Chapter XXV: Hasty

BUT Wilmot did not come back. As Nellie had told her father, it was all over; there would be no change.

Christmas had passed, and New Year's Day dawned, bringing a second letter from Hope—a surprised, rather hurt, letter.

"I always thought men extraordinary, Nellie, but never believed it
could come so 'home' to me as this.

"I told you about Wilmot's wish to go abroad. When he arrived, to our dismay, he brought all his belongings with him from London, and he and mother were closeted together for hours that night.

"I heard all this from Maude, for I could not go down to the cottage on Christmas Eve, as I was to spend the next day there, and I had little things to do, besides not wishing to leave dear Mrs. Arundel for so long.

"On Christmas day Wilmot seemed much as usual, but mamma looked pale and worried; and in the evening she told us Wilmot had decided to go to New Zealand, and had made arrangements for George to be in the same office and lodgings, and everything that he had been in, and to begin life in London in his place.

"Mamma did not explain his reasons; simply said she had given her
consent, and she believed it would be very advantageous for George.

"I cannot write it all, Nellie, for I am busy, and besides my eyes ache with crying. Wilmot begged us not to make a fuss; that he should send for us in a year or two, and pictured to us what he should do, and what we should do.

"We did not pass an unhappy evening after all, though I do not
consider Wilmot seemed quite like himself.

"The next day he came up and asked dear Mrs. Arundel if I might come home for a few days to help get his things ready, and she willingly assented.

"To make a long story short, we worked away night and day almost,
and he is gone.

"He sailed this morning, and that is why my eyes are swollen with
crying.

"Mamma feels it very much; but she makes no complaint.

"I cannot think what it has been that made him decide to go; but he always has been rather fond of travelling, and nothing but his wish to help mamma with us all, has kept him in England so long.

"I heard her say to him once, 'My dear boy, remember God is with you
wherever you go. You can never be where He is not.'

"'I know, mother,' he answered; 'I do not forget it. I am thankful
to know it. But for that—'

"He left the sentence unfinished, and it is the only time I heard him
break down in any way.

"You will see, Nellie, that this was a good deal for mamma to say;
but I do believe she is happier in that way than she was."

Nellie announced the news of Hope's letter at once, feeling it would be easier to have it over than to be dreading it all day.

Her father gave a quick glance at her face; but after that, he took it in a matter-of-fact way, for which she felt thankful.

Walter's plans, and with them Christina's, were now the chief thought amongst them.

He had waited for the week to look round upon it all, and then told his father that he should like to settle down with them at No. 8 till the next autumn.

"Christina wishes it," he added; "and I quite agree with her. It will be the best thing, if you will have me."

"Have you?" said Dr. Arundel, looking with one of his rare smiles into his son's face. "My boy, my heart has been much lighter since it has got you back."

Walter thoroughly appreciated the tone of these words; and when afterwards Nellie told him that the week had seen a wonderful change for the better in their father, he was truly relieved and thankful to know that his affection and presence could lighten the gloom which had fallen on the house since he left it, only a little more than a year ago.

So the winter passed away.

One day in early spring, Nellie came into the nursery with a letter in her hand.

"Whom is this for, do you think?" she said, holding it up, and looking across the room to Tom's couch.

"Not for me, is it?" he asked, while a flush of pleasure came over his face. "I never get letters."

"Yes it is, Tom," said Nellie, advancing and putting it in his hand.

Netta and Isabel, who were fast getting out of "nursery children," happened to be there, and came close to see what it could be.

It was a delicately-folded note, and inside Tom read aloud, with some dismay:

"The pleasure of Master Tom Arundel's society is desired at Sunnyside
for a fortnight, accompanied by his sister Ada."

"What does it mean?" asked Tom, looking rather anxiously at Nellie.

"I should think it means you are to go and stay at Hampstead."

"Oh!" said Tom. "But I don't think I can stay anywhere."

"Here is another letter in the same writing," said Nellie, smiling; "but as Ada is not home yet, we must wait."

Nellie sat down by Tom, and took up her work, while she listened to his plans and projects; but suddenly, he hid his face in his hands and burst into tears.

"Tom, dear?" she asked tenderly. "What is it? Do tell me; what is the matter?"

"She would have told me whether I could go or not," sobbed Tom. "Oh, Nellie, I cannot live without her!"

He sobbed violently, and Nellie knelt down by his side and put her arm under his head, but without her love seeming to make any impression on his grief.

So patiently had he borne his sorrow, that they had almost begun to think it was wearing off; but just now a tender chord had been touched, and it would vibrate.

Sensitive and shrinking, the poor child always depended on his mother's judgment for all he was to do; and now suddenly, when the occasion arose, there was no one to appeal to. It came upon him with a freshness of despair, and at first, he was too overwhelmed to listen to Nellie's assurances of its being possible, or to consider his usual source of comfort.

"Leave me, Nellie," he whispered at last; "I must have time to think."

When his sister came again to see him, peace reigned on his pale little face. He looked up into her eyes, and held out a tiny note. It ran—

"Dear Christina,—At first I thought I could not; but now, if you will
excuse such a helpless visitor, I should like to come.

"Your affectionate little Tom."

"You have found your rest again, darling," said Nellie, very low, to him.

"Yes, Nellie. I find if ever I run from under the covert of His wings, I get frightened. But I'm so sorry I grieved you about mamma; you do all you can, Nellie, all that is possible for me, and I do love you and thank you; but sometimes—"

"Yes, dearest Tom; we all feel it so, and then, as you say, we find our only consolation is under the covert of His wings—

"'He shall cover thee with His feathers; and under His wings shalt
thou trust.'"

"School's over for three weeks!" exclaimed Ada, bursting in, and throwing a bag of books on the table.

"What a noise, Ada," said Isabel.

Ada turned round sharply, and told Isabel—"It did not matter to her."

Isabel said, "It did; we were having a talk, and did not want to be interrupted."

"All right," said Ada, "I'll make myself scarce." With which sharp words, she hastened from the room.

"Isabel, dear!" said Nellie. "I wish you would not vex Ada."

"Well, Nellie; she is so hasty. I only made the remark that she did make a noise."

"Quite true," said Nellie; "but the truth is not always pleasant, and you are younger than she."

Nellie went into their room and sought Ada. "Here is a letter for you, Ada," she said.

"I wish, Nellie," said Ada in return, "that you would make those children mind their own business. They are always keeping me in order."

"You should try not to mind a little remark, dear; it is difficult to repress everything, isn't it?"

"I should, if I had the management," said Ada.

"Would you?" said Nellie, smiling a little; "but here's your letter, Ada."

"Who's it from?" asked Ada ungraciously, holding out her hand, however, for it.

"From Christina."

"I declare!" said Ada, reading and brightening up. "She has asked me for a fortnight to Sunnyside, and Tom, too. Can he go, Nellie?"

"I think so, if papa says he can; but it will be a great charge for you."

"But then there will be Christina, and she understands Tom so well."

"She does; but you will have to be very patient with him, Ada. It will do him a great deal of good, or it might be harm. He misses mamma more than you think."

"We none of us know what each other feel," said Ada; "that's the way with people living in the same house."

"But love and sympathy help us to understand, Ada," answered Nellie.