CHAPTER XXII
Touched and perplexed, Mr. Middleton gave over for the moment; but presently he had his opportunity to be extravagant. As soon as his wife was able to leave her room, the doctor ordered her to pass a portion of every day out-of-doors. This was partly to strengthen her lungs and partly for the moral effect. Doctor Fenwick feared that if she should revert to the long days upon her couch or bed with the novels and chocolates, the headache-powders or a substitute would follow, soon or late, with more perilous results. She submitted to his dictum with resignation, being, indeed, rather captivated by the idea.
Her husband and Elsie went into Boston and selected a rich and warm fur coat, fur-lined gloves and overshoes, and three warm, dark-colored serge dresses which were a great improvement upon the wrappers. On the day after she received them, Mrs. Middleton spent two hours on the porch with ill-concealed delight. And, thereafter, rising and breakfasting with the others, she passed the whole of every forenoon out-of-doors, not only with beneficial results but with continued enjoyment.
The sentimental aspect, of course, appealed to her strongly. Sometimes she pleased herself by fancying that the doctor had discovered that one of her lungs was quite gone and the other a mere fragment, and feared to tell her. On such days her voice was feeble but breathed the same sweet patience that her face wore. Again, it was her heart "outwearing its sheath," as she put it. Always, however, she felt herself an interesting and picturesque invalid, and her martyr-like expression scarcely disguised her enjoyment of the rôle.
Unconsciously, her somewhat torpid mental powers quickened. The house being on the main highway, there was always something to look at against the background of the beautiful common, and she conceived a vivid interest in the passing show. An active in lieu of a passive mind did its part in the improvement of her health. The tables were turned. Now it was she who told Kate that the Berrys had a fine new motor-truck, and had apparently disposed of their dappled greys to the grain-man—she only wished they traded with the grain-man—couldn't one buy oatmeal of him? And Rachel Stewart actually had a new dress in which she looked very trim, though it was too long right in the back. Perhaps Elsie could speak to her about it at the library? Little Robbie Caldwell had begun to go to school alone since the new baby had come. And they had a new perambulator and had given the old one to the Howes, which would make it easier for little Mattie.
People passing began to run up and ask the minister's wife how she did. She was never very well; but she was so sweetly patient and so truly grateful that they lingered and their visits became frequent; children came on Saturdays and made children's long flattering stays; and presently there was never a morning when she did not have some one, and often she was not alone at all. And thus it came about that for the first time she came to know many of her husband's parishioners with some familiarity.
More than one reversed their judgment, and almost every one revised it. Mrs. Middleton was sentimental—there was no gainsaying that; she was rather gushing. Yet she was truly kind-hearted, generous to a fault, thoughtful in many ways, with really keen intuition in certain directions. As people came again and again, she guessed many a hidden trouble or vexation, and her sympathy was warm and very grateful; while now and again she had a flash of inspiration that was marvellously helpful.
No one's revision of judgment was more sweeping, perhaps, than that of Elsie Marley. Somehow her former shrinking had quite disappeared during the long illness, and the change in Mrs. Middleton's appearance helped bridge the way to a better understanding. The old wrappers and tea-gowns had gone to the ragman. The new afternoon gowns Elsie had selected were yet prettier than the morning ones and very becoming. The out-of-door air had already almost made over her complexion: her skin looked healthy, her color was good; and with the new fashion of wearing her hair, she began to look attractive and almost pretty.
She had not curled her hair since her illness, and now it was soft and smooth and seemed warmer in color. The nurse having parted it one day when Mrs. Middleton was convalescent, and coiled it upon her head simply, had declared it made her look like a Raphael madonna. The allusion was far-fetched, but it touched Mrs. Middleton's sentimental fancy, and she adopted that style of hair-dressing permanently.
In the morning, Elsie attended to her household duties and helped the minister. She fell now into the habit of spending the early part of the afternoon with Mrs. Middleton, going over to the library just before four. Doctor Fenwick having suggested knitting as a soothing indoor occupation, his patient sent for an immense quantity of wool—enough to keep half a dozen pairs of hands busy all winter—and began to make red-white-and-blue afghans for the Labrador Mission. Whereupon Elsie proposed reading to her while she worked. Mrs. Middleton was delighted, but when Elsie got "Adam Bede" from the shelves, she confessed that it tired her head. "Henry Esmond" was likewise too heavy, and Elsie groaned inwardly, expecting to be asked to read some of the paper-covered novels she was addicted to. She said to herself she simply couldn't: she had never in her life read any such trash and she would have to excuse herself. Then, looking up, something made her change her mind and decide to be a martyr. But before she could speak Mrs. Middleton herself had a happy inspiration.
"Oh, Elsie, I know what I'd just love to hear," she cried, "and what my poor head could take in as it couldn't Thackeray to-day, though when I'm strong I dote on him—I always took naturally to the classics. But now I feel like one of Miss Alcott's books. I suppose you have read them over and over?" she asked rather wistfully.
Elsie confessed that she had never done so, but would be glad to make their acquaintance.
Mrs. Middleton was truly amazed—as was the minister, indeed; for his sister had known them almost by heart. They had the whole set in the house, and Elsie began with "Little Women" that afternoon.
For the first time she was reluctant to go to the library when the hour approached. It was hard to stop reading. And they laughed together in an easy, natural way that was quite new to their intercourse as each exacted a promise from the other not to look at the story again until they should go on with it together.
They went through the whole set that winter and sighed when they had come to the last volume. Perhaps no single thing had influenced Elsie Marley more than the reading those sweet, wholesome stories at that time and in that manner. She had already changed much, and was perhaps just ready for the influence. Reading them with Mrs. Middleton, she was drawn to her as she would never have believed it to be possible, as they laughed and cried together over the pranks and trials, joys and sorrows of those New England boys and girls of a singularly happy generation. And, unawares, she was strengthened for the hour of trial that was to come to her as it comes to every one that tampers with the laws that are inherent in the structure of the universe.
Meantime, circumstances were leading on toward that hour.