Page:Once a Week Jun to Dec 1864.pdf/89

74 The despatch fell from her hand, and she burst into tears. All her old affection for her father had come back again in that one moment.

What was to be thought of first? Lady Jane took a minute for reflection, and then her plans were formed. She wrote a line in pencil to Laura, explaining what the matter was, and telling her she would call for her in a fly. The servant was to leave the note at Mr. Carlton’s, and then go on to the Red Lion, get the fly, and come back in it. Meanwhile, Lady Jane and Judith prepared themselves, and were ready when the fly came. Jane got in, and they drove to her sister’s. Mr. Carlton came forth.

Jane bowed coldly, but vouchsafed no other greeting to him.

“Is Lady Laura not ready?” she asked.

“Laura is absent,” he replied. “The twisted note you sent was not sealed, and I opened it. She is gone to spend a few days at Pembury with Colonel and Mrs. Marden.”

Jane was rather at a nonplus for a moment. “This opportunity for a reconciliation with the earl should not be lost,” she resumed at length. “Lady Laura must be telegraphed to.” Lady Laura! Not to him, though he was the husband, would she speak the simple name.

“I will telegraph to her myself as I pass the Great Wennock Station,” said Jane, as she gave the signal to drive on. “Good morning.”

“Thank you,” returned Mr. Carlton, “if you will take the trouble. Good morning, Lady Jane. I sincerely hope you will find the earl better on your arrival.”

A hasty journey to the station; a hasty telegraphic message, dispatched to Lady Laura Carlton at Colonel Marden’s; and Lady Jane and Judith were seated in an express train, whirling away towards London.

They reached Portland Place early in the afternoon. A change for the worse had taken place in the earl; he was rapidly sinking. Lady Jane was shown immediately to his chamber. She remembered the large handsome bed-room which had been his, and was turning to it of her own accord.

“Not there, my lady,” whispered the servant; “higher up.”

“Higher up?” repeated Jane, with displeased emphasis.

“The countess is lying in that room. My lord is up-stairs.”

Jane resented the news in her heart. He to be put out of his room for a Miss Lethwait! The words seemed to imply that she was ill, but Jane would not inquire. In the corridor, Lucy (who in spite of Miss Snow’s watchfulness had not been quite cured of her propensity for looking over balustrades) flew down to her, in delight and surprise.

“Oh, Jane!” she uttered, clinging round her neck, “is it really you? How came you to come?”

Miss Snow would have found fault with the wording of the sentence. Jane only clasped her sister.

“I have come to see papa, Lucy. Is there no hope?”

“No hope!” echoed the child, staring at her sister. “Why, Jane, whatever made you think that? He is as much better as he can be. He is nearly well. The pain is almost gone: and you know he always got well as soon as the pain left him.”

Jane was staggered. The message had been ominous; the servant, now showing her up, had just told her there was no hope: what, then, did Lucy mean? But Dr. James was standing beside them, having emerged from the earl’s room. He heard Lucy’s words and saw Jane’s perplexed countenance. He hastened to interfere, willing to prevent any inexpedient explanation.

“Lady Jane Chesney, I presume. But—allow me a moment, Lady Lucy: this is against orders. You were not to come to this corridor at all to-day: the earl must not be disturbed.”

“Oh, Dr. James! I was obliged just to come when I saw my sister. But I’ll go back to Miss Snow now. Jane, you will come into the study when you have seen papa?”

Jane promised.

“Oh, and Jane, there’s a new baby. Do you know it? He is such a darling little fellow, and papa calls him ‘young blue-jacket.’ He is three days old.”

“Is there?” responded Jane, and Lucy went back again. Jane turned inquiringly to the physician.

“The earl, I grieve to say, is sinking,” he whispered. “We keep the fact from the child that it may not get to the ears of the countess; she would go immediately and tell her.”

“Is it right to keep it from the countess?” asked Jane, her tone, as she put the question, betraying that she thought it was wrong.

Dr. James heaved up his physicianly hands and eyes.

“Right to keep it from her, Lady Jane! I would not for the world allow it to reach her ladyship in her present state of health; we don’t know what the consequences might be. My reputation is at stake, my lady.”

Jane bowed her head, and entered her father’s room. The earl lay with his eyes closed, breathing heavily. Death was on his face;