CHAPTER XIX.
A CATASTROPHE.
bout three weeks after my mistress’s visit something very terrible happened. I wish the history of that day would get itself told without the pain of telling it. My life has been a happy one, thank God! I have been “led by paths that I have not known,” but even now I never look back upon that day without a shudder. Oh, Reggie, my darling! But God was good to us, and the danger passed; still, it will be only in heaven that we may bear to look back on past perils without dimness of eyes and failing of heart!
I had never left Rolf alone with the children for a moment since Judson had told me of his mischievous propensities. I had grown fond of Rolf, and he was certainly very much improved; but I always felt he was not to be trusted, and either Hannah or I kept a strict guard over him. He was never permitted to enter the nursery in the morning; if we went out, he joined us, as a matter of course; but more than once when he begged for admittance I had refused it decidedly. Hannah was always busy in the morning, and the children slept for an hour, and if there were time I liked to take Joyce to her lessons, or to set her some baby-task of needlework, and Rolf always made her so rough.
On a rainy afternoon or in the evening she would be allowed to romp with Rolf, and they always played together on the beach. Rolf was more in his element out of doors. Judson had been very unwell for some days; she was a sickly sort of body, and was often ailing; but just then she had a threatening of quinsy, and seemed very feverish and suffering.
Her room was close to the nursery, and it was only sheer humanity for Hannah or myself to go in now and then and see what we could do for her. I had got it into my head that she was somewhat neglected by the other servants. I know Gay thought so, for she asked me to do what I could for her.
She had been ordered some linseed poultices that morning, and Mrs. Markham had come up to the nursery and asked me very civilly if I would apply them, as the upper housemaid was away, and Susan was very clumsy and helpless.
“I will stay with the children,” she said, quite graciously, for her; “and Hannah is here.” And as I knew Rolf was in the garden with his aunt, I could not find a loophole for excuse. I do not think I was wrong now, for how could I have refused such a request? But the fates were against me. That is a foolish and untrue expression, but I will let it stand.
The poultices were far from hot, and poor Judson, who seemed in great pain and very nervous about herself, begged me to go down to the housekeeper’s room and make some more. “It is no use Susan making them, and Mrs. Rumble is always so busy,” she whispered; “do go yourself, Miss Fenton, and then I shall be more sure of hot ones.”
The housekeeper’s room lay at the end of a long passage leading from the hall, shut in with red baize doors. These swing doors deadened sound, and that was why I did not hear Rolf come in from the garden and scamper upstairs.
The front-door bell rang immediately afterwards, and some visitors were asked into the drawing-room. I knew Gay was about the premises, and the idea never crossed my mind that Mrs. Markham would desert her post and leave the three children alone in the nursery; but I heard afterwards that this was the case. An old Indian friend had called, and Mrs. Markham had desired Rolf to summon Hannah from the night nursery; but Rolf, who was seldom obedient to his mother, had simply ignored the order.
I was some little time in the housekeeper’s room. The kettle did not boil, and I was compelled to wait. I was rather impatient at the delay. As I stood talking to Mrs. Rumble, I saw Mr. Hawtry ride up to the front door.
I succeeded at last in making the poultices. Judson was very grateful to me, and thanked me warmly as I put them on. I had just covered her over comfortably and taken from her the red woollen shawl in which she had wrapped herself, when a sudden report, as though from a toy cannon, and then a piercing scream from the nursery, made me start as though I had been shot, for the scream was from Joyce.
The next instant I was in the nursery, but, oh, merciful heavens! the sight that met my eyes. Hannah had just opened the door. Rolf and Joyce were huddled together on the window seat, beside themselves with terror, and there stood Reggie in the middle of the room with his pinafore and white frock in flames! I must have uttered a scream that roused the house, and then it seemed to me as though I knew nothing, and felt nothing except the smarting pains in my arm and shoulder. I had thrown the child on the floor and covered him with my body, and the woollen shawl was between us, and I was crushing the dear life almost out of him with that terrible pressure.
