CHAPTER XXV.

THE MOTHER AND GRANDMOTHER.

I seated myself on the sofa, and waited with some anxiety. Surely, my young friend must be very ill to have abandoned this room for his own! What a comfortable look the place had! How delightfully all the tints were toned down! There stood a queer, old work-table, with any amount of curiously twisted legs, and on it an antique bible, mounted and clasped with silver. Such books are only to be found now in the curiosity shops of the country. Under this table, and somehow lodged among its complication of legs, was the old lady's work-basket, in which I detected a silver-mounted case for knitting-needles, some balls of worsted, and an embroidered needle-book. Ladies are always noticing these little feminine details; they aid us greatly in that quick knowledge of character which men are apt to set down as intuition.

While I was thinking over these speculations, a step in the hall, and the rich, heavy rustle of those old silks that our grandmothers were so proud of, disturbed me. The door opened, and an old lady, very old indeed, came into the room.

I stood up involuntarily, for the person of this old lady was so imposing, that it exacted a degree of homage which I had never felt before. I can imagine a figure like that, wandering through the vast picture-galleries of some fine English castle, and there I should have given her a title at first sight. As it was, her person struck me with amazement. Not that it was out of keeping with the premises, but because this lady was altogether a grander and older person than I had expected to see in that house.

She received my salutation with a slow curtsy, very slight and dignified in its movement, and, advancing to a huge, crimson easy-chair that stood near the work-table, sat down.

"My daughter is in her son's room," she said, in a soft and measured voice, glancing at me with her placid eyes. "He is very ill, and we are frightened about him."

"Is not this sudden?" I inquired.

"Yes, very; we don't know what to make of it. He is always so healthy and so cheerful; something has gone wrong with him, Miss Hyde."

She looked at me earnestly, as if expecting that I would explain the something which was beyond her understanding.

I felt myself blushing. It was not for me to speak of Jessie's affairs to any one, certainly not in a case like this.

The old lady dropped her eyes, and, taking her knitting-case from the basket, laid it in her lap, evidently disposed to give me time. At length she spoke again.

"My grandson has enjoyed himself so much since we came to the country, especially since his friend, Mr. Lawrence, arrived; and now to have him struck down all at once--it is disheartening!"

"Is he so very ill?" I inquired.

"He has been restless and excited, more or less, for a week or more, but during the last three days has fallen seriously ill. Now he is entirely out of his head; my daughter sat up with him all last night; the doctor was here this morning. He pronounces it a brain-fever."

I was really disturbed. She saw it and went on.

"He asked for you three or four times during the night; and--and for another person whom we could not venture to invite here."

"I am glad you sent for me," I replied, anxious to waive all explanation. "At home they consider me a tolerable nurse."

She looked at me seriously a moment, and then said, in a gentle, impressive way,--

"Miss Hyde, be kind to an old woman who has nothing but the good of her child at heart, and tell me if Miss Lee has--has repulsed my grandson?"

"No, not that, madam; but, but--"

"She has rejected him, I see it by your face; I suspected it from his wanderings," she said, sorrowfully.

I was silent; the mournful accents of her voice touched my heart.

"You have no hope to give the old woman?" she said. "Yet to her it seems impossible for any one not to love Bosworth."

"I am sure there is no man living for whom Miss Lee has more respect," I answered.

She smiled a little sadly.

"Respect! That is a cold word to the young heart, Miss Hyde."

That moment the door opened and Bosworth's mother came in. She was altogether unlike the stately old lady with whom I was conversing. Her small figure, wavering black eyes, and restless manner, spoke of an entirely different organism, which was natural enough, as she was only connected with the stately dame by marriage with her son, a union that had been consecrated by an early widowhood.

It was easy to see that the elder lady was mistress of that house, and that the daughter-in-law held her in profound reverence. Poor lady! she was in great distress, and came up to me at once.

"You are kind, very kind," she exclaimed; "he has asked for you so often. Oh! Miss Hyde, it is terrible to see him in this state with no way of helping."

"It is indeed," I answered, pitying her from my heart.

"Will you go up now? He asked for you and some one else only a few minutes ago," she said, walking up and down the room in nervous distress. "It was an out-of-the-way thing to send for you, almost a stranger, for the Ridge has been empty so long that you all seem like new people, but I am sure you will excuse it. Oh! Miss Hyde, we love him so. We two lonely women, and to lose him!"

Here the poor mother burst into a passion of tears; while the old lady sat down by her work-table and looked on with a sorrowful countenance.

A noise from up-stairs arrested the younger Mrs. Bosworth in her walk.

"He is calling," she said. "Oh! Miss Hyde, he cannot bear me out of his sight! Just as it was years ago, when he would plead with me to sit by his bed, after our mother there insisted on the lamp being put out."

The old lady shook her head, and smiled sadly. "You were spoiling the boy, Hester, making a little coward of him; but he soon ceased to be afraid of the dark,--a brave young man, Miss Hyde, and a comfort to his mother; God spare him to us!"

Hester Bosworth began to cry afresh at these encomiums; and, going up to her mother-in-law's chair, bent her head upon the back, sobbing aloud.

The old lady reached up her soft, little hand, and patted the poor mother on the cheek as if she had been a child.

"Don't fret so, Hester. Our boy is young, and his constitution will not give way easily. A little sleep--if we could only induce a few hours' sleep!"

"I have made a hop pillow for him, and done everything," sobbed the mother; "but there he lies, looking, looking, looking, now at the wall, now at the ceiling, and muttering to himself."

"I know--I know," said the grandmother, hastily lifting her hand, as if the description wounded her. "Will nothing give him a little sleep?"

I remembered how often Mrs. Lee, in her nervous paroxysms, had been soothed to rest by the gentle force of my own will. Indeed, I sometimes fancy that some peculiar gift has been granted to me, by which physical suffering grows less in my presence.

"Shall I go up with you, Mrs. Bosworth?" I said, inspired with hope by this new idea. "He may recognize me as an old friend."

"Oh, yes, yes!" she exclaimed, leading the way. "Mother, will you come?"