Margaret could not sit still. It was a relief to her to aid Dixon in all herpreparations for "Master Frederick." It seemed as though she never couldbe tired again. Each glimpse into the room where he sate by his father,conversing with him, about, she knew not what, nor cared to know,-wasincrease of strength to her. Her own time for talking and hearingwould come at last, and she was too certain of this to feel in a hurry tograsp it now. She took in his appearance and liked it. He had delicatefeatures, redeemed from effeminacy by the swarthiness of hiscomplexion, and his quick intensity of expression. His eyes weregenerally merry-looking, but at times they and his mouth so suddenlychanged, and gave her such an idea of latent passion, that it almostmade her afraid. But this look was only for an instant; and had in it nodoggedness, no vindictiveness; it was rather the instantaneous ferocityof expression that comes over the countenances of all natives of wild orsouthern countries--a ferocity which enhances the charm of the childlikesoftness into which such a look may melt away. Margaret might fear theviolence of the impulsive nature thus occasionally betrayed, but therewas nothing in it to make her distrust, or recoil in the least, from thenew-found brother. On the contrary, all their intercourse was peculiarlycharming to her from the very first. She knew then how muchresponsibility she had had to bear, from the exquisite sensation of reliefwhich she felt in Frederick"s presence. He understood his father andmother--their characters and their weaknesses, and went along with acareless freedom, which was yet most delicately careful not to hurt orwound any of their feelings. He seemed to know instinctively when alittle of the natural brilliancy of his manner and conversation would notjar on the deep depression of his father, or might relieve his mother"spain. Whenever it would have been out of tune, and out of time, hispatient devotion and watchfulness came into play, and made him anadmirable nurse. Then Margaret was almost touched into tears by theallusions which he often made to their childish days in the New Forest;he had never forgotten her--or Helstone either--all the time he had beenroaming among distant countries and foreign people. She might talk tohim of the old spot, and never fear tiring him. She had been afraid ofhim before he came, even while she had longed for his coming; sevenor eight years had, she felt, produced such great changes in herself that,forgetting how much of the original Margaret was left, she had reasonedthat if her tastes and feelings had so materially altered, even in her stay-at-home life, his wild career, with which she was but imperfectlyacquainted, must have almost substituted another Frederick for the tallstripling in his middy"s uniform, whom she remembered looking up towith such admiring awe. But in their absence they had grown nearer toeach other in age, as well as in many other things. And so it was that theweight, this sorrowful time, was lightened to Margaret. Other light thanthat of Frederick"s presence she had none. For a few hours, the motherrallied on seeing her son. She sate with his hand in hers; she would notpart with it even while she slept; and Margaret had to feed him like ababy, rather than that he should disturb her mother by removing afinger. Mrs. Hale wakened while they were thus engaged; she slowlymoved her head round on the pillow, and smiled at her children, as sheunderstood what they were doing, and why it was done.
"I am very selfish," said she; "but it will not be for long." Frederick bentdown and kissed the feeble hand that imprisoned his.
This state of tranquillity could not endure for many days, nor perhapsfor many hours; so Dr. Donaldson assured Margaret. After the kinddoctor had gone away, she stole down to Frederick, who, during thevisit, had been adjured to remain quietly concealed in the back parlour,usually Dixon"s bedroom, but now given up to him.
Margaret told him what Dr. Donaldson said.
"I don"t believe it," he exclaimed. "She is very ill; she may bedangerously ill, and in immediate danger, too; but I can"t imagine thatshe could be as she is, if she were on the point of death. Margaret! sheshould have some other advice--some London doctor. Have you neverthought of that?"
"Yes," said Margaret, "more than once. But I don"t believe it would doany good. And, you know, we have not the money to bring any greatLondon surgeon down, and I am sure Dr. Donaldson is only second inskill to the very best,--if, indeed, he is to them."
Frederick began to walk up and down the room impatiently.
