CHAPTER VIII.
"I bless thee for kind looks and words Showered on my path like dew, For all the love in those deep eyes, A gladness ever new."--MRS. HEMANS.
A week had passed since Edward's accident; and he now exchanged hisbed, during the day, for an easy-chair.
He and Zoe had just finished taking their breakfast together in herboudoir when a servant came in with the mail.
There were letters from Viamede,--one for Edward from his mother, onefor Zoe from Betty Johnson.
Both brought the unwelcome tidings that little Grace Raymond andViolet's babe were very ill with scarlet-fever.
Edward read aloud his mother's announcement of the fact. "Yes," saidZoe. "Betty tells me the same thing. O Ned! how sorry I am for poor Vi!It would be hard enough for her if she had the captain with her, to helpbear the burden and responsibility, and to share in her grief if theyshould die."
"Yes, it is hard for her; and I am glad she has mamma and grandpa andgrandma with her. Mamma says Dick Percival is attending the children,and there is talk of telegraphing for Arthur.
"Ah," glancing from the window, "here he comes! He will perhaps bring uslater news."
Arthur did so: the children were worse than at the date of the letters.He had just received his summons, and would obey it immediately, takingthe next train; had called to tell them, and see how Edward was.
"Almost entirely recovered, tell my mother," Edward said, in reply tothe query; "and you needn't go feeling any anxiety in regard to this oneof your patients," he added playfully.
"I leave him in your care, Zoe," said Arthur; "and, if he does not dowell, I shall hold you responsible."
"Then you must lay your commands upon him to obey my orders," she said,with a merry glance from one to the other.
"Would that be any thing new in his experience?" asked the doctor withmock gravity.
"It won't do to question us too closely," returned Zoe, coloring andlaughing.
"She is a very good little wife, and tolerably obedient," laughedEdward. "Really, would you believe it? she told me once she actuallyenjoyed obeying--under certain circumstances; and so, I suppose, shouldI. Zoe, you mustn't be too hard on me."
"Oh! I intend to be very strict in seeing the doctor's orders carriedout," she said; "and I expect to enjoy my brief authority immensely."
Dr. Conly took leave almost immediately, for he had no time to spare;and the reading of the letters was resumed.
Betty's was a long one, giving a full account, from her point of view,of the contest between Mr. Dinsmore and Lulu Raymond in regard to herrefusal to take music-lessons of Signor Foresti after he had struck her.None of the family had mentioned the affair in their letters, even Rosiefeeling that she had no warrant to do so; and the story was both new andinteresting to Zoe.
Lulu had not yet submitted when Betty wrote, so the story as told in herletter left the little girl still in banishment at Oakdale Academy.
Zoe read the letter aloud to Edward.
"Lulu is certainly the most ungovernable child I have ever seen or heardof," he remarked, at its conclusion. "I often wonder at the patience andforbearance grandpa and mamma have shown toward her. In their place, Ishould have had her banished to a boarding-school long ago, one at adistance, too, so that she could not trouble me, even during holidays."
"So should I," said Zoe: "she hasn't the least shadow of a claim uponthem."
"No: the captain feels that, and is duly grateful. It is evident, too,that Lulu's lack of gratitude, and her bad behavior, are extremelymortifying to him."
"But don't you think, Ned, it was rather hard to insist on her goingback to that ill-tempered, abusive old music-teacher?"
"Yes," he acknowledged with some hesitation. "I rather wonder atgrandpa."
"I wonder how it is going to end," said Zoe: "they are both so verydetermined, I should not like to stand in Lulu's shoes, nor yet in his."
A second letter from Betty, received a fort-night later, told how it hadended: though Betty, not being in Lulu's confidence as Evelyn was, knewnothing of Capt. Raymond's letter to his daughter, or of Lulu'sconfession in reply to it; so her story ended with the statement thatLulu had at last submitted, been restored to favor, and was at MagnoliaHall with Evelyn as a companion, all the children who were in healthhaving been banished from Viamede to save them from the danger ofcatching the dreaded fever.
But to go back to the morning when the first instalment of her story wasreceived.
"It must be a very anxious time for them,--the family at Viamede, Imean," remarked Edward musingly. "And poor, dear Vi is so young to havesuch burdens to bear. What a blessing that she has mamma with her!"
