At last Mrs. Pink appeared in the doorway.
"Oh, how nice-how very nice!" she exclaimed. Then added, "From what your man tells me, you’re not feeling very well. Really, I think you are running a great risk in working to the last minute".
"Would you want to have your baby in another person’s house, with a young lad just coming home from college?"
"No, indeed. I don’t blame you. But this is much sooner than you expected, isn’t it?"
"Yes. I’m afraid I’ve been overdoing it. Then there was the piano taking that tumble-I thought the horses were going over, too-it gave me quite a start".
"Dr. Ramsay was not at home but his housekeeper will send him here as soon as he returns".
More tea was made. Mrs. Pink busied herself unpacking the portmanteau, laying Adeline’s toilet articles on the dressing-table. The figure of Kuan Yin caught her eye. "How pretty!" she said. "It’s Chinese, isn’t it?"
"Yes. The goddess Kuan Yin. She has promised to look after me".
Adeline spoke with such an air of sincerity that Mrs. Pink was startled.
"Oh, Mrs. Whiteoak, you’re joking, aren’t you?"
"Well, I think there’s a good deal in those Eastern religions".
"Still, I don’t think Christians should countenance them, do you?"
"God has countenanced them for a good many centuries, hasn’t He?"
"His ways are beyond our understanding, my husband says".
Adeline moved restlessly about the room, then turned sharply to Mrs. Pink. "I think Philip had better be sent for. It is well to be on the safe side".
Mrs. Pink hurried out. She sent one of the men to fetch Philip, then went down to the kitchen to see that Lizzie had preparations in progress. Adeline was alone when Philip came to her. He gave an astonished look about the room and at the freshly made bed where her nightdress and peignoir were laid out.
"What’s this?" he demanded.
"I’ve moved in". She smiled up at him.
"The house is not ready and won’t be for another ten days. You can’t do it".
"I have done it. It’s accomplished". She surveyed what she had done with satisfaction. "Oh, Philip, dear, you’d not want me to have my baby at Vaughanlands, would you?"
"It’s not due till the end of the month".
She spoke in a small voice. "I think it is coming today. I have sent Patsy for the doctor".
"Good God!" he exclaimed, his blue eyes prominent.
"You wouldn’t want me to be out of my own bed, would you, Philip? I’ve had a time of it to get everything ready, I can tell you. But doesn’t it look nice?"
"Very nice", he answered grimly.
Mrs. Pink returned to ask Adeline how she was.
"Better. I shall be all right for hours, I expect. Should you like to go home to see your little boy?"
"If you think you can spare me". She turned to Philip. "My youngest has a gathering in his ear. I am keeping hearts of hot roast onions in it. I can’t trust the servant to do it. The doctor will be here any moment, I’m sure, and I shall not be gone long".
Philip went to drive her to the Rectory. Adeline was alone but she did not mind. She was supremely happy. There, under her own roof, with the rain pattering lightly on it, she awaited her ordeal with more of pride than fear. She was in her own house. From now on she would do what she liked. Oh, how she loved the house! It spoke to her, as though in a deep reassuring voice. It resolved itself from the chaos of building and took shape as a home about her. Echoes of footsteps sounded through it, footsteps to come; unborn voices called out to her, not only the voice of the child to whom she was about to give birth but of her children’s children. She would spend all her days here. She and the house would have many secrets together. The house would teem with life, with emotion. It would hold all together inside its walls, over which in time vines and their leaves would grow.
XVII. Springtime at Jalna
Philip said, and said it from the bottom of his heart, that he hoped and prayed Adeline would never have another child. To say nothing of her sufferings and the risk to her life, it was too hard on him. He felt a nervous wreck after this last. The doctor had been so long in coming that it looked as though the infant might be born without his assistance. The midwife had never arrived, being engaged in another confinement. It seemed for a time that Philip and Mrs. Pink would be Adeline’s sole support. At the mere thought of such a contingency, a cold sweat broke out on him. Adeline had more than her share of endurance but, for some reason, her self-control deserted her and she cried out with every pain. Time and again she declared that she was dying. When Dr. Ramsay came at last she faced him with defiance and momentary calm. Before he did anything for her relief he told her his opinion of her actions of the morning. In half an hour the child was born.
Though Adeline had gone through so much, her recovery was quick. This was probably because of her great content. The weather too became sunny and warm. All about her, indoors and out, the work went forward. There was jubilation among the workmen at the news of the birth in the new house. To the best of their ability they did their work quietly. When the infant was ten days old, Philip carried him out to show him to them. He was a smaller, weaker child than Nicholas had been but he had pretty features, an exquisite skin, and his eyes were like forget-me-nots. The woodsmen, horny-handed and unkempt, crowded about him. They were pleased by the fineness of his long white robe and the little lace cap he wore. He looked up at them reflectively, placing the finger-tips of one hand against those of the other.
Philip was delighted because he was the first of his children to show a resemblance to his own family. Adeline, with him on the pillow beside her, would study the small face and declare that, though his colouring was Philip’s, his features never would be. There was some discussion over his name. Philip chose Charles, his own father’s name. Adeline chose Dennis as the name least aggressively her father’s. Certainly, she declared, she would never name him after their doctor, as she had Nicholas after her loved Dr. St. Charles. But they could not decide which of his names he should go by. Each disliked the choice of the other. "Charles is a stern name", she affirmed.
"Nonsense", said Philip. "It’s as agreeable a name as there is. Dennis sounds like a comical Irish story".
"You just show your bad feeling when you say such a thing", she retorted. "’Tis a grand name!"
But the problem was settled by a book Wilmott sent her. It was Ernest Maltravers, by Lord Lytton. Adeline had not read half-way through the book before she cried, "His name shall be Ernest!"
Philip had to acknowledge that the name was a good one and Wilmott, when he came to see the infant, said that nothing could be more suitable and expressive of the tiny personality. So he was named Ernest Charles Dennis, but continued to be called Baby for some time.
Philip’s heart glowed with pride when he sat by Adeline’s bed and saw her propped on the pillows, the week-old infant snuggled in the curve of her arm, the two older children perched beside them. Adeline’s pallor brought out the superb contours of the bones of her face which would, even in age, be arresting. Her hair, massed on the pillow, made a striking background. Her white arms curved about her children with maternal satisfaction.
The children had been brought from Vaughanlands by their nurse to inspect their baby brother for the first time. Augusta, now three years of age, sat decorously at the infant’s feet, her hands crossed in her lap, her eyes fixed in wonder on his pink face. Nicholas, however, was more excited by the painting on the head of the bed. The brilliant flowers and fruit with their strange sensuous beauty filled him with delight. He bounced on his plump behind, his hands now clasped ecstatically beneath his chin, now stretched out to grasp the fruit. He laughed and shouted.