The Lady of the Forest Part 15

"Then if he didn't act he must be very ill," said Kitty. Then, her blue eyes filling with tears, she added: "I do love him so! I love him even though he has a dearest friend."

Rachel stretched out her hand and drew Kitty into a corner of her own luxurious chair. She had not seen Phil, and Kitty's account of him scarcely made her uneasy.

"Even if he was a little ill, he's all right now," she said. "Stay with me, Kitty-cat; I scarcely ever see you. I think Phil is quite your dearest friend."

"Quite," answered Kitty solemnly. "I love him better than any one, except you, Rachel; only I do wish--yes, I do--that he had not so many secrets."

"He never told you what happened to him that day in the forest, did he, Kitty?"

"Oh, no; he pulled himself up short. He was often going to, but he always pulled himself up. What a dreadfully jerky man he'll grow up, Rachel."

"He never quite told you?" continued Rachel. "Well, I don't want him to tell me, for I know."

"Rachel!"

"Yes, I know all about it. I'm going to see him presently, and I'll tell him that I know his secret. Now, Kitty, you need not stare at me, for I'm never going to breathe it to any one except to Phil himself. There, Kit, the dressing-gong has sounded; we must go and get ready for supper."

Meanwhile Mrs. Lovel, taking Phil's hand, had led him out of the armory and to the foot of the winding stone stairs. Once there she paused. The look of placid indifference left her face; she dropped the smiling mask she had worn in Kitty's presence, and stooping down lifted the boy into her arms and carried him tenderly up the winding stairs, never pausing nor faltering nor groaning under his weight. When they reached the tower bedroom she laid him on his little bed, and going to a cupboard in the wall unlocked it and took from thence a small bottle; she poured a few drops from the bottle into a spoon and put the restorative between the boy's blue lips. He swallowed it eagerly, smiled, shook himself, and sat up in bed.

"Thank you, mother. I am much better now," he said affectionately.

Mrs. Lovel locked the door, stirred the fire in the old-fas.h.i.+oned grate into a cheerful blaze, lit two or three candles, drew the heavy curtains across the windows, and then dragging a deep arm-chair opposite the glowing hearth, she lifted Phil again into her arms, and sitting down in the comfortable seat, rocked him pa.s.sionately to her breast.

"My boy, my boy, was it very bad, very awful?"

"Yes, mother; but it's all right now."

"Did Kitty hear you groan, Phil?"

"Yes, mother; but not the loudest groans, for I buried my head in the cus.h.i.+on. I'm all right now, mother. I can go down again in a minute or two."

"No, Phil, you shan't go down to-night. I'll manage it with the old ladies; and Phil, darling, darling, we have almost won; you won't have to pretend anything much longer. On the 5th of May, on Rachel's birthday, you are to be proclaimed the heir. This is the middle of February; you have only a little more than two months to keep it all up, Phil."

"Oh, yes, mother, it's very difficult, and the pain in my side gets worse, and I don't want it, and I'd rather Rupert had it; but never mind, mammy, you shan't starve."

He stroked his mother's cheek with his little hand, and she rocked him in her arms in an ecstasy of love and fear and longing. At that moment she loved the boy better than the gold. She would have given up all dreams of ease and comfort for herself if she could have secured real health for that most precious little life.

"Mother," said Phil, "I do want to go to Southampton so badly."

"What for, dearest?"

"Because I'm expecting a letter, mother, from Rupert. No, no, don't frown! I can't bear to see you frown. I didn't tell him anything, but I wrote to him, and I asked him to send his answer to the post-office at Southampton, and it must be waiting there now; yes, it must, and I do want to fetch it so dreadfully. Can you manage that I shall go, mother?"

"I'll go for it myself, dear; I'll go to-morrow. There--doesn't mother love her boy? Yes, I'll go for the letter to Southampton to-morrow.

There's the supper-gong, Phil. I must go down, but you shan't. I'll bring you up something nice to eat presently."

"Oh, no, please; I couldn't eat. Just let me lie on my bed quite still without talking. Mother, my darling mother, how can I thank you for promising to fetch Rupert's letter?"

Mrs. Lovel laid Phil back on his bed, covered him up warmly, and softly unlocking the door went downstairs.

She had got a shock, a greater shock than she cared to own; but when she entered the long, low, old-fas.h.i.+oned dining-hall where Miss Griselda and Miss Katharine and the two little girls awaited her, her face was smiling and careless as usual. The poor, weak-minded, and bewildered woman had resumed her mask, and no one knew with what an aching heart she sat down to her luxurious meal.

"Is Phil still pretending to be very, very dreadfully ill?" called out Kitty across the table.

Miss Griselda started at Kitty's words, looked anxiously at Mrs. Lovel and at a vacant chair, and spoke.

"Is your boy not well? Is he not coming to supper?" she inquired.

