CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.
MRS. CHESTER'S PLAN.
It was many days before Rhoda saw Miss Everett again, but, if she wasnot admitted to the sick room, her mother was a frequent and welcomevisitor, and took entire charge of the invalid while the nurse fulfilledher ordinary duties. There was little actual nursing to be done, butthe doctors were anxious to prevent solitary repinings, and to do whatwas possible to raise the spirits of their patient. Evie's own motherhad come down for a few days to satisfy herself concerning herdaughter's condition, but had been obliged to hurry back to theVicarage, where the invalid sister was growing worse rather than better,so that her presence could badly be spared. She was a worn, fadededition of Evie, and looked so typical of what the girl herself mightnow become that Rhoda could not bear to look at her. The two mothers,however, became great friends, for they met with a remembrance ofkindness on the one side, and an overwhelming sympathy on the other, andwere drawn together by hours of mutual anxiety. In each case the worstdread was unfulfilled, but what remained to be borne required all thefortitude which they could summon. The Vicar's wife saw one of theprops of the home disabled for life, and Mrs Chester's kind heart waswrung with anguish at the thought that her child had been the cause ofso much suffering. It seemed a strange dispensation of Providence thatshe, the main object of whose life had been to help her fellow-creatures, should have this burden laid upon her; but she bore ituncomplainingly, striving to cheer the poor woman whose lot was so muchharder than her own.
Before they parted she broached a scheme which she had been planning insecret, and, having received a willing consent, bided her opportunity tolay it before the invalid herself. It came at last one chillyafternoon, when Evie was laid on a sofa before the fire, as a sign thatconvalescence had really begun. The knee was still bound up, as it wasnot proposed that she should attempt to walk until the journey home hadbeen accomplished, and it was on this subject that Evie made her firstremark.
"I suppose," she began, looking at Mrs Chester with the brown eyeswhich had grown so pathetic in their gaze in the last few weeks, "Isuppose I can travel now, as soon as it can be arranged. I shall haveto be carried about at each of the changes, and it must be planned aheadin this busy season. I must speak to Miss Bruce, and ask her what I hadbetter do."
Mrs Chester bent forward and poked the fire in a flurried, embarrassedmanner; she knitted her brows, and her rosy face grew a shade deeper incolour.
"Er--yes," she assented vaguely. "Of course; but Evie, dear, I havebeen waiting to talk to you about something which has been very much onmy mind lately. We are leaving on Thursday, Rhoda and I, and are havinga through carriage and every possible appliance to make the journeyeasy, and I thought that it would be so much simpler for you, dear, totravel with us, and spend a few weeks at the Chase before going home!"
Evie smiled, with the languid courtesy with which an invalid listens toan impossible proposition.
"It is very kind of you," she said. "Some day I shall be glad to come,but not at present, thank you. I am not well enough to pay visits."
"But my child, it would not be like an ordinary visit; you should doexactly as you would in your own home--stay in bed, or get up, as youpleased, and make out your own programme for the day. You know me now,and can surely understand that you need feel no ceremony in coming to myhouse."
"No, indeed! You have been so kind to me all this time, that I shouldbe ungrateful if I did not realise that. I would rather be with youthan anyone else outside my own family, but--but--" the tears gatheredand rolled down the pale cheeks--"Oh, surely you understand that justnow I want to be at home with my own mother and father!"
"Yes, I do understand, poor dear; it would be unnatural if you feltanything else; but listen, Evie, it is for your parents' sake, as wellas for your own, that I urge you to come. You need constant care andnursing, and cheering up, and it would be very difficult for them tomanage all this just now. Your mother is overworked as it is, and hasalready one invalid on her hands; but if you come to us, the wholehousehold will be at your service. My kind old Mary shall be yournurse, and wait upon you hand and foot. I will drive you about so thatyou can get the air without fatigue, and you shall have your couchcarried into the conservatory off the drawing-room, and lie there amongthe flowers which you love so much. Every comfort that money can buyshall be yours to help to make you strong again. I say it in no spiritof boasting, dear, for we have been poor ourselves, and owe our richesto no merit of our own. We look upon them as a trust from God, to beused for the good of others even more than ourselves, and surely no onehad ever a nearer, stronger claim--"
Her voice broke off tremblingly, and Evie looked at her with a troubledglance.
"Dear Mrs Chester, you are so good! It all sounds most attractive andluxurious, and I am sure you would spoil me with kindness, but--would itnot be rather selfish? You say mother is overworked, and that is quitetrue; but, all the same, she might feel hurt if I chose to go somewhereelse."
"Now, I'll tell you all about it," cried Mrs Chester briskly, scentingvictory in the air, and beginning to smile again in her old cheeryfashion. "Your mother and I had a talk about it before she left. Shefelt grieved not to have you at home for Christmas, but for your ownsake was most anxious that you should come to us. She realised that itwould be better for you in every way, and the quickest means to the endwhich we all have in view, to make you well and strong again. She leftit to me to make the suggestion, but you will find that she is quitewilling, even anxious--"
"Yes," said Evie, and lay silently gazing at the heart of the fire. Thedowncast face looked very fair and fragile, but for the moment the oldsweetness was wanting. The lips were pressed together, the chin wasfixed and stubborn, outward signs of the mental fight which was going onbetween the impulse to give way, and a sore, sore feeling of injurywhich made it seem impossible to accept a favour from this quarter ofall others. The elder woman saw these signs, and read their meaningwith painful accuracy, and the exclamation which burst from her lipsstartled the invalid by its intensity.
"Oh, my lassie!" she cried. "Oh, my lassie, be generous! You have beensorely tried, and our hearts are broken to think of your trouble, butdon't you see this is the only way in which it is left to us to help?Sympathy and regret are abstract things, and can do no real good, for,though they ease our minds, they leave you untouched. My dear girl, canyou be generous enough to accept help from the hands that have injuredyou? It's a hard thing to ask--I know it is; but I am an old woman, andI plead with you to give us this opportunity! Let me be a mother toyou, dear, and ease your recovery in every way that I can. Money hasgreat power, and one never realises it more than in time of sickness. Ican spare you many a pain and discomfort if you will give me theopportunity, and my poor girl is fretting herself thin by brooding overthe past--it would be new life to her to be allowed to wait upon you!It's hard for you, dear, I know it's hard! You would rather cutyourself adrift from us, and never see us again; but it is in your powerto return good for evil--to lighten our trouble as no one else could do.Will you come, Evie?"
Evie looked into the quivering face, and her eyes shone--then the kindarms opened wide and the brown head nestled down on the broad, motherlyshoulder. There was no need for words, for the answer was given farmore eloquently in look and gesture.
"God bless you, my lassie!" murmured Mrs Chester fondly, and they satin silence together, gazing into the fire. A few tears rose in Evie'seyes and ran silently down her cheeks, but they were happy tears, withwhich were wiped away all remains of bitterness. There is no truer wayof forgiving our enemies than by consenting to be helped at their hands,and, if the effort be great, it brings with it an exceeding greatreward. At the end of ten minutes Evie raised her head from its restingplace and said, in her old, bright voice:
"Shall we ask Rhoda to tea? It is such a lovely fire, and you broughtin such a bountiful supply of cakes and good things that it seems greedyto keep them all to myself. As
k Rhoda to come in and help to make acosy little party."
Then, as Mrs Chester stooped to kiss her cheek, she whispered hastily,"Tell her not to mention the past--never to mention it again! We willturn over a new leaf to-day and think only of the future."