Her Angel Friend. A story, etc

Part I. Chapter Page

I. A COUNTRY DOCTOR I II. RAIN IN THE DISTANCE 14 III. THE SHADOW OF DEATH 2J IV. AN OLD-FASHIONED RING . 43 V. A BIRTHDAY DINNER-PARTY 55 VI. THE UNFORTUNATE FAMILY 68 VII. BOBBIE'S ACCIDENT 8 1 VIII. WORDS SPOKEN IN ANGER 92 IX. CAPTAIN GRANTHAM S WEDDING . . , . . 103 X. REMORSE OF CONSCIENCE IOO, CONTENTS,

Part II. Chapter

PAG£ XI. IN THE WARDS OF A HOSPITAL I 1 8 XII. THE CHILDREN'S WARD I 38 XIII. AT THE SILENT POOL 1 46 XIV. A CHANCE ENCOUNTER 1 64 XV. WORDS OF COMFORT 175 XVI. NANCIE MAKES A SACRIFICE 195 XVII. A LADY-NURSE 209 XVIII. AT HAMPTON COURT 229 XIX. HILDA'S OPERATION 243 XX. NORA DELrVERS HER MESSAGE. 255

Epilogue

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PART I. CHAPTER

I. A COUNTRY DOCTOR. It was a cold afternoon in the month of Novem ber. The rain fell fast, and the dismal moaning of the wind outside, made Mrs Ellerton feel thankful, that she was not obliged to stir out-of-doors in such weather. She had sent upstairs for her little boy, Bobbie, to keep her company, and now he was lying on the rug at her feet, playing with Tartar the fox-terrier. Bobbie could not manage to say "Tartar," so he had invented a name of his own, and was asking the dog, "Does Foxie love a nice warm fire? " Tartar who was simply revelling in the warmth of the flames, merely wagged his tail, as if to as sure his little master, that he need have no anxiety on his account. Mrs Ellerton was a beautiful woman, in the prime of life. She sat bending over her work, only put ting it down occasionally to watch her little boy at play, and she looked the picture of happiness.

She was expecting her husband in every minute. It was past six o' clock, and Dr Ellerton had not yet come in from his rounds. Living at Albury, a small village in Surrey, and being the only medical man for some miles round, his time was fully occupied, so that often it was late of an evening, before he had finished his work. Dr Ellerton was a great favourite in the village. Both rich and poor liked him, and his genial, re assuring manner went a long way towards making him so popular among his patients. He realised that a reassuring manner on his part, greatly ha stened a patient's recovery, and whenever there was an opinion to be given, favourable to a patient, he would give it in a most decided tone, as if he really believed himself in the truth of his opinion, not as if he doubted its veracity.

And if a patient questioned him concerning the progress made since the last visit, Dr Ellerton would not reply in a hesitating manner ; but if he really felt satis fied with the improvement made, he would say so firmly and cheerfully, and invariably he found that those few words of encouragement did more in helping his patient to pass a good night than all the sleeping draughts in the world. He said that tonics did more good, if a large tablespoon ful of hope was poured into the medicine-glass as well, and he argued — "What is the use of a sick person taking quinine, or iron, three times a day? if all the time, he or she, as the case is, thinks, 1 1 don't believe that this medicine will do me the least bit of good'. But if a doctor would only tell his patient that he depends upon the medicine to do wonders, it will then be readily taken, so much so, that should the nurse be a little behind her time in administering the dose, she will be gently reminded that it is due at a certain hour."

There is a story told of a little girl, who for a long time had been suffering from some chronic affection of the knee. She was very fond of the doctor who attended her, and she used to listen attentively to any remarks made to the nurse. But one day after his visit, she burst into tears, and when asked what was the matter replied, "I'm afraid the doctor must be dreadfully anxious about me, for he never said 'good' like he always does."' Poor little child ! Yearning for one simple word left unsaid. Only a word of one syllable, but it was a word that conveyed to her little mind, a world of meaning ; bringing before her such bright, happy visions of the future, when she would no longer he compelled to lie still all day, but be able to use her limbs, and run about like other children. Was there some other, more serious case, filling the doctor's mind, which made him forget to give his little patient the usual word of encouragement ?

