwards, if you like, you can go in the garden.”

I preferred remaining in the school-room; I could see the hall-door, and up the first flight of stairs, and could hear the opening and shutting of doors up-stairs, and occasional remarks from pa.s.sers through the hall, so that I felt less lonely than I knew I should feel in the garden. Frisk came and sat with his fore-paws on my lap--he seemed aware that something had gone wrong--and wagged his tail, not merrily, but slowly and mournfully, as if to express, after his fas.h.i.+on, how truly he sympathized in our distress.

At last, once again there was the sound of wheels; it was the dog-cart this time, and Frisk threw back his head, p.r.i.c.ked up his ears, and, with a quick bark, darted off to sanction the arrival of the doctor with his presence.

My father, too, was at the hall-door in an instant.

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