CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
PARTINGS.
It was six days later when Margot opened her eyes, and found herselflying on the little white bed in the bedroom of the Nag's Head, withsome one by the window whose profile as outlined against the lightseemed strangely and sweetly familiar. She stared dumbly, with aconfused wonder in her brain. _Edith_? It could not possibly be Edith!What should bring Edith up to Glenaire in this sudden and unexpectedfashion? And why was she herself so weak and languid that to speak andask the question seemed an almost impossible exertion?
What had happened? Was she only dreaming that her head ached, and herhands seemed too heavy to move, and that Edith sat by the window near atable covered with medicine bottles and glasses? Margot blinked hereyes, and stared curiously around. No! it was no dream; she wascertainly awake, and through the dull torpor of her brain a remembrancebegan slowly to work. Something had happened! She had been tired andcold; oh, cold, cold, cold; so cold that it had seemed impossible tolive. She had wandered on and on, through an eternity of darkness,which had ended in the blackness of night. Her head throbbed with theeffort of thinking; she shut her eyes and lay quietly, waiting uponremembrance.
Suddenly it came. A faint flush of colour showed itself in the whitecheek, and a tingle of warmth ran through the veins. She remembered nowupon whose arm she had hung, whose voice it was which had cheered heronward; in trembling, incredulous fashion she remembered what that voicehad said!
A faint exclamation sounded through the stillness, whereupon Edithlooked round quickly, and hurried to the bedside.
"Margot! My darling! Do you know me at last?"
Margot smiled wanly. The smooth rounded face had fallen away sadly inthat week of fever and unconsciousness, and a little hand was pushedfeebly forward.
"Of course. I'm so glad! Edie, have I been ill?"
"Yes, darling; but you are better now. After a few days' rest you willbe well again. You must not be nervous about your dear self."
"And you came?"
"Yes, darling; Ron telegraphed, and father and I came up at once. Agnesis taking care of the boys."
"So kind! I remember--it was the mist. Was--Ron--safe?"
"Yes, darling, quite safe. He and Mr Elgood arrived at the cottagevery soon after you, and were so thankful to find you there."
"Is--is _everybody_ well?"
Again that faint flush showed on the cheeks; but Edie was mercifullyblind, and answered with direct simplicity--
"Every one, dear, and you are going to be quite well, too. You must nottalk any more just now, for you are rather a weak little girl still.Drink this cup of milk, and roll over, and have another nap. It is goodto see you sleeping quietly and peacefully again. There! Shut youreyes, like a good girl!"
Then once more Margot floated off into unconsciousness; but this time itwas the blessed, health-restoring unconsciousness of sleep, such sleepas she had not known for days past, and from which she awoke with restedbody and clearer brain.
When the dear father came in to kiss and greet her, a thin white handcrept up to stroke his hair, and pull his ear in the way he loved,whereupon he blinked away tears of thankfulness, and essayed to befierce and reproachful.
"So you couldn't be satisfied until you had dragged the whole familyafter you, to the ends of the earth! There's no pleasing some people.This is my reward for being such a fool as to think you could take careof yourself!"
"Ducky Doodles!" murmured Margot fondly. As of yore, she manifested notthe faintest alarm at his pretence of severity, but twitched his earwith complacent composure, and once more Mr Vane blinked and swalloweda lump in his throat. There had been hours during those last days whenhe had feared that he might never again hear himself called "DuckyDoodles," and what a sad grey world that would have meant!
Then came Ron, a little embarrassed, as was natural in a lad of hisyears, but truly loving and tender all the same, and Margot's brown_eyes_ searched his face with wistful questioning.
There was so much that she wanted to ask and to hear, and concerningwhich no one had as yet vouchsafed information. Ron could tell her allthat was to be told, which it was impossible to pass another nightwithout knowing, yet there he sat, sublimely unconscious that she wantedto be assured of anything but his own safety. With the energy ofdespair, Margot forced herself to put a question.
"How are all--the others?"
"The Elgoods? They are all right. Awfully worried about you, you know,and that sort of thing. Afraid the governor might think they were toblame. The idea of your going down with pneumonia, and frightening usall into fits! I thought you were too healthy to be bowled over sosoon, but a London life doesn't fit one for exposure. The governor wasfurious with me for bringing you to the North."
But for once Margot was not interested in her father's feelings. Sheturned her head on the pillow and put yet another question.
"They did not catch colds, too?"
"Oh, colds!" Ron laughed lightly. "Of course, we all had colds; whatelse could you expect? We were lucky to get off so easily. The Elgoodsput off leaving until you were safely round the corner, but they are offfirst thing to-morrow."
At this there was a quick rustle of the bedclothes.
"Going? _Where_?" asked a startled voice, in which sounded anuncontrollable quiver of apprehension. "Not away for altogether?"
"Yes! Their time was up three days ago. It is awfully decent of themto have stayed on for so long. We shall meet in town, I suppose; butyour Editor man is no use to me, Margot. That little scheme has fallenflat. From first to last he has never troubled to show the faintestinterest in my existence, and has avoided the governor all he knew. TheChieftain is worth a dozen of him. He has kept the whole thing goingthis last week, amused the governor, looked after Edith, been a perfectbrick to me. I'm glad we came, if it were only for the sake of makinghis acquaintance, for he is the grandest man I've ever known; but yourscheme has failed, old girl."
From Margot's expression it would appear that everything on earth hadfailed. Her face looked as white as the pillow against which sherested, and her eyes were tragic in her despairing sadness. Ronbestirred himself to comfort her, full of gratitude for so heartfelt aninterest.
