But he could not easily forget the look of grat.i.tude that answered him.

'G.o.d bless you, Michael! I will not try to thank you. Perhaps some day----'

She stopped as though unable to say more.

'Oh,' he said lightly, and crushing down some dangerous emotion as he spoke, 'I have done nothing to deserve thanks. Even if you had not asked me this, do you think I would have gone on my own way, like the Levite in the parable, and left that poor fellow to shift for himself? No, my dear, no; I am not quite so flinty-hearted. Unless Blake will have none of my help--unless he absolutely repulse me--I will try as far as lies in my power to put him on his feet again.'

'He will not repulse you; I have his word for that. Ah! there is the dinner-bell, and I have not said all that I wanted. The day seems as though it would never end, and yet there is time for nothing.'

'You will not come downstairs, Audrey? Let me ask your mother to excuse you. See! you can stay in this room; I can clear the table and put things ship-shape for you.'

Then she looked at him with the same air of innocent surprise with which she had regarded her mother the previous night, when she had asked to remain with her.

'Why do you all treat me as though I were an invalid?' she said protestingly. 'I am not ill, Michael. What does it matter where one eats one's dinner? It is true I am not hungry, but there is father--why should I make him uncomfortable? We must think of other people always, and under all circ.u.mstances.'

She seemed to be saying this to herself more than to him, as though she would remind herself of her duty. Michael said no more, but as he followed her downstairs he told himself that no other girl could have borne herself so bravely and so sweetly under the circ.u.mstances.

He wondered at her still more as he sat opposite to her at table, and saw the quiet gravity with which she took her part in the conversation.

She spoke a word or two about her sister, and mentioned of her own accord that she had promised to bring Leonard to see her the next day.

'I do not mean to call him baby,' she said; 'he is far too important a personage. Did you hear nurse speak of him as Master Baby the other day?

I think Gage must have given her a hint about it.'

And then she listened with an air of interest as her mother related a little anecdote that recurred to her memory of Geraldine's babyhood.

But he saw her flush painfully when Mrs. Ross commented on her want of appet.i.te.

'You have eaten nothing to-day, Crauford tells me,' she continued anxiously.

Audrey shook her head.

'One cannot always be hungry, mother dear,' she said gently; but it was evident that her mother's kindly notice did not please her.

And she seemed still more distressed when her father once rose from his place to give her some wine.

'Why do you do that?' she asked, with a touch of impatience. 'It is not for you to wait on me, father. Michael would have filled my gla.s.s quite easily.'

'You are paying me a very bad compliment, Audrey,' returned Dr. Ross with a smile. 'You are telling me that I am too much of an old fogey to wait on ladies. Mike is the younger man, of course, and if you should prefer that he should help you to madeira----'

'No, father, it is not that; but it is for me to wait on you. You must never, never do that for me again.'

And somehow Dr. Ross seemed to have no answer ready as he went back to his chair.

But when she was alone with her mother she spoke still more plainly.

Mrs. Ross had persuaded her to take the corner of the couch; but as she stood by her manipulating the cushions and adjusting them more comfortably, Audrey turned round quickly and took hold of her hands.

'Mother, do please sit down. I think you have all entered into a conspiracy to-night to kill me with kindness.'

'We are so sorry for you, darling.'

'Perhaps I am sorry for myself; but is that any reason why I should be treated as though I had lost the use of my limbs? I want you to behave to me as usual; it will be far better for me and you too. Why did not father and Michael talk politics, instead of making little cut-and-dried speeches that seemed to fit into nothing?'

'I daresay they found it very difficult to talk at all under the circ.u.mstances.'

'That sounds as though I had better have remained upstairs, as Michael suggested; indeed, I must do so if you will persist in regarding me as the skeleton at the feast.'

'My darling child, how you talk! Surely you will allow your parents to share your sorrow?'

'No, mother; that is just what I cannot allow; no one shall be burdened with my troubles. Listen to me, mother dear: I think people make a great mistake about this; they mean to be kind, but it is not true kindness; they are ready to give everything--sympathy, watchfulness, attention--but they withhold the greatest gift of all, the freedom, the solitude, for which the sufferer craves.'

'Do you mean that we are to leave you alone, Audrey? Oh, my dear, this is a hard saying for a mother to hear!'

'But it is not too hard for my mother,' returned Audrey caressingly.