"Yes," said Zoe. "And, oh! I hope the children will get well, they aresuch darlings, both Gracie and the baby. I feel very sorry they are soill, and yet I can't help rejoicing that my dear husband is able to situp again.
"Is that quite heartless in me?" she asked, laying her hand on one ofhis, which rested on the arm of his easy-chair; for she was seated in alow rocker, close at his side.
"I think not," he answered, smiling down into her eyes. "It will do themno good for us to make ourselves unhappy. We will sympathize with, andpray for, them, but at the same time be thankful and joyful because ofall God's goodness to us and them. 'Rejoice in the Lord always: andagain I say, Rejoice.' 'Rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation.'"
"You have certainly obeyed that last injunction," remarked Zoe, lookingat him with affectionate admiration; "so patient and cheerful as youhave been ever since your injury! Many a man would have grumbled andgrowled from morning to night; while you have been so pleasant, it was aprivilege to wait on you."
"Thank you," he said, laughing: "it is uncommonly good in you to saythat, but I'm afraid you are rather uncharitable in your judgment of'many men.'
"Mamma has not yet heard of my accident," he remarked presently, "andwonders over my long silence. I'll write to her now, if you will be sokind as to bring me my writing-desk."
"I'm doubtful about allowing such exertion," she said: "you are leftunder my orders, you remember, and I'm to be held responsible for yourcontinued improvement."
"Nonsense! that wouldn't hurt me," he returned, with an amused smile;"and if you won't get the desk, I'll go after it myself."
"No, you mustn't: I sha'n't allow it," she said, knitting her brows,and trying to look stern.
"Then get it for me."
"Well," she said reflectively, "I suppose there'll have to be acompromise. I'll get the desk, if you'll let me act as your amanuensis."
"We'll consider that arrangement after you have brought it."
"No: you must agree to my proposition first."
"Why, what a little tyrant you are!" he laughed. "Well, I consent. Nowwill you please to bring the desk?"
"Yes," she said, jumping up, and crossing the room to where it stood;"and if you are very good, you may write a postscript with your ownhand."
"I'll do it all with my own hand," he said as she returned to his side.
"Why, Ned!" she exclaimed in surprise, "I thought you were a man of yourword!"
"And so I am, I trust," he said, smiling at her astonished look, thencatching her right hand in his. "Is not this mine?" he asked: "did younot give it to me?--Let me see--nearly two years ago?"
"Yes, I did," she answered, laughing and blushing with pleasure andhappiness: "you are right; it is yours. So you have every right to useit, and must do so."
"Ah!" he said, "'a wilful woman will have her way,' I see: there neverwas a truer saying. No, that won't do," as she seated herself with thedesk on her lap: "put it on the table. I can't have you bending over towrite on your lap, and so growing round-shouldered, especially in myservice."
"Any thing to please you," she returned gayly, doing as he directed. "Isuppose my right hand is not all of me that you lay claim to?"
"No, indeed! I claim you altogether, as my better and dearer half," hesaid, his tone changing from jest to earnest, and the light of lo
veshining in his eyes.
She ran to him at that, put her arms round his neck, and laid her cheekto his. "No, Ned, I can't have you say that," she murmured, "you who areso good and wise, while I am such a silly and faulty thing, not at allworthy to be your wife. Whatever made you marry me?"
"Love," he answered, drawing her closer, and fondly caressing her hairand cheek,--"love that grows stronger and deeper with every day we livetogether, dearest."
"Dear Ned, my own dear husband!" she said, hugging him tighter. "Wordscould never tell how much I love you, or how I rejoice in your love forme: you are truly my other, my best, half, and I don't know how I couldlive without you."
"Our mutual love is a cause for great gratitude to God," he saidreverently. "There are so many miserably unhappy couples, I feel that Ican never be thankful enough for the little wife who suits me soentirely."
"You are my very greatest earthly blessing," she replied, lifting herhead, and gazing into his face with eyes shining with joy and love; "andyour words make me very, very happy. Now," releasing herself from hisembrace, "it's time to attend to business, isn't it? I am ready to writeif you will dictate." And she seated herself before the desk, and tookup her pen.
It was not a lengthened epistle. He began with an acknowledgment of thereceipt of his mother's letter, expressed his sympathy in the sorrow andsuffering at Viamede, gave a brief account of his accident, consequentillness, and partial recovery, highly eulogizing Zoe as the best ofwives and nurses.
