“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 wa............