Chapter 41

One morning when Dexie was out in the back garden whistling like a bird, and busy about some domestic matters, someone outside the high fence called:

"Georgie! I say, Georgie! come here a minute."

No answer being received, a shower of small pebbles came over the fence, and the call was repeated.

Thinking it was Mark Perrin, a wild young lad with whom Georgie was forbidden to associate, Dexie called out:

"Go away from here at once, you torment, or you'll get your jacket dusted for you," and hastening to the gate as if eager to perform the operation, she found Guy Traverse awaiting the promised punishment.

Astonishment rendered her silent for a moment, when she laughingly exclaimed:

"For pity sake, Guy! was it you threw the pebbles?"

"Yes, and am I to believe that it was you who was whistling?"

"Well, as you took me for Georgie, it must have been well done, so I'll own to the whistling; but what brings you here so early in the morning? I am not dressed for visitors at this hour," and she glanced down at her short frock, that revealed a neat foot and well-turned ankle; then pulling forward the sun-bonnet that had fallen back from her head, added:

"This is the latest style. I hope you admire it."

"I do, indeed," and his face filled the front of it for a moment.

"Oh! do come in till I shut the gate; someone might see us. Now, what do you want with Georgie, if I may ask?" and she lifted a saucy face to his.

"I didn't want him particularly, but I thought it was he who was whistling, and I was going to ask him to look for you, but as it is your own sweet self, so much the better, for I want to speak to you here a minute."

"But why here, at the back gate?"

"I wanted to ask if you would drive into the country with me, as I have to go on a matter of business."

"Then why didn't you go to the front door and ask me properly, sir?"

"Well, I am going to, just as soon as I find out if you can come or not. You were up part of the night with your father, and I did not know but you were resting or too busy to come with me. In that case, Gussie might feel it her duty to accompany me."

"Oh, I see! I shall be most happy to accept your invitation, Mr. Traverse; so go around to the front door and ask me like a gentleman."

Shutting the gate after him, she entered the house, intending to have a little fun over the invitation.

His ring at the door was answered by Gussie, and Mr. Sherwood, who was dozing on his couch, brightened at once as he saw who was the visitor.

"A splendid morning, Traverse," was his greeting. "You are early to-day."

"Yes, I have called to see if you could spare Dexie for a drive with me this morning."

"Certainly. Gussie, hunt her up."

"Dexie is very busy this morning, papa," Gussie replied, "but I am at leisure, Mr. Traverse, if you are looking for company."

"Busy, is she?" said Mr. Sherwood; "then go and relieve her, Gussie, for she has been up half the night and needs a rest," and raising his voice, called:

"Dexie, Dexie; come here."

Dexie was standing outside the door waiting for this summons, and she entered the room, her head still enveloped in the enormous sun-bonnet, her arms bare to the elbow, and her whole appearance proclaiming her a busy little woman.

"Did you call me, papa?" and she stepped to his side.

The contrast between them was too painful, and Gussie blushed with embarrassment, and hastily exclaimed:

"Leave the room, Dexie, Mr. Traverse is here."

"Where!" and the scoop-like bonnet was turned in his direction.

"Oh, good morning, Mr. Traverse. Excuse my toilet, but we wash sometimes at our house, and this is one of the times. Fine morning this for washerwomen. Now, what do you want of me, papa?" and she turned leisurely to her father again, much to Gussie's horror.

"Well, Traverse called to take you for a drive, but I doubt if he will care to ask you after seeing you in such a rig."

"This is not my carriage dress, my dear papa, but my working suit; but seeing that Mr. Traverse has been talking to me at the back gate in this very _rig_ and survived the shock, I trust the second sight won't prove disastrous. If you say you can spare me, I'll promise not to appear in this costume in public. Thanks, papa. How soon do you wish to start, Mr. Traverse?"

"In half an hour, if possible," was the smiling answer.

"You will find me waiting your appearance," and making a sweeping, old-fashioned courtesy, she pulled her bonnet forward with a jerk and danced out of the room.

Traverse looked after her with a smile, and with a few pleasant words to Mr. Sherwood, and a polite "good-morning" to Gussie, he bowed himself out.

