Chapter 8

MON PERE.

Maggie's ideas of apoplexy or paralysis were not very definite, and she only understood that something very terrible had happened to her foster-father, whom she loved as though he had been her real parent. Leo was hardly less affected, though, being a boy, his susceptibility was not so keen. His first feeling was one of indignation that the banker had not told him before of the misfortune which had overtaken the family. It was cruel to have kept Maggie from her father a single moment longer than was necessary.

"Where is poor father now?" asked Maggie, as she adjusted her hood, and wiped the tears from her eyes.

"He is at my house; but you need not worry about him," replied Mr. Checkynshaw. "The doctor has attended to his case, and he shall have everything he needs."

"Where do you live, sir?" asked Leo.

"No.--Pemberton Square."

"Come, Maggie, we will go to him," added the boy.

"I want you to go with me, and show me where Fitz lives," interposed the banker.

"He lives at No.--Atkinson Street, up the court," answered Leo, rather coolly, as he picked up his cap and comforter.

"I want you to show me the house."

"I must go with Maggie."

Mr. Checkynshaw looked as though the barber's serious illness was of no consequence, compared with his affairs.

"We can go that way, Leo, and you can show him the house as we pass through Atkinson Street," said Maggie, leading the way to the door.

This arrangement was satisfactory to the banker; the house was locked, and Leo led the way out of the court. The humble abode of Mrs. Wittleworth was pointed out to Mr. Checkynshaw; and, after he had been admitted, Leo and Maggie hastened to Pemberton Square, so sad and sorrowful that hardly a word was spoken till they reached the lofty mansion of the great man. With trembling hand Leo rang the bell; and Maggie's slender frame quivered with apprehension while they waited for a reply to the summons. Lawrence answered the bell more promptly than when its call had disturbed him at his dinner.

"Is Andre Maggimore here?" asked Leo, timidly.

"Who?" demanded Lawrence.

"Andre Maggimore--the barber--the hair-dresser," replied Leo.

"You mane the man that had the fit," added the servant. "Indade, he's here, thin."

"How is he?" asked Maggie, her heart bounding with fear lest she should be told that her poor father was no more.

"He's a little better; but the docthor says it'll be a long day till he is able to handle his razors again. What's this he called the disase? The para-_ly_-sis! That's just what it is!"

"Poor _mon pere_!" sighed Maggie.

"We would like to see him, if you please," added Leo.

"And who be you? Are you his children?" asked Lawrence.

"We are."

"I'm sorry for you; but he's very bad," added Lawrence, who had an Irish heart under his vest, as he closed the front door.

"Is he--will he--"

Poor Maggie could not ask the question she desired to ask, and she covered her face and wept.

"No, he won't," replied Lawrence, tenderly. "He won't die. The docthor says he's comin' out of it; but the para-_ly_-sis will bodther him for a long time."

Maggie was comforted by this reply, and she followed Lawrence up stairs to the chamber where Andre lay. He had been conveyed from Elinora's dressing-room to an apartment in the L, over the dining-room, where the banker and his friends smoked their cigars after dinner. He was lying on a lounge, covered with blankets, and the housekeeper was attending him.

"Poor _mon pere_!" exclaimed Maggie, as she threw herself on her knees on the floor by the side of the sick man's couch, and kissed his pale, thin face.

Leo bent over his father's prostrate form, and clasped one of his silky hands, which now felt so cold that the touch chilled his heart. The doctor had just come in to pay his patient a second visit, and stood by the lounge, regarding with interest the devotion of the boy and girl.

Andre had "come out" of the fit, and recognized his children, as he always called them. He smiled faintly, and tried to return the pressure of Leo's hand, and to kiss the lips of Maggie, pressed to his own; but his strength was not yet equal to his desire.

"I think it would be better to remove him to the hospital," said the doctor to the housekeeper. "He will be well nursed there."

"No, no, no!" exclaimed Maggie, rising and walking up to the physician.

Her idea of the hospital was not a very clear one, and she did not consider it much better than a prison; at least, it was to her a place where sick people who had neither home nor friends were sent; a place where other hands than her own would lave her father's fevered brow, and administer the cooling draught. To her it was sacrilege to permit any but herself to nurse him; and she felt that it was a privilege to stand day and night by his bed, and hold his hand, and anticipate all his wants. Her womanly instincts were strong, and she heard with horror the suggestion to take the sufferer to the hospital.

"Your father would be very kindly cared for at the hospital," said the doctor.

"But it would not be his own home!" pleaded Maggie. "O, he so loves his own home! He always staid there when he was not in the shop. It would break his heart to send him away from his own home when he is sick."

"Have you a mother?" asked Dr. Fisher, kindly.

"I have not; but I will nurse him by day and night. I will be mother, wife, and daughter to him. Do not send him away from me--not from his own home!" continued Maggie, so imploringly that the good physician had to take off his spectacles and wipe the moisture from his eyes.

"We will take good care of him at home," added Leo.

"Very well," replied the doctor. "He shall be removed to his own home, since you desire it so much. Lawrence, will you send for a carriage?"

"I will, sir," answered the servant, leaving the room.