I seemed to know instinctively that nothing else could save him. Happily, I wore a stuff dress, for there was no rug or carpet in the nursery, and, with the open door and windows, another moment would have been too late. I could hear Reggie’s piteous cries, but I dare not release him; I must crush and smother the flames. There was the terrible smell of burning, the singeing of stuff, a sudden uproar round me, confused voices and exclamations. I seemed to hear Gay’s voice crying, “Oh, Merle! you will smother the child!” And then strong arms lifted me off Reggie. I knew it was Mr. Hawtry; no one else could have done it. His grasp gave me intense agony, and I tried to free myself.
“Let me go; I must see if he is hurt.” But Gay had him already in her lap, and I knelt down beside her and examined him carefully.
His frock and pinafore were hanging in blackened shreds around him, but there was only a large hole burnt in his flannel petticoat, and one of his dear little legs was scorched; not a curl of his hair was singed, and only one hand had sustained a slight injury. They said there were bruises on him that I had caused by my violence, but that was all, Mrs. Markham assured me; there were tears in her eyes, and her face was as white as death as she said it.
“The little fellow will soon be all right,” observed Mr. Hawtry, kindly; “he has been frightened and hurt that makes him cry so. But now it is time your wounds should be dressed, Miss Fenton.”
I looked at him as though I failed to comprehend his meaning, but he pointed to my arms with such a pitying expression on his face, that I looked too. My sleeves were hanging in shreds like Reggie’s frock, and there were large burns on each arm; my right shoulder felt painful, too; a faint sickening sensation seemed creeping over me. I must have got my arms under him or I should not have been so badly burnt, and some of my hair was singed. When Gay touched me gently I shuddered with pain, and they all looked at me very gravely.
“We must have Dr. Staples, Roger,” observed Mrs. Markham; “her arms must be properly dressed.”
“I will go for him at once,” returned Mr. Hawtry, “but I advise you to give her a little wine or brandy; she looks faint with pain.” And then he went away, and we could hear him galloping down the avenue and along the road.
I drank what they gave me, but I refused to lie down until Reggie had been undressed. I would not be persuaded without the evidence of my own eyes that he had sustained no serious injury. I suppose his scorched leg pained him, for he still cried incessantly and beat us off in his usual fashion, but when Hannah had dressed him in his nice clean frock, he grew pacified at the sight of his blue ribbons, and only said, ‘Poor, poor,’ as he pointed to me. He wanted to come on my lap, but when I tried to take him I turned so faint, that Gay looked frightened and snatched him away.
I wanted to know what had become of Rolf, but Mrs. Markham said, sternly, and her lips were still very pale, that she had sent him to his room. “Tell me how it happened, Joyce,” she continued, drawing the child to her. “I told Rolf to fetch Hannah; did she not come to you?”
“Rolf didn’t fetch her, Aunt Adda; he said he was a big boy, and would take care of us. Poor Rolf did not mean to be naughty, did he, nurse?”
“Rolf must be severely punished for his disobedience; he has nearly killed your little brother, Joyce. Tell me what Rolf did after that.”
“He asked me if I would not like to see his dear little cannon that went pop when he told it,” went on Joyce, looking extremely frightened. “I did not know cannons were wicked things, and I said yes, and Rolf showed us the cannon, and told us to get out of the way, for it would kill us dead, and I runned, and baby clapped his hands and runned the wrong way, and Rolf had fire in his hand, like Hannah lights the candles with, and baby’s pinafore got on fire, and I screamed as hard as I could for nurse.”
It must have been just as Joyce said, for the toy cannon was on the floor, and a box of matches beside it. Probably Rolf had not seen Reggie beside him, and had thrown the lighted match aside in his excitement. Mrs. Markham sighed deeply as she listened. She had sustained a severe shock; her face looked very dark and rigid as she left the room. I was afraid she meant to punish Rolf severely, and begged Gay to follow her and plead for mercy.
“Rolf has had a fright that will last him for life; his terror has been punishment enough.” But Gay shook her head.
