“Convalescence,” remarked Peggy elegantly, a week later on, “convalescence is a period not devoid of attraction!” She was lying on a sofa in her bedroom at the Larches, wrapped in her white dressing-gown, and leaning against a nest of pink silk cushions, and, what with a table drawn up by her side laden with grapes and jelly, a pile of Christmas numbers lying close at hand, and the presence of an audience consisting of Rosalind, Lady Darcy, and Mrs Asplin, ready to listen admiringly to her conversation, and to agree enthusiastically with every word she uttered, it did indeed seem as if the position was one which might be endured with fortitude! Many were the questions which had been showered upon her since her return to consciousness, and the listeners never grew tired of listening to her account of the accident. How Rosalind had clutched too carelessly at the slender candlestick, so that it had fallen forward, setting the gauze dress in flames, how she herself had flown out of the room, torn down the curtains which draped the “harem,” and had flung them round the frantic, struggling figure. With every day that passed, however, Peggy gained more strength, and was petted to her heart’s content by everyone in the house. The old lord kissed her fondly on the cheek, and murmured, “God reward you, my brave girl, for I never can.” Lady Darcy shed tears every morning when the burns were dressed, and said, “Oh, Peggy dear, forgive me for being cross, and do, do be sure to use the lotion for your arms regularly every day when you get better!” And the big doctor chucked her under the chin, and cried—
“Well, ‘Fighting Saville,’ and how are we to-day? You are the pluckiest little patient I’ve had for a long time. I’ll say that for you! Let’s have another taste of the rack!” It was all most agreeable and soothing to one’s feelings!
One of the first questions Peggy asked after her return to consciousness was as to how much her father and mother had been told of her accident, and whether the news had been sent by letter or cable.
“By letter, dear,” Mrs Asplin replied. “We talked it over carefully, and concluded that that would be best. You know, dearie, we were very, very anxious about you for a few days, but the doctor said that it would be useless cabling to your mother, because if all went well you would be up again before she could arrive, and if—if it had gone the other way, Peggy, she could not have been in time. I sent her a long letter, and I have written every mail since, and now we are going to calculate the time when the first letter will arrive, and send a cable to say that you are quite out of danger, and sitting up, and getting hungrier and more mischievous with every day as it passes!”
“Thank you,” said Peggy warmly. “That’s very kind. I am glad you thought of that; but will you please promise not to be economical about the cable? They won’t care about the money. Spend pounds over it if it is necessary, but do, do manage to make them believe that I am quite perky. Put at the end, ‘Peggy says she is perky!’ They will know that is genuine, and it will convince them more than anything else.” And so those five expressive words went flashing across the world at the end of a long message, and brought comfort to two hearts that had been near to breaking.
So soon as Peggy was pronounced to be out of danger, Mrs Asplin went back to the vicarage, leaving her in the charge of the kind hospital nurse, though for that matter every member of the household took it in turns to wait upon her. A dozen times a day the master and mistress of the house would come into the sick-room to inquire how things were going, or to bring some little gift for the invalid; and as she grew stronger it became the custom for father, mother, and daughter to join her at her early tea. Peggy watched them from her sofa, too weak to speak much, but keenly alive to all that was going on, among other things, to the change which had come over these three persons since she had known them first. Lord Darcy had always been kind and considerate, but his manner seemed gentler and more courteous than ever, while Rosalind’s amiability was an hourly surprise, and Lady Darcy’s manner had lost much of its snappish discontent. On one occasion, when her husband made some little request, she replied in a tone so sweet and loving that the listener started with surprise. What could it be that had worked this transformation? She did not realise that when the Angel of Death has hovered over a household, and has at last flown away with empty arms, leaving the home untouched, they would be hard hearts that were not touched, ungrateful natures that did not take thought of themselves, and face life with a higher outlook! Lady Darcy’s social disappointments seemed light compared with the awful “might have been”; while Rosalind’s lamentations over her disfigurement had died away at the sight of Peggy’s unconscious form. Perhaps, when Lord Darcy thanked Peggy for all she had done for him and his, he had other thoughts in his mind than the mere physical deliverance of which she had been the instrument!
