“Dad, do let me do that for you?” said Claude. “It’s better for me to tell her.”
“No, my lad, that’s for your father and no other,” said he, “though it’s like you to suggest it, and thank you, my boy. I’ll come straight back to you, my dears, and tell you how all goes, and how she takes it, and pray try to quiet Mrs. Per. She’s carrying on so silly, wringing her hands and asking, ‘Is she better? Is she better?’ And telling me to bear up and all, as if I didn’t know that, small thanks to her! Per takes her back to Sheffield this afternoon, thank the Lord, and may I be pardoned for that speech, but it’s how I feel with her ridiculous ways.”
He went straight to his wife’s room, and was admitted by the nurse. Lady Osborne was in bed, of course, but smiled to him with neither more nor less than her usual cheerfulness.
“Well, and there’s my Eddie,” she said. “And I hope you’ve had a pleasant Sunday, my dear, as I’m sure you must have, with such pleasant company as came down to see you. I tell you I’m feeling a regular fraud this morning, for what with lying in bed and the medicine Sir Henry gave me, which took the pain away beautiful, I feel ever so much better. Now sit you down, Mr. O., and have a chat. Are you comfortable in that chair, my dear?”
“That I am, specially since I know you’re feeling easier and more like yourself, mother,” he said. “And before long, please God, we’ll have you looking after us all again.”
His wife was silent a moment. Then she spoke.
“Eddie, my dear,” she said, “Sir Henry said as how you would come and have a talk with me, for he’s told me nought himself, but just said, ‘You lie still and don’t worry, Mrs. Osborne,’ for he forgets as how you’ve been honoured. And I’ve guessed, my dear, that he means you’ve to tell me what’s the matter with me, and what they’re going to do to me. My dear, I’ll lie here a year, and take all the medicine they choose, if only——”
He moved his chair a little nearer the bed: the tears stood in his eyes, but his mouth was firm.
“I’ve come to tell you, my dear,” he said, “and we can’t always be choosers to have things the way we wish. We’ve got to submit to the will of God, and when them as are wise doctors, like Sir Henry, tells us it’s got to be this, or it’s got to be that, it’s His will, my dear, no less than the doctor’s word. He’s sent us a sight of joy and happiness and to-day, Maria, he’s sending us a bit of trouble, for a change, I may say. But we’ll take it thankful, old lady, same as we’ve taken all them beautiful years that we’ve had together. My dear, if I could get into bed there instead of you, and go through it for you! But that’s not to be. I’ll tell you as quick as I can, my dear, for there’s no use in being silly and delaying, but——”
He blew his nose violently, then left his chair, and knelt down by the bed, taking her hand in his. And he kissed it.