I thanked Anderson, and begged Hannah to replenish the bath with hot water. Happily, I knew what remedies to use; my former experience in my schoolfellow’s nursery proved useful to me now. I remembered how the doctor had approved of what I had done, and I resolved to do exactly the same for Reggie. Frightened as I was, I am thankful to know my fears did not impede my usefulness; I did all I could to relieve my darling, and Hannah seconded my efforts. I am sure Travers wished with all her heart to help us, but she had no nerve, and her lamentable voice made me a trifle impatient.
It was a great relief when Anderson appeared with Dr. Myrtle. He waited for a few minutes to hear from the doctor that all dangers had been averted by the prompt remedies, and then he went in search of Stephenson. It was some time before we heard the sound of carriage wheels.
Reggie was still wrapped in a blanket on my lap, and had just fallen asleep, worn out by the violence of the remedies still more than by the attack. Dr. Myrtle whispered to me not to move, as he would speak to Mrs. Morton downstairs, and enforce on her the need of quiet. It would have been grievous to wake the exhausted little creature, and I was quite content to sit holding him in my lap until morning, if Dr. Myrtle thought it well for me to do so.
I had forgotten all about the fancy ball, and my start when I saw Mrs. Morton standing in the doorway almost woke Reggie. I really thought for a moment that I was dreaming. I learnt afterwards that she had taken the character of Berengaria, wife of the lion-hearted Richard, but for the moment I was too confused to identify her. She was dressed in dark blue velvet, and her gown and mantle were trimmed with ermine; she wore a glittering belt that looked as though it were studded with brilliants, and her brown hair hung in loose braids and plaits under a gold coronet. As she swept noiselessly towards us, I could see the tears were running down her cheeks, and her bosom was heaving under her ermine.
“Oh, Merle!” she whispered, in a voice of agony, as she knelt down beside us, “to think my boy was in danger, and his mother was decked out in this fool’s garb; it makes me sick only to remember it; oh, my baby, my baby!” and she leant her head against my arm and sobbed, not loudly, but with the utmost bitterness.
“Dear Mrs. Morton,” I returned, gently, “it was not your fault; no one could have foreseen this. Reggie had a little cold, but I thought it was nothing. Oh, what are you doing!” for she had actually kissed me, not once, but twice.
“Let me do it, Merle,” returned my sweet mistress; “I am so grateful to you, and so will my husband be when he knows all. Dr. Myrtle says he never saw a nurse who understood her duties so well; everything had been done for the child before he came.”
“Oh, Aunt Agatha, if only you and Uncle Keith had heard that!”
We had talked in whispers, but nothing seemed to disturb Reggie. A moment after Mr. Morton came hurriedly into the nursery; he was very pale and discomposed, and a sort of shock seemed to pass over him as he saw his wife.
“Violet,” he whispered, as she clung to him in a passion of weeping, “this has unnerved you, but, indeed, Dr. Myrtle says our boy will do well. My darling, will you not try to comfort yourself?”