Arthur had been kept well informed of his sister’s recovery, and proved himself the kindest of brothers, sending letters by the dozen, full of such nonsensical jokes, anecdotes, and illustrations, as would have cheered the gloomiest invalid in the world. But the happiest day of all was when the great news arrived that his name was placed first of all in the list of successful candidates. This was indeed tidings of comfort and joy! Peggy clapped her bandaged hands together, and laughed aloud with tears of pain streaming down her face. “Arthur Saville, V.C., Arthur Saville, V.C.!” she cried, and then fell to groaning because some days must still elapse before the medical examination was over, and her hero was set free to hasten to her side.
“And I shall be back at the vicarage then, and we shall all be together! Oh, let us be joyful! How happy I am! What a nice old world it is, after all!” she continued hilariously, while Rosalind gazed at her with reproachful eyes.
“Are you so glad to go away? I shall be vewy, vewy sowwy—I’ll miss you awfully. I shall feel that there is nothing to do when you have gone away, Peggy!”—Rosalind hesitated, and looked at her companion in uncertain bashful fashion. “I—I think you like me a little bit now, and I’m vewy fond of you, but you couldn’t bear me before we were ill. You might tell me why?”
“I was jealous of you,” said Peggy promptly; whereat Rosalind’s eyes filled with tears.
“You won’t be jealous now!” she said dismally, and raised her head to stare at her own reflection in the mirror. The hair which had once streamed below her waist was now cut short round her head, her face had lost its delicate bloom, and an ugly scar disfigured her throat and the lower portion of one cheek. Beautiful she must always be, with her faultless features and wonderful eyes, but the bloom and radiance of colour which had been her chief charm had disappeared for the time being as completely as though they had never existed.
“I’ll love you more,” said Peggy reassuringly. “You are ever so much nicer, and you will be as pretty as ever when your hair grows and the marks fade away. I like you better when you are not quite so pretty, for you really were disgustingly conceited; weren’t you now? You can’t deny it.”
“Oh, Peggy Saville, and so were you! I saw that the first moment you came into the woom. You flared up like a Turkey cock if anyone dared to offend your dignity, and you were always widing about on your high horse, tossing your head, and using gweat long words.”
“That’s pride, it’s not conceit. It’s quite a different thing.”
“It’s about the same to other people,” said Rosalind shrewdly. “We both gave ourselves airs, and the wesult was the same, whatever caused it. I was pwoud of my face, and you were pwoud of your—your—er—family—and your cleverness, and—the twicks you played; so if I confess, you ought to confess too. I’m sorry I aggwavated you, Mawiquita, and took all the pwaise for the decowations. It was howwibly mean, and I don’t wonder you were angwy. I’m sorry that I was selfish!”
“I exceedingly regret that I formed a false estimate of your character! Let’s be chums!” said Peggy sweetly; and the two girls eyed one another uncertainly for a moment, then bent forward and exchanged a kiss of conciliation, after which unusual display of emotion they were seized with instant embarrassment.
“Hem!” said Peggy. “It’s very cold! Fire rather low, I think. Looks as if it were going to snow.”
“No,” said Rosalind; “I mean—yes. I’ll put on some more—I mean coals. In half an hour Esther and Mellicent will be here—”
“Oh, so they will! How lovely!” Peggy seized gladly on the new opening, and proceeded to enlarge on the joy which she felt at the prospect of seeing her friends again, for on that afternoon Robert and the vicarage party were to be allowed to see her for the first time, and to have tea in her room. She had been looking forward to their visit for days, and, new that the longed-for hour was at hand, she was eager to have the lamps lit, and all preparations made for their arrival.
Robert appeared first, having ridden over in advance of the rest. And Rosalind, after going out to greet him, came rushing back, all shaken with laughter, with the information that he had begun to walk on tiptoe the moment that he had left the drawing-room, and was creeping along the passage as if terrified at making a sound.
