“You can go in and see the children, Alick,” she said, “and I will join you directly, when Adelaide has finished with me;” and then Joyce called out “Fardie,” and I could hear Reggie stumping across the floor.
I waited a few minutes before I made my appearance. Much as I longed to see Mr. Morton, I thought he would rather meet his children alone. I almost felt as though I intruded when I opened the door. Hannah was not there, and he was sitting in my rocking-chair with Reggie in his arms, and his head was bowed down on the little fellow’s shoulder. He started up when he heard me, but I never saw him look so pale and agitated. I knew then that he was a man of strong feelings, that his children were more to him than I had dreamed.
“Miss Fenton,” he began, and then he bit his lips and turned away to the window. I saw he could hardly speak, and there was Reggie patting his face and calling “Fada, fada,” to make him smile.
“Reggie is quite well,” I said, feeling the silence awkward.
“Yes, yes,” quite abruptly, “I see he is; thank God for that mercy; but, Miss Fenton, you have suffered in his stead. You are looking ill, unlike yourself. What am I to say to you? How am I to thank you?”
“Please do not say anything to me,” I returned, on the verge of crying. “Dear little Reggie is all right, and I am only too thankful. Tell me about my mistress, Mr. Morton; we are all so anxious about her.”
I thought he looked a little strangely at me. He held out his hand without speaking. That hearty grasp spoke volumes. Then he cleared his throat and said, quickly, “She does not know; I have not told her; she is very weak and ill. Dr. Myrtle says we must take great care of her; she has been over-exerting herself.”
To my dismay and his I burst into tears, but I was not quite myself, liable to be upset by a word.
“Oh, she is always over-exerting herself; she does more every day than her strength will allow,” I cried, almost hysterically. “It makes one’s heart ache to see her so worn out and yet so patient. Oh, Mr. Morton, do let me come home and nurse her; she is never happy without the children; it will do her good to see them; she frets after them too, and it makes her ill. Do let me come home; there is nothing I would not do for her.”
I heard him beg me to be calm. I was ill myself, I heard him say, and no wonder, and he looked pityingly at my bandages.