Esther Waters Part 23

"Yes, yes, I know; but I've always heard that children die that are put out to nurse. If mine died I never should forgive myself."

She could not sleep; she lay with her arms about her baby, distracted at the thought of parting from him. What had she done that her baby should be separated from her? What had the poor little darling done? He at least was innocent; why should he be deprived of his mother? At midnight she got up and lighted a candle, looked at him, took him in her arms, squeezed him to her bosom till he cried, and the thought came that it would be sweeter to kill him with her own hands than to be parted from him.

The thought of murder went with the night, and she enjoyed the journey to Wandsworth. Her baby laughed and cooed, and was much admired in the omnibus, and the little street where Mrs. Spires lived seemed different. A cart of hay was being unloaded, and this gave the place a pleasant rural air. Mrs. Spires, too, was cleaner, tidier; Esther no longer disliked her; she had a nice little cot ready for the baby, and he seemed so comfortable in it that Esther did not feel the pangs at parting which she had expected to feel. She would see him in a few weeks, and in those weeks she would be richer. It seemed quite wonderful to earn so much money in so short a time. She had had a great deal of bad luck, but her luck seemed to have turned at last. So engrossed was she in the consideration of her good fortune that she nearly forgot to get out of her 'bus at Charing Cross, and had it not been for the attention of the conductor might have gone on, she did not know where--perhaps to Clerkenwell, or may be to Islington.

When the second 'bus turned into Oxford Street she got out, not wis.h.i.+ng to spend more money than was necessary. Mrs. Jones approved of all she had done, helped her to pack up her box, and sent her away with many kind wishes to Curzon Street in a cab.

Esther was full of the adventure and the golden prospect before her. She wondered if the house she was going to was as grand as Woodview, and she was struck by the appearance of the maidservant who opened the door to her.

"Oh, here you are," Mrs. Rivers said. "I have been anxiously expecting you; my baby is not at all well. Come up to the nursery at once. I don't know your name," she said, turning to Esther.

"Waters, ma'am."

"Emily, you'll see that Waters' box is taken to her room."

"I'll see to it, ma'am."

"Then come up at once, Waters. I hope you'll succeed better than the others."

A tall, handsome gentleman stood at the door of a room full of beautiful things, and as they went past him Mrs. Rivers said, "This is the new nurse, dear." Higher up, Esther saw a bedroom of soft hangings and bright porcelain. Then another staircase, and the little wail of a child caught on the ear, and Mrs. Rivers said, "The poor little thing; it never ceases crying. Take it, Waters, take it."

Esther sat down, and soon the little thing ceased crying.

"It seems to take to you," said the anxious mother.

"So it seems," said Esther; "it is a wee thing, not half the size of my boy."

"I hope the milk will suit it, and that it won't bring up what it takes.

This is our last chance."

"I daresay it will come round, ma'am. I suppose you weren't strong enough to nurse it yourself, and yet you looks healthy."

"I? No, I could not undertake to nurse it." Then, glancing suspiciously at Esther, whose breast was like a little cup, Mrs. Rivers said, "I hope you have plenty of milk?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am; they said at the hospital I could bring up twins."

"Your supper will be ready at nine. But that will be a long time for you to wait. I told them to cut you some sandwiches, and you'll have a gla.s.s of porter. Or perhaps you'd prefer to wait till supper? You can have your supper, you know, at eight, if you like?"

Esther took a sandwich and Mrs. Rivers poured out a gla.s.s of porter. And later in the evening Mrs. Rivers came down from her drawing-room to see that Esther's supper was all right, and not satisfied with the handsome fare that had been laid before her child's nurse, she went into the kitchen and gave strict orders that the meat for the future was not to be quite so much cooked.

Henceforth it seemed to Esther that she was eating all day. The food was doubtless necessary after the great trial of the flesh she had been through, likewise pleasant after her long abstinences. She grew happy in the tide of new blood flowing in her veins, and might easily have abandoned herself in the seduction of these carnal influences. But her moral nature was of tough fibre, and made mute revolt. Such constant mealing did not seem natural, and the obtuse brain of this lowly servant-girl was perplexed. Her self-respect was wounded; she hated her position in this house, and sought consolation in the thought that she was earning good money for her baby. She noticed, too, that she never was allowed out alone, and that her walks were limited to just sufficient exercise to keep her in health.

