Part 35 (1/2)
Such was the answer made by Tom, the Bernard coachman to Edith's repeated inquiries, ”Are we almost there.”
For three successive days the Bernard carriage had been to Tallaha.s.see in quest of the expected guest, whose coming was watched for so eagerly at Sunnybank, and who, as the bright October afternoon was drawing to its close, looked eagerly out at a huge old house which stood not very far distant with the setting sun s.h.i.+ning on the roof and illuminating all the upper windows. A nearer approach showed it to be a large, square, wooden building, divided in the centre by a wide, airy hall, and surrounded on three sides by a verandah, the whole bearing a more modern look than most of the country houses in Florida, for Mr. Bernard had possessed considerable taste, and during his life had aimed at fitting up his residence somewhat after the northern fas.h.i.+on. To Edith there was something familiar about that old building, with its handsome grounds, and she said aloud,
”I've surely dreamed of Sunnybank.”
”Berry likely, Miss,” answered Tom, thinking the remark addressed to him, inasmuch as Edith's head protruded from the window.
”Dreams is mighty onsartin. Git 'long, you Bill, none o'yer lazy carlicues, case don't yer mind thar's Mars'r Arthur on the v'randy, squinting to see if I's fotched 'em,” and removing his old straw hat, Tom swung it three times around his head, that being the signal he was to give if Edith were in the carriage.
With an increased flush upon his brow, Arthur St. Claire hastened down, pausing at an inner room while he bent over and whispered to a young girl reclining on her pillow,
”Nina, darling, Miggie's come.”
There was a low cry of unutterable delight, and Nina Bernard raised herself upon her elbow, looking wistfully toward the door through which Arthur had disappeared.
”Be quiet, la pet.i.te Nina,” said a short, thick woman, who sat by the bed, apparently officiating in the capacity of nurse; then, as the carriage stopped at the gate, she glided to the window, muttering to herself, ”Charmant charmant, magnifique,” as she caught a full view of the eager, sparkling face, turned toward the young man hastening down the walk. Then, with that native politeness natural to her country, she moved away so as not to witness the interview.
”Arthur!”
”Edith!”
That was all they said, for Richard and Nina stood between them, a powerful preventive to the expression of the great joy throbbing in the heart of each, as hand grasped hand, and eye sought eye, fearfully, tremblingly, lest too much should be betrayed.
”Miggie, Miggie, be quick,” came from the room where Nina was now standing up in bed, her white night dress hanging loosely about her forehead and neck.
It needed but this to break the spell which bound the two without, and dropping Edith's hand, Arthur conducted her to the house, meeting in the hall with Nina, who, in spite of Mrs. Lamotte had jumped from her bed and skipping across the floor, flung herself into Edith's arms, sobbing frantically,
”You did come, precious Miggie, to see sick Nina, didn't you, and you'll stay forever and ever, won't you, my own sweet Miggie, and Arthur's too? Oh, joy, joy, Nina's so happy to-night.”
The voice grew very faint, the white lips ceased their pressure of kisses upon Edith's--the golden head began to droop, and Arthur took the fainting girl in his arms, carrying her back to her bed, where he laid her gently down, himself caring for her until she began to revive.
Meanwhile Edith was introduced to Mrs. Lamotte, a French woman, who once was Nina's nurse, and who had come to Sunnybank a few weeks before. Any one at all interested in Nina was sure of a place in Edith's affections, and she readily took Mrs. Lamotte's proffered hand, but she was not prepared for the peculiarly curious gaze fastened upon her, as Mrs. Lamotte waved off Teeny, the black girl, and taking her traveling bag and shawl, said to her,
”This way, s'il vous plait, Mademoiselle Marguerite. Pardonnez moi,” she added quickly, as she met Edith's questioning glance, ”Mademoiselle Miggie, as la pet.i.te Nina calls you.”
Once in Edith's room, Mrs. Lamotte did not seem in haste to leave it, but continued talking in both English and French to Edith, who more than once, as the tones fell upon her ear, turned quickly to see if it were not some one she had met before.
”Je m'en irai,” Mrs. Lamotte said at last, as she saw that her presence was annoying Edith; and as the latter offered no remonstrance, she left the room, and Edith was alone with her confused thoughts.
Where was she? What room was this, with the deep window seats, and that wide-mouthed fire-place? Who was this woman that puzzled her so? Edith kept asking herself these questions, but could find for them no satisfactory answer. Struggle as she might, she felt more like a child returned to its home than like a stranger in a strange land. Even the soft south wind, stealing through the open cas.e.m.e.nt, and fanning her feverish cheek, had something familiar in its breath, as if it had stolen in upon her thus aforetime; and when across the fields, she heard the negroes' song as they came homeward from their toil, she laid her head upon the window sill, and wept for the something which swept over her, something so sweet, so sad, and yet so indescribable.
Fearing lest the Frenchwoman should return, she made a hasty toilet, and then stole down to Nina, who, wholly exhausted with the violence of her emotions at meeting Edith, lay perfectly still upon her pillow, scarcely whiter than her own childish face, round which a ray of the setting sun was s.h.i.+ning, encircling it with a halo of glorious beauty, and making her look like an angel of purity and love. She did not attempt to speak as Edith came in, but her eyes smiled a welcome, and her thin, wasted fingers pointed to where Edith was to sit upon the bed beside her. Arthur sat on the other side, holding one of Nina's hands, and the other was given to Edith, who pressed it to her lips, while her tears dropped upon it like rain. The sight of them disturbed the sick girl, and shaking her wealth of curls which, since Edith saw them, had grown thick and long, she whispered,
”Don't, Miggie; tears are not for Nina; she's so glad, for she is almost home. She'll go down to the river brink with your arms and Arthur boy's around her. Precious Miggie, nice Arthur. Nina is happy to-night.”
Such were the disjointed sentences she kept whispering, while her eyes turned from Edith to Arthur and from Arthur back to Edith, resting longer there, and the expression of the face told of the unutterable joy within. Softly the twilight shadows stole into the room, and the servants glided in and out, casting furtive and wondering glances at Edith, who saw nothing save the clear blue eyes s.h.i.+ning upon her, even through the gathering darkness, and telling her of the love which could not be expressed.
As it grew darker Nina drew the two hands she clasped together-- Arthur's and Edith's--laid them one above the other upon her bosom, pressed her own upon them, and when, at last, the candles were brought in and placed upon the table, Edith saw that the weary lids had closed and Nina was asleep. Every effort, however, which she made to disengage her hand from its rather embarra.s.sing position, threatened to arouse the sleeper, and for nearly half an hour she sat there with her hand beneath Arthur's, but she dared not look at him, and with her face turned away, she answered his questions concerning Shannondale and its inhabitants.
After a time Mrs. Lamotte came in and asked if mademoiselle would like to retire. Edith would far rather have gone to her room alone, but Mrs. Lamotte seemed bent upon hovering near her, and as there was no alternative she followed her up the stairs and into the chamber, where she had lain aside her things. To her great relief her companion did not stay longer than necessary, and ere the entire household was still, Edith was dreaming of Collingwood and Richard.
The next morning was bright, balmy, and beautiful, and at an early hour Edith arose and went down to Nina, who heard her step in the hall, and called to her to come.