We know not, but we know this : that if he could have foreseen the childish paroxysm of grief, from his leaving that word unsaid, he would never have gone away and left the child's mind dissatisfied. Therefore, if trifles such as these do not pass unheeded by a child, how much more impression must they make upon an adult ! The mind is apt to become strangely imaginative, when weak ened with illness, so that even an anxious ex pression on a doctor's face will cause a nervous patient days of incessant worry and fear, and these imaginary fancies do not pass away, until the doctor pays his next visit, and brings hope to the timid sufferer once more. It does happen sometimes, that a doctor is too sanguine in his hopes of a patient's recovery ; yet, if we had to choose between a medical man who is always more or less hopeful, and one who is naturally desponding, should we not select the former ?

Far better to have a doctor enter your room, and inform you in cheery tones, that you will be well and about again in a fortnight, almost before he knows what is the matter with you, than to have a medical attendant, who, when you are a little below "par", looks at you, and at your rela tions, in a manner plainly indicating that your days on earth are numbered. Even if it is a little disappointing, when the given fortnight for recovery lengthens into a month, and the month into a year, still in looking back upon a long illness, we realise how much harder it would have been to bear, if all along we had known what the future held in store. God is very merciful in hiding the future from our sight. Dr and Mrs Ellerton had been married now for eighteen years, but every year of their married life, instead of tending as is often the way, to lessen the love between them, seemed only to increase and strengthen their affection towards one another.

Dr Ellerton loved his wife as fondly now, as he did that day, when he brought her, as a bride of seventeen summers, to his country home. They had only three children left, having lost several in infancy. Nancie and Hilda were seventeen and sixteen years of age, and for some years past, they had been at a boarding-school in Brighton. Hilda the younger of the two girls, was not very strong, and the only reason why Mrs Ellerton ever consented to her girl leaving home, was that her husband thought the keen bracing air at the seaside, would help her to outgrow her delicacy. And Hilda's health had certainly improved the last year or so, but since the summer holidays Mrs Ellerton had not been receiving such good accounts of the girl. That very morning, Hilda had written home and complained of not feeling well, and Mrs Ellerton was wishing for her husband to return home, that she might consult with him, whether it would not be better to have Hilda home at once, instead of waiting for the Christmas holidays, which did not begin till six weeks later.

Bobbie was nearly five years old, but being the youngest, he was looked upon as the baby of the family. Everybody spoilt him, and even Mrs Ellerton was inclined to lavish the most of her maternal affection on him ; but the two girls were devoted to their little brother, and most of their holiday time was spent, either playing with him in the nursery, or running wild with him in their large garden. The front door was opened at last, and Dr El lerton hurriedly entered the room. Bobbie ran to meet him, and Dr Ellerton lifting the child in his arms, kissed the little face so ten derly. "Why, Bobbie, my boy," he said. "I never ex pected to find you up so late as this. Past seven o'clock, and not in bed." "Mumsie let me stay up on purpose to see you," answered the child. Then nestling closer to his father, he added in a lower tone, " Cos I 'spected you might have those little green frogs to show me."

"Yes, I have got them, Bobbie, but they must be fast asleep by now. I think you had better wait till the morning, to be introduced to them. They will be far more likely to make friends with you, when they are not tired. You have not told Mother about them, I hope? You know I want them to be quite a surprise for her birthday." " Oh, no, Daddy. Fancy you thinking I can't keep secrets. Why I keep secrets bootifully. I only said to Mumsie when she kept saying why were you so late, that perhaps you might have gone into Guildford to buy something, and when Mumsie said what, I said something that jumped, and was green, but as it was a secret I wouldn't say what. I know she hasn't guessed. " Dr Ellerton was so engaged in talking to Bobbie, that he took no notice of his wife, till she said : "Walter, how you love that boy.

I really believe better than you love me." Her husband smiled, and putting Bobbie down, he went across the room to where his wife was sitting, and kissed her. "Not more than you, Beatrice," he answered. " That would be impossible, but I do love the child. He is such a winning little fellow and so amusing. His idea of keeping a secret is original, to say the least of it. Your birthday present will not be much of a surprise now, I fear, so I may as well tell you that I have managed to get you a couple of little frogs very similar to those Tartar devoured." "Oh you naughty Foxie!" interrupted Bobbie rudely. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself. You were a bad doggie to kill those poor little frogs. You must be dreffully bad, I think, cos you kill all the cats too. Isn't he naughty, Daddy?" "He is terrible," answered Dr Ellerton.

Then turning to his wife. "Upon my word, Beatrice, I can hardly look a cat in the face. Those which Tartar has spared up to the present, all seem to be in mourning for some near relative. It quite goes to my heart to see them," he added laughingly. " Well, Bobbie you must take care Tartar doesn't get at the new frogs. Let me see, when is your birthday, Beatrice ? " "The 23rd of this month," replied Mrs Ellerton ; "another fortnight yet. It is good of you to have thought of the frogs. I like to see them among the plants in the conservatory. And now, Bobbie, you must run away to bed. I will ring for dinner at once, Walter. You must want something badly." "Yes, I do want my dinner; but first of all, will you have the spare room made ready? There has been an accident not far from here. Some fellow thrown from his horse, and badly injured.

