Mildred's New Daughter

  Produced by Roger Frank and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  MILDRED'S NEW DAUGHTER

  By MARTHA FINLEY

  (MARTHA FARQUHARSON)

  Author of the Famous ELSIE BOOKS

  "A sweet, heartlifting cheerfulness, Like springtime of the year, Seemed ever on her steps to wait." --Mrs. Hale.

  A. L. BURT COMPANY Publishers--New York

  COPYRIGHT, 1894,BYDODD, MEAD & COMPANY

  CHAPTER I.

  The clock on the mantel, striking six, woke Ethel and Blanche Eldon, twolittle sisters lying side by side in their pretty bed.

  "Ah, it is morning, Blanche, and time for you and me to be up," saidEthel, smiling pleasantly into her younger sister's eyes.

  "Yes; in a minute, Ethel," replied Blanche, turning toward her sisterand patting her cheek affectionately.

  At the same moment the door into the hall opened softly and the mothercame in, her dark eyes shining, her thin, pale face wreathed in smiles.

  "Good-morning, my darlings," she said, speaking softly, for fear ofwaking the two younger children in the nursery beyond. "Have you sleptwell?" she asked, bending over to kiss first one, then the other.

  "Yes, mamma, dear," they answered, speaking together. "And so have Harryand Nannette," added Ethel, "and they are sound asleep yet, I think."

  "And we will not wake them," responded the mother.

  "Did you sleep well, mamma? and is dear papa better?" asked the littlegirls with eager, anxious looks up into her face, Ethel adding, "Oh, Iam sure of it, because you look so happy!"

  "Yes, dears, I am very glad and happy, very thankful to our kindHeavenly Father, that your papa slept unusually well and seems easierand brighter this morning than I have seen him for weeks," Mrs. Eldonreplied, with tears of joy shining in her eyes. "He has asked to see hischildren, and when you are dressed and have eaten your breakfast, youshall come to him for a few minutes."

  "Oh, we are so glad we may see him, mamma," they cried in a breath,Ethel adding, "I hope papa will soon be so well that we can go back toour own dear home again and see our own dear grandma and grandpa."

  "Yes, I hope so, darling. And now you two may get up and when dressedhelp Harry and Nannette with their toilet."

  "Then have our breakfast and after that go in to see papa?" exclaimedBlanche joyously. "And may we kiss him, mamma?"

  "I think he will be able to kiss his children all around," the motheranswered the little questioner, with a loving smile. "But I must go backto him now, dears," she added; and with another tender kiss she turnedand went quickly from the room.

  The two little girls were already out of bed and dressing as fast asthey could; but that was not so very rapidly, for Ethel, the eldest, wasonly eight years old, Blanche nearly two years younger.

  Their father had been ill for a long while, and it was now some dayssince they had seen him; their mother was his devoted nurse, with himalmost constantly, so that of late the children had been left very muchto themselves and the companionship of the young girl, Myra, whocombined in her person the calling of both child's-nurse and housemaid.Ethel was scarcely dressed when the little brother and sister woke andwere heard demanding assistance with their dressing.

  "Oh, hush, hush! do hush, children!" cried Ethel, running to them,"don't make such a noise. You forget that our dear papa is very sick andyour noise may make him worse. I don't know where Myra is, but you mayget up and I will help you to dress; then we will have breakfast, andafter that we will go into dear papa's room; for mamma says we may."

  "Oh! oh! can we, Ethel?" they asked in delight. "We're so glad! 'causewe haven't seen our dear papa for ever so long."

  "And Nanny wants mamma to tum and dress her," whimpered Nannette.

  "Oh, no, Nan, dear; mamma is too busy taking care of our poor sick papa,so I'll dress you and we'll have our breakfast, and then we are to go into see him," returned Ethel. "Now be a dear, good girl and don't cry,"she added coaxingly; "because if dear papa should hear you it might makehim worse. Now let me wash you and put on your clothes and brush yourhair and then we'll have our breakfast."

  The little maid worked away while she talked, dressing the baby sister,and little Blanche helped Harry with his toilet.

  Before they had finished Myra came to their assistance.

  "Your papa is better this morning, Miss Ethel," she said, "and yourbreakfast's ready now. Your mamma says you may go in to see the captainwhen you are done eatin', and then you are to have your morning walk."

  "Oh, yes, we know," said Blanche; "mamma told us papa was better, andwe're just as glad as can be."

  "We hope he'll soon be quite, quite well," added Ethel, taking the handof Nannette and leading the way to the breakfast room.

  The four were quite merry over their porridge, feeling in excellentspirits because of the good news about their father, whom they dearlyloved.

  When all had finished their meal and been made tidy again, they weretaken to him. He greeted them with a loving smile and a few low spokenwords of endearment. Alas! he was still so ill as to be scarce able tolift his head from the pillow, and when each had had a few loving wordsand a tender kiss of fatherly affection, mamma bade them run away totheir play, promising that they should come in again for a few minuteswhen papa felt able to see them.

