The Soldier's Wife — page 114: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE SOLDIER’S WIFE. 97 int of death; and the kind-hearted Mrs. Lons-|claimed, “ Oh, that he would permit a phye: fale made Anna aware with a significant glance|cian to be sent for!” that she was grieved, but not indignant. “T will speed for one this momen’,” cried “There! that’s more welcome than all taoe|Lucy, hastening the chamber door. wine in the worid if sent by charity!” It was} ‘“ No—it is useless,” responded Anna, shaking thus that Courtenay spoke, when, hav.ngjher head mournfully. ‘He will not have a emptied the glass, he gave it back to Anna:jdoctor: he persists in believing that he will then after a silence of upwards of a minute, he|soon get well, if left to himself. He pretends said, “Have you got anything to eat? I feeljthat I annoy and vex him: though heavea faint and hungry. A crust will do: for I sup-| knows what he would have done for weeks and pose there is nothing more.” weeks past without me! IfI entreat him to Mrs. Lonsdale took a loaf from the basket,}have medical advice, he beds me hold my and handed it to Anna, who approached the/tongue. If I caress and endeavor to soothe bed with it. him But, ah, Mrs. Lonsdale you have seen “Where did you get all that from?” demanded |enough to imagine all I suffer!” and the poor Courtenay, with brutal abruptness. young creature burst into tears. “J sent out something to be pledged just} “But he must have advice!” said Lucy, now——’” | firmly, when this new paroxysm of grief on the ‘It’s false! there was nothing left to pledge.|part of Anna had subsided. “He cannot be You hadn’t even an under-garment left. Now, |left thus!” | tell me what have you plecyed? “Do you—do you think he is very—very “Some linen—soine trifles—no matter what: jill?” asked the affectionate girl, in the hesitat- but pray eat!” and poor Anna, again convulsed/ing voice of one who feared to put the ques with grief, proffered him a piece of the bread:|tion, because she but too ;lainly foresaw what then as she saw that he did eat it, for he be-|the response would be. ‘“No—he 3 not so lieved what she had just told him, her anguish|very Ul—is he? Tell me that he is not.” abated, and something like an expression of | ‘“ My dear young lady,” replied Lucy, fixing Joy gathered upon her countenance. upon the hapless creature a look of boundless “There, dear Henry,” she said: “ you feel|compassion, “you must not buoy yourself up better now? Let me put away the hair from|with the hope that he will speedily get well: over your forehead—” for I am afraid that 4 ““No—let me alone: I shall be better pre-| “That he is indeed very ill?’—and Anna sently. What a smell of brandy there is?” gazed upon our heroine with painful anxiety, “It was a little drop I borrowed from the|while she spoke in the hushed voice of pro- woman of the house to recover you just now|foundest terror. when you fainted.” | “Yes—I am afraid that he is very ill. He “That’s as false as perdition, Anna!” ex-|must have advice. I will send a physician to elaimed Courtenay, with fierce brutality: “for him on leaving this house. The doctor will, if the hag wouldn't give youa drop. Ah, I sup-|needful, force his attentions upon Captain Cour- pose she will come up again to-morrow with|tenay.” er threats and her impudence: but [ hope to| “Use the name of Seagrave,” said Anna im- be better then—and I will pitch her neck and|ploringly: “for his pride is such, that so long as 2rop down stairs. Deuce take these mean and/he remains in poverty he will not suffer him- pitiful relations of mine, to leave me here in|self to be knowu.” such a state! I will write to Wyndham to-| Lucy pressed the poor girl’s hand with a sad morrow, to lend me fifty pounds: he is sure to|tightening at her own heart; she felt convinced eend it—ar-d I don’t mind borrowing of a gen-|that within a very few days, if not within a tleman. By the bye, I sha’n’t forget to men-|few hours, the object of the young lady’s tion that I fell in with that scoundrel Lons-|devoted love would cease to exist. dale—” a Mrs. Lonsdale descended the stairs, and found “QO Henry, it is really too bad,” cried Anna, |her husband in conversation with the woman “to speak thus of one who came—” of the house in a room on the ground-floor. A “Hold your tongue, you minx—and don’t|pile of money, amounting at least to two hun- dare dictate to me! I never have beat you|dred francs—or eight pounds—lay upon the yet: but I willsoon. And now be quiet: don’t|table; and in his hand Frederick held a receipt talk any more, for I feel inclined to sleep.” which the woman had just written. He had Anna bent over the sick man’s couch, and|paid the entire arrears of rent due by Captain mprinted a kiss upon his wan emaciated cheek:|Courtenay ; and this was perhaps one of the nut he muttered something to the effect that|noblest chapters in Lonsdale’s life—that not- “he wished she wouldn’t bother him;” and she| withstanding all the goading insults he had drew back, with difficulty suppressing asob. In! within the last hour endured from that proud a few minutes Captain Courtenay slumbered;|remorseless man, he had thus parted with the and Lucy then asked Anna in what way shejearnings of his own industry to alleviate the eould best assist her. She intimated that the|sorrows of his illness and smoothe down his basket contained a variety of necessaries and/dying pillow! comforts; and still more delicately hinted that| “Frederick,” murmured Lucy, as they issued amongst the things would be found a hundred forth from the house together—and she pressed francs—a sum equivalent to four pounds ofjhis arm fervidly to her bosom as she spoke,— English money. Anna expressed her fervid|“I always knew you were the most generous gratitude to her benefactress—and then ex-\hearted of men; but this last incident has jus$ CONNIE OOOKS ae)