As soon as Guy was beyond hearing, Gussie's ill-humor found vent. She did not see why Dexie should leave her work to go about the country with young men, and Traverse must have regretted his invitation when he caught sight of Dexie's ridiculous figure, her dress to the top of her boots and a sun-bonnet that would disgrace a country-woman! But one never knew what Dexie would do next. Awhile ago she could scarcely speak a civil word to Mr. Traverse, but now that she knows he expects to be married, her manner is just the reverse. Reproaches like these fell on Mr. Sherwood's ears unheeded, but a kindly smile lit up his face when Dexie made her appearance, looking as dainty as if right out of a band-box, and as she drew on her gloves a handsome buggy drove up to the door.

Giving her father a hasty kiss, she whispered:

"I wish you were able to go in my place," then ran down the steps, and a few minutes later the high-spirited horse carried them out of sight.

They did not return for some hours, and Dexie enjoyed the little excursion exceedingly; she was grieved to find on her return that her father had spent a very sick day, and she regretted leaving him for her own pleasure.

"You needed the change, my dear," her father assured her. "You are losing your roses by waiting on me so constantly, and this hand is thinner than it was six months ago," and he patted the hand that rested in his own.

Mr. Sherwood was daily growing weaker, and had to keep his bed the greater part of the time. The old pain returned oftener, and was so very severe while it lasted that it kept them all in a constant state of alarm. This so worked on Mrs. Sherwood's nerves that her fancied illness threatened to develop into something not quite so imaginative, and she required almost as much care as her husband. It became necessary for Gussie to spend a part of her time in her mother's room, and this she disliked very much, for Mrs. Sherwood was not a patient sufferer, and Gussie chaffed and fretted against the restraint to her liberty. Her extreme selfishness was so apparent that her mother received her half-hearted services with little thanks.

The constant care and attention which divided Dexie's time between her father's and her mother's room made it very hard to keep domestic matters running smoothly, and Gussie's obstinate refusal to take any part of the labor of the household or care of the children upon her own shoulders, gave Dexie little chance to get the rest she needed. This was telling on her health, and she was fast losing her rounded cheeks, and her eyes began to look so large and black that it made Guy's heart ache to look at her. He wished to tell Mrs. Sherwood of their engagement, and even attempted to persuade Dexie into marrying him at once, so that he would have the right to protect her against some of the needless burdens that were put upon her young shoulders, but Dexie would not hear of it.

"Mother is aware that I expect to be married by and by; if she is making a mistake as to the man let it be for the present. Were the truth known, my life would be unbearable. It is all I can do to keep the true state of affairs from coming to papa's ears, and he has enough to bear without family troubles being put upon him."

"My dear little girl, do you think I am going to let you stay here and be at the beck and call of everyone? Let me claim you at once; that will be the best way to settle the difficulty, and your father would say the same if he knew about it."

"But he must not know it, Guy; think how unhappy it would make him. It would never do, dear; but I have a good mind to write and ask Louie to come home. Surely aunt would let her come for a few weeks. I have written to her about it before, but she would not let her come unless she was positively needed, and I do think she is now. She must be quite a young lady by this time, and would be such a help and comfort. I believe I will write and ask her again."

That night, while Dexie sat up with her father, the letter was written, and Guy dropped it in the letter-box on his way home, and in less than a week, to Dexie's great joy, Louie came rushing into the house, as fresh and strong as any little country lassie.

Her coming did, indeed, make a great difference in the house, as Dexie expected. She brought such a new atmosphere into it with her quick, outspoken criticisms, that she worked quite a revolution.

Then she had so much that was new to tell them all, and it was told in such a breezy way, that her father brightened up as he listened. Her aunt had not sent her empty-handed either, for she had a loving and tender heart under a rather harsh exterior, the cold looks with which all sentiment was frowned down seemed but the rough, hard shell which covered a noble and generous disposition. But this rather severe aunt had refused Louie permission to make many visits at her father's home, on account of the displeasure with which she regarded her mother. She had never been pleased at her brother's marriage, and when Louie had been given over to her care she determined to cut off all connection with the mother's influence. Dexie's letter had revealed more than she was aware to the keen, sharp-sighted woman, and Louie was sent to help wait on her father, with many admonitions as to her conduct at home. She was given a "month's leave of absence," as Louie laughingly expressed it, but when alone with Dexie she admitted that her aunt would extend the time if her father should seem to be near the end.