  She led them to the door and kissed each in turn, saying low andtenderly, "Mamma's own dear, dear children! no words can tell how mammaloves you all." The baby she kissed several times, holding her close asif loth to let her go. Setting her down at last with a heavy sigh, "Go,my darlings," she said, "and try to be quiet while you are in the houselest you disturb poor, dear papa."

  With that she stepped back into the room again and softly closed thedoor.

  Nannette was beginning to cry, "Nanny wants to go back to dear mamma andstay wis her," but Ethel put her arms about her, saying cheerily,"There, there, little sister, don't cry; we are going to take a nicewalk out in the green fields and gather flowers under the hedge-rows forour dear papa and mamma. Won't that be pleasant?"

  "Oh yes, yes! I so glad!" cried the little one with sudden change oflook and tone. "Put Nan's hat on dus now; dis minute."

  "Yes, darling, we'll go and get it at once; and Blanche and Harry and Iwill put our hats on too, and oh, such a good time as we shall have!"

  At that Nannette dried her eyes and began prattling delightedly aboutthe flowers she hoped to gather, and the birds that would be singing inthe tree-tops, or flying to and fro building their nests.

  Harry and Blanche were scarcely less elated, and even staid little Ethelgrew blithe and gay as they passed down the village street and turnedaside into the green lanes and meadows.

  The house grew very quiet when the children had gone. Captain Eldon hadfallen into a doze and his devoted wife sat close by his side, one thinhand fast clasped in hers, while she almost held her breath lest sheshould rouse him from that slumber which might prove the turning pointin the long illness that had brought him to the very borders of thegrave.

  Mrs. Eldon was a West Indian from the island of Jamaica; and thecaptain, belonging to an English regiment stationed there, had won herheart, courted and married her. She was the only living child of aworthy couple, a wealthy planter and his wife, who had made no objectionto their daughter's acceptance of the gallant British officer who hadmade himself agreeable to them as well as to her.

  He proved a kind and indulgent husband. They were a devotedly attachedcouple and very happy during the first eight years of their marriedlife; then Captain Eldon's health began to fail, the climate waspronounced most unfavorable by his medical adviser, and obtaining afurlough, he returned to his native land, taking wife and chi
ldren withhim; but the change had little effect; he rallied somewhat for a time,then he grew weaker and now had scarcely left his bed for weeks.

  He had no near relatives living except two brothers, who had, yearsbefore, emigrated to America; he was too ill to seek old friends andacquaintances, and taking possession of a cottage advertised for rent,on the outskirts of a village and near the seashore, he, with his wifeand little ones, had passed a secluded life there, seeing few visitorsbesides the physician who was in attendance.

  Mrs. Eldon insisted on being her husband's sole nurse and determinedlypersisted in believing in his final recovery, often talking hopefully ofthe time when they might return to her island home on the other side ofthe ocean, and the fond parents who were wearying of the prolongedabsence of their only child and her little ones. But to-day as she satwith her eyes riveted upon his sleeping face and noted its haggardlook--so thin, wan and marked with lines of suffering--her heart misgaveher as never before. Was he--the light and joy of her life--about to passaway to that bourn whence no traveller returns? Oh, the anguish of thatthought! how could life ever be endured without him? Her heart almoststood still with terror and despair.

  "Oh, my darling!" she moaned, as suddenly the sunken eyes opened andgazed mournfully into hers, "do not leave me! I cannot live withoutyou," and as she spoke she pressed her hand upon her heart and gaspedfor breath.

  His lips moved but no sound came from them, the fingers of the hand sheheld closed convulsively over hers, he drew a long sighing breath, andwas gone.

  The sound of a heavy fall brought the cook and housemaid running fromthe kitchen to find the captain dead and the new-made widow lying proneupon the floor by his bedside, apparently as lifeless as he.

  "Dear, dear!" cried the cook, stooping over the prostrate form, "theredon't seem to be a bit more life in her than in him. Take hold here withme, Myra, and we'll lift her to the couch yonder. Poor thing, poorthing! between nursin' and frettin' she's just about killed, and Ishouldn't wonder if she wouldn't be long a-following o' him, if shehasn't done it already."

  "Betty, I'm afraid she has!" sobbed the girl, "and what will the poorchildren do? She was just the sweetest lady I ever saw, so she was."

  "There now, Myra, don't go on so, but run and bring somethin' to bringher to. Oh, there's the doctor's gig at the gate! Run and let him in,quick as you can go."

  In another minute the doctor entered the room, followed by the sobbingMyra. He glanced first at the still form on the bed. "Yes, the poorgentleman has gone!" he said, sighing as he spoke; "but it is only whatwas to be expected."

  He turned quickly to the couch where lay the still form of Mrs. Eldon,the face as pale and deathlike as that of the husband, laid his fingeron her wrist, turned hastily, caught up a hand-glass lying on the bureauand held it to her lips for a moment, then laying it down with a sigh:

  "She too is gone," he said in a low, moved tