Читать книгу Looranna - An Australian Story - M. A. McCarter - Страница 10

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"I wonder will Harold follow! He looked so glum. Don't you think he did?" Milly said to her friend, Mrs. Eagleson, as, after the meeting for the "Care of Neglected Children," they whirl along the country roads on their way to Mason's.

"Well, yes, he was rather short in his manner; and, really, Milly, I thought you were going to give in and go back with him when he raised objections to this trip, and, indeed, you did look a little undecided and wavering. You know, Milly, dear, it is our duty to attend those meetings, else what would the neglected children do?"

"I give in!" repeats Milly. "You mistake me. Indeed, Harold knows better than even to expect me to do such a thing; but the truth is, I felt anxious. You know, I left little Fido so sick, and I do so hope to take all the first prizes this season with the dear little beauty. Rose promised to nurse him till my return; that is why I stood in hesitation for the moment; but, then, I remembered that Rose is such a devoted nurse, and I knew she would mind my pet."

"Where did Harold say he would join us?"

"He should have been at your house, but he will join us at Mason's. You know, I sent Mason's car along, and gave the chauffeur a note asking Harold to meet me there; but, here we are!" And all thoughts of Harold vanish as Milly and her friend are introduced to the guests.

"Whatever can have kept him?" thinks Milly, as, a few minutes later, she looks through the window of Mrs. Mason's drawing-room. "Ah, I see a motor coming!" And she cranes her neck and tries to penetrate into the distance. "Come, dear!" she says, "can you tell me whose car this is?"

"Oh, Milly," says her friend impatiently, "bother the car! Harold will turn up in good time. Just let us enjoy ourselves."

"I think there is only one in that car, but it is too far away to see it plainly." And both women turn away from the window and join in the general merriment of the other guests who have just arrived.

If Milly is in any way disappointed at Harold's non-appearance, her manner does not betray it, for her laughter is lightest, and her face beaming and happy, as she gaily jests with her companions; and she even forgets her little dog Fido and his pains.

"How lovely it is to have you here," Mrs. Mason says, as she enters the drawing-room, "and just fancy meeting you both at the last minute! I do so love a scramble party. I suppose Grandmother Jenkins will be horrified when she learns that you so suddenly decided to join my Bohemian set. Really, Milly, if we were to study what people say, we would never have a bit of amusement."

"You are quite right. But, see, is that your car returning?" asks Milly anxiously, as she again looks through the window.

"Yes," replies Mrs. Mason, "and the chauffeur is alone."

"Harold was too vexed," thinks Milly; "he did not come." And she follows her hostess out of the room, to learn what message the chauffeur brings.

The man is anxiously searching his pockets and looking about the car for something. "I have lost the note," he mutters.

"Have you any message?" asks Milly, in the proud, haughty, domineering tone she always assumes when addressing a menial; and, as the man hesitates, "Quick, man! Do you not hear me? Did you deliver my note?"

"Yes, madam, I gave Mr. Harold Jenkins your note, and he seemed very troubled and excited."

"Did he give you an answer?" comes the quick question.

"No, madam, but his mother did," answers the chauffeur. "She said, 'Go. Bring Mrs. Harold Jenkins at once—her little one is dying."

Milly's face blanches; indeed, her face must be ghastly, but the artificial colouring hides its pallor.

"Oh, mercy! What could she mean? Surely Rose has not—. Oh. yes; Fido was sick. I must go. Oh, Kitty, do come with me; if Fido dies I will lose hundreds of pounds! Oh, do come quickly!" And, hastily getting their wraps, Kitty and Milly take their places in the car, and are soon speeding on their journey to "Garoopna."

The beauties of the surrounding scenery, as they swish along by hill and glade, past mansions of the wealthy and the lowly homes of the artisan, do not appeal to the two women in their eagerness to reach their destination.

"Home at last!" ejaculates Milly, as she alights from the car; and, as the servants admit her, she does not pause to ask any questions; she does not notice the silence in the household, nor the pitying looks on the faces of the maids as she passes them, but she hurries to Rose's room. "Oh, Rose!" she exclaims, as she rushes into the room. "Why do you cry? What is the matter? Where is Fido? How is he?"

"Oh, bother Fido! Do not ask me. He is gone; Harold destroyed him."

"What?" almost yells Milly, "my Fido gone! Destroyed, did you say? Who dare?" And she almost collapses in the intensity of her passion.

"Oh, Milly, hush! Little Effie; dear little Effie—" and again Rose bursts into tears.

"Did I hear Milly's voice?" asks kind old Mrs. Jenkins, as she softly enters the room, and her tear-stained face looks pale and wan—she has just come from the couch of the dear little one.

"What is this I hear?" Milly cries. "My Fido destroyed? How dare Harold? How dare Dr. Ferguson? They are both cowards!" Then, turning, she sees Dr. Ferguson standing in the doorway. "How dare you, Dr. Ferguson? How dare you be so cowardly as to destroy my Fido?" As she looks, her eyes are almost blinded with vexation. Then she sees Harold standing behind the doctor, and the look on his face almost frightens her. The doctor stands aside, and Harold passes into the room.

"Hush, Milly, hush!" And Harold Jenkins gently caresses his wife as he speaks. "I know, Milly dear, you are much pained; but still, my dear wife, you must not be unjust."

Milly impatiently tosses her husband's encircling arms away.

"I tell you, Harold," she says and there is an emphatic note in her voice—"I will not hush! I think it was cowardly—cowardly in the extreme—of Dr. Ferguson to destroy my Fido!"

"Come, Milly, come!" the old lady says, softly. "Come; I will show you!" And, turning to her son, "Harold, my boy, come with your wife—she does not know. Why weep over dogs? You have much more to weep over. Come and see!"

Milly, having spent her passion, allows herself to be led by the old lady, and, followed by Harold, they pass along the corridor.

She then, for the first time, notices the mysterious strangeness in the manner of the old lady and Harold; and some intuition in her soul whispers all is not well with Effie. She is frightened. "Harold!" she says, and, stopping, she tightly grips her husband's arm. "What is it? What is it? Tell me?" And her soul re-echoes the reply, "Death! death! death!"

She enters the room in silence, and walks to the cot. As she gazes down on the white face of little Effie, a great sob echoes through the room—a melancholy, painful, pathetic sob, wrung from a mother's aching heart.

The spark of mother-love which has been lying dormant for so long in this woman's soul—that spark which has been almost quenched with the cold, callous flood of gaiety and fashion—now struggles to live, and, at the sight of the little dead face, it takes strength and bursts forth into flame, and the agony of the mother's heart is deep and hard as she stoops and kisses the pale, white face.

As Mrs. Jenkins looks pityingly on, "Oh, would," she murmurs, sorrowfully—"would that Milly had so kissed her little Effie in life. How that child yearned and craved for her mother's kiss!"