There is a chance, however, that with careful nursing he may recover, and as there is no hospital nearer than Guildford, 1 left word that directly a proper conveyance could be procured, he was to be brought on here. It was unfortunate that I happened to be riding this evening, or we should have had him with us by now." "How sad!" exclaimed Mrs Ellerton. "Is he quite a stranger about here?" " I think so. There is not a card or paper about him, which can give us any information as to who he is, or where he comes from." "I will see about the room at once," said Mrs Ellerton. Already her kind womanly heart was silled with pity for the stranger, and as she hurried up the flight of stairs which led to the spare room, she was devising all the comforts possible to make him get better. Dr Ellerton left alone, noticed Hilda's letter on the mantelpiece.

"Ah! a letter from Hilda," he said, speaking half aloud. He took the letter out of its envelope and began to read it. lt ran as follows : — "12, Paragon Grove, Brighton. November 3rd. 'My darling Mother, "Thank you for your dear letter, which we were delighted to get. Isn't it nice to think that the holidays are so near ? Only another six weeks and we shall be home again. Of course Nan and I are happy enough here, and we manage somehow to enjoy ourselves, in spite of all the rules and regu lations, but there is no place like home. "And oh, Mother ! I am so tired of the food ; it is everlasting beef and mutton, I quite long to see a piece of pork. And then to make it worse, Miss Hobson daily impresses upon us, that plain beef and mutton is the food for growing girls. As if beef and mutton could ever be anything else but plain !

" I don't think I am quite so well, as I get so easily tired. Last week Dr Wright came to the school and I was sent for to be interviewed. Well, Mother, you have seen Dr Wright, and you have seen Miss Hobson, so you can imagine the fun it was. When I arrived in the parlour, 1 found Dr Wright sitting at one end of it, and Miss Hobson at the other end, miles away from one another. Miss Hobson gave such a description of me to Dr Wright, going into every possible detail, even mentioning that Nan and I had cocoa for breakfast ; but Dr Wright is as deaf as a post, and I don't believe he heard half of it. It was just like a game of cross questions and crooked answers. They went on playing this game for about a quarter of an hour, and then he felt my pulse, and looked at my tongue, and said in a most solemn tone 'My dear young lady,' (Miss Hobson got red at the word ' dear ') ' I am about to make a very plain state ment, which I may say concerns myself, almost as much as it concerns you.

The fact is this, we are growing rather fast — I may say, a great deal too fast — for our strength, so we must go through a course of cod-liver oil, and rest ourselves on the backboard as much as possible during the day. Now one word more. When I mention this statement of mine concerns us both, I mean this : it concerns me that I have to give my orders, and you have to attend to them.' "The vision of Dr Wright, who is very fat, rest ing himself on the backboard which is particularly narrow, was too much for me and I laughed out right. " Horrid old man ! I got such a lecture afterwards from Miss Hobson on what she called, my 'want of refinement.' You see she thinks Dr. Wright per fect, but considering she never sees another man except the music-master, who is more like a mon key than anything else, I am not surprised she has fallen so easily a victim to that old doctor's charms.

" What a long letter I am writing to you, quite an epistle, is it not? and I haven't quite finished yet. "They say that years ago when Miss Hobson was quite young, somebody wanted to marry her ; but the man asked Mr Hobson first, who declined the offer for his daughter and never even told her about it ; she found it out a long time afterwards quite by accident. I do call it a sneaky (there is no other word to express my feelings) thing of Mr Hobson to have done. If I am to end my days as an old maid, I must say I should like to have the satisfaction of feeling, that once I had been given the chance to change my name. Though according to my present mind I might change it for a worse one. "Nan joins with me in love to you all. " Ever your loving child, "Hilda Ellerton. Dr Ellerton laughed heartily, as he folded up his daughter's letter and put it back in its envelope.

