So Biddy's father did his best to get well. Not by fidgeting and worrying and thinking of nothing but his own symptoms, but by cheerful patience. He obeyed the doctor's orders exactly, and forced himself to believe that the work he would fain have been doing would get done, by G.o.d's help, even though _he_ might not do it; he kept up his interest in all going on about him, watching with the keenest interest the pretty, shy approaches of the spring from his window; he read as much as he was allowed, and helped Rough with his lessons in the evening, and had a bright smile for everybody at all times.

'I almost feel as if he were too good to live,' said Mrs. Fairchild one evening to Celestina and her father, when she had returned from a visit to the rectory. But this time it was Mr. Fairchild's turn to speak cheerily, for he too had been spending an hour or two with the invalid that day.

'I saw a decided improvement to-day,' he said. 'I do think Mr. Vane's patience is wonderful, but I have a strong feeling that he is really beginning to gain ground.'

Celestina's eyes sparkled with pleasure, and so did her mother's. The two families had grown very much attached to each other in these few weeks.

'_Won't_ they all be happy when he gets well?' said the little girl.

'And oh, mother, isn't dear little Biddy different from what she was?

She is so gentle and thoughtful, and she's hardly _never_ cross. She does so many little things to help.'

Mrs. Fairchild smiled. In her heart she thought that Celestina had certainly had a hand in this pleasant change, but she would not say so.

Children got less praised '_then_-a-days,' as a little friend of mine calls long ago, for their parents were exceedingly afraid of spoiling them, and the thought of taking any credit to herself had never entered the child's mind.

'I do hope,' she went on, 'that Biddy's papa will be nearly quite well by her birthday. It'll come in a month, you know, mother, and the doll-house is almost quite ready. Mrs. Vane has begun working at it again the last few days, and Rosalys and I and Miss Neale have all been helping. It _will_ be so lovely, mother,' and Celestina's face lighted up with pleasure quite as great as if it was all for herself.

Truly, selfish people have _no_ idea what happiness they miss!

CHAPTER XII

ANOTHER BIRTHDAY

'Rare as is true love, true friendship is still rarer.'

LA ROCHEFOUCAULD.

Bridget's birthday came in May--the middle of May. From the time I have told you about in the last chapter Mr. Vane went on getting slowly better; at least he got no worse. But it did seem very slow. At last there came a day on which the doctor gave him leave to go downstairs.

'I want to see what he can do,' the doctor explained. 'At this rate we might go on for months and gain little ground. Perhaps he is stronger than he seems.'

They were all very eager and excited about this great step. It was an 'afternoon' day, as the little girls called those days on which Celestina and Miss Neale came back again, and this afternoon Mrs.

Fairchild came with them. Mrs. Vane was thankful to have her at hand in case of any help being needed. And all the children were sent out for a walk, with the promise of finding papa in the drawing-room when they came in again.

But as they were coming home they were met by Rough at the Rectory gate.

It was one of his occasional half-days. He ran out to meet them, but he looked rather grave.

'Is papa down? Is he in the drawing-room?' cried Rosalys and Biddy.

'Yes,' said Rough; 'but mamma's been rather frightened about him. He seems so weak. She's sent me for the doctor, and he's there now. So you must not go in to see papa. That's why I came to meet you.'

Alie's face fell and Biddy's grew very red.

'I'm sure _we_ shouldn't hurt him,' she said. 'It's all that nasty doctor,' and she almost looked as if she were going to get into one of her old tempers.

Celestina took hold of her hand gently.

'Don't, Biddy dear,' she whispered. 'Perhaps when the doctor goes you'll see him;' which did Bridget far more good than if she had overheard, as she luckily did not, Rough's remark to Alie: 'I don't think _she's_ any right to grumble when it's all her doing.'

It was not a kind thing to say, but then Rough's heart was sore and anxious, and when one feels so it is difficult not to be cross and sharp. All their hearts were sore, I think. Children jump on so fast in their minds. Bride and Rough, and Alie too, I daresay, had fancied to themselves that once 'downstairs' again papa would seem directly like himself, and this news was a great disappointment. So the little party went in rather sadly, Miss Neale telling them in a low voice to take off their things and come down to tea in the schoolroom as quietly as possible, Rough, over whom her authority did not extend, stationing himself at the front door to watch for the doctor's departure.

He stayed some time, and when he had gone Mr. Vane asked for the children.

'In a little,' Mrs. Vane answered. Then she turned to Celestina's mother. 'This idea has rather taken my breath away,' she said, but her voice was pretty cheerful.

