The thing that worried Mrs. Vaughan about Daisy was that she appeared to be not only after Dr. Ramsay alone. When the doctor was with Adeline, Daisy was certain to be with Philip, if he were in the house. In these days, Adeline felt a weariness on her and retired early to bed. Daisy always manoeuvred to sit up with Philip, who did not care when he went to bed. She would go with him over the snowdrifts on snowshoes which she had been given at Christmas, to visit Jalna. When Adeline was present, Daisy was circumspection itself, but when Adeline was not there, Daisy directed almost all her conversation to Philip, and laughed a good deal. Mrs. Vaughan had tried hard to love Daisy but had not succeeded. She was critical of Adeline but could not help loving her.
Even more than she loved their mother, Mrs. Vaughan loved the children. They grew more charming every day, she thought, yet they filled the house with their noise and the confusion of their living. Nicholas was developing a temper and when he was frustrated would make the echoes ring with his screams of rage.
Then when things were at their gloomiest, March came in like a lamb. It did not come in like an ordinary lamb but as a gay, sweetly gambolling lamb whose bleat was the gurgle of running water, whose eyes shone like summer stars, whose tail flicked all care aside. In short, the weather was unseasonably warm. But now the work on Jalna boomed and buzzed. The workmen rose early and worked late. Things which it seemed never would happen, took place in the twinkling of an eye. Plaster was slapped on. Window-glass was puttied in. Door-knobs and locks were screwed into place. The spindles and rail of the banister miraculously appeared and, at the foot of the stairs, the carved newel-post, smooth as satin with its clustering grapes and their leaves. The men sang as they worked. The hot sun beat down on the roof and blazed in at the new windows. Great clouds of migratory birds passed overhead. The earth was teeming with vitality. The melting of the snow had been so quickly accomplished that the stream had been fed beyond control. It raged through the ravine, sweeping away the bridge of logs and carrying it to the lake. Wilmott’s river was in spate also. One night it came to his very door and he began to pack his books. He dared not go to bed but remained watching. Every now and again he would open the door and, holding a lantern above his head, survey the threatening flood. But by sunrise it had a little subsided and by noon his books were again on their shelves.
It was a great day for Philip and Adeline when a van, drawn by four horses, stopped in front of the door of Jalna. Here was their furniture at last! Here were the painted leather bedstead they had brought from India and the chest of drawers with its ornate brass trimmings, the cabinet and the packing-case full of jade, ivory and silver ornaments to grace it. Here were the rugs that had taken generations of work to make, the draperies with delicate embroidery; here were the very scents and sounds of India! Here were the delicate Chippendale chairs and tables, given Philip by his sister, the Empire sofa they had brought from Quebec, the massive wardrobe they had bought in London! Here the Irish silver and linen given by Lady Honoria! Here the old life in the new!
March had only three more days to go, and still it was gentle. If only Adeline might have her own room in order-the rest of the house could wait-so that her child might be born in peace under her own roof! Day and night she strained toward this object. She could scarcely sleep for the planning in her head and the weariness of her body. The thought of time became palpable to her, as an antagonistic something with which she was running a race. Once, in the middle of the night, she pictured the unborn child as timekeeper in this race. She pictured him as a little gnome sitting cross-legged with a gold watch in his hand. At this fancy she burst out laughing.
"What’s the matter?" exclaimed Philip, starting up.
"I laughed-so that I should not cry".
"Nonsense. Why should you cry?"
"I’d better be dead than go through all I have to go through".
"Now, Adeline, behave yourself and think of all your mercies", he said, for something to say.
"Do you count yourself one of them?"
"Assuredly".
"Then you count one too many".
He raised himself on his elbow and looked down at her. Bright moonlight was shining through the window into his face. His sister, Augusta, had sent him an embroidered nightcap and it was perched jauntily on one side of his head.
"Oh, Philip, you look enchanting!" she exclaimed. She drew down his head and kissed him.
"Now you must settle yourself and go to sleep", he said, patting her shoulder.
She sighed. "I think I might if the window were open".
"You know very well the doctor has warned you most particularly against night air, since you had whooping-cough".
"Oh, do let us have it open, just a tiny way!"
He got up grumbling a little and opened the window a few inches. Then he drew a chair between her and the window and spread her great flounced petticoat across it.
"There", he said with satisfaction, "that will keep the draught off you".
"Oh, thank you, Phil", she said, breathing deeply. "How sweet the night air is! What a pity it should be so dangerous!" She snuggled down.
The petticoat did not keep the night air off Philip. He could feel it fanning his cheek in the most disagreeable way. But he did not like to change his position for fear of disturbing Adeline. He began to be miserable. He was not afraid of what the night air would do to him. He just did not like it.
Finally he solved the problem by pulling his nightcap right down over his eyes, down over his uppermost cheek, till he was sheltered but still could breathe.
April came in wild and windy. The wind, discovering the five tall new chimneys, blew down them, shrieked and roared through them, as though they were outlet enough for all its energy. The new doors slammed and banged; shavings of wood blew in all directions; workmen whistled at the top of their lungs; one of them was blown from the top of a ladder and might have been killed, but was scarcely hurt. The furniture was uncrated and the canvas wrappings removed. Rugs were heaped in corners. The great painted bedstead, with its design of rich-coloured flowers and fruit, through which the forms of birds and monkeys could be glimpsed, was set up in the principal bedroom. Fifty times a day Nero went upstairs and down, overseeing all.
With the furniture from Uncle Nicholas’ house in Quebec had come the grand piano. It was delivered in a wagon by itself. When it arrived there was so much else to be done that it was decided to unload it and let it stand in its case, covered by tarpaulin, till men could be spared for the handling of such a load. The wagon was backed toward a convenient spot near the ravine. But the ground still was icy in the shade. The wagon wheels began to slip. The whole great weight began to move backward into the ravine, dragging the horses with it. Philip and Adeline looked on, with dismay on his part, horror on hers. In another moment the plunging horses would be over the edge.