Louie was very practical in many things, wasting little sentiment on trifles, and Mrs. Sherwood reaped the benefit of Louie's strict bringing up, which she had received at the hands of her aunt.

"Now, mother," she said one day, as she displayed some of the handsome garments her aunt had provided her with, "do try and get well as quickly as you can. I have only a month to stay, and I brought these dresses to wear, and I cannot do that if I am to be a nurse for you. I will get everything, and do everything for you, that you really need, but I cannot run up and down stairs all the time on useless errands. I can't think how Dexie has a foot left to stand on, the way she is called hither and thither. Of course, she must have a rest, now that I am home, or she will be laid up, and that would be a calamity for this house, I fancy. Now, you sit up, and I'll brush your hair and fix you up so nice that you will long to get downstairs to the rest of us, for I am going to spend the next hour with papa," and she bustled about the room and set everything in order to her mother's hand.

To the surprise of the family, Mrs. Sherwood made her appearance downstairs before Louie had been in the house a week; and as she continued to improve, Louie quietly ordered an easy carriage to be at the door at a certain hour, and when that hour arrived she made her appearance in such becoming attire that she had little trouble to induce her mother to step into the carriage with her, and as these outings became quite frequent they soon had a beneficial effect on her mother's health and spirits.

Louie's home-coming made a difference that was quite remarkable in Gussie also. She took so much for granted that Gussie was constrained to exert herself. It was rather amusing to watch Gussie's face when Louie would say, as they rose from the breakfast table:

"Now, Gussie, come on. I'm not going to be a mere visitor, you know; so I'll help you set the rooms in order. You will be no time over them, with my help;" and not wishing it to be known that all such things were left to Dexie, she would follow Louie, and join in the task for very shame sake.

But Dexie enjoyed Louie's visit more than anyone, for she not only kept Gussie's hands employed, but her presence forbade the continual fault-finding which she had hitherto freely indulged in; for Louie was a person of some consequence, being the heiress of considerable property, as well as possessor of a bank book that she was at liberty to use at her own discretion, and this had much influence over Gussie.

Louie soon remarked the frequent visits of Guy Traverse, but was puzzled at first to account for them. Gussie had told her that he was engaged to a young lady in the city, and was only a particular friend of her father's; but this did not prevent Louie from forming her own opinion on the matter.

She asked her mother one day, as she brushed out her hair, how it was that her father had become so attached to such a young man, and if there were not some other reason to account for his frequent visits.

"He was with your father when he was hurt, and your father thinks he saved his life at the risk of his own, so I daresay that may account for the attachment. I did hope at one time that Gussie might be able to secure him; they would make a nice-looking couple. I have thought sometimes that he pays Dexie sufficient attention to warrant her in thinking he means something serious, but Hugh McNeil has some claim on her; he has been to see her lately. You remember he had quite a fortune left him. I expect she will keep a fine establishment when she is married. But I know nothing about her affairs; she was always close-mouthed, and she is sure to do something entirely different from what you expect."

"But, mamma, this Mr. Traverse seems to be more than just friendly to Dexie. I am sure he is with her every chance he gets."

"Oh! that is nothing; he is seldom in her company outside of her father's room. Besides, he is going to be married to someone in the city. He said as much before us all. I am sure Dexie does not care for him in that way. If you had heard the way she used to talk to him, you would see at once that his visits mean nothing to her."

"Nevertheless, mother, I have my suspicions," said the quick-witted girl, as she left the room.

"I'll corner Dexie sometime, see if I don't," she said to herself. "If there is any love-making going on in this house, it will be a funny thing if I do not find it out!"

But Dexie was well aware that there were a sharp pair of eyes about, and it took considerable manoeuvring to get a word with Guy without having Louie pounce in upon them at the most unexpected moment.

