That was almost the last of those happy autumn days. Winter fell upon the country suddenly with nipping cold. The mountains, always sombre, lowered in great tumbled ma.s.ses from under the heavy clouds that seldom rose from their summits. Terrible gales kept the sea in torment, and the voice of its rage and pain filled Castletownrock without ceasing. Torrents of rain tore up the roads, and rendered them almost impa.s.sable. There was stolid endurance and suffering written on every face out of doors, while within the people cowered over their peat fires, a prey to hunger, cold, and depression. Draughts made merry through the large rooms and pa.s.sages in Captain Caldwell"s house; the wind howled in the chimneys, rattled at the windows, and whistled at the keyholes, especially at night, when Beth would hide her head under the bed-clothes to keep out the racket, or, in another mood, lie and listen to it, and imagine herself out in the storm, till her nerves were strung to a state of ecstatic tension, and her mind fairly revelled in the sense of danger. When her father was at home in the evening, she would sit still beside the fire in the sitting-room, listening in breathless awe, and excitement wholly pleasurable, to the gale raging without; but if Captain Caldwell had not returned, as frequently happened now that the days were short, and the roads so bad, well knowing the risks he ran, she would see the car upset a hundred times, and hear the rattle of musketry in every blast that shook the house, and so share silently, but to the full, the terrible anxiety which kept her mother pacing up and down, up and down, unable to settle to anything until he entered and sank into a seat, often so exhausted that it was hard to rouse him to change his dripping clothes. His duties, always honourably performed whatever the risk to himself, were far too severe for him, and he was rapidly becoming a wreck;--nervous, liverish, a martyr to headache, and a slave to stimulants, although not a drunkard--he only took enough to whip him up to his work. His digestion too had become seriously impaired, and he had no natural appet.i.te for anything. He was fond of his children, and proud of them, but had hitherto been too irritable to contribute anything to their happiness; on the contrary, his name was a terror to them, and "Hush, papa has come in!" was enough at any time to damp their wildest spirits. Now, however, he suffered more from depression than from irritability, and would cower over the fire on stormy days in a state of despondency which was reflected in every face, taking no notice of any of them. The children would watch him furtively in close silent sympathy, sitting still and whispering for fear of disturbing him; and if perchance they saw him smile, and a look of relief came into their mother"s anxious face, their own spirits went up on the instant. But everything was against him. The damp came up from the flags in the sitting-room through the cocoanut matting and the thick carpet that covered it, which it defaced in great patches.
Close to the fire the wires of the piano rusted, and had to be rubbed and rubbed every day, or half the notes went dumb. The paper, a rare luxury in those parts, began to drop from the walls. Great turf-fires were constantly kept up, but the damp stole a march on them when they smouldered in the night, and made mildew-marks upon everything.
Good food and cooking would have helped Captain Caldwell, but the food was indifferent, and there were no cooks to be had in the country.
Biddy had never seen such a thing as a kitchen-range before she took the situation, and when she first had to use the oven, she put the turf on the bottom shelf in order to heat the top one. Mrs. Caldwell made what were superhuman efforts to a woman of her training and const.i.tution, to keep the servants up to the mark, and grew grey in the endeavour; but Mrs. Caldwell in the kitchen was like a racehorse at the plough; and even if she had been a born housewife, she could have done little with servants who would do nothing themselves except under her eyes, and stole everything they could lay their hands on, including the salt out of the salt-cellars between meals, if it were not locked up.
Towards the end of January, Captain Caldwell was ill in bed; he had wet cloths on his head, and seemed as if he could hardly speak. Beth hung about his door all day, watching for opportunities to steal in.
Mamma always sent her away if she could, but if papa heard her, he would whisper, "Let the child come in," and then mamma would let her in, but would still look cross. And Beth sat at one side of the bed, and mamma sat on the other, and no one spoke except papa sometimes; only you could seldom understand what he said. And mamma cried, but Beth did not. She ached too much inside for that. You can"t cry when you ache so much.
Beth day after day sat with her hands folded on her lap, and her feet dangling from a chair that was much too high for her, watching her father with an intensity of silent anxiety that was terrible to witness in so young a child. Her mother might have beaten her to death, but she could never have dislodged her from the room once she had her father"s leave to stay there. Mrs. Caldwell rarely beat her now, however; she generally ignored her; so Beth came and went as she chose. She would climb up on to the bed when there was n.o.body in the room, and kiss the curls of papa"s thick glossy black hair so softly that he never knew, except once, when he caught her, and smiled. His dark face grew grey in bed, and his blue eyes sunken and haggard; but he battled it out that time, and slowly began to recover.
Beth was sitting in her usual place beside her father"s bed one day when the doctor came and discovered her. He was standing on the other side of the bed, and exclaimed, "Why, it"s all eyes!"
"Yes, it"s a queer pixie," her father said. "But it"s going to do something some day, or _I"m_ much mistaken."
"It"s going to make a nuisance of itself if you put such nonsense into its head, or I"m much mistaken," Mrs. Caldwell observed.
"I shall _not_ make a nuisance of myself," Beth indignantly protested.
"I shall never be able to make you understand, Caroline," Captain Caldwell exclaimed. "Little pitchers are generally bad enough, but when there is large intelligence added to the long ears, they"re the devil."
Before the doctor left he said to Mrs. Caldwell, "We must keep our patient amused, you know."