"Never mind! You did your best, and it's nobody's fault that he turnedout such a Diogenes. The governor has been awfully decent since he cameup, and I don't despair of getting the time extended. He is much moreamenable, apart from Agnes, and I fancy the Chieftain puts in a goodword for me now and then--not on the score of literature, of course--butafter they have been talking together, the governor always seems to lookupon me with more--more _respect_, don't you know, and less as if I werea hopeless failure, of whom he was more or less ashamed. That's a gainin itself, isn't it?"
"'Um!" assented Margot vaguely. "I suppose they drive over to catch theevening express? Did he--they--say anything about me?"
Ron started in surprise.
"My dear girl, we have talked of nothing else _but_ you, for the lastweek! Pulse, temperature, sleep; sleep, temperature, pulse; every hourthe same old tale. You have given us all a rare old fright; but thankgoodness you are on the mend at last. The doctor says it is only amatter of time."
"Did--they--send any message?"
"No! Edie said you were not to be excited. Awfully sorry to misssaying good-bye, and that sort of thing, but hope to meet you anotherday in town."
Margot shut her eyes, and the line of curling lashes lookedastonishingly black against her cheek.
"I see. Very kind! I'm--tired, Ron. I can't talk any more."
Ron rose from his seat with, it must be confessed, a sigh of relief. Hewas ill at ease in the atmosphere of the sick-room, and hardlyrecognised his jaunty, self-confident companion in this wan and languidinvalid. He dropped a light kiss on Margot's forehead, and hurrieddownstairs, to be encountered on the threshold of the inn by GeorgeElgood, who for once seemed anxious to enter into conversation.
"You have been to see your sister. Did she--er--was she well enough tosend any message before we go?"
"Oh, she's all right--quite quiet and sensible again, but doesn't botherherself much about what is going on. I told her you were off, but shedidn't seem to take much notice. Expect she's so jolly thankful to feelcomfortable again that she doesn't care for anything else."
"Er--quite so, quite so!" repeated the Editor hastily; and Ron passed onhis way, satisfied that he had been all that was tactful andconsiderate, and serenely unconscious that he had eclipsed the sun ofthat summer's day for two anxious hearts!
There was little sleep for poor Margot that night, and in the morningEdith noticed with alarm the flushed cheeks and shining eyes whichseemed to predict a return of the feverish symptoms. She drew down theblind and seated herself by the bedside, determined to guard the doorand allow no visitors. The child had evidently had too much excitementthe day before, and must now be kept absolutely quiet. But Margottossed and fidgeted, and threw the clothes restlessly about, refusing toshut her eyes, and allow herself to be tucked up, as the elder sisterlovingly advised. Her eyes were strained, and every now and then shelifted her head from the pillow with an anxious, listening movement. Atlast it came, the sound for which she had been waiting--the rumble ofwheels, the clatter of horses' hoofs, the grunts and groans of theostler as he lifted the heavy bags to their place. Margot's brown eyeslooked up with a piteous entreaty.
"They are going! You must be quick, Edie. Run down quickly and saygood-bye!"
"It isn't necessary, dear. I saw them before coming upstairs. Ron isthere, and father."
"But you must! I want you to go. Quickly, before it is too late.Edie, you _must_!"
There was no denying so vehement a command. Edith turned silently away,confirmed in a growing suspicion, and yearning tenderly over the littlesister's suffering. It was the younger brother, of course!--the tall,silent man, whose lips had been so dumb, whose eyes so eloquent, duringthe critical days of Margot's illness, and who had been the girl'scompanion on the misty moor. What had happened during those hours ofsuspense and danger? What barriers had been swept aside; what newvistas opened? Edith's own love was too sweet and sacred a thing toallow her to pry and question into the heart-secrets of another, as isthe objectionable fashion of many so-called friends, but with her keenwoman-senses she took in George Elgood's every word, look, and movementduring the brief parting scene.
He stood aside, leaving his brother to utter the conventional farewells;his lips were set, and his brows drawn together; but ever and anon, asif against his will, his eyes shot anxious glances towards the window ofthe room where Margot lay. Edith moved a few steps nearer, to give thechance of a few quiet words, if it was in his heart to speak, but nonecame. A moment later he had swung himself up beside his brother on thehigh seat of the cart, and the wheels were beginning to move.
Edith went slowly back to her post, dreading to meet the gaze of thosedear brown eyes, which had lost their sparkle, and become so pathetic intheir dumb questioning. She had no reassuring message to give, andcould only affect a confidence which she was far from feeling.
"Well, dear, they are off, but it is not good-bye--only _au revoir_, asyou are sure to meet again in town before long. Mr Elgood askedpermission to call upon me in town. Nice little man! He has been sowonderfully kind and considerate. I can't think why he should troublehimself so much for a complete stranger. The tall one looked sorry togo! He kept looking up at your window. He has a fine face--strong andclever. He must be an interesting companion."
Margot did not answer; but five minutes later she asked to have thecurtain drawn, as the light hurt her eyes. They had a somewhat red andinflamed appearance for the rest of the day; but when Mr Vane commentedon the fact, the dear, wise Edie assured him that it was a commonphenomenon after illness, and laid a supply of fresh handkerchiefs onthe bed--table in such a quiet and unobtrusive fashion, that they mighthave grown there of their own accord.
"Some day," thought Margot dismally to herself, "some day I shall laughover this!" For the present, however, her sense of humour was strangelyblunted, and the handkerchiefs were needed for a very different purpose.