Gay followed me into the night nursery and gave me all the help she could, and she did not leave me until my head was on the lavender-scented pillow. In spite of pain and dizziness, it was nice to lie there and hear the birds twittering under the eaves and the bees humming about the flowers, and to look out on the sunshine and feel a great mercy had been vouchsafed to me, that I had not been suffered to fail in the hour of peril.
Gay hung up her cage of canaries in the window to divert my mind, and laid a bunch of dark clove carnations, with a late rose or two among them, on the quilt.
“Mr. Hawtry is still here, Merle; he is very anxious to know if you are in less pain, and whether there is anything he can do for you. He seems quite grieved because Dr. Staples says your arm is badly burnt.”
I sent a civil message of thanks to Mr. Hawtry, and then I detained Gay a moment.
“Miss Gay, you must write to Mr. Morton yourself. I have promised your sister to tell her everything; but it will shock her too much, and I think Mr. Morton should know first.”
Gay looked distressed.
“Need we tell them, Merle? Violet is not at all well; Alick said so in his letter this morning. Scotland does not seem to suit her, and he thinks they will soon come home.”
“And they have not been away a month yet,” I observed, regretfully; “not more than three weeks and two days, and Mr. Morton is so fond of Scotland.”
“Alick thinks more of Vi than deer-stalking. If she be not well he will bring her home without a word of grumbling. In some respects Alick is a very good husband. Why need we say anything about the accident, Merle? Reggie is scarcely hurt at all; his scorched leg will soon get right.”
“It is not fair to keep anything from them. I promised I would tell everything, and my mistress must know I am invalided and cannot do my duty.”