“It is no use interfering with Adelaide; she will take her own way. I am sorry for Rolf; but he deserves any punishment he gets. Reggie would have been burnt to death but for your presence of mind, Merle; none of us could have reached the nursery in time. Mr. Hawtry said so at once.”
Reggie burnt to death! and then my mistress would have died, too; she could not have survived the horror of that shock. I begged Gay faintly not to say such things; the bare mention of it turned me sick. I suppose she was alarmed by my ghastly look, for she kissed me, and said, soothingly, that I must not distress myself so; we could only be thankful that Reggie was safe.
Dr. Staples came soon after that. He was a benevolent-looking old man, and was very kind and gentle. He said one of my arms, the left one, was severely burnt, and that it would be some little time before it was healed. “These things depend a great deal on constitution; but you seem strong and healthy, Miss Fenton, so I hope you will soon be right again; but you must not expect to lose the scars.”
I was sorry to hear that, for I knew the scars would remind me of a terrible hour in my life. The dressing was very painful, and when it was finished I was compelled to follow Dr. Staples’s advice and go to bed. I was suffering from the shock, and I knew my arms would be useless to me for a week to come. I felt shaken and sick, and unable to bear the childish voices.
Gay followed me into the night nursery and gave me all the help she could, and she did not leave me until my head was on the lavender-scented pillow. In spite of pain and dizziness, it was nice to lie there and hear the birds twittering under the eaves and the bees humming about the flowers, and to look out on the sunshine and feel a great mercy had been vouchsafed to me, that I had not been suffered to fail in the hour of peril.
Gay hung up her cage of canaries in the window to divert my mind, and laid a bunch of dark clove carnations, with a late rose or two among them, on the quilt.
“Mr. Hawtry is still here, Merle; he is very anxious to know if you are in less pain, and whether there is anything he can do for you. He seems quite grieved because Dr. Staples says your arm is badly burnt.”
I sent a civil message of thanks to Mr. Hawtry, and then I detained Gay a moment.
“Miss Gay, you must write to Mr. Morton yourself. I have promised your sister to tell her everything; but it will shock her too much, and I think Mr. Morton should know first.”
Gay looked distressed.
“Need we tell them, Merle? Violet is not at all well; Alick said so in his letter this morning. Scotland does not seem to suit her, and he thinks they will soon come home.”
“And they have not been away a month yet,” I observed, regretfully; “not more than three weeks and two days, and Mr. Morton is so fond of Scotland.”
“Alick thinks more of Vi than deer-stalking. If she be not well he will bring her home without a word of grumbling. In some respects Alick is a very good husband. Why need we say anything about the accident, Merle? Reggie is scarcely hurt at all; his scorched leg will soon get right.”
“It is not fair to keep anything from them. I promised I would tell everything, and my mistress must know I am invalided and cannot do my duty.”
“You need not fret about that,” she returned, cheerfully. “Susan shall help Hannah, and I will be here as much as possible. I am a famous nurse. We will make Mrs. Rumble wait on Judson. Very well, Merle, I will write to Alick; but I would much rather not.”
I had forgotten poor Judson, but I did not forget Rolf; I asked several times after him, but Gay had not seen him. Rolf was in disgrace, and a close prisoner to his room. He had had his dinner sent up to him; but Adelaide was lying down in her own room all the afternoon with a bad headache, and, as Rolf’s communicated with hers, no one could visit him unperceived.
I wondered if Mrs. Markham’s eyes were at last opened to the danger of Rolf’s disobedience and her own faulty management. She was to blame as much as the child. She had given me her word to remain in the nursery, and no visitors should have tempted her from her post. It was no surprise to me to hear she was ill with worry; her conscience must have reproached her for her breach of trust. If Reggie had been killed, his death would have been owing to her carelessness. Later on in the evening, just as it was getting dusk, Gay came to me for a minute with a plate of fine fruit in her hand. They had tempted me all day long with delicacies, but I had felt too ill to eat. The fruit just suited me, for I was feverish with pain.