Peggy craned her head, heard the squeak, squeak of boots coming nearer and nearer, the cautious opening of the door, the heavy breaths of anxiety, and then, crash!—bang!—crash! down flopped the heavy screen round the doorway, and Rob was discovered standing among the ruins in agonies of embarrassment. From his expression of despair, he might have supposed that the shock would kill Peggy outright; but she gulped down her nervousness, and tried her best to reassure him.
“Oh, never mind—never mind! It doesn’t matter. Come over here and talk to me. Oh, Rob, Rob, I am so glad to see you!”
Robert stood looking down in silence, while his lips twitched and his eyebrows worked in curious fashion. If it had not been altogether too ridiculous, Peggy would have thought that he felt inclined to cry. But he only grunted, and cried—
“What a face! You had better tuck into as much food as you can, and get some flesh on your bones. It’s about as big as the palm of my hand! Never saw such a thing in my life.”
“Never mind my face,” piped Peggy in her weak little treble. “Sit right down and talk to me. What is the news in the giddy world? Have you heard anything about the prize? When does the result come out? Remember you promised faithfully not to open the paper until we were together. I was so afraid it would come while I was too ill to look at it!”
“I should have waited,” said Robert sturdily. “There would have been no interest in the thing without you; but the result won’t be given for ten days yet, and by that time you will be with us again. The world hasn’t been at all giddy, I can tell you. I never put in a flatter time. Everybody was in the blues, and the house was like a tomb, and a jolly uncomfortable tomb at that. Esther was housekeeper while Mrs Asplin was away, and she starved us! She was in such a mortal fright of being extravagant that she could scarcely give us enough to keep body and soul together, and the things we had were not fit to eat. Nothing but milk puddings and stewed fruit for a week on end. Then we rebelled. I nipped her up in my arms one evening in the schoolroom, and stuck her on the top of the little bookcase. Then we mounted guard around, and set forth our views. It would have killed you to see her perched up there, trying to look prim and to keep up her dignity.
“‘Let me down this moment, Robert. Bring a chair and let me get down.’
“‘Will you promise to give us a pie to-morrow, then, and a decent sort of a pudding?’
“‘It’s no business of yours what I give you. You ought to be thankful for good wholesome food!’
“‘Milk puddings are not wholesome. They don’t agree with us—they are too rich! We should like something a little lighter for a change. Will you swear off milk puddings for the next fortnight if I let you down?’
“‘You are a cruel, heartless fellow, Robert Darcy—thinking of puddings when Peggy is ill, and we are all so anxious about her!’
“‘Peggy would die at once if she heard how badly you were treating us. Now then, you have kept me waiting for ten minutes, so the price has gone up. Now you’ll have to promise a pair of ducks and mince-pies into the bargain! I shall be ashamed of meeting a sheep soon, if we go on eating mutton every day of the week.’
“‘Call yourself a gentleman!’ says she, tossing her head and withering me with a glance of scorn.
“‘I call myself a hungry man, and that’s all we are concerned about for the moment,’ said I. ‘A couple of ducks and two nailing good puddings to-morrow night, or there you sit for the rest of the evening!’
“We went at it hammer and tongs until she was fairly spluttering with rage; but she had to promise before she came down, and we had no more starvation diet after that. Oswald went up to town for a day, and bought a pair of blue silk socks and a tie to match—that’s the greatest excitement we have had. The rest has been all worry and grind, and Mellicent on the rampage about Christmas presents. Oh, by the bye, I printed those photographs you wanted to send to your mother, and packed them off by the mail a fortnight ago, so that she would get them in good time for Christmas.”
“Rob, you didn’t! How noble of you! You really are an admirable person!” Peggy lay back against her pillows and gazed at her “partner” in great contentment of spirit. After living an invalid’s life for these past weeks, it was delightfully refreshing to look at the big strong face. The sight of it was like a fresh breeze coming into the close, heated room, and she felt as if some of his superabundant energy had come into her own weak frame.