A fortnight pa.s.sed, and one afternoon, after having put baby to sleep, she said to Mrs. Rivers, "I hope, ma'am, you'll be able to spare me for a couple of hours; baby won't want me before then. I'm very anxious about my little one."

"Oh, nurse, I couldn't possibly hear of it; such a thing is never allowed.

You can write to the woman, if you like."

"I do not know how to write, ma'am."

"Then you can get some one to write for you. But your baby is no doubt all right."

"But, ma'am, you are uneasy about your baby; you are up in the nursery twenty times a day; it is only natural I should be uneasy about mine."

"But, nurse, I've no one to send with you."

"There is no reason why any one should go with me, ma'am; I can take care of myself."

"What! let you go off all the way to--where did you say you had left it--Wandsworth?--by yourself! I really couldn't think of it. I don't want to be unnecessarily hard--but I really couldn't--no mother could. I must consider the interests of my child. But I don't want you to agitate yourself, and if you like I'll write myself to the woman who has charge of your baby. I cannot do more, and I hope you'll be satisfied."

By what right, by what law, was she separated from her child? She was tired of hearing Mrs. Rivers speak of "my child, my child, my child," and of seeing this fine lady turn up her nose when she spoke of her own beautiful boy. When Mrs. Rivers came to engage her she had said that it would be better for the baby to be brought to see her every three or four weeks, for two had died already. At the time Esther had not understood.

She had supposed vaguely, in a pa.s.sing way, that Mrs. Rivers had already lost two children. But yesterday the housemaid had told her that that little thing in the cradle had had two wet-nurses before Esther, and that both babies had died. It was then a life for a life. It was more. The children of two poor girls had been sacrificed so that this rich woman's child might be saved. Even that was not enough, the life of her beautiful boy was called for. Then other memories swept into Esther's frenzied brain. She remembered vague hints, allusions that Mrs. Spires had thrown out; and as if in the obtuseness of a nightmare, it seemed to this ignorant girl that she was the victim of a dark and far-reaching conspiracy; she experienced the sensation of the captured animal, and she scanned the doors and windows, thinking of some means of escape.

At that moment a knock was heard and the housemaid came in.

"The woman who has charge of your baby has come to see you."

Esther started up from her chair, and fat little Mrs. Spires waddled into the room, the ends of her shawl touching the ground.

"Where is my baby?" said Esther. "Why haven't you brought him?"

"Why, you see, my dear, the sweet little thing didn't seem as well as usual this afternoon, and I did not care to bring him out, it being a long way and a trifle cold.... It is nice and warm in here. May I sit down?"

"Yes, there's a chair; but tell me what is the matter with him?"

"A little cold, dear--nothing to speak of. You must not excite yourself, it isn't worth while; besides, it's bad for you and the little darling in the cradle. May I have a look?... A little girl, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is a girl."

"And a beautiful little girl too. 'Ow 'ealthy she do look! I'll be bound you have made a difference in her. I suppose you are beginning to like her just as if she was your own?"

Esther did not answer.

"Yer know, all you girls are dreadful taken with their babies at first.

But they is a awful drag on a girl who gets her living in service. For my part I do think it providential-like that rich folk don't nurse their own.

If they did, I dunno what would become of all you poor girls. The situation of wet-nurse is just what you wants at the time, and it is good money. I hope yer did what I told you and stuck out for a pound a week.

Rich folk like these here would think nothing of a pound a week, nor yet two, when they sees their child is suited."

"Never mind about my money, that's my affair. Tell me what's the matter with my baby?"

"'Ow yer do 'arp on it! I've told yer that 'e's all right; nothing to signify, only a little poorly, but knowing you was that anxious I thought it better to come up. I didn't know but what you might like to 'ave in the doctor."

"Does he require the doctor? I thought you said it was nothing to signify."

"That depends on 'ow yer looks at it. Some likes to 'ave in the doctor, however little the ailing; then others won't 'ave anything to do with doctors--don't believe in them. So I thought I'd come up and see what you thought about it. I would 'ave sent for the doctor this morning--I'm one of those who 'as faith in doctors--but being a bit short of money I thought I'd come up and ask you for a trifle."

At that moment Mrs. Rivers came into the nursery and her first look went in the direction of the cradle, then she turned to consider curtseying Mrs. Spires.

"This is Mrs. Spires, the lady who is looking after my baby, ma'am," said Esther; "she has come with bad news--my baby is ill."