“Oh, I know what your impulse was! Dear Dolff, you have been so kind, so sympathetic, never saying anything. And perhaps you thought I didn’t see it: but I have been very greatful to you—very grateful, all the time. Now I can speak,” Gussy cried. “Oh, what a time it has been! I was beginning to despair. It looks like a year since that dreadful night. Oh, thank you all, you have been so good to me—Janet, too. And now at last I dare to hope. But you must not go near him, nobody must go.” Gussy loosed her hands from her brother’s arm, and sat down on the chair he had left. “I can have the pleasure of a cry now,” she said, smiling pathetically upon them all.
“We’re not crying people in the family, are we, mamma? but it is a great relief when you have been down to the very gates of the grave and come back.”
“I hope now you will let them bring you something to eat,” said Mrs. Harwood; “you have not had a proper meal for a week. Tell Priscilla to bring a tray, Ju, and some champagne. She must have a little support before the reaction sets in. I know what it is,” said the mother, shaking her head; “now that her mind is solaced she will find out that she is as weak as water. And, my dear, you’ll not be able to nurse him when nursing will be a real pleasure, when you will see him come round every day—if you don’t take care.”
“Oh, whatever you please, mamma,” said Gussy, in the docility of her happiness. She added, “Tell Dolff not to go. He must not—not for any reason—be disturbed to-night.”
“I going—to disturb him? I wouldn’t—not for a fortune; but I can’t stand this any longer. Gussy crying, and all the rest—I am going away.”
“Not out?” said his mother, anxiously. To think there should never be a good thing without the ugly shadow of a trouble after it! He had quarrelled with Janet, and now there was nothing to keep him indoors, to make home agreeable to him. “It is quite late, my dear,” she said. “I was just going to bed. Don’t, oh! don’t go out to-night.”
“Don’t, Dolff: somebody might be wanted to run for the doctor.”
“Did I say that I was going out? I am going to my room. I am going to do some work. Everything here is swallowed up in Meredith, I know; no one thinks of my comfort. But, after all, I’m something more than a man kept on the premises to run for a doctor. I am going to my room to do some work. Good-night.”
“Good-night, dear boy,” said his mother, holding out her hand to him. “Yes, go and do a little work—that’s always good for you. Don’t take him at his word, Gussy. He is as glad as any of us; but that’s a boy’s way.”
“I know, mamma,” said Gussy, with a serene smile. She beamed upon her sullen brother as if his very ill-humor were something to thank him for. “They will never let one see what they feel,” she said.