When he began that, her pen ceased its movement, and was held suspendedover the paper, while, blushing deeply, she turned to him with aremonstrance.
"Don't ask me to write that: I am ashamed to have mamma see it in myhandwriting."
"Go on," he said: "she will know they are my words, and not yours."
"Well, I obey orders," she replied with a smile; "but I don't half liketo do it."
"Then let me," he said. "If you will hold the desk on the arm of mychair for five minutes, and give me the pen, I can finish up the thingeasily, and without the least danger of hurting my precious self."
She did as directed. "There, now lie back in your chair, and rest," shesaid, when he had finished his note, and signed his name. "You do look alittle tired," she added, with an anxious glance at him as she returnedthe desk to the table.
"Nonsense! tired with that slight exertion!" he responded gayly. "Youmay read that over, and see if it wants any correction."
She did so, then, turning toward him with an arch smile, asked, "May Icriticise?"
"I should be happy to have the benefit of your criticism," he said,laughing; "but don't make it too severe, please."
"Oh, no! I was only thinking that mamma, judging of her by myself, wouldnot be half satisfied with such a bare statement of facts, and that Ihad better write a supplement, giving her more of the particulars."
"I highly approve the suggestion," he answered, "only stipulating thatyou shall not spend too much time over it, and shall read it to me whenfinished."
"I'm afraid it won't be worth your hearing."
"Let me judge of that. If not worth my hearing, can it be worth mamma'sreading?"
"Perhaps so," she said with a blush; "because what I tell will be newsto her, but not to you."
"Ah! I hadn't thought of that. But I shall want to hear it all the same,and take my turn at criticism."
"If you are not more severe than I was, I can stand it," she said. "Andnow please keep quiet till I am done."
He complied, lying back at his ease, and amusing himself with watchingher, admiring the graceful pose of her figure, the pretty face bendingover the paper, and the small, white, shapely hand that was glidingswiftly back and forth.
"Come," he said at last, "you are making quite too long a story of it."
"Mamma won't think so," she retorted, without looking up; "and you knowyou are not obliged to hear it."
"Ah! but that is not the objection; I want to hear every word of it: butI can't spare my companion and nurse so long."
She turned to him with a bright smile. "What can I do for you, dear?Just tell me. The letter can be finished afterward, you know."
"I want nothing but you," was the smiling rejoinder. "Finish yourletter, and then come and sit close by my side.
"But no; you must take your accustomed exercise in the open air."
Considering a moment, "I think," he said, "I'll have you order thecarriage for about the time you are likely to be done there, and we'llhave a drive together."
She shook her head gravely. "You are not fit for any such exertion."
"Uncle Ben and Solon shall help me down the stairs and into thecarriage, so there need be no exertion about it."
"I won't consent," she said. "The doctor left you in my charge; and hisorders were, that you should keep quiet for the next few days."
"You prefer to go alone, do you?"
"Yes, rather than have you injured by going with me."
"Come here," he said; and, laying down her pen, she obeyed.
He took both her hands in his, and, gazing with mock gravity up into herface as she stood over him, "What a little tyrant you are developinginto!" he remarked, knitting his brows. "Will you order the carriage,and take a drive in my company?"
"No."
"Then what will you do?"
"Go by myself, or stay at home with you, just as you bid me."
"What a remarkable mixture of tyranny and submission," he exclaimed,laughing, as he pulled her down to put his arm round her, and kiss herfirst on one cheek, then on the other. "I'll tell you what we'll do: youfinish that letter, read it to me, and take the benefit of my ablecriticisms; then I'll try to get a nap while you take your drive orwalk, whichever you prefer."
"That will do nicely," she said, returning his caresses; "if you will bepleased to let me go, I'll order the carriage, finish the letter in fiveminutes, hear the able criticisms, put my patient to bed, and be off formy drive."
"Do so," he said, releasing her.
From this time forward, till the children were considered out of danger,and Edward was able to go about and attend to his affairs as usual,there were daily letters and telegrams passing between Viamede and Ion.Then Dr. Conly came home, and almost immediately on his arrival droveover to Ion to see for himself if his patient there had entirelyrecovered, and to carry some messages and tokens of affection from theabsent members of the family.
