"Your ship was there."
"_Was_ there; but ships are not stationary things."
"No, of course not," said Dolly, throwing open the blinds and letting the summer light and fragrance stream in. "Then, when did you see Christina?"
"Not for months. The Red Chief has been ordered to the Baltic and is there now; and I got a furlough to come to England. But--how do you do, Miss Copley?"
"I am well, thank you."
"Forgive me for asking, if that information can be depended on?"
"Yes, indeed I am well. I suppose I look tired. We have had sickness here for a good while--my father. Mother and I are tired, no doubt."
"You look very tired. I am afraid I ought not to be here. Can you make me of use? What is the matter? Please remember that I am not a stranger."
"I am very glad to remember it," said Dolly. "No, I do not feel as if you were a stranger, Mr. Shubrick, after that day we spent together.
You asked what was the matter--oh, I don't know! a sort of slow, nervous fever, not infectious at all, nor very alarming; only it must be watched, and he always wants some one with him, and of course after a while one gets tired. That cannot be helped. We have managed very well."
"Not Mrs. Copley and you alone?"
"Yes."
"How long?"
"It is five weeks now."
"And no improvement yet?"
"I do not know. Mother thinks a little," said Dolly, faltering. This speaking to eyes and ears of sympathy, after so long an interval, rather upset her; her lips trembled, tears came, she was upon the point of breaking down; she struggled for self-command, but her lips trembled more and more.
"I have come in good time," said her visitor.
"It is pleasant to see somebody, to be able to speak to somebody, that is so good as to care," said Dolly, brushing her hand over her eyes swiftly.
"You are worn out," said the other gently. "I am not going to be simply somebody to speak to. Miss Copley, I am a countryman, and a sort of a friend, you know. You will let me take the watch to-night."
"You!" said Dolly, starting. "Oh no!"
"I beg your pardon. You ought to say 'Oh yes.' I have had experience. I think you may trust me."
"Oh, I cannot. We have no right to let you do so."
"You have a right to make any use of me you can; for I place myself at your disposal."
"You are _very_ kind, Mr. Shubrick!"
"Don't say anything more. That is settled," said he, taking up his cap, as if in preparation for departure. Dolly was a little bewildered by the quiet, decided manner, just like what she remembered of Mr.
Shubrick; unobtrusive and undemonstrative, but if he moved, moving straight to his goal. She rose as he rose.
"But," she stammered, "I don't think you can. Father likes nobody but mother and me about him."
"He will like me to-morrow," Mr. Shubrick answered with a smile. "Don't fear; I will manage that."
"You are very kind!" said Dolly. "You are very kind!"--Already her heart was leaping towards this offered help, and Mr. Shubrick looked so resolute and strong and ready; she could hardly oppose him. "But you are _too_ kind!" she said suddenly.
"No," said he gravely; "that is impossible. Remember, in the family we belong to, the rule is one which we can never reach. 'That ye love one another, even as I have loved you.'"
What it was, I do not know, in these words which overcame Dolly. In the words and the manner together. She was very tired and overstrung, and they found some unguarded spot and reached the strained nerves. Dolly put both hands to her face and burst into tears, and for a moment was terribly afraid that she was going to be hysterical. But that was not Dolly's way at all, and she made resolute fight against her nerves.
Meanwhile, she felt herself taken hold of and placed in a chair by the window; and the sense that somebody was watching her and waiting, helped the return of self-control. With a sort of childish sob, Dolly presently took down her hands and looked up through the glistening tears at the young man standing over her.
"There!" she said, forcing a smile on the lips that quivered,--"I am all right now. I do not know how I could be so foolish."
"_I_ know," said Mr. Shubrick. "Then I will just return to the village for half and hour, and be back here as soon as possible."
"But"--said Dolly doubtfully. "Why don't you send for what you want?"
"Difficult," said the other. "I am going to get some supper."
"Oh!" said Dolly. "If _that_ is what you want--sit down, Mr. Shubrick.
Or send off your fly first, and then sit down. If you are going to stay here to-night, I'll give you your supper. Send away the fly, Mr.
Shubrick, please!"
"I do not think I can. And you cannot possibly do such a thing as you propose. I shall be back here in a very little time."
Dolly put her hand upon Mr. Shubrick's cap and softly took it from him.
"No," she said. "It's a bargain. If I let you do one thing, you must let me do the other. It would trouble me to have you go. It is too pleasant to see a friend here, to lose sight of him in this fashion.
There will be supper, of some sort, and you shall have the best we can.
Will you send away your fly, please, and sit down and wait for it?"
If Dolly could not withstand him, so on this point there was no resisting her. Mr. Shubrick yielded to her evident urgent wish; and Dolly went back to her preparations. The question suddenly struck her, _where_ should she have supper? Down here in the kitchen? But to have it in order, upstairs, would involve a great deal more outlay of strength and trouble. The little maid could not set the table up there, and Dolly could not, with the stranger looking on. That would never do.
She debated, and finally decided to put her pride in her pocket and bring her visitor down to the kitchen. It was not a bad place, and if he was going to be a third nurse in the house, it would be out of keeping to make any ceremony with him. Dolly's supper itself was faultless. She had some cold game, sent by Lady Brierley or by her order; she had fresh raspberries sent by Mrs. Jersey, and a salad of cresses. But Mrs. Copley would not be persuaded to make her appearance.
She did not want to see strangers; she did not like to leave Mr.
Copley; in short, she excused herself obstinately, to Dolly's distress.
However, she made no objection to having Mr. Shubrick take her place for the night; and she promised Dolly that if she got a good night's sleep and was rested, she would appear at breakfast.
CHAPTER XXXII.
THE NURSE.
Dolly made her mother's excuses, which seemed to her visitor perfectly natural, and ushered him down to the supper laid in the little kitchen; Dolly explaining very simply that her mother and she had lived there since there had been sickness in the house, and had done so for want of hands to make other arrangements possible. And Mr. Shubrick seemed also to find it the most natural thing in the world to live in the kitchen, and for all that appeared, had never taken his meals anywhere else in his life. He did justice to the supper too, which was a great gratification to Dolly; and lifted the kettle for her from the hob when she wanted it, and took his place generally as if he were one of the family. As for Dolly, there came over her a most exquisite sense of relief; a glimpse of shelter and protection, the like of which she had not known since she could hardly remember when. True, it was transient; it could not abide; Mr. Shubrick was sitting there opposite her like some one that had fallen from the clouds, and whom mist and shadow would presently swallow up again; but in the meanwhile, what a gleam of light his presence brought! He would go soon again, of course; he must; but to have him there in the meantime was a momentary comfort unspeakable. More than momentary; he would stay all night. And her mother would get a night's sleep. For her own part, this feeling of rest was already as good as sleep. Yes, for once, for a little, a strong hand had come between her and her burdens. Dolly let herself rest upon it, with an intense appreciation of its strength and sufficiency.
And so resting, she observed her new helper curiously. She noticed how entirely he was the same man she had seen that Christmas Day in Rome; the same here as there, with no difference at all. There was the calm of manner that had struck her then, along with the readiness for action; the combination was peculiar, and expressed in every turn of head and hand. Here, in a strange house, he was as absolutely at ease and unconstrained as if he had been on the quarterdeck of his own ship.
Is it the habit of command? thought Dolly. But that does not necessarily give a man ease of manner in his intercourse with others who are not under his command. Meanwhile, Mr. Shubrick sat and talked, keeping up a gentle run of unexciting thoughts, and apparently as much at home in the kitchen of Brierley Cottage as if he had lived there always.
"When have you seen Christina?" Dolly asked.