CHAPTER XLVIII.
THE NEW ENGLAND NURSE.
Madeleine, in spite of the positive denial she had received, experienced as strong a desire to be near her afflicted relative as though his yearning for her presence drew her to him by some species of powerful magnetism. The wildest plans careered through her brain. She thought of the days in Paris when she had so successfully assumed the garb of the sœur de bon secours, and kept nightly vigils beside the bed of Maurice. Was there no disguise under which she could make her way to the count? But the doubt that she could elude the countess's scrutinizing eyes,—the certainty of the violent scene which must ensue if Madame de Gramont discovered her,—made her reluctantly relinquish the attempt. Then she clung to the hope that her aunt would not, while Count Tristan lay in so perilous a condition, insist upon discharging Mrs. Lawkins. All uncertainty upon that head was quickly dispelled by the appearance of Mrs. Lawkins herself. The countess had peremptorily repeated her sentence of banishment, and refused to listen to her grandson's entreaties that she might be permitted to remain until a substitute could be procured. To search for that substitute was the sole work left for Madeleine's hands. She despatched the willing housekeeper to make inquiries among her acquaintances, and charged her to spare neither time nor expense. Few Europeans can imagine the difficulty of executing such a commission in America; but the Englishwoman had lived in Washington long enough to know that she had no light labor before her. She was too zealous, however, to return home until she had found a person who was fully qualified to fill her vacant post.
Maurice was sitting beside Madeleine when Mrs. Lawkins returned from her weary peregrinations and made known her success.
"I did not send for the nurse to come here," said Madeleine. "It seemed to me better for you, Maurice, to go and see her and engage her to enter upon her duties to-morrow morning. That will give you an opportunity this evening of preparing the countess for her reception."
Maurice acted upon Madeleine's suggestion, and, after a very brief conversation with Mrs. Gratacap, secured her services.
Mrs. Gratacap belonged to the "Eastern States," albeit the very opposite of oriental in her appearance and characteristics. She was a tall, angular, grave-visaged person, possessing such decided, common-place good sense that she came under the head of that feminine class which Dickens has taught the world to designate as "strong-minded." There was no "stuff and nonsense" about her; she had a due appreciation of her own estimable attributes, as well as a firm conviction of the equality of all mankind, or, more especially, womankind. When she accepted a situation, it was in the conscientious belief that the persons whom she undertook to serve were the indebted party; yet she was a faithful nurse and both understood and liked her vocation. In spite of her masculine bearing toward the rest of the world, she always treated her invalid charges with womanly gentleness.
When Maurice informed his grandmother that he had obtained a new garde malade, the countess at once asked,—