"Seems to me, Dexie," she said one day, as they were in their chamber dressing for the afternoon, "if I was Mr. Traverse's young lady in the city," and she made a grimace, "I would not care to have my young man visit so much in a house where there are marriageable young ladies. Do you think she is aware of his frequent visits here?"

"What lady do you refer to, Louie?" turning from the mirror, where a blushing face was too freely reflected.

"You know who I mean well enough! The lady that Gussie says he is going to marry. I suppose you know that story as well as Gussie."

"Oh, yes; it is quite an old thing now. I have had it dinned into my ears till I am tired, both of the story and the lady as well," she carelessly replied.

"Oh, indeed!" said the laughing girl. "I suppose he has told you all about her during one of your many interviews. When is the wedding to take place?"

"The exact time was never mentioned, Louie. If you feel very curious about it, why not ask Mr. Traverse yourself. He might give you an invitation to the wedding, you know."

"But, honestly, Dexie, does he ever talk to you about his future wife?"

"Certainly! why shouldn't he? Didn't Gussie tell you that he announced his approaching marriage before the whole family?"

"Well, Dexie Sherwood, you can smile and smile and be--the young lady yourself, after all," said Louie, not yet convinced, "and that ring looks new, and I see no photograph of Hugh McNeil lying inside your favorite book, so there!"

"Well, you might have seen one in the album if you had looked for it, you silly girl. And how many new rings has Gussie had since you were home, and yet I hear no word of her engagement!"

"That may be, my dear sister Dexie; but I have not seen any young man kiss Gussie good-bye at the door, either; therefore I begin to think--"

What her thoughts might be upon the matter, Dexie did not give her time to express, but disappeared from the room as suddenly as if the cry of "Fire" had been raised in the house.

"Well, I may be mistaken; then, again, I may not," said Louie, reflectively, as she found herself alone, "but appearances point to the latter view. However, auntie says that 'circumstantial evidence is not positive proof,' so I will wait for further developments. If it is so--all right; if it is _not_ so, well--then I think they should not be _quite_ so familiar when Dexie shows him out. He is quite a handsome young gentleman and will make a distinguished-looking brother-in-law, and I am ready with my approval and blessing as soon as they ask for it; but, by the way things look to me, my approval and blessing have not been waited for."

When Dexie entered her father's room, she found Mr. Hackett, the lawyer, present, and she was about to withdraw when her father called her to his side.

"You will have to go over the papers in the desk with Mr. Hackett, Dexie," he said. "There are one or two missing which I know I have put somewhere in safety, so look carefully, dear; the loss of them would be rather serious in a case that Mr. Hackett has yet to settle. In case I have not mentioned it before, Mr. Hackett," and he turned towards the lawyer, "the old desk with all its contents, excepting those bundles relating to business matters, which you will take with you, belong to Dexie, here. There are several unfinished manuscripts which you can easily finish yourself, Dexie, and who knows but the beginning of your fame and fortune may be lying there waiting for you in the old ink-stained desk. There, do not cry, Dexie! It grieves me to see you fretting. You would not like to have your poor father lying here suffering much longer, surely! Now, be my brave, helpful little woman a little while longer, and help Mr. Hackett all you can. I was speaking of the old desk, Dexie; do not part with it to anyone, dear. Keep it as my last gift to you, and, if it ever needs repairing, have it done under your own eyes. Do not forget this, Dexie."

Dexie winked away her tears, and bent over to arrange his pillows more comfortably, saying:

"Do you want me to hunt up the papers now, papa? I will do so at once, if Mr. Hackett will explain what they are about."

"He will help you, then you can get through more quickly. You had better explain to my daughter, Mr. Hackett, about the amount of income there will be in the future. She is the housekeeper here, though I expect she will not remain in that position very long after I am gone. I am glad I purchased this property when we first moved here. It is increasing in value every year, and, if they should ever find it necessary, they can sell it and be comfortable in a smaller place, but this will not be needful for some years, if things are properly managed. There is another thing, Mr. Hackett, which I wish you would see about for them. Look around and find a respectable middle-aged couple that will be capable of giving the necessary help about the house and grounds. The place needs a man around it to keep it in order, and if his wife looked after the work in the house they would give better satisfaction than single people, I fancy. I cannot think what they will do when Dexie has left the house," and he sighed heavily.

