Then a rapture, born of her great love for him and of her gratitude for his unwonted tenderness, illumined the aged face: “My darling—my darling!” she cried faintly. And, as if over-weighted by happiness, the white lids closed above the faded eyes which had looked for so little in this world.
For a long time the stillness remained unbroken. Then a groan burst from the lips of the lad who had held a great love lightly—till it was lost.
CHAPTER XI.
“Yes, that is what she needs; it is the only thing.” The doctor said this very firmly and gravely; but quiet as his words were they set the impetuous heart of Ruth Kinsolving in a fever of anxiety.
“I am sure thee is hiding something from me, Doctor Winslow; and I wish thee to tell me the worst. If my mother is—is going to follow Margaret Capers, I—I must know it.”
“She is not going to follow her, if you do as I say. Take Mrs. Kinsolving away at once to the sea-shore, or to some restful place, where she can have a complete change of air, and as little disturbance of her habits, otherwise, as possible.”
Aunt Ruth looked up searchingly; but seeing nothing in the familiar face of their old physician to warrant her dreadful fear, her thoughts turned at once to a lesser trouble. It was all very well for Doctor Winslow to say, “Go away to the sea-shore,” but how was this apparently simple matter to be accomplished?
The death of Mrs. Capers left the invalid Melville entirely dependent upon his aunt’s care. His grief had been profound and prostrating; for that sorrow is always keenest which has self-reproach as a factor; and though a fortnight had elapsed since the quiet funeral, its influence still hung, pall-like, over the house.
Octave was better; but she could not yet put her injured foot to the floor without great suffering; although the broken arm was mending fast, and gave the self-helpful girl little trouble. It was astonishing how much she could accomplish with that deft left hand of hers; and she laughingly declared she had been gifted with her power to use it as others use their right, expressly for this time of need.
Mr. Pickel had been obliged to leave them, or lose entirely the business opportunities which had brought him all the way from Germany, and which he was ambitious to improve “on his children’s account.” It was all for the children—his care, his life, his love; and Ruth Kinsolving could not live for so many days in the society of this unselfish man without catching something of his spirit. From an unwelcome burden, she had also come to regard her sister Lydia’s family as a sacred charge; and, as each girl of the group resolved herself into a distinct individuality, the aunt’s interest increased. She grew almost morbidly anxious lest she should fail in her “duty” to one or other of the orphans.