Some little time had passed before Arthur looked up; then gazing round, as if seeking something, he said, ‘Where is he?’
‘Johnnie? He is gone, he did not know you were awake. Shall I send for him?’
‘For all.’
They came; but he was made to feel that he had disregarded them too long. They had never been familiarized with him; seldom saw him, and were kept under restraint in his presence; and there was no intimacy to counteract the fright inspired by his present appearance. Ghastly pale, with a hectic spot on each cheek, with eyes unnaturally bright and dilated, and a quantity of black hair and whiskers, he was indeed a formidable object to the little girls; and Violet was more grieved than surprised when Annie screamed with affright, and had to be carried away instantly; and Helen backed, with her hands behind her, resisting all entreaties and remonstrance, and unheeding his outstretched hand. The child was of so determined and wilful a nature, that Violet dreaded an outbreak if she were too much pressed, and was forced to let her go—though much grieved, both for the distress that it gave Arthur, and for the thought of how his daughter might remember it by and by.
They supposed that Johnnie had gone with his sisters, but at the end of half an hour became aware that he had ever since been standing, almost hidden by the curtain, satisfied with merely being in the room. The fair face, so delicately tinted, the dark shady eyes, lovingly and pensively fixed on his father, and the expression, half mournful, half awe-struck, were a touching sight in so young a child, and Arthur seemed so to feel it. He signed to him to come near; and with a flush, between joy and fear, the little boy was instantly at his side. One hot hand enfolded the small soft cool one, the other pressed fondly on the light silken waves of hair. After thus holding him for some moments, he tried to speak, in whispering breathless gasps of a word at a time.
‘You’ll comfort her!’ and he looked towards his mother, ‘You’ll take care of the others—will you?’
‘If I can. God takes care of us,’ said Johnnie, wistfully, as if striving to understand, as he felt the pressure redoubled on hand and head, as if to burn in what was uttered with such difficulty and danger.
‘Tell your grandfather I trust you all to him. He must forgive. Say so to him. You’ll be a better son to him than I. When you know all, don’t remember it against me.’
He could say no more, it had brought on a fit of coughing and breathlessness, through which he scarcely struggled. Silence was more than ever enforced; but throughout the day the oppression was on the increase, especially towards the evening, when he became excited by the expectation of his father’s arrival. He sat, pillowed high up, each respiration an effort that spread a burning crimson over his face, while eye and ear were nervously alert.
‘Arthur is very ill, and begs to see you,’ was the telegraphic message that filled the cottage at Brogden with consternation. Lady Martindale was too unwell to leave home, but Theodora was thankful to her father for deciding that her presence was necessary for Violet’s sake; indeed, as they travelled in doubt and suspense, and she was continually reminded of that hurried journey when her unchastened temper had been the torment of herself and of her brother, she felt it an undeserved privilege to be allowed to go to him at all. Instead of schemes of being important, there was a crashing sense of an impending blow; she hardly had the power to think or speculate in what form, or how heavily it might fall. She had only room for anxiety to get forward.