Part 81 (1/2)

Knowing with whom Ella must be, and fearing to show discontent with the mandate of patience, Averil again began to admire. 'What a beautiful chair! Look, Tom! is it not exquisite? Whose work is it?'

'Gertrude's.'

'That is the most fabulous thing of all,' said Tom, walking round it.

'Daisy! Her present, not her work?'

'Her work, every st.i.tch. It has been a race with time.' The gratification of Averil's flush and smile was laid up by Ethel for Gertrude's reward; but it was plain that Tom wanted complete rest for his wife, and Ethel only waited to install her in the adjoining bed-room, which was as delightfully fitted up as the first apartment.

Averil clung to her for the instant they were alone together, and whispered, 'Oh, it is all so sweet! Don't think I don't feel it! But you see it is all I can do for him to be as quiet as I can! Say so, please!'

Ethel felt the throb of the heart, and knew to whom she was to say so; but Tom's restless approaching step made Averil detach herself, and sink into an arm-chair. Ethel left her, feeling that the short clasp of their arms had sealed their sisterhood here and for ever.

'It is too sad, too beautiful to be talked about,' she said to Gertrude, who was anxiously on the watch for tidings.

Obedient as Averil was, she had not understood her husband's desire that she should seek her pillow at once. She was feeling brisk and fresh, and by no means ready for captivity, and she presently came forth again with her soft, feeble, noiseless step; but she had nearly retreated again, feeling herself mistaken and bewildered, for in the drawing-room stood neither Tom nor his sisters, but a stranger--a dark, grave, thoughtful man of a singularly resolute and settled cast of countenance. The rustle of her dress made him look up as she turned.

'Ave!' he exclaimed; and as their eyes met, the light in those brown depths restored the whole past. She durst not trust herself to speak, as her head rested on his shoulder, his arms were round her; only as her husband came on the scene with a gesture of surprise, she said, 'Indeed, I did not mean it! I did not know he was here.'

'I might have known you could not be kept apart if I once let Leonard in,' he said, as he arranged her on the sofa, and satisfied himself that there were no tokens of the repressed agitation that left such dangerous effects. 'Will you both be very good if I leave you to be happy together?' he presently added, after a few indifferent words had pa.s.sed.

Averil looked wistfully after him, as if he were wanted to complete full felicity even in Leonard's presence. How little would they once have thought that her first words to her brother would be, 'Oh, was there ever any one like him?'

'We owe it all to him,' said Leonard.

'So kind,' added Averil, 'not to be vexed, though he dreaded our meeting so much; and you see I could not grieve him by making a fuss.

But this is nice!' she added, with a sigh going far beyond the effect of the homely word.

'You are better. Ella said so.'

'I am feeling well to-night. Come, let me look at you, and learn your face.'

He knelt down beside her, and she stroked back the hair, which had fulfilled his wish that she should find it as long, though much darker than of old. Posture and action recalled that meeting, when her couch had been his prison bed, and the cold white prison walls had frowned on them; yet even in the rosy light of the cheerful room there was on them the solemnity of an approaching doom.

'Where is the old face?' Averil said. 'You look as you did in the fever. Your smile brings back something of yourself. But, oh, those hollow eyes!'

'Count Ugolino is Dr. May's name for me: but, indeed, Ave, I have tried to fatten for your inspection.'

'It is not thinness,' she said, 'but I had carried about with me the bright daring open face of my own boy. I shall learn to like this better now.'

'Nay, it is you and Ella that are changed. O, Ave, you never let me know what a place you were in.'

'There were many things better than you fancy,' she answered; 'and it is over--it is all gladness now.'

'I see that in your face,' he said, gazing his fill. 'You do look ill indeed; but, Ave, I never saw you so content.'

'I can't help it,' she said, smiling. 'Every moment comes some fresh kindness from him. The more trouble I give him the kinder he is. Is it not as if the tempest was over, and we had been driven into the smoothest little suns.h.i.+ny bay?'

'To rest and refit,' he said, thoughtfully.

'For me, ”the last long wave;” and a most gentle smooth one it is,'

said Averil; 'for you to refit for a fresh voyage. Dear Leonard, I have often guessed what you would do.'