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قراءة كتاب The Girl's Own Paper, Vol. XX, No. 983, October 29, 1898
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The Girl's Own Paper, Vol. XX, No. 983, October 29, 1898
masculine. The room was seldom in anything like order; and whatever he used he commonly plumped down afterwards in the most unlikely places. But his patience and attention never failed; he never forgot essentials; he never seemed to think of himself, or to require rest. Day after day he remained in that upstairs room with the invalid, only once in the twenty-four hours going out of the house for half-an-hour's turn, that he might report Roy's condition to Colonel Baron, meeting him and standing a few yards distant.
The usual nine days of full eruption, following upon forty-eight hours of fever, were gone through, with, of course, abundance of discomfort and restlessness. Despite the comparatively mild nature of his illness, Roy fell away fast in flesh and strength, while Ivor managed with a minimum of repose. If Roy were able to get a short sleep, Denham used that opportunity to do the same himself, but in some mysterious way he always contrived to be awake before Roy woke up. His handsome bronzed face grew less bronzed with the confinement and lack of exercise.
So far as he knew how to guard against the spread of infection, he did his best. No one beside himself and the doctor entered the sick room, except a wizened old Frenchwoman, herself frightful from the effects of the same dire disease, who was hired to come in each morning for half-an-hour, while Ivor went out, that she might put the room into something like order. For the rest, the gallant young Guardsman, sweet Polly's lover, undertook the whole.
Then tokens of improvement began; and Colonel Baron sent a letter home which cheered Molly's sore heart; and, just when all promised well for a quick recovery, violent inflammation of one ear set in. For days and nights the boy suffered tortures, and sleep was impossible for him, therefore for his nurse. Roy, in his weakened state, sometimes broke down and cried bitterly with the pain, imploring Ivor never to let Molly know that he had cried.
"She'd think me so girlish," he said, while tears rolled down his thin cheeks, marked by half-a-dozen red pits. "Please don't ever tell her!"
In the midst of this trouble a most unexpected blow fell upon Ivor, in the shape of a stern official notice, desiring him to consider himself a prisoner of war, and at once to render his parole. Ivor was a calm-mannered man generally, with the composure which means only the determined holding-down of a far from placid nature, but some fierce and angry words broke from him that day. He was compelled to go out to give his parole, infection or no infection, leaving the old woman in charge for as brief a space as might be; and indignant utterances were exchanged between himself and Colonel Baron, whom he chanced to meet, bent on the same errand. Then he had to hasten back to the boy, with a heavy weight at his heart. It meant to Ivor, not only indefinite separation from Polly, but also a complete deadlock in his military career. He was passionately in love with her; he was hardly less passionately in love with his profession. Had imprisonment come in the ordinary way, through reverse or capture in actual warfare, he would have borne it more easily; but the sense of injustice rankled here. Also at once he foresaw the complications likely to arise, and the probability that an exchange of prisoners would be impossible. As he patiently tended the boy, doing all that he could to bring relief, his brain went round at the thought of his position, and that of Colonel Baron.
(To be continued.)
ABOUT PEGGY SAVILLE.
By JESSIE MANSERGH (Mrs. G. de Horne Vaizey), Author of "A Girl in Springtime," "Sisters Three," etc.
CHAPTER IV.
For four long days had Mariquita Saville dwelt beneath Mr. Asplin's roof, and her companions still gazed upon her with fear and trembling, as a mysterious and extraordinary creature, whom they altogether failed to understand. She talked like a book, she behaved like a well-conducted old lady of seventy, and she sat with folded hands gazing around, with a curious, dancing light in her hazel eyes, which seemed to imply that there was some tremendous joke on hand, the secret of which was known only to herself. Esther and Mellicent had confided their impressions to their mother, but in Mrs. Asplin's presence, Peggy was just a quiet, modest girl, a trifle shy and retiring, as was natural under the circumstances, but with no marked peculiarity of any kind. She answered to the name of "Peggy," to which address she was persistently deaf at other times, and sat with eyelids lowered, and neat little feet crossed before her, the picture of a demure, well-behaved, young schoolgirl. The sisters assured their mother that Mariquita was a very different person in the schoolroom, but when she inquired as to the nature of the difference, it was not so easy to explain.
"She talked so grandly, and used such great, big words."
A good thing, too, Mrs. Asplin averred. She wished the rest would follow her example, and not use so much foolish, meaningless slang.——Her eyes looked so bright and mocking, as if she were laughing at something all the time. Poor, dear child! could she not talk as she liked? It was a great blessing she could be bright, poor lamb, with such a parting before her!——She was so—so—grown-up, and patronising, and superior! Tut! tut! Nonsense! Peggy had come from a large boarding-school, and her ways were different from theirs—that was all. They must not take stupid notions, but be kind and friendly and make the poor girl feel at home.
Fraulein on her side reported that her new pupil was docile and obedient, and anxious to get on with her studies, though not so far advanced as might have been expected. Esther was far ahead of her in most subjects, and Mellicent learned with pained surprise that she knew nothing whatever about decimal fractions.
"Circumstances, dear," she explained, "circumstances over which I had no control, prevented an acquaintance, but no doubt I shall soon know all about them, and then I shall be pleased to give you the promised help," and Mellicent found herself saying, "Thank you," in a meek and submissive manner, instead of indulging in a well-merited rebuke.
No amount of ignorance seemed to daunt Mariquita, or to shake her belief in herself. When Maxwell came to grief in a Latin essay, she looked up, and said, "Can I assist you?" And when Robert read out a passage from Carlyle, she laid her head on one side and said, "Now, do you know, I am not altogether sure that I am with him on that point!" with an assurance which paralysed the hearers.
Esther and Mellicent discussed seriously together as to whether they liked, or disliked, this extraordinary creature, and had great difficulty in coming to a conclusion. She teased, puzzled, aggravated, and provoked them; therefore, if they had any claim to be logical, they should dislike her cordially, yet somehow or other they could not bring themselves to say that they disliked Mariquita. There were moments when they came perilously near loving the aggravating creature. Already it gave them quite a shock to look back upon the time when there was no Peggy Saville to occupy their thoughts, and life without the interest of her presence would have seemed unspeakably flat and uninteresting. She was a bundle of mystery. Even her looks seemed to exercise an uncanny fascination. On the evening of her arrival the unanimous opinion had been that she was decidedly plain, but there was something about the pale little face which always seemed to invite a second glance, and the more closely you gazed, the more complete was the feeling of satisfaction.