Sick or well, she said, that word must be spoken. All she wanted of Mrs. Mason was to let her into his room a single minute—one minute—she would not ask for more. Only if Mrs. Mason did not want to see her die, she would help her to speak that one word.
There is something in passionate earnestness which will awake the most lethargic heart to energy, if that heart is kindly disposed. The stout housekeeper of the Hall had known and petted Ruth Jessup from the time she was old enough to carry her little apron full of fruit or flowers from the gardener's cottage to her room in the great mansion. It went to her heart to refuse anything to the fair young creature, who still seemed to her nothing more than a child; but the wild request, and the tearful energy with which it was urged, startled the good woman into sharp opposition.
"Mr. Walton! You wish to see him, Ruthy? Who ever heard of such a thing? It quite makes me tremble to think of it. What can a child like you want with the young master, and he sick in bed, with everybody shut out but the doctor, and wet ice-cloths on his head, night and day. I couldn't think of mentioning it. I wonder you could bring yourself to ask me. If it had been anything in my line now!"
"It is! It is! Kindness is always in your line, dear godmother!" pleaded the poor girl, putting one arm over the housekeeper's broad shoulders, and laying her pale cheek against the rosy freshness which bloomed in that of her friend. "I wouldn't ask you, only it is so important."
"But what can it be that you want to say, Ruthy? I cannot begin to understand it," questioned the old woman, faltering a little in her hastily expressed denial; for the soft-pleading kisses lavished on her face had their effect. "If you were not such a child now."
"But I am not a child, godmother."
"Hoity-toity! Is she setting herself up as a woman? Well, that does make me laugh. Why, it is but yesterday like since your mother came into this very room, such a pale, young thing, with you in her arms. She was weak then, with the consumption, that carried her off, burning like fire in her poor, thin cheeks, while you lay in her arms, plump as a pheasant, with those gipsy black eyes full of fire, and a crow of joy on your baby mouth. Ah, me! I remember it so well!"
"My poor young mother asked something of you then, didn't she?" said Ruth.
"Well, yes, she did. I mind it well. She had something on her heart, and came to me about it."
"And that was—"