What an amusing letter it was, so full of fun ; and there was an under-current of quiet humour in the whole tone of it, which showed what a keen idea of the ludicrous, the girl possessed. But on the other hand, it was more than evident that Hilda inherited the family failing, she was like all his family, hypercritical, and Dr Ellerton knew to his cost how easily criticism develops into ill-nature. There is no doubt, that there is a great deal of amusement to be had in this world, for those who can appreciate the ludicrous ; but people of a critical disposition are apt to carry it too far, causing the amusement, which was harmless enough in the beginning, to become a fault, which is not so easily put aside, when we discover that we have gone beyond the limit. That was what caused Dr Ellerton to look so grave for a minute or so, as he stood in front of the fire with Hilda's letter in his hand.

Chapter II. Rain In The Distance

At that moment, Dr Ellerton heard the sound of carriage wheels coming up the drive. He ha stened to the front door, and himself helped to carry the stranger up to the spare room which had been made ready. The sire burnt brightly in the large old-fashioned grate, shedding its comforting light all over the room, and on to the bed with its delicate drape ries of light cretonne. Everything looked so home ly and inviting, and the white linen sheets were fragrant with the odour of the "pot pourri," in which they had been laid. It was exactly the sort of room, suitable for an invalid ; but the sufferer was delirious, and could notice neither the comforts, nor the kind faces around him. For some days the stranger lay in this unconscious state. The fever ran high, and when his temperature reached 1050 degrees, Dr Ellerton had grave cause for his anxiety.

In his wild sits of delirium, the stranger would call repeatedly for "Ruby." It was always the same piteous cry, "Ruby! when shall I find you? You can't have forgotten me, I can never believe that." And then he fancied at times he was at Clovelly, that beautiful picturesque hamlet in Dev onshire. Once again he was near the sea, close to the cliffs, where the poppies grow in such wild abundance, and he started up in bed, calling exci tedly — "My darling, not so near the edge. Take care! What was it you wanted? Only that piece of seaweed? Well, never mind, Ruby, I'll get it for you. How fresh it smells! What a lovely place Clovelly is, Ruby!" And as his mind wandered back to the past, he grew somewhat quieter, and Mrs Ellerton sat by his bedside hour after hour, waiting for the return to consciousness, which she felt sooner or later would come.

She was unremitting in her kind atten tions to the sufferer and she was more hopeful even than her husband of the stranger's recovery. She said to Dr Ellerton, "I cannot bear to think of him dying like this, away from his home and friends, and this Ruby he keeps calling for. It is heart-rending to hear him, but I feel sure he will get better. He is certainly quieter to day." Dr Ellerton used every means to identify the stranger but he was unsuccessful. On enquiring at Guildford, he ascertained that a stranger, ans wering very much to the invalid's description, had lunched at the "Angel Hotel" on the day of the accident, and after lunch had ridden on, so one of the waiters said, in the direction of Albury. That was all Dr Ellerton could find out, so they could only wait patiently ; and a week later, Mrs Ellerton's hopes were fulfilled.

The invalid awoke one afternoon from a long refreshing sleep, to find himself in a strange room, where everything seemed fresh to him. He lifted his head from the pillow, and tried to speak, but at first he had no power to utter the words which were trembling on his lips. He let his eyes wander round the room, whilst he tried to collect his scattered thoughts. He wondered what had occur red. The past seemed more or less of a blank to him, and he continued for some minutes to gaze about him, wondering all the while why he was lying there, feeling so weak and powerless. Then gradually his speech returned, and in a feeble voice he asked — "Where am I? Have I been ill?" Mrs Ellerton was looking out of the window with Bobbie in her arms, but at the sound of the stranger's voice, she went at once to his side.

"You have indeed been very ill," she answered, "but, thank God, you are better now and I hope ■1 will soon he yourself again." Then observing the look of enquiry in his eyes, she told him about the accident, and how her husband had found him, lying insensible in the road between Guildford and Albury. "But now you must rest quietly; only first tell me your name, we are quite in ignorance." "My name is Grantham, Captain Grantham. How can I ever thank you?" He looked at Bobbie and added, "Is this little boy, the baby?" "Of 'cos I am," answered Bobbie, proudly. "I'm Mumsie's own baby, and 1 heard Nursie say once, when she thought I was asleep, that Mumsie loves me ever so much ; much more than she loves Nan cie and Hilda." "Oh Bobbie!" said Mrs Ellerton smiling, "what a little chatterbox you are.

Run away, my darling, and ask Nursie to see if father has come home." Bobbie did as he was told, and Mrs Ellerton turning towards Captain Grantham, said — " My husband will be delighted to find you so much better. We have been very anxious about you." The invalid lay back on his pillows looking so exhausted, that Mrs Ellerton was alarmed, and she quickly poured him out some brandy which was near at hand. This soon revived him, but he felt unable to speak again. How he longed to be able to thank her once more, andun some measure express to her his deep feeling of obligation. He should sleep so much better, if he could only make her understand how grateful he was. An idea seemed to strike him. There was a way in which he could show her how deeply he appreciated her kindness, and as she stooped to shake up his pillows, he held her hand for an instant, and almost reverently raised it to his lips.

