"Yes," Miss Holcroft agreed thoughtfully. "She looks thin and pale, does she not? I expect she has suffered mental agonies to-day, not knowing what to expect when she arrived. Indeed, I behave she would not have been surprised if she had been told the child was dead—and yet she was much calmer than you or I. The meeting with her was not nearly so awkward as I had anticipated it would be. I suppose, in reality, not one was thinking of ourselves, but of Marigold. How strange it seems that poor Rupert's widow should be under our roof at last!"
[CHAPTER XVIII]
THE NEW HOME
FOR many days Marigold lay at death's door, too ill to notice those who were nursing her with loving care, and unflagging attention. Poor Miss Holcroft was quite broken-down with grief, and could not restrain her tears even in the presence of the little patient, so she was banished from the sick-room entirely, and spent the greater portion of her time hovering around the closed door that hid Marigold from her sight, listening to the child's painful breathing with a sinking heart.
Mrs. Holcroft and Miss Pamela were indefatigable nurses. They took it in turns to watch by the little sufferer; and there came a day when they knew that their efforts were to be rewarded, and that God was going to allow them to keep the precious life that had been given into His care. By Marigold's sick-bed, without one word of explanation, those two learnt to understand each other.
Marigold was better. The servants heard the glad news and rejoiced, whilst Barker shed tears of relief and thankfulness. The parlour-maid's bright face, as she opened the door to inquirers after the sick child, was cheerful and smiling, and told the good report before her lips had time to frame the hopeful words. In the drawing-room, Miss Holcroft sat with a look of happiness on her face, ready to interview any caller who might come. During the long, dragging days that had passed, there had been many kind inquirers after Marigold. Mrs. Barker had arrived every evening, going to the back door to hear what the servants had to say of the patient; and Molly Jenkins and Marigold's school friends had made constant visits to Powderham Crescent, whilst Farmer Jo had ridden in every night to get the latest news of his little friend. But to Muriel Wake Marigold's illness had been a terrible grief; and when she was told that Marigold was actually out of danger, her delight knew no bounds. She ran past the parlour-maid and into the drawing-room, catching Miss Holcroft around the neck, and hugging her till the old lady laughingly pleaded for mercy.
"Muriel, my dear child, pray curb your excitement!" Miss Holcroft said. "I knew you would be glad to hear the good news."
"I am just wild with joy!" Muriel answered. "Oh, Miss Holcroft, I have been so miserable and unhappy since Marigold's illness, and I prayed to God to let her live! I don't know what I should do without her! Is she really and truly better?"
"Yes, thank God! She spoke to her mother this morning, and later to Pamela. Dr. Nowell says with careful nursing she will get well now!"
"Oh yes! oh yes!"