My lord was somewhat choleric, and had a knack of exasperating himself over trifles which sometimes made one ashamed for him; but still he was a fine, good-natured gentleman, who would have died before he would do a mean or cruel action, and his manners were perfect, specially to women. I never saw him speak even to a maid servant without lifting his hat. He was greatly annoyed by the freedom taken by some of his young gentlemen visitors with the village maids and the servants; and when one of these fine sparks came to complain of a ducking in the sea which he got from one of the Lees "down to Cove" for making too free with his young wife, my lord said bluntly it served him right, and he would have done the same if he had been there. The youth blustered, and I believe would have challenged my lord, but thought better of it and took himself away.
But a great sorrow was hanging over my head, though I never suspected it. My mother's health had wonderfully improved of late, and there seemed no reason why she should not live out the usual term of years. She told me one evening that she had not felt so well in all respects since she was a young girl.
"It is not only in bodily health," said she, "but I am sensible of a great improvement in my spirits—not elation exactly, but a kind of joyfulness as if I were in certain expectation of good news, and I constantly dream of your father and of our old home in France which I have never done before."
I saw Mrs. Dinah shake her head and look grave upon this, but I knew she had her full share of Cornish superstitions. I myself thought the improvement in my mother's health and spirits arose from the change of air and scene, and from the enjoyment of cheerful company. I little thought what was that joyful news she was soon to hear—joyful to her, but sad beyond conception to me.
The very next morning, as I was finishing dressing, Dinah came to me, quite calm as usual, but pale as ashes.
"Will you come to your mother at once?" said she. "She is very ill."
I did not need a second summons. My mother lay in her bed, her eyes closed, breathing in soft sighs, and only at long intervals. My lady was already with her, applying salts to her nose and strong essences to her forehead, while old Mrs. Carey was rubbing the soles of her feet. They made way for me with looks of solemn compassion. Even then I was not alarmed.
"It is a fainting fit," said I. "She used to have them in France."
I bent over and kissed her, calling upon her name. She opened her eyes with a look of unutterable tenderness, and her lips moved. Then she drew one more sigh and all was still.
"Come away, my dear child," said my lady, disengaging my hand from my mother's and taking it in her own. "Your dear mother is at rest."