CHAPTER XXXII
THE DECISION
"The matter is settled," said the Reverend Stephen Lorimer, in the tonesof icy decision with which his wife was but too tragically familiar. "Iengaged Mrs. Denys to be a help to you, not exclusively to Jeanie. Thechild is quite well enough to return home, and I do not feel myselfjustified in incurring any further expense now that her health is quitesufficiently restored."
"But the children were all counting on going to Stanbury Cliffs for theEaster holidays," protested Mrs. Lorimer almost tearfully. "We cannotdisappoint them, Stephen!" Mr. Lorimer's lips closed very firmly for afew seconds. Then, "The change home will be quite sufficient for them,"he said. "I have given the matter my full consideration, my dearAdelaide, and no argument of yours will now move me. Mrs. Denys andJeanie have been away for a month, and they must now return. It is yourturn for a change, and as soon as Eastertide is over I intend to take youaway with me for ten days or so and leave Mrs. Denys in charge of--thebear-garden, as I fear it but too truly resembles. You are quite unfitfor the noise and racket of the holidays. And I myself have been feelinglately the need of a little--shall I call it recreation?" Mr. Lorimersmiled self-indulgently over the term. He liked to play with words. "Ipresume you have no vital objection to accompanying me?"
"Oh, of course not. I should like it above all things," Mrs. Lorimerhastened to assure him, "if it were not for Jeanie. I don't like thethought of bringing her home just when her visit is beginning to do herso much good."
"She cannot remain away for ever," said Mr. Lorimer. "Moreover, herdelicacy must have been considerably exaggerated, or such a suddenimprovement could scarcely have taken place. At all events, so it appearsto me. She must therefore return home and spend the holidays in wholesomeamusements with the other children; and when they are over, I really mustturn my serious attention to her education which has been so sadlyneglected since Christmas. Mrs. Denys is doubtless a very excellent womanin her way, but she is not, I fear, one to whom I could safely entrustthe intellectual development of a child of Jeanie's age." He paused,looking up with complacent enquiry at his wife's troubled face. "And nowwhat scruples are stirring in the mind of my spouse?" he asked, withplayful affection.
Mrs. Lorimer did not smile in answer. Her worried little face onlydrew into more anxious lines. "Stephen," she said, "I do wish youwould consult Dr. Tudor before you quite decide to have Jeanie homeat present."
The Vicar's mouth turned down, and he looked for a moment so extremelyunpleasant that Mrs. Lorimer quailed. Then, "My dear," he saiddeliberately, "when I decide upon a specific course of action, I carry itthrough invariably. If I were not convinced that what I am about to dowere right, I should not do it. Pray let me hear no more upon thesubject! And remember, Adelaide, it is my express command that you do notapproach Dr. Tudor in this matter. He is a most interfering person, andwould welcome any excuse to obtain a footing in this house again. But nowthat I have at length succeeded in shaking him off, I intend to keep himat a distance for the future. And he is not to be called in--understandthis very clearly, if you please--except in a case of extreme urgency.This is a distinct order, Adelaide, and I shall be severely displeased ifyou fail to observe it. And now," he resumed his lighter manner again ashe rose from his chair, "I must hie me to the parish room where my goodMiss Whalley is awaiting me."
He stretched forth a firm, kind hand and patted his wife's shoulder.
"We must see what we can do to bring a little colour into those palecheeks," he said. "A fortnight in the Cornish Riviera perhaps. Or wemight take a peep at Shakespeare's country. But we shall see, weshall see! I will write to Mrs. Denys and acquaint her with mydecision this evening."
He was gone, leaving Mrs. Lorimer to pace up and down his study in futiledistress of mind. Only that morning a letter from Avery had reached her,telling her of Jeanie's continued progress, and urging her to come andtake her place for a little while. It was such a change as her tired soulcraved, but she had not dared to tell her husband so. And now, it seemed,Jeanie's good time also was to be terminated.
There was no doubt about it. Rodding did not suit the child. She wasnever well at home. The Vicarage was shut in by trees, a damp, unhealthyplace. And Dr. Tudor had told her in plain terms that Jeanie lacked thestrength to make any headway there. She was like a wilting plant in thatatmosphere. She could not thrive in it. Dry warmth was what she needed,and it had made all the difference to her. Avery's letter had been fullof hope. She referred to Dr. Tudor's simile of the building of asea-wall. "We are strengthening it every day," she wrote. "In a few moreweeks it ought to be proof against any ordinary tide."
A few more weeks! Mrs. Lorimer wrung her hands. Stephen did not know,did not realize; and she was powerless to convince him. Avery would notconvince him either. He tolerated only Avery because she was so useful.
She knew exactly the sort of letter he would write, desiring theirreturn; and Avery, for all her quiet strength, would have to submit. Oh,it was cruel--cruel!
The tears were coursing down her cheeks when the door opened unexpectedlyand Olive entered. She paused at sight of her mother, looking at her withjust the Vicar's air of chill enquiry.
"Is anything the matter?" she asked.
Mrs. Lorimer turned hastily to the window and began to dry her eyes.
Olive went to a bookshelf and stood before it. After a moment she tookout a book and deliberately turned we leaves. Her attitude was plainlyrepressive.
Finally she returned the book to the shelf and turned. "Why are youcrying, Mother?"
Mrs. Lorimer leaned her head against the window-frame with a heavy sigh."I am very miserable, Olive," she said, a catch in her voice.
"No one need be that," observed Olive. "Father says that misery is a signof mental weakness."
Mrs. Lorimer was silent.
"Don't you think you had better leave off crying and find something todo?" suggested her daughter in her cool, young voice.
Still Mrs. Lorimer neither moved nor spoke.
Olive came a step nearer. There was obvious distaste on her face. "Iwish you would try to be a little brighter--for Father's sake," shesaid. "I don't think you treat him very kindly."
It was evident that she spoke from a sense of duty. Mrs. Lorimerstraightened herself with another weary sigh.
"Run along, my dear!" she said. "I am sure you are busy."
Olive turned, half-vexed and half-relieved, and walked to the door. Hermother watched her wistfully. It was in her mind to call her back, foldher in her arms, and appeal for sympathy. But the severity of the child'spose was too suggestive of the Vicar's unbending attitude towardsfeminine weakness, and she restrained the impulse, knowing that she wouldappeal in vain. There was infinitely more comfort to be found in thesociety of Baby Phil, and, smiling wanly at the thought, she went up tothe nursery in search of it.