When Mr. Hackett departed with the missing papers, Mr. Sherwood called her to his side and explained many things which would have to be seen to after his death, and Dexie sat and listened with quivering lips and hands clasped, palms downwards, across her lap, in an agony of mind, until she fell on her knees beside his couch, crying, "Oh! papa! dear papa! what shall I do without you!"

Her father stroked the ruffled hair and soothed her by his tender words till her tears flowed less freely and her sobs were checked, when he added:

"Now, I want to speak of yourself, Dexie. Do not keep Traverse waiting for you after I am gone. He has been very patient, and it has been on my account that he has waited so long for you. I am not blind to the trouble which you have borne so bravely and quietly these few months back; you have had little time to prepare anything for your new life, as most girls like to do, but this shall be made up to you, my dear. I have thought sometimes I would ask you to have your marriage performed here before me, but I will not be so selfish; that should be the happiest hour of a woman's life, and it would not be so to you under such circumstances. Louie has brightened the house by her coming, but she will soon be returning to her aunt, and then I am afraid you will find it harder than ever, my dear little Dexie."

Mrs. Sherwood came into the room, and finding Dexie sobbing on her father's pillow, was much alarmed.

"What is it? Are you worse, Clarence?" she cried, hysterically.

"No, no, dear wife, not that. But I have been giving Dexie some directions regarding matters after I am gone, and it makes her feel badly, poor little girl! She has been a good daughter to us, wife; so do not forget it when she needs your help and sympathy, and that time may be nearer than you think."

Dexie could bear no more, but she must not grieve her father by her tears; so rose hurriedly, and kissing his brow, left the room. She met Louie in the hall, and alarmed her by her grief.

"Is papa worse, Dexie?"

"I do not think so, but he has been talking to me about things which must be done when he is gone, and it breaks my heart! Poor papa! he is so kind and thoughtful, he seems to remember the smallest thing that we shall need to look after, and advises about them. I am afraid it will not be many days, Louie, before it is all over, and I believe he thinks so himself," and she went to her room to sob away her grief.

It was evident to them all the next day that Mr. Sherwood was rapidly sinking, and Dexie scarcely left his side for a moment.

Once when he woke from a troubled sleep he smiled into her face, and said faintly:

"She sang it very well, didn't she, Dexie? the 'pastures green,' you know. I never have forgotten it. Can you sing it now for me?"

"Try to tell me a little more, dear papa. Where was it you heard it?" trying in vain to think what had called forth this request.

"At Dr. Grant's church that Sunday morning in Halifax. You know--the new singer you wanted to hear. I know all about the 'pastures green' now, Dexie, but sing about it."

Instantly the Sunday morning so long ago flashed back to her mind, and with one arm around her father's neck, as she kneeled by his side, she sang:

"The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want. He makes me down to lie In pastures green; he leadeth me The quiet waters by."

Her voice trembled, but there was a happy ring to it withal, and presently she saw that he slept again, his face looking happy and peaceful as it rested on the pillows.

When the doctor made his usual visit, he stayed a long time in the room, and he looked very serious as he called Dexie to the door.

"You realize how ill your father is, do you not, Miss Sherwood?" and he looked earnestly into her face. "Ah! I see you do. I wished to prepare you for the worst. I will come in later in the day and see if I can be of use."

"You think there is immediate danger, Dr. Brown?"

"He may live through the day--not much longer, I fear. You have been expecting this, have you not?"

"I was afraid of it," and she hid her face in her hands.

"Is there anyone I can send for, for you? If I can be of use in any way, Miss Sherwood, command me."

"Someone must tell mamma; she does not believe the end is so very near. Would you do it? Does papa know it himself, doctor?" she added, after a pause.

"Yes, and he wished me to make it known to the rest. Be brave a little while longer. Now, go back to your father. You can rely on Jarvis; she knows what to do, and has been through many trying scenes before to-day."

"Shall we send for you if--" She could not say it, but the doctor knew what she meant.

"Yes, if you like. I can do little, if anything, more; but he will not suffer any. Now I will see your mother," and he turned and left her to her grief.