It was late in the afternoon that he reached Ion, and he found Edwardand Zoe sitting together in the parlor; she with a bit of embroidery inher hands, he reading aloud to her.
Arthur was very warmly welcomed by both.
"Cousin Arthur, I'm delighted to see you!" cried Zoe, giving him herhand.
"And I no less so," added Edward, offering his. "How did you leave themall at Viamede?"
"All in health, except, of course, the two little ones who have been soill," he said, taking the chair Edward drew forward for him; "and themwe consider out of danger, with the careful attention they are sure tohave."
"How have mamma and Vi stood the anxiety and nursing?" asked Edward.
"Quite as well as could have been expected. They have lost a little inflesh and color, but will, I think, soon regain both, now that theiranxiety is relieved.
"And you, Ned, are quite yourself again, I should say, fromappearances?"
"Yes; and I desire to give all credit to the nurse in whose charge youleft me," returned Edward, with a smiling glance at Zoe.
"As is but fair," said Arthur. "I discovered her capabilities before Ileft."
"She made the most of her delegated authority," remarked Edward gravely."I was allowed no will of my own, till I had so entirely recovered frommy injuries that she had no longer the shadow of an excuse for deprivingme of my liberty."
"I thought it was a good lesson for him," retorted Zoe. "I've readsomewhere that nobody is fit to rule who hasn't first learned to obey."
"Ah! but that I learned before I was a year old," said Edward, laughing.
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"Nobody would have thought it, seeing the trouble I had to make youobey," said Zoe.
"Now, cousin Arthur, tell us all about Viamede, and what you did and sawthere."
"It is a lovely place," he said. "I expected to be disappointed afterthe glowing accounts I had heard, but I feel like saying, 'The half hasnot been told me;'" and he plunged into an enthusiastic description ofthe mansion, its grounds, and the surrounding country.
"I was loath to leave it," he said in conclusion.
"And you make me more desirous to see it than ever," said Zoe.
"Oh, do tell us! had Capt. Raymond been heard from before you left? Wehave seen by the papers that the report of the loss of his vessel wasuntrue, and, of course, we were greatly relieved."
"Yes: letters came from him the day before I started for home.Fortunately, they had been able to keep the report from Vi and littleGracie; but May and Lulu had heard it, and were terribly distressed, Iwas told."
"They are very fond of their father," remarked Zoe.
"Yes, as they have good reason to be," said Arthur: "he is a noblefellow, and one of the best of husbands and fathers."
"Did you hear any thing in particular about Lulu?" Zoe asked.
"No, I think not," he said reflectively; "nothing but that she, May, andEvelyn Leland were staying, by invitation, at Magnolia Hall.
"Ah, yes! I remember now that Betty told me there had been some troublebetween uncle Horace and Lulu in regard to her taking lessons of amusic-teacher whom she greatly disliked; that, because of her obstinaterefusal, he had banished her from Viamede, entering her as a boarder atthe academy the children were all attending; but that her distress ofmind over the illness of her little sisters, and the sad report abouther father, had led her to submit."
"Much to Vi's relief, no doubt," remarked Edward. "Poor Vi! She isdevotedly attached to her husband, but Lulu is a sore thorn in herside."
"I don't believe she has ever acknowledged as much, or could be inducedto," said Zoe.
"No," assented Edward; "but it is evident to those who know her well,nevertheless. She tries hard to conceal the fact, and has wonderfulpatience with the wilful passionate child, really loving her for herfather's sake."
"And for her own, too, if I mistake not," Arthur said. "There issomething quite lovable about Lulu, in spite of her very seriousfaults."
"There is," said Edward. "I have felt it strongly myself at times. Sheis warm-hearted, energetic, very generous, and remarkablystraight-forward, truthful, and honest."
Dr. Conly had risen, as if to take leave.
"Now, cousin Arthur," said Zoe, "please sit down again; for we cannotlet you leave us till after tea."
Edward seconded the invitation.
"Thank you both," Arthur said, "but"--
"But--no buts," interrupted Zoe gayly. "I know you were about to pleadhaste; but there is the tea-bell now, so you will not be delayed; foryou have to take time for your meals."
"Then I accept," he said, "rejoicing in the opportunity to spend alittle longer time in your very pleasant society."