"You are rather late, are you not, Livy?" he said, laying down his paper. "Martha brought me some tea, but I waited to speak to you. I shall have to go out again directly."
"Let me give you Mr. Gaythorne's message first. He wants you to go round and speak to him tomorrow morning about a new brougham for Greta. How delighted she and Alwyn will be. Greta is not strong and does not care for walking much in the winter, and she catches cold so easily."
"It is just what Alwyn wished for her. Yes, I will try to run across to-morrow morning, but I have a long day's work before me. Olive, darling, I have rather bad news for you," and here he put his arm round her. "Aunt Madge is ill."
Olivia turned very pale. "Marcus, how did you know? Has Deb sent a message? I hope—oh, I do hope, it is not influenza."
"I fear it is," returned Marcus, reluctantly. "I met Randolph, and he stopped and told me. He was just going there for the second time. He wants to send a nurse in, but Deb was so against it that he did not venture to insist; but I am afraid she is very ill, Livy."
"I must go round at once. Marcus, do you think you can spare me? Martha is very careful; she will look after Dot. But you know"—and here there were hot, smarting tears in Olivia's eyes—"you know what Aunt Madge is to me. I cannot leave her to Deb."
Marcus sighed; he could not bear his wife to run the risk, and yet how could he be selfish enough to deprive Mrs. Broderick of the comfort of having her with her? He knew their deep affection for each other. Aunt Madge was her second mother; few aunts were so fondly beloved.
"I hate you to go, dearest," he said, "and yet I cannot deny that Randolph is very anxious about her. It is the prostration he fears; the fever has been so high these two days."
"She has been ill two whole days, and Deb has never sent for me," and Olivia sobbed in a heart-broken manner.
"My dear girl, you must not lose heart in this way," and Marcus stroked her hair tenderly. "Let me tell you exactly how it was. I went round with Randolph and waited while he paid his visit. Deb came out to speak to me; she is an obstinate, incorrigible, cross-grained old woman, and I told her so. Oh, I spoke my mind to her. She cannot deny that she has been up for three nights, and yet the mention of a nurse throws her into tantrums. 'I have always nursed my mistress, and as long as I can drag about she shall have no strangers to harass her dear soul,' she said, defiantly. Now what are you to do with a woman like that? I asked her why she had not let us know," he went on, "and she confessed that Aunt Madge had made her promise not to send. So you see Deb was not to blame for that."