Nurse Heatherdale's Story Page 9

  CHAPTER IX

  UPSET PLANS

  But, as everybody knows, things in this world seldom turn out as theyare planned.

  There was a great deal of writing and considering about Master Francis'sschool, and I could see that both Sir Hulbert and my lady had it much ontheir minds. They would never have thought of sending him anywhere butof the best, but in those days schools, even for little boys, cost, Ifancy, quite as much or more than now. And I can't say but what I thinkthat the worry and the difficulty about it rather added to his aunt'sprejudice against the boy.

  However, before long, all was settled, the school was chosen and thevery day fixed, and in our different ways we began to get accustomed tothe idea. Master Francis, I could see, had two quite opposite ways oflooking at it: he was bitterly sorry to go, to leave the home and thosein it whom he loved so dearly, more dearly, I think, than any oneunderstood. And he took much to heart also the fresh expenses for hisuncle. But, on the other hand, he was eager to get on with his learning;he liked it for its own sake, and, as he used to say to me sometimeswhen we were talking alone--

  'It's only by my mind, you know, nurse, that I can hope to be good foranything. If I had been strong and my leg all right, I'd have been asoldier like papa, I suppose.'

  'There's soldiers and soldiers, you must remember, Master Francis,' Iwould reply. 'There's victories to be won far greater than those on thebattlefield. And many a one who's done the best work in this world hasbeen but feeble and weakly in health.'

  His eyes used to brighten up when I spoke like that. Sometimes, too, Iwould try to cheer him by reminding him there was no saying but what hemight turn out a fairly strong man yet. Many a delicate boy got improvedat school, I had heard.

  But alas!--or 'alas' at least it seemed at the time--everything waschanged by what happened that winter.

  It was cold, colder than is usual in this part of the world, and Ithink Master Francis had got it in his head to try and harden himself byway of preparing for school life. My lady used to say little thingssometimes, with a good motive, I daresay, about not minding the cold andplucking up a spirit, and what her brothers used to do when they wereyoung, all of which Master Francis took to heart in a way she would notthen have believed if she had been told it. Dear me! it is strange tothink of it, when I remember how perfectly in later years those two cameto understand each other, and how nobody--after she lost her goodhusband--was such a staff and support to her, such a counsellor andcomfort, as the nephew she had so little known--her 'more than son,' asI had often heard her call him.

  But I am wandering away from my story. I was just getting to MasterFrancis's illness. How it came about no one could really tell. It is notoften one can trace back illnesses to their cause. Most often I fancythere are more than one. But just after Christmas Master Francis beganwith rheumatic fever. We couldn't at first believe it was going to beanything so bad. For my lady's sake, and indeed for everybody's, I triedto cheer up and be hopeful, in spite of the doctor's gloomy looks. Itwas a real disappointment to myself and took down my pride a bit, for Ihad done my best by the child, hoping to start him for school as strongand well as was possible for him. And any one less just and fair than mylady might have had back thoughts, such as damp feet, or sheets notaired enough, or chills of some kind, that a little care might haveavoided.

  It was my belief that he had been feeling worse than usual for sometime, but never a complaint had he made, perhaps he wouldn't own it tohimself.

  It wasn't till two nights after Christmas that, sitting by the nurseryfire, just after Miss Augusta had been put to bed, he said to me--

  'Nurse, I can't help it, my leg is so dreadfully bad, and not my legonly, the pain of it seems all over. I'm _all_ bad legs to-night,' andhe tried to smile. 'May I go to bed now, and perhaps it will be allright in the morning?'

  I _was_ frightened! Sir Hulbert and my lady were dining out thatevening, which but seldom happened, and when I got over my start alittle I wasn't sorry for it, hoping that a good night might show it wasnothing serious.

  We got him to bed as fast as we could. There was no going down todessert that evening, so Miss Bess and Miss Lalage set to work to helpme, like the womanly little ladies they were; one of them runningdownstairs to see about plenty of hot water for a good bath and hotbottles, and the other fetching the under housemaid to see to a fire inhis room. I doubt if he had ever had one before. Bedroom fires were notin my lady's rule, and I don't hold with them myself, except in illnessor extra cold weather.