A little later the vicarage party arrived, and greeted the two convalescents with warmest affection. If they were shocked at the sight of Rosalind’s disfigurement and Peggy’s emaciation, three out of the four were polite enough to disguise their feelings; but it was too much to expect of Mellicent that she should disguise what she happened to be feeling. She stared and gaped, and stared again, stuttering with consternation—
“Why—why—Rosalind—your hair! It’s shorter than mine! It doesn’t come down to your shoulders! Did they cut it all off? What did you do with the rest? And your poor cheek! Will you have that mark all your life?”
“I don’t know. Mother is going to twy electwicity for it. It will fade a good deal, I suppose, but I shall always be a fwight. I’m twying to wesign myself to be a hideous monster!” sighed Rosalind, turning her head towards the window the while in such a position that the scar was hidden from view, and she looked more like the celestial choir-boy of Peggy’s delirium than ever, with the golden locks curling round her neck, and the big eyes raised to the ceiling in a glance of pathetic resignation.
Rob guffawed aloud with the callousness of a brother; but the other two lads gazed at her with an adoring admiration which was balm to her vain little heart. Vain still, for a nature does not change in a day; and, though Rosalind was an infinitely more lovable person now than she had been a few weeks before, the habits of a lifetime were still strong upon her, and she could never by any possibility be indifferent to admiration, or pass a mirror without stopping to examine the progress of that disfiguring scar.
“It wouldn’t have mattered half so much if it had been Peggy’s face that was spoiled,” continued Mellicent, with cruel outspokenness, “and it is only her hands that are hurt. Things always go the wrong way in this world! I never saw anything like it. You know that night-dress bag I was working for mother, Peggy? Well, I only got two skeins of the blue silk, and then if I didn’t run short, and they hadn’t any more in the shop. The other shades don’t match at all, and it looks simply vile. I am going to give it to—ahem! I mean that’s the sort of thing that always happens to me—it makes me mad! You can’t sew at all, I suppose? What do you do with yourself all day long, now that you are able to get up?”
Peggy’s eyes twinkled.
“I sleep,” she said slowly, “and eat, and sleep a little more, and eat again, and talk a little bit, roll into bed, and fall fast asleep. Voilà tout, ma chère! C’est ?a que je fais tous les jours.”
Rosalind gave a shriek of laughter at Peggy’s French, and Mellicent rolled her eyes to the ceiling.
“How s–imply lovely!” she sighed. “I wish I were you! I’d like to go to bed in November and stay there till May. In a room like this, of course, with everything beautiful and dainty, and a maid to wait upon me. I’d have a fire and an india-rubber hot-water bottle, and I’d lie and sleep, and wake up every now and then, and make the maid read aloud, and bring me my meals on a tray. Nice meals! Real, nice invalidy things, you know, to tempt my appetite.” Mellicent’s eyes rolled instinctively to the table, where the jelly and the grapes stood together in tempting proximity. She sighed, and brought herself back with an effort to the painful present. “Goodness, Peggy, how funny your hands look! Just like a mummy! What do they look like when the bandages are off? Very horrible?”
“Hideous!” Peggy shrugged her shoulders and wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I am going to try to grow old as fast as I can, so that I can wear mittens and cover them up. I’m really rather distressed about it, because I am so—so addicted to rings, don’t you know. They have been a weakness of mine all my life, and I’ve looked forward to having my fingers simply loaded with them when I grew up. There is one of mother’s that I especially admire—a big square emerald surrounded with diamonds. She promised to give it to me on my twenty-first birthday, but, unless my hands look very different by that time, I shall not want to call attention to them. Alack-a-day! I fear I shall never be able to wear a ring—”
“Gracious goodness! Then you can never be married!” ejaculated Mellicent, in a tone of such horrified dismay as evoked a shriek of merriment from the listeners—Peggy’s merry trill sounding clear above the rest. It was just delicious to be well again, to sit among her companions and have one of the old hearty laughs over Mellicent’s quaint speeches. At that moment she was one of the happiest girls in all the world.