It seemed strange and forlorn to go into our large dining-room, and sit at the table all by myself, whilst James stood behind me and changed my plate, and handed me the dishes all in their proper order, as if I had been grown up. I was hungry, or rather, perhaps, stood in need of food, after the morning's exertions, but I felt quite surprised at my own utter indifference as to what I had to eat, when I had the opportunity of an entirely free selection. I took my one help of tart, and a single peach, without the shadow of a desire such as is common to children, and which I should in happier times unquestionably have shared, to improve the occasion by a little extra allowance.
I had scarcely finished when my mother came in for two or three minutes.
"Mamma," I said, running eagerly to her, "do tell me, will Aleck die?"
"My darling," she answered, "we cannot say how much he is hurt until the doctor comes;" and she stooped down to kiss away the tears that came to my eyes when I noticed the sad, quiet voice with which she spoke, so unlike Mr. Glengelly's cheerful, re-assuring manner. "You must pray to God, my child, that if it be His will he may recover, and try to cheer up, because there is still hope the injury may not prove very serious; we must hope for the best. I am going to bring papa up a glass of wine and a biscuit; will you carry up the plate for me?"
Just as we were going up-stairs, she added, to comfort me,—
"Willie, my child, how thankful I feel that you had nothing to do with the loss of the ship."
At which, observation—from her point of view, consolatory; from mine, like a dagger-thrust—I became so convulsed with sobs, that my mother slipped into the room where Aleck was, laid down the plate and the wine-glass, and returning again, took me down to the school-room, and simply devoted herself for some minutes to soothing me back into composure. She rose to go, but I clung to her dress; "Mamma, mamma," I entreated, "don't leave me, please don't leave me."
"I must leave you, Willie," she answered, "and you must try to bear up bravely for my sake, and for Aleck's. You will do what you can to help in this sad time of trouble, and not add to my distress by giving way like this. You are over-tired, I think, and had better take a book, and stay here for the present, and lie down on the sofa and rest. Afterwards, if you like, you can go in the garden."
I preferred remaining in the school-room; I could see the hall-door, and up the first flight of stairs, and could hear the opening and shutting of doors up-stairs, and occasional remarks from passers through the hall, so that I felt less lonely than I knew I should feel in the garden. Frisk came and sat with his fore-paws on my lap—he seemed aware that something had gone wrong—and wagged his tail, not merrily, but slowly and mournfully, as if to express, after his fashion, how truly he sympathized in our distress.
At last, once again there was the sound of wheels; it was the dog-cart this time, and Frisk threw back his head, pricked up his ears, and, with a quick bark, darted off to sanction the arrival of the doctor with his presence.