"O doctor!" Beth exclaimed, clasping her hands in her earnestness, "do you think if Sophie Keene came?"
The doctor burst into a shout of laughter, in which Captain Caldwell also joined. "Just stay here yourself, Beth," he said, when he had recovered himself. "For amus.e.m.e.nt, neither Sophie Keene nor any one else I ever knew could hold a candle to you."
"What"s "hold a candle to you"?" Beth instantly demanded.
And then there was more laughter, in which even Mrs. Caldwell joined; and afterwards, when the doctor had gone, she actually patted Beth on the back, and stroked her hair, which was the first caress Beth ever remembered to have received from her mother.
"Now, mamma," she exclaimed, with great feeling, in the fulness of her surprise and delight, "now I shall forget that you ever beat me."
Her mother coloured painfully.
Her father muttered something about a n.o.ble nature.
"And that was the child you never wanted at all!" slipped, with a ring of triumph, from Mrs. Caldwell unawares--an interesting example of the complexity of human feelings.
Captain Caldwell soon went back to his duty--all too soon for his strength. The dreadful weather continued. Day after day he returned soaking from some distant station to the damp and discomfort of the house, and the ill-cooked, unappetising food, which he could hardly swallow. And to all this was added great anxiety about the future of his family. His boys were doing well at school by this time; but he was not satisfied with the way in which the little girls were being brought up. There was no order in their lives, no special time for anything; and he knew the importance of early discipline. He tried to discuss the subject with his wife, but she met his suggestions irritably.
"There"s time enough for that," she said. "_I_ had no regular lessons till I was in my teens."
"But what answered with you may be disastrous to these children," he ventured. "They are all unlike you in disposition, more especially Beth."
"You spoil that child," Mrs. Caldwell protested. "And at any rate I can do no more. I am run off my feet."
This was true, and Captain Caldwell let the subject drop. His patience was exemplary in those days. He suffered severely both mentally and physically, but never complained. The shadow was upon him, and he knew it, but he met his fate with fort.i.tude. Whatever his faults, they were expiated in the estimation of all who saw him suffer now.
Mrs. Caldwell never realised how ill he was, but still she was uneasy, and it was with intense relief that she welcomed a case of soups and other nourishing delicacies calculated to tempt the appet.i.te, which arrived for him one day from one of his sisters in England.
"This is just what you want, Henry," she said, with a brighter look in her face than he had seen there for months. "I shall soon have you yourself again now."
Captain Caldwell"s spirits also went up.
In the evening they were all together in the sitting-room. Mrs.
Caldwell was playing little songs for Mildred to sing, Baby Bernadine was playing with her bricks upon the floor, and Beth as usual was hanging about her father. He had shaken off his despondency, and was quite lively for the moment, walking up and down the room, and making merry remarks to his wife in Italian, at which she laughed a good deal.
"Come, Beth, fetch "Ingoldsby." We shall just come to my favourite, and finish the book before you go to bed," he said.
Beth brought the book, and then climbed up on his knee, and settled there happily, with her head on his shoulder.
"As I laye a-thynkynge, the golden sun was sinking, O merrie sang that Bird as it glitter"d on her breast, With a thousand gorgeous dyes, While soaring to the skies, "Mid the stars she seem"d to rise, As to her nest;
As I laye a-thynkynge, her meaning was exprest:-- "Follow, follow me away, It boots not to delay,"-- "Twas so she seemed to saye, "HERE IS REST!""
After he had read those last lines, there was a moment"s silence, and then Beth burst into a tempest of tears. "O papa--papa! No, no, no!"
she sobbed. "I couldn"t bear it."
"What _is_ the matter with the child?" Mrs. Caldwell exclaimed, starting up.
""The vision and the faculty divine," I think," her father answered.
"Leave her to me."
Beth was awake when Anne entered the nursery next morning to call the children.
"Get up, and be good," Anne said. "Your pa"s ill."
Mrs. Caldwell came into the nursery immediately afterwards, very much agitated. She kissed Beth, and from that moment the child was calm; but there settled upon her pathetic little face a terrible look of age and anxiety.
When she was dressed, she ran right into her father"s room before any one could stop her. He was moaning--"O my head, my head! O my head, my head!" over and over again.
"You mustn"t stay here, little woman--not to-day," the doctor said.
"It will make your father worse if you do."
Beth stole from the room, and returned to the nursery. There, however, she could still hear her father moaning, and she could not bear it, so she took her prayer-book, by way of life-saving apparatus, and went down to the kitchen to "see" what the servants were thinking--her own significant expression. They were all strangely subdued. "Sit down, Miss Beth," Biddy said kindly. "Sit down in the window there wid your book if you want company. It"s a sore heart you"ll be having, or I"m much mistaken."
Beth sat in the window the whole morning, reading prayers to herself, while she watched and waited. The doctor sent Riley down from the sick-room several times to fetch things, and each time Beth consulted his countenance anxiously for news, but asked no questions. Biddy tried to persuade her to eat, but the child could not touch anything.
Late in the afternoon Riley came down in a hurry.
"Is the master better, Pat?" Biddy demanded.
""Deed, thin, he isn"t," Riley replied; "and the doctor"s sending me off on the horse as hard as I can go for Dr. Jamieson."
"Och, thin, if the doctor"s sending you for Dr. Jamieson it"s all up.
He"s niver sent for till the last. The Lord himself won"t save him now."