"Phil strained himself a little," answered Mrs. Lovel, "and he had quite a sharp pain in his side--only muscular, I a.s.sure you, dear Miss Griselda; nothing to make one the least bit uneasy, but I thought it better to keep him upstairs. He is going to bed early and won't come down again to-night. May I take him up a little supper presently?"

"Poor boy! he must be ravenously hungry," said Miss Griselda in a careless tone. "Strained his side? Dear, dear! children are always hurting themselves. I wanted him to go with me early to-morrow to collect mosses. I intend to drive the light cart myself into the forest, and I meant to take Phil and Kitty with me. Phil is so clever at finding them."

"Oh, he's very strong. He'll be quite ready to go with you, Miss Griselda," answered the little boy's mother; but she bent her head as she spoke, and no one saw how pale her face was.

The meal proceeded somewhat drearily. Kitty was out of spirits at the loss of her favorite companion; Rachel's little face looked scarcely childish, so intensely watchful was its expression; Mrs. Lovel wore her smiling mask; and the two old ladies alone were perfectly tranquil and indifferent.

"May I take Phil up some supper?" suddenly asked Rachel.

Mrs. Lovel suppressed a quick sigh, sat down again in her seat, for she was just rising to go back to Phil, and almost ran her nails into her hands under the table in her efforts to keep down all symptoms of impatience.

"Thank you, dear," said Miss Griselda gratefully. "If you go up to Phil his mother need not trouble herself about him until bedtime. We will adjourn to the drawing-room, if you please, Mrs. Lovel. I am anxious to have another lesson in that new kind of crochet. Katharine, will you give Rachel some supper to take up to Phil?--plenty of supper, please, dear; he's a hearty boy and ought to have abundance to eat."

Miss Katharine smiled, cut a generous slice of cold roast beef, and piled two mince-pies and a cheese-cake on another plate. When she had added to these a large gla.s.s of cold milk and some bread-and-b.u.t.ter, she gave the tray to Rachel, and bidding her be careful not to spill her load, took Kitty's hand and went with her into the drawing-room.

Rachel carried her tray carefully as far as the foot of the winding stairs; then looking eagerly up and down and to right and left, she suddenly wheeled round and marched off through many underground and badly lit pa.s.sages, until she found herself in the neighborhood of the great old-fas.h.i.+oned kitchen. Here she was met not by the cook, but by Mrs. Newbolt, the lady's-maid.

"Oh, Newbolt, you'll do what I want. Phil is ill, and his mother doesn't want any one to know about it. Take all this horrid mess away and give me some strong, strong, beautiful beef tea and a nice little piece of toast. I'll wait here, and you won't be long, will you, dear Newbolt?"

Newbolt loved Phil and detested his mother. With a sudden snort she caught up Rachel's tray, and returned presently with a tempting little meal suited to an invalid.

"If the child is ill I'll come up with you to see him, Miss Rachel," she said.

Phil was lying on his back; his eyes were shut; his face looked very pinched and blue. True, however, to the little Spartan that he was, when he heard Rachel's step he started up and smiled and welcomed her in a small but very cheery voice.

"Thank you for coming to see me," he said, "but I didn't want any supper; I told mother so. Oh, what is that--white soup? I do like white soup. And oysters? Yes, I can eat two or three oysters. How very kind you are, Rachel. I begin to feel quite hungry, that supper looks so nice."

Rachel carried the tempting little tray herself, but behind her came Newbolt, whom Phil now perceived for the first time.

"Have you come up to see me, Newbolt?" he said. "But I am not at all ill. I happened to get tired, and mother said I must rest here."

"The best place for a tired little boy to rest is in his bed, not on it," said Newbolt. "If you please. Master Phil, I am going to put you into bed, and then Miss Rachel shall feed you with this nice supper. Oh, yes, sir, we know you're not the least bit ill--oh, no, not the least bit in the world; but we are going to treat you as if you were, all the same."

Phil smiled and looked up at Newbolt as if he would read her innermost thoughts. He was only too glad to accept her kind services, and quite sighed with relief when she laid him comfortably on his pillows. Newbolt wrapped a little red dressing-jacket over his shoulders, and then poking the fire vigorously and seeing that the queer old tower room looked as cheerful as possible, she left the two children together. Rachel and Phil made very merry over his supper, and Phil almost forgot that he had been feeling one of the most forsaken and miserable little boys in the world half an hour ago. Rachel had developed quite a nice little amount of tact, and she by no means worried Phil with questions as to whether his illness was real or feigned. But when he really smiled, and the color came back to his cheeks, and his laugh sounded strong and merry once more, she could not help saying abruptly:

"Phil, I have been wanting to see you by yourself for some time. I cannot tell Kitty, for Kitty is not to know; but, Phil, what happened to you that day in the forest is no secret to me."

Phil opened his eyes very wide.