  He cheered up a little, and even laughed at the fuss we made. And beforehis uncle and aunt returned he was sound asleep, looking quiet andcomfortable, so that I didn't think it needful to say anything to themthat night. But long before morning, for I crept upstairs to his roomevery hour or two, I saw that it was not going off as I had hoped. Hestarted and moaned in his sleep, and once or twice when I found himawake, he seemed almost lightheaded, and as if he hardly knew me. Once Iheard him whisper: 'Oh! it hurts so,' as if he could scarcely bear it.

  About five o'clock I dressed myself and took up my watch beside him. Mylady was an early riser; by eight o'clock, in answer to a message fromme, she was with us herself in her dressing-gown. Master Francis wasawake.

  'O my lady!' I said, 'I'd no thought of bringing you up so early, andyou were late last night too.' For they had had a long drive. 'It wasonly that I dursn't take upon me to send for the doctor without asking.'

  'No, no, of course not,' she said. And indeed that was a liberty my ladywould not have been pleased with any one's taking. 'Do you really thinkit necessary?'

  The poor child was looking a little better just then, the pain was notso bad. He seemed quiet and dreamy-like, though his face was flushed andhis eyes very bright.

  'Auntie!' he said, smiling a very little; 'how pretty you look!'

  'Auntie!' he said, smiling a very little; 'how pretty youlook!']

  And so she did in her long white dressing-gown, with her lovely fairhair hanging about, for all the world like Miss Lally's.

  I think myself the fever was on his brain a little already, else hewould scarce have dared speak so to his aunt.

  She took no notice, but drew me out of the room.

  'What in the world's the matter with him?' she said, anxious and yetirritated at the same time. 'Has he been doing anything foolish that canhave made him ill?'

  I shook my head.

  'It's seldom one can tell how illness comes, but I feel sure the doctorshould see him,' I replied.

  So he was sent for, and before the day was many hours older, there waslittle doubt left--though, as I said before, I tried for a bit to hopeit was only a bad cold--that Master Francis was in for something veryserious.

  Almost from the first the doctor spoke of rheumatic fever. There was asort of comfort in this, bad as it was--the comfort of knowing there wasno infection to fear. It was a great comfort to Master Francis himself,whenever he felt the least bit easier, now and then to see his cousinsfor a minute or two at a time, without any risk to them. For one of hisfirst questions to the doctor was whether his illness was anything theothers could catch.

  After that for a few days he was so bad that he could really think ofnothing but how to bear the pain patiently. Then when he grew a shadebetter, he began thinking about going to school.

  'What was the day of the month? Would he be well, _quite_ well, by the20th, or whatever day school began? Uncle would be _so_ disappointed ifit had to be put off'--and so on, over and over again, till at last Ihad to speak, not only to the doctor, but to Sir Hulbert himself, aboutthe way the boy was worrying in his mind.

  The doctor tried to put him off by saying he was getting on famously,and such-like speeches. A few quiet words from Sir Hulbert had far moreeffect.

  'My dear boy,' he said gravely, 'what you have to do is to try to getwell and not fret yourself. If it is God's will that your going toschool should be put off, you must not take it to heart. You're not insuch a hurry to leave us as all that, are
you?'

  The last few words were spoken very kindly and he smiled as he saidthem. I was glad of it, for I had not thought his uncle quite as tenderof the boy as he had used to be. They pleased Master Francis, I couldsee, and another thought came into his mind which helped to quiet him.

  'Anyway, nurse,' he said to me one day, 'there'll be a good deal ofexpense saved if I don't go to school till Easter.'

  It never struck him that there are few things more expensive thanillness, and as I had no idea till my lady told me that the term had tobe paid for, whether he went to school or not, I was able to agree withhim.

