“I am sure of it,” said Gregory.
“Ah, you are a good boy, Gregory, a kind son. Both your parents have reason to know it. Your father needs a little sympathy and understanding. He doesn’t have much of a time as a whole, much as he has to be thankful for. It is amazing what a man can get used to, and sad in a way. I don’t wish you my life, Gregory.”
Gregory looked at his father with an affectionate smile coming over his face.
“I don’t know which is the greater person, you or Mother.”
“Ah, your mother is the greater, Gregory,” said Godfrey, in full, melodious tones, not repudiating the adjective. “Never be in any doubt about that.”
“Every now and then I do have a doubt about it.”
“Well, don’t, my boy,” said Godfrey, sweeping his hand from his horse to his son. “Don’t. Your father asks that of you.” He turned and left the stable with an emphatic tread.
Chapter XIII
Harriet Sent A message from her room that she would remain by herself, as she hoped to sleep. Towards evening Godfrey visited his wife, and they agreed that she should dine with her family. As the group awaited her in the drawing-room, Buttermere appeared.
“Have arrangements been made for bringing her ladyship downstairs, Sir Godfrey?”
“Bringing her ladyship downstairs? Whatever do you mean? Bringing her downstairs? Cannot she come downstairs?”
“Do you mean that she cannot walk by herself?” said Gregory, looking up quickly.
“I am not aware that she can, sir.”
“Say what is in your mind, Buttermere,” said Jermyn, leaning back and nervously tapping the table.
“I am under the impression that matters are as I have stated, sir.”
“How was she when you saw her, Father?” said Matthew.
“I think very much as usual. She was lying on the bed as if she did not want to be disturbed. I disturbed her as little as possible. We exchanged a word, and I left her.”
“Have you been told that she cannot walk by herself? And if so, who told you?” said Jermyn to the butler.
“I was given the information by Catherine, that that conclusion had been arrived at, sir.”
Catherine was the housemaid who waited on Harriet, who cared for too little attendance to need a woman of her own. The father and sons exchanged a glance, and Jermyn and Gregory went to their mother’s room. They found her sitting in an upright chair, with her elbows resting on the arms. The maid was moving about the room, worried and unwilling to leave her. She looked up with the expectant, acquiescent air of a child awaiting help.
“Why, cannot you come downstairs by yourself?” said Jermyn.
“She seems unsteady on her feet, sir,” said the maid, “and she speaks much less than usual. She has only been really awake for about an hour since the morning. The upset of yesterday has been too much for her.”
“Well, come along down to dinner, Mother,” said Gregory.
Harriet raised her arms with a smile, for her sons to put their hands beneath them. She rose with their help, and moved downstairs between them, but gave no heed to her steps, and at every stumble fell into helpless emotion, and let them support her weight.
“Harriet, my dear girl, what is this?” said her husband, who was holding open the door of the dining-room.
Harriet gave another smile, and went with her head drooping forward to her seat, and taking it, looked in front of her. Gregory and Griselda watched her with startled eyes.
“What is wrong with her?” said Godfrey.
“I don’t know. What you see. We know no more,” said Jermyn. “Catherine says she has been asleep all day.”
“I was not asleep,” said his mother, just shaking her head.
“What were you doing then, my darling?” said Godfrey.
“Not asleep. Just on the bed,” said Harriet, turning
calm eyes upon him.
“Oh, yes, you have been in bed, haven’t you?” said her
husband.
“Not in bed. On the bed,” said Harriet.
“I came in twice to look at you, but you did not see me,” said Gregory.
“Yes, I saw you,” said Harriet, smiling to herself. “I heard you, and then I saw you. You thought I did not see you.” She gave another tremble of laughter that lingered as it died.
“She is not herself,” said Matthew. “Are you not going to have any dinner, Mother?”
Harriet looked at him as if to speak, but remained with her expression fixed.
Godfrey got up and went to her side, and taking her soup, began to feed her with it. She opened her mouth for a while, and then stopped and gazed into space. Her husband, distraught and acting mechanically, took a spoonful of the soup himself, and Harriet turned and leaned towards him, unwilling to be supplanted.
“She is ill. We can’t have Buttermere coming in,” said Godfrey, continuing to move the spoon, and finding himself speaking as if his wife could not hear.
“Buttermere!” said Harriet, looking with the smile of a conspirator at her husband.
“We must carry her upstairs,” said Matthew. “You and I are the strongest, Father.”
“Yes, yes, you and I,” said Godfrey, turning his arms as if finding relief in their competence. “Come, my darling, let us help you into this other chair. This will be better for carrying you. Yes, you will be safe in this.”
Harriet looked at the chair, and then at the table.
“We will have your dinner sent up to you,” said Gregory.
“My dinner!” said Harriet, still looking at the table.
“She is hungry. She has had almost nothing since breakfast,” said Jermyn.
“Hungry!” said Harriet, as if at once touched and amused by the idea.
“Yes, yes, my darling. We will get you upstairs, and Catherine will take care of you, and see you have what you need. You are not very well this evening. You will be better in your own room. You will be quite yourself in the morning.”
Harriet smiled at the sensation of the chair, swayed her hands in time to its motion, and appeared regretful when she was set down. Godfrey saw her in bed, with her wants supplied, and returned to his children.
“Well, you have waited for me; that is good of you,” he said in a lifeless tone. “You would not let your father have his dinner by himself. Mother seems to be getting on well with hers, considering. Well, I suppose we had better have Dufferin come and see her.”
“It will be wiser to wait until to-morrow. He can judge better after the night. It is nothing urgent,” said Matthew.
“You think it is nothing urgent, my boy? Not serious, do you mean? Well, you have the knowledge,” said his father. “We will be guided by you. Have you anything to say about it yourself?”
“Nothing definite. Dufferin will know better. But I should think it may be serious. I meant it was not a case in which moments were significant.”
Godfrey sat back in open depression.
“You had better have something to eat, Father,” said Griselda. “We don’t want you ill as well as Mother.”
“My dear child!” said Godfrey, rousing himself. “Well, I would a good deal rather be ill than have her ill. I can tell you that.”
“You can’t make the exchange. It would be a case of both of you,” said Matthew.
“And there will be a greater strain on you than on anyone, if that is so,” said Jermyn.
“Jermyn!” exclaimed his father, and changed his tone. “My dear boy, I don’t throw doubt on your concern for a second. I know even from my own feelings how some people would be worked up. I mean I am an older and more stable man. All our feelings simply go without saying.”
“Do you think she will sleep to-night, Matthew?” said Griselda.