It took some time for Mrs. Sherwood to fully realize the truth, for she listened to the doctor as if dazed. It was the first trouble that had ever really touched her, and at the suggestion of Jarvis she went to her room, where by degrees she grew calmer, as the terrible truth came home to heart that she was soon to be left a widow and her children fatherless.

When Louie came into her father's room a few moments later, and learned the truth, she threw her arms around Dexie's neck and wept with her. This was the darkest hour they had ever known. But there was no time to indulge in grief at present--that would come later--and Dexie whispered:

"Take Gussie up to her room, Louie, and tell her there, and do not let her come down till she is quiet. Warn Georgie not to go away from the house; papa may ask for him any minute. I am so thankful the doctor has told mamma! Watch the door, Louie, and when the minister calls to-day try and persuade mamma to see him. She would not see him the last time he was here. Oh, dear! I shall be so glad when Guy comes in!"

"Give me one little bit of comfort to cheer my heart this sad day, Dexie. Tell me, what is Guy Traverse to you--do, Dexie?"

"Dear Louie, you _shall_ know, if you think it will comfort you any. He is my promised husband."

"I thought so all the time, and I am so glad!" and she turned away to prepare Gussie for the dreaded hour.

The time passed heavily and sadly, until the day drew near its close. Mrs. Jarvis was sitting near the bed, watching, with the eyes of an experienced nurse, for any change, and presently she bent over Dexie, who was kneeling by the bedside, and whispered:

"I think I had better bring back your mother. Do you think she can bear it?"

"She _must_ bear it!" Dexie answered, with a sob.

As Jarvis left the room, Guy quietly entered it, and saw at a glance that the end was near. Dexie gave him one appealing look as he came beside her.

Bending over, he laid his arm across her shoulder, and whispered:

"Is there anything I can do, darling?"

Dexie shook her head, and the look on her face told of the anguish that was wringing her heart.

Seeing that her father had opened his eyes, she bent nearer.

"Are you in pain, dear papa?"

"No, dear child; and I shall soon be where that question is never asked."

Lifting his eyes, he saw Guy, and his lips parted in a smile.

"So glad you have come, my boy!" and he held out his hand. "You have indeed been like a son to me from the very first. You will be good to my little girl, and do not wait to claim her; take her very soon, and do not let her fret for me. Raise me up, Traverse! Ah! that is easier," as Guy seated himself on the bed, and raised his head and shoulders on a pillow with his arm.

Supported by Guy's arm, and with his head leaning against Guy's shoulder, Mr. Sherwood embraced his wife, who was led to the bedside by Jarvis, and Dexie bowed her head from the sight of the despair written on her mother's face.

The family were soon assembled around the bed. Mrs. Jarvis lifted Flossie in her arms, and telling her to "kiss papa good-night," laid her on the bed beside him a moment, then carried her from the room, and the few loving words spoken to Georgie did much to make him grow up a true, good man.

Gussie was overcome with grief when she realized that her father was dying, but Louie's loving arm was thrown around her, and she restrained her sobs to hear her father's last few words.

It was a sad scene. The dying father, supported in the arms of Guy Traverse, was looking for the last time on the faces of his family. Dexie, kneeling close to where Guy sat, with one of her father's hands clasped in both her own, was silently weeping. Mrs. Sherwood was kneeling on the opposite side of the bed, her face hidden against her dying husband's breast. Louie and Gussie stood near, their arms around each other's waists; while Mrs. Jarvis stood behind them, her arms extended across their shoulders, as if she would willingly protect them from this anguish if she could. Poor Georgie sobbed at the foot of the bed, a picture of childish woe.

The minister's words of peace and comfort, spoken at this moment, were sorely needed, for the prayer had scarcely ended when Mrs. Sherwood raised her eyes to her husband's face and saw the change that passed over it. A few murmured words fell from his lips as he looked into her face, then his eyes closed and his spirit was gone to the God who gave it.

Guy laid the form gently back on the bed, and something in his face must have told the stricken wife that all was over, for her piercing shriek chilled everyone to the heart.

Guy was just in time to catch Dexie's fainting form and bear her from the room, when the children round the bedside understood that they were fatherless.