Part 50 (2/2)

”Tomorrow, if you are well enough.”

”I will go, papa.”

That evening John came, and ate dinner with the family. Instinctively he felt the great veil of sorrow, of fear, of dread, of worry, of sadness that brooded over the household. Strong, healthy, handsome, mannerly, John seemed to have brought a new ray of suns.h.i.+ne with him that was absent there before. His pleasing conversation, his cheerful smile, his hearty laugh, his quick wit in repartee flooded every department of the mansion--even into the cook's chamber, where was sung that evening love-songs of youth long suppressed by the weighty forebodings of the coming of the White Horse and his rider.

”Mr. Winthrope,” said the bouncing Mrs. Jarney, now less demonstrative of her spirits by her long siege of fretting, ”it seems so natural to have you here. I told Mr. Jarney just the other day that I wished you could come out occasionally to see us, for you were always such pleasant company.”

”I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or a pretty piece of flattery, Mrs. Jarney,” responded John. ”I am sure, however you mean it, I shall not be negligent in expressing my thanks to you.”

”Compliment, Mr. Winthrope; compliment,” returned Mrs. Jarney, with a sweet deference towards accenting the word compliment. ”I never indulge in flattery with people whom I like--leastwise, I do not care to with you.”

”I feel grateful to you, Mrs. Jarney, and to Mr. Jarney also, for your kindnesses in my behalf, and friendly consideration of my welfare. The only manner in which I can express myself, is that you have my sincerest thanks for your good deeds and kind words,” was the way he thanked them.

Mrs. Jarney never lost an opportunity to say a good word for John to her friends, or to himself. Sometimes he was touched to a modest degree of bashfulness in her presence by her a.s.sertive way of praising him. On this evening he was more severely tested than ever before by reason of her motherly familiarity. When he arrived, she was so over-joyed at seeing him, that she was almost in the act of throwing her arms around his neck, and weeping, perhaps, as the mother did on the return of her prodigal son. She, no doubt, would have committed this informal act of gladness, had it not been that to have accomplished it, she would had to have stood on a chair, John being so much the taller. But as it was, she took both his hands in hers in welcoming him, and shook them with such energy that John was disconcerted for a brief time. Mr. Jarney was just as profuse in his greeting, but more restrainful in his actions than his wife. Why all this joyfulness, this gladsomeness, this unusual cordiality, on their part, John never stopped to consider in any other form of reason than duty and grat.i.tude.

”You will want to see Edith before you go?” said Star, after the diners had risen from the table, and as she was walking with him to the drawing room.

”Of course,” replied John, ”if she is in condition to see a stranger. I should not want to leave without seeing her.”

”She knows you are here, and is expecting you. Will you go up now?”

asked Star.

”If it is her pleasure, and your wish, I shall go with you,” replied John.

Together Star and John repaired to Edith's room, Star entering first and John following. Edith lay in her night clothes, with the covers drawn up well around her throat, her two white hands reposing on the white spread. She had expected him for the last two hours, and began to be weary over the long waiting. So when the door opened and Star entered, she turned her head in time to catch him coming in the door; then as quickly turned it away, in an attempt to stop the fluttering of her heart. When he approached her bedside, she extended to him a hand, which he took, as he sat down on a chair by her side.

”Mr. Winthrope,” she said, very low, ”I am glad to see you.”

John saw that her mind was with her now, and he should act accordingly.

The appalling look of illness was in her face yet, the appealing smile of hope was in her eyes. He was overcome again. Oh, for that hour of health for her, when the raptures of a true soul answers to the responsive note!

”You look so much better, Miss Jarney,” said John, the moment of his recovery over her glad greeting, ”than when I saw you last.”

”Do I; really, Mr. Winthrope?” she asked, with her eyes illuminating.

”Surely, you are better; I can hope so anyway.”

”I was better for some time after you left in March; but lately I have been gradually growing worse, till now I am in bed again, as you see.”

”I plainly see,” he said jocularly; ”but, if you would get out of here and into the country somewhere, and get the fresh air and open doors, I am sure you would improve rapidly?”

”Do you think so?” she asked, withdrawing her hand and folding them both together, as she turned on her side, facing him.

”Why, nothing would be better,” he answered.

”I am going away tomorrow,” she said decisively.

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