It was merely gratitude in this instance, and Mrs Ellerton was not offended. Under no circumstances, does a woman object to having her hand kissed, and now Mrs Ellerton understood what prompted him to do it, and it pleased her, as fair reader, it has pleased you many and many a time, when in the stillness of a summer's evening, or on a cold winter's night, you have sat hand in hand with your lover and he has held your hand, oh ! so closely, only letting it loose now and then, that he might press it lovingly to his lips. And have you not gone home at night, to your room — that especial sanctum of your own, where you are so free to dream about your lover, (and where you keep your girlish treasures, from his first love-letter down to that bunch of faded flowers, he gave you a few evenings ago,) — and looked at those little white hands of yours, wondering to yourself how he could have so cares sed them ?

And when the gas was turned out, and you were alone in the darkness, perfectly sure that no one was about to see you, have you not silently laid your face on the hand where his lips have rested ? It is only a picture in the imagination after all, yet somehow not an unfamiliar picture to many of my readers, I think. The evening that followed Captain Grantham's return to consciousness, was a happy one for Dr Ellerton and his wife. It was the first evening they had spent together since the accident, as after dinner Mrs Ellerton always took her turn in sitting by the invalid. But since that afternoon, when the change for the better took place, Captain Grantham had been sleeping so quietly, and was making such good progress, that Dr Ellerton had insisted on his wife giving up her turn to the nurse, and spending the evening with him downstairs.

They were glad to be alone ; they had much to speak about, and Mrs Ellerton was particularly anxious to ask her husband about Hilda, as owing to the sudden illness in the house, she had been unable to have the girl home, as she had intended. "I have been thinking, Walter," she said, "that if Captain Grantham continues to go on so well, I should like to run down to Brighton for a day, and see how Hilda really is. Of course I know there is nothing serious the matter, but I should feel happier, if I could see her." "Do whatever you like, dear," returned Dr Eller ton. "But as we had such good accounts of Hilda only a week ago, if I were you, I should wait till you hear again before you decide to go. I would gladly run down to Brighton myself and save you the long journey, if I were not so busy, but it is quite impossible for me to get away at present.

There is such a lot of illness about, and patients whom I cannot leave." "Walter, how is Mrs Stanton? She was so ill a few days ago, when you mentioned her. Is she any better? " Dr Ellerton shook his head. "She is very ill, and I fear cannot live many days. It is an awfully sad case, as they have only been married a year, and she is not twenty yet." "And the child, Walter?" " Oh, she is a bonny little thing, and as well as possible." "I wonder what her name is to be," asked Mrs Ellerton. "I believe they have decided to call her Monica, after her mother. A quaint name, is it not? but very pretty." "Yes, very pretty," replied Mrs Ellerton. "Ire member the painting of St Monica and St Augus tine at the National Gallery so well. The faces of both mother and son were exquisite. Mrs Stanton has a sweet face, hasn't she?

Will you be going to see her again to-night?" "Yes; I have ordered the brougham for nine o'clock." "Then I shall wait up till you return. I should so like to know how she is. And, Walter, about going to Brighton; I am quite willing to put it off, if you think it is best ; perhaps after all I ought not to be away now, in case Captain Grantham should have a relapse. He seems very weak still." "Weak! I should think so, and he will be too for some time yet. No ; he would miss you, Bea trice, I am sure. I am beginning to be a little jealous of him, you pay him so much attention." Dr Ellerton was smiling as he spoke, and his wife knew he was not in earnest, yet it distressed her to hear him speak like that. Her love for him was so great, that it grieved her he should speak lightly on the subject.

She put her arms lovingly round his neck. "Walter," she said, " sometimes you scarcely seem to realise all you are to me. I was very young when I became your wife, and then I loved you, as I thought, with all my heart. But as I get older, I see that it was a different sort of love to what I feel for you now. In those days it was a girlish affection. I was flattered to think that you had chosen me, among so many, to be your wife, and that you wanted to have me always with you, to spend your life with me. Now it is different; it is a deeper and a holier love. You and the children are my one thought ; and I have never known a minute's unhappiness since I married you, except when God took my little children away, but still I do not wish them back. I am quite contented to think of them, as little angels, especially dear to God on account of their innocence and purity."