  I was deeply sorry for my lady in those days. Some might be hard uponher, for not forgetting all else in thankfulness that the child's lifewas spared, and I know she tried to do so, but it was difficult. Andwhen she spoke out to me one day, and told me about the schooling havingto be paid all the same, I really did feel for her; knowing through Mrs.Brent, as I have mentioned, all the past history of the troubles broughtabout by poor Master Francis's father.

  'I hope he'll live to be a comfort to you yet, if I may say so, my lady,and I've a strong feeling that he will,' I said (she reminded me ofthose words long after), 'and in the meantime you may trust to Mrs.Brent and me to keep all expense down as much as possible, while seeingthat Master Francis has all he needs. I'm sure we can manage without asick-nurse now.'

  For there had been some talk of having one sent for from London, thoughin those days it was less done than seems the case now.

  And after a while things began to mend. It was not a _very_ bad attack,less so than we had feared at first. In about ten days' time Mrs. Brentand Susan the housemaid and I, who had taken it in turns to sit up allnight, were able to go to bed as usual, only seeing to it that the firewas made up once in the night, so as to last on till morning, and theday's work grew steadily lighter.

  Once they had finished their lessons, the little girls were always eagerto keep their cousin company. He was only allowed to have them one at atime. Miss Bess used to take the first turn, but it was hard work forher, poor child, to keep still, though it grew easier for her when itgot the length of his being able for reading aloud. But Miss Lally fromthe first was a perfect model of a little sick-nurse. Mouse was no wordfor her, so still and noiseless and yet so watchful was she, and if evershe was left in charge of giving him his medicine at a certain time, Icould feel as sure as sure that it wouldn't be forgotten. When he wasinclined to talk a little, she knew just how to manage him--how to amusehim without exciting him at all, and always to cheer him up.

  The weather was unusually bad just then, though we did our best toprevent Master Francis feeling it, by keeping his room always at aneven heat, but there were many days on which the young ladies couldn'tget out. Altogether it was a trying time, and for no one more than formy lady.

  I couldn't help thinking sometimes how different it would have been ifMaster Francis had been her own child, when the joy of his recoveringwould have made all other troubles seem nothing. I felt it both for herand for him, though I don't think he noticed it himself; and after all,now that I can look back on things having come so perfectly right,perhaps it is foolish to recall those shadows. Only it makes the pictureof their lives more true.

  Through it all I could see my lady was trying her best to have none butkind and nice feelings.

  'The doctor says that though Francis will really be almost as well asusual in three or four weeks from now, there can be no question of hisgoing to school for ever so long--perhaps not at all this year.'

  'Dear, dear,' I said. 'But you won't have to go on paying for it all thesame, my lady?'

  She smiled at this.

  'No, no, not quite so bad as that, only this one term, which is paidalready. Sir Hulbert might have got off paying it if he had reallyexplained how difficult it was. But that's just the sort of thing itwould really be lowering for him to do,' and she sighed. 'The doctorsays too,' she went on again, 'that by rights the boy should have acourse of German baths, that might do him good for all his life; but howwe _could_ manage that I can't see, though Sir Hulbert is actuallythinking of it. I doubt if he would think of it as much if it were forone of our own children,' she added rather bitterly.

  'He feels Master Francis a sort of charge, I suppose,' I said, meaningto show my sympathy.

  'He is a charge indeed,' said his aunt. 'And to think that all this timehe might have been really improving at school.'

  I could say nothing more, but I did grieve that she couldn't take thingsin a different spirit.

  'It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good.' Miss Lally had a finetime for her knitting just then, with Master Francis out of the way. Ofcourse if he had been at school there would have been no difficulty, andshe had planned to have his socks ready to send him on his birthday, theend of March. Now she had got on so fast--one sock finished and the heelof the other turned, though not without many sighs and even a fewtears--that she hoped to have them as a surprise the first day he camedown to the nursery.

  'I'll have to begin working in the attic again, after that,' she said tome, 'for I'm going to make a pair for baby.'

  'That's to say if the weather gets warmer,' I said to her. 'Youcertainly couldn't have sat up in the attic these last few weeks, MissLally.'