'You are better than I am, mother. I can't feel anything but angry yet. But not with Tom. Oh! not with Tom! He is a hero,' cried poor little Trixy.
[CHAPTER LIV]
COMING BACK TO LIFE
Of the days that followed immediately I have neither space nor inclination to write many words. It was a time of deep anxiety in Gumilcund, where it soon became evident that the young rajah, who had battled so stoutly with hardship, difficulty, danger, and disappointment, was seriously ill. His spirit was high, but his bodily powers were not equal to the task of sustaining it. Though he kept about and did, to the best of his ability, the tasks that fell in his way, those in the palace, and indeed many beyond it, saw that his strength was failing daily. At last, and, as some of them said later, providentially, the crisis came. A chill caught in a night ride through the city brought on fever. For several days he lay hovering between life and death. Lady Elton used to say that this illness of Tom's saved both her and him from madness. He was compelled to obey the voice of nature, and keep quiet for a time. She, having to put her own poignant grief aside and to assume a cheerfulness which she was far from feeling, found life, with its homely joys and sorrows, take hold of her once more. Grace had gone away into the invisible, but these others remained; Tom, who had to be wooed back with the tenderest care to the paths of the living; Trixy, who had to be persuaded—poor, impulsive child!—that it was not wicked to be happy; Kit and Aglaia, who watched her to and fro with the most pitiful, beseeching eyes; Lucy, 'a very Niobe for tears'; and her dear old General, who sent urgent messages that she would take care of herself, and not add to his sorrow and remorse by leaving them when they wanted her the most.
Her first really joyful moment after Grace's death was when, with finger on lip but eyes dancing with pleasure, she looked in, after a long absence, on the little melancholy party in the pillared hall of the zenana and whispered, 'The rajah is better; he is sleeping naturally; the doctor gives hope.'
It was delightful to see the sad faces relax, and to hear the fervent congratulations. Up to this Lady Elton had allowed no one to take her place. She and Hoosanee, whose devotion was unlimited, took the severer part of the nursing between them. But now, when all crowded round her, entreating to be allowed to take their share, she chose out Mrs. Lyster to join her. She knew, by the instincts of her own sad heart, that the service would be a comfort and relief to her who had suffered more than any of them, and, indeed, the clever, resourceful little Irishwoman, with her bright ways, her ready smiles, and her unconquerable and delicious sense of humour, proved a most valuable assistant.
Never was man or woman more tenderly nursed than our young rajah. Later he used to tell his friends that they forced him back to life. It would have been the basest ingratitude on his part not to try to get better when they were all so anxious and careful for him. The vigorous constitution which he had inherited, and which no excess had ever spoiled, stood him in even better stead than the nursing. Life in him was far too strong to be fatally worsted in this first serious encounter with its foes. But it was a changed life. This, when he came amongst them again, they all recognised. It was a graver man—one not so prone to the exhibition of feeling—who rose from that bed of sickness. The boy, with his raptures, his poetic transports, and his passionate enthusiasms, had gone. The man, quiet, reserved, courteous, but withal stern and decided, had taken his place. The people, to whom he presented himself as soon as his doctor would permit the exertion, said that his resemblance to his predecessor, Byrajee Pirtha Raj, was more striking than ever.
Grace died in December. Before January had run its course the little party of ladies in the zenana had begun to break up. Travelling being once more possible, their relatives felt that it was not fair to tax the hospitality of the Rajah of Gumilcund any further.
Little Dick and his mother were the first to go; a haven in the hills had been provided for them until the spring, when they were to return to England.