“Adelaide has just come downstairs,” she said, with a droll little laugh. “Mr. Rossiter had heard of the accident, and had dropped in to inquire, so father kept him to dinner. When Adelaide heard that, she came down as soon as possible, and there she sits, looking like a ghost, until Mr. Rossiter takes his departure.”
“And Rolf?”
“Oh, I suppose Rolf is asleep,” she returned, carelessly; and as she was evidently in a hurry to return to the drawing-room, I would not keep her; but as soon as she had closed the door a sudden idea came into my head. I would go and see Rolf myself; I was not easy about him. I knew his mother could be too severe even with her idolised boy on occasions, but I never could bear a child to be long unhappy. I rose very quietly, so as not to disturb the children, and threw on my dressing-gown. I was rather afraid my white face and bandaged arms would frighten Rolf, until I remembered it was dusk, and he could not see me distinctly.
Mrs. Markham’s suite of rooms lay in the west corridor. I knew no one would be about; poor Judson was in bed, so I reached Rolf’s room without interruption. I thought I heard him sobbing softly to himself as I opened the door. When I spoke to him, making my way through the summer twilight to his little bed, he started up and held out his arms.
“Oh, Fenny, is that really you, dear Fenny? Do come close and let me feel you. I have been thinking of such horrid things.”
I told him gently that I was in great pain, and that he must not touch me, but that I would sit down for a little while beside him and talk to him.
“But I may hold your hand,” he pleaded. “Is your hand burnt too, Fenny, or don’t you like to touch me because I am such a wicked boy, as mother says, and very nearly killed poor little Reggie?”
My heart melted at his pitiful tone, and I stooped over him and kissed his hot face.
“You may hold my hand, Rolf, dear, if you like; it is only my arms that are hurt; there, we are comfortable now. Tell me, have you had a very miserable day?”
“Oh, so miserable!” and there were tears in Rolf’s voice. “Mother has been so angry; she shut me up in this room though it was such a fine day, and would not let anyone speak to me, and I could not get her to answer although I said over and over again that I was sorry and would not have hurt Reggie for the world, he is such a dear little fellow, you know. Oh! I am so fond of him. But mother said no, she would not listen; I had disobeyed her, and nearly killed Reggie, and that Aunt Violet would never speak to me again.”
“Oh, yes she will, Rolf.”
“But if Reggie had been really burnt, you know,” and here Rolf shivered; his hand was quite cold though his face was burning. He was a nervous, excitable child, and no doubt this long summer’s day had been a martyrdom to him. He had conjured up all sorts of horrible fancies to haunt his dreams. Yes, he had been sufficiently punished, I was sure of that.
“Tell me how it happened, dear,” I said, quietly.
“I was firing my cannon to please Joyce. I know mother told me never to take it in the nursery, and that she did not like my lighting it unless Judson had the matchbox, but I forgot.”
“Did you really forget, Rolf?”
“Yes, really I did; I never do remember things, you know. I was only thinking how Joyce would scream when the cannon popped. I told them to get out of the way, only Reggie, poor little fellow, ran against me and knocked the match out of my hand—it was alight, you know—and then Joyce did scream, and,” but here Rolf buried his head in the pillow; the recollection was evidently too painful. “You will all hate me,” he sobbed, “because I nearly killed Reggie—you and Aunt Violet, and I do love Aunt Violet, because she is so pretty.”
“No one will hate you, my poor child; we are only sorry that the son of a brave soldier like Colonel Markham should be such a coward as to disobey his mother. Your mother told you to fetch Hannah. Did you forget that too, Rolf?”
“No,” in a conscience-stricken voice, “I did not forget, Fenny, but I thought it would be fun to take care of the children.”
“But it was disobedience, Rolf, just as much as your coming into the nursery at that time you took advantage of my absence first, and then of your mother’s. I think a brave soldier like your father would call that cowardly. Now, I want you to listen to a story about the bravest boy of whom I ever heard.” And as I stroked his rough head I told him the story of Casabianca and the burning ship.
(To be continued.)