'I hardly see how it is to be managed,' said Mr. Vane, for once rather despondently.

'We will talk it all over afterwards,' said Mrs. Vane, at a little sign from Celestina's mother; 'and now we will leave you to rest a while.'

'Oh dear, Mrs. Fairchild,' she said, when they were alone in the next room, 'I wonder what we can do. It is dreadful to think of going abroad--to be alone among strangers, and my husband so ill. And then leaving the children. I cannot send them to my mother. Her house is full with my eldest brother's family home from India.'

'I think they would get on very well here,' said Mrs. Fairchild. 'And your own governess will be back in a fortnight. Of course Miss Neale would be too young for such a charge; besides, she cannot leave her mother. And--you must excuse my suggesting it--but is not Madame d'Ermont's home somewhere in the south?'

'To be sure,' exclaimed Mrs. Vane, starting up joyfully; 'how stupid of me not to have thought of it! Thank you so much for reminding me. I have her last letter here. You have written to her yourself, have you not?'

'Yes, indeed. I wrote to thank her very much for her kindness,' said Mrs. Fairchild. 'It may be of the greatest advantage to Celestina some day.'

For I have been so busy with the story of Biddy's escapade and its consequences, that I have put off too long telling of the French lady's kind letter to Mrs. Vane about her old friend Mrs. Fairchild and her little name-daughter Celestina.

'It has touched me very much,' she wrote, 'to find I was still remembered; and if ever I can be of use to little Celestine and her mother I hope she or you will let me know.'

Well, the doctor had ordered Mr. Vane to go abroad, as I daresay you will have guessed.

It was a sad disappointment, just when they had come to Seacove and he seemed so well, and though no one reproached her, Bridget felt that the consequences of her self-will were not to be soon forgotten.

It was all settled very quickly; and from the time it was settled Mr.

Vane, 'out of contradiction,' he said laughing, really seemed to improve faster than hitherto. So that he was looking a good deal more like 'a proper papa,' as Alie said, the day he and Mrs. Vane started on their long journey.

'I am so glad you are going to be near that nice old lady,' said Alie, amidst her tears; 'and oh, mamma dear, I will try to do everything you would like.'

'I am sure you will, darling, and it is a great comfort to feel so much happier about Biddy now. You will try to make a nice birthday for her, I know.'

'There'll be the surprise--that's something nice to look forward to. And we may have Celestina as often as we like, mayn't we?'

'As often as her mother can spare her, of course,' Mrs. Vane answered.

Then came Biddy. She was not crying, though she winked her eyes a good deal.

'Mamma, I'll try to be good,' she said bluntly; 'and if papa gets quite well again'--here her voice broke. 'Oh, mamma, if only it was the day for you and papa to come back, and him quite, _quite_ well. Mamma, I think I'd never be naughty again.'

This was a great, great deal from Biddy!

That day _did_ come, but a good many other days had to pa.s.s before it came, and some of these were rather sad and anxious ones. For the first letters from abroad were not as cheerful as Mrs. Vane would have liked to make them for the little party so eagerly awaiting them at Seacove Rectory. Mr. Vane was very tired by the journey, and had it not been for the kindness of Madame d'Ermont, who would not hear of them staying anywhere but in her house, at any rate till he grew stronger, Mrs. Vane said she felt as if she would have lost heart altogether. But after a little things brightened up again. 'Papa really seems to get stronger every day,' she wrote; and on Bridget's birthday morning there came a letter from papa himself, all scented with the sweet violets he had slipped into it--for that was long before the days of parcel posts, by which flowers reach us from the south of France and Italy as fresh as if we had just gathered them in our own gardens--and telling of quite a long walk he had been able to take without feeling too tired. The letter ended up with wishing Biddy a truly happy birthday, and hopes that it might be bright and sunny at Seacove. 'I only wish I could pack up some of the sunshine here to send you,' wrote Mr. Vane, 'for we have enough and to spare of it. But after all, the best sunshine of all is that of happy and contented and loving hearts--is it not, my Biddy?'

There was sunshine of both kinds that day at the Rectory. Celestina came early, almost immediately after breakfast indeed, so as to be present at the great 'surprise.' She was to spend the whole day for once with her friends, which was a great treat, though she saw them regularly once or twice a week when she came to have a French lesson from Miss Millet.

Mrs. Vane had arranged this before she left, for little Miss Neale, who now gave Celestina lessons every day at Pier Street, could not teach French, and it was a great pleasure, and help too, to Biddy to have industrious, attentive Celestina still her companion in something.