Andre had turned his eyes towards the group, and appeared to understand the matter they were discussing. He smiled as he comprehended the decision, and made an effort to embrace Maggie, when she again knelt at his side; but a portion of his frame was paralyzed, and he could not move.

"Your father may be sick a long time," said Dr. Fisher.

"I'm so sorry! But I will take such good care of him!" replied Maggie.

"He needs very careful nursing."

"O, he shall have it! He would rather have me nurse him than any other person. I will watch him all the time. I will sit by his bed all day and all night," added she, with womanly enthusiasm.

"You will wear yourself out. You are not strong enough to do without your sleep."

"I am very strong, sir. I do all the work in the house myself. I know how to make gruel, and porridge, and beef tea, and soup; and _mon pere_ shall have everything nice."

The doctor smiled, and felt sure that no better nurse could be provided for the sick man.

"Where is your mother?" he asked. "Is she living?"

"I have no mother. Leo has no mother. We are not Andre's own children; but we love him just the same, and he loves us just the same."

"But who was your mother?"

"I don't know."

"Doesn't Andre know?"

"He does not."

"You have some kind of a history, I suppose," added the doctor, greatly interested in the girl.

"_Mon pere_ don't like to talk about it. He seems to be afraid that some one will get me away from him; but I'm sure I don't want to go away from him; I wouldn't leave him for a king's palace."

"Why do you call him '_mon pere_'?"

"He taught me to call him so when I was little. Andre's father was an Italian, and his mother a French woman; but he was born in London."

"Where did he find you?"

"At the cholera hospital."

"Where?"

"I don't know. He always looked so sad, and his heart seemed to be so pained when I asked him any questions about myself, that I stopped doing so long ago. When I was five years old, he found me playing about the hospital, where hundreds and hundreds of people had died with cholera. I had the cholera myself; and he came to play with me every day; and when they were going to send me to an orphan asylum, or some such place, he took me away, and promised to take care of me. Ah, _mon pere_" said she, glancing tenderly at the sick man, and wiping a tear from her eyes, "how well he has kept his promise! I can't help thinking he loved me more than any real father could. I never saw any father who was so kind, and tender, and loving to his child as Andre is to me."

"And you don't know where this hospital was?"

"No, sir; and I don't want to know. _Mon pere_ thinks my parents died of the cholera; but Andre has been father and mother to me. He would die if he lost me."

"And your brother--was he taken from the cholera hospital?" asked the doctor.

"No, sir," replied Maggie, rising and speaking in a whisper to the physician, so that Leo should not hear what she said. "Andre had to leave me all alone when he went to the shop, and he went to the almshouse to find a poor orphan to keep me company. He found Leo, whose father and mother had both died from drinking too much. He took him home, and _mon pere_ has been as good to him as he has to me."

"His name is Leo--the Lion?"

"No, sir; not the lion. _Mon pere_ called him Leopold, after the King of Belgium, in whose service he once was; but we always call him Leo. He is a real good boy, and will get the medal at his school this year."

"The carriage has come, sir," said Lawrence, opening the door.

The arrangements were made for the removal of the barber to his house. The hackman and the man servant came to carry him down stairs in an armchair, and the doctor was to go with his patient, and assist in disposing of him at his house. Andre was placed in the chair, covered with blankets, and the door opened in readiness to carry him down. Maggie kept close to him, comforting him with the kindest words, and adjusting the blanket so that the rude blasts of winter might not reach him.

"Lawrence!" called Elinora, in a petulant tone, from the dressing-room on the same floor.

Under the circumstances, Lawrence was not disposed to heed the call; but it was so often and so ill-naturedly repeated, that Dr. Fisher told him to go and see what she wanted, fearful that some accident had happened to her. The man went into the hall. Elinora had come out of her room in her impatience, arrayed for the party she was to attend. Another hair-dresser had been sent for to complete the work which Andre had begun; but the young lady was more than an hour late, and proportionally impatient.

"Are you deaf, Lawrence? The carriage has come," pouted Elinora.

"That's not the carriage for you, miss. It's to take the barber to his own place," replied Lawrence.

"That horrid barber again! I shall not get over the fright he gave me for a month! I will take this carriage, and he may have the other when it comes," said she, walking to the stairs. "Go down and open the door for me."

"If you plaze, miss, you can't go in this carriage. It's for the sick man."

"I don't care what it's for! I'm in a hurry, Lawrence. I must have the first carriage."

"Indade, miss, but we have the sick man up in the chair, ready to take him down the stairs. It's very bad he is."

"Let him wait! Go down and open the door, as I tell you."

"I beg your pardon, miss, but the docthor--"

"If you don't do what I tell you this instant, I'll ask pa to discharge you."

Dr. Fisher came out to ascertain the cause of the delay. He explained that the carriage had been ordered to convey the barber to his home, and he insisted that it should be used for that purpose. Andre was his patient, and he would not permit any further delay. Elinora pouted and flouted, and hopped back into her chamber.

Andre was borne carefully down the stairs, and placed in the carriage. Maggie and the doctor entered the vehicle with him, and they were driven to the barber's own home, where he was placed upon his bed in the front room.