'Yes, I would have you leave me alone until I recover myself. I would be treated as you have always treated me, and not as though I were a maimed and sickly member of the flock. Neither would I be reminded every moment of the day that any special hurt has come to me.'

'And I am not to ask you even to rest yourself?'

'No, not even that. I would rather a thousand times that you gave me some work or errand. Mother dear,' and here her voice was very sad, 'I will not deny that this is a great trouble, and that my life will not be as easy and as happy as it used to be. The shadow of my poor boy's sorrow will be a heavy burden for me to bear; but we must ask G.o.d to lighten it for both of us. I tell you this to-night because you are my own dear mother, and such confidence is your due; but after to-night I shall not say it again. If you and father wish to help me, it will be by allowing me to feel that I am still your comfort;' and then she threw herself in her mother's arms. 'Tell father this,' she whispered, 'and ask him to give me time. One day, perhaps, I shall be more like my old self; but we must wait: it is too soon to expect much of me yet.'

'I will tell your father you are our good, dear child, Audrey, and you shall have your way.'

'Thank you; I knew you would understand. After all, there is no one like one's mother.' And then she sighed, and Mrs. Ross knew where her thoughts had wandered. 'Now, for this one evening, I will take your advice and rest. I will go up to my room now; but to-morrow'--she stopped, and then said firmly--'to-morrow everything shall be as usual.'

And then she gave her cheek to her mother's kiss, and went up to her room.

Michael did not make his appearance in the drawing-room that night. To Booty's secret rapture, he put on his great-coat, and went out into the chill darkness. He had much to consider; and it was easier to make his plans under the dim March starlight. A difficult charge had been given him, and he had not shrunk from it; on the contrary, he had felt much as some knight in the olden times must have felt when his liege lady had given him some hazardous work or quest. To be sure, there was no special guerdon attached to it; but a man like Michael Burnett does not need a reward: if he could only give Audrey peace of mind, he would ask no other reward.

He made up his mind that he would go to Cyril the next morning, and he thought he knew what he should say to him. He and Dr. Ross had talked matters over after dinner. Dr. Ross had already suggested a subst.i.tute--a young Oxford man, who was staying at the Vicarage, and who was on the look-out for a mastership.

'I told Cyril that he had better discontinue his work,' he went on. 'If it were not for Audrey, he could have made some sort of shift, and kept on until the holidays; but it would never do to run the risk of another scene between them: it would be bad for her, and it would be terrible for him. It is an awkward complication, Mike; it would be better to get him away as soon as possible.' And to this Michael a.s.sented.

He went round to the Gray Cottage soon after breakfast. Audrey was watering her flowers in the hall. She looked at him as he pa.s.sed her, but did not speak; of course, she guessed his errand, for he saw her head droop a little over the flowers.

Mollie received him. The poor girl's eyes were swollen with crying, and she looked up in his face very piteously, as he greeted her with his usual kindness.

'Where is your brother, Mollie?'

'Do you mean Cyril? He is in his room; but no one has seen him. Oh, Captain Burnett, is it true? Mamma has been saying such dreadful things, and we do not know whether we are to believe her. Biddy tries to hush her, but she will go on talking; she is quiet now, and Kester and I crept down here. Ah, there is Kester looking at us; he wants you to go in and speak to him.'

'Is it true?' were Kester's first words when he saw his friend. The poor lad's lips were quivering. 'Oh, Captain Burnett, do tell us that it is not true!'

'I cannot do that, my boy,' returned Michael gravely; and then he sat down and listened to what they had to tell him. He soon found that the mother's wild ravings had told them the truth. In her despair at being refused admittance to her son's room, she had given way to a frantic outburst of emotion. Biddy had tried to get rid of them, but Kester and Mollie had remained, almost petrified with horror. What could their mother mean by telling them that she hated the sight of them, and adjuring them to go to their father?

'Father is dead; does she wish us to be dead, too?' Mollie had faltered.

'Dear mamma, do let me go and fetch Cyril! You are ill; you do not know what you are saying!' But as she turned to go, her mother had started up, and gripped her arm so fiercely that the poor child could have screamed with pain.

'Yes, you shall fetch him, but he will not come; he will not listen to you any more than he would to me. When I implored him on my knees to open the door, he said that he was ill, and that he could not speak to me. But was I not ill, too? If I were dying he would not come to me! and yet he is my son!'

'Dear mamma! oh, dear mamma! do you know how you are hurting me?'