“My dearest!” she said, “my sweet, my own Hetty, I’m here. There’s nobody can touch you, I’m here! Don’t you know, my darling, your mother? There’s nobody can touch you while I am here!”
Hetty made no response in words, but she suspended her whole weight upon her mother, clinging to her, burrowing with her head on Mary’s bosom. It was no ordinary embrace; it was the taking of sanctuary, the entry into a city of refuge. So far as the child was aware, she had found her natural protector for the first time. She hid herself in Mary, disappearing almost in the close clasping arms, in the soft shield and shelter of her mother’s form. Mary’s head was bowed down on Hetty’s; her shoulders curved about her; the girl’s slim white figure almost disappeared, all pressed, folded, enclosed in the mother’s embrace. This was what the housekeeper saw when she rushed to the door, roused by the scream, expecting some repetition of the former scene. Mary signed to her with her eyes, having no other part of her free, to go away. She made the same sign to Miss Hofland, who appeared in her nightdress, trembling and distressed, behind the well-clothed housekeeper. Mary felt that she dared not speak to them, dared not even move or say a word. The success of all depended on her being left alone with her child.
Even the movement of this interruption, however, though hushed and full of precaution, aided the clearing of Hetty’s brain. She raised her head for a moment, gave a furtive glance round. “Is he—is he—gone, mamma?”
“Yes, my darling; there is no one here but you and I.”
Hetty moved a little more, and cast a tremulous glance, holding her mother tighter and tighter, over her shoulders. “Is the window—shut? Is it safe? Are you sure? Are you sure”—with another passionate strain, under which Mary tottered, yet held up mechanically, she could not tell how—“that he can’t come back?”
To Hetty’s bewildered mind the terrible moment of that midnight visit had only just passed. She knew nothing of the interval; nor did she ask how it was that, miraculously, when she was most wanted, her mother had come to her; that is always natural in a child’s experience. She wanted no explanation of that, but only to make sure that the cause of her terror had disappeared.
“Darling, lie down and go to sleep. You are safe, quite safe. I am going to stay with you, don’t you see? Could any harm happen to you and me here?”
Hetty raised her head and turned her face upward for her mother’s kiss. It was warm and soft with returning life. “No!” she said, with a long-drawn breath, with that profound conviction of childhood. She had turned into a child after her trance, all other development disappearing for the moment. But her hands seemed incapable of disengaging themselves. She could not loosen her hold. “Oh, mamma, don’t let me go! oh, hold me fast! Oh, don’t let any one come, mamma!”
“Nobody, my love; I won’t leave you, not for a moment—not for a moment, Hetty.”
After a while the girl fell fast asleep, with her head upon her mother’s shoulder, and her arms so soft, yet clenched like iron round Mary’s neck. Hetty was far too profoundly dependent, too desperate in her absolute need, to be capable of thinking of the comfort of her shield and guardian. Cramped and aching, but happy and relieved beyond description in mind, Mary, too, after a while dozed and slept. When she opened her eyes, the chill grey of the morning was coming on. The night was over, with its dangers and fears. Hetty’s desperate clinging had relaxed; her head was falling back; the soft warmth and ease of sleep had softened all the rigidity of her trance away. Mary laid her down softly upon her pillow with a light heart, though every limb and every muscle was aching, and took her place once more by the bedside, that she might be the first object on which her child’s waking eyes should rest. And Hetty slept—how long she slept! Fatigue crept over Mrs. Asquith; she dozed, and dreamed, and woke with a start, half-a-dozen times before, in the full daylight, Hetty opened her eyes. There was a moment of awful suspense—the blank look of her stupefied state seemed to waver for an instant over her face, like a mist trembling, wavering, uncertain whether to go or stay. Then light broke out, and love and meaning in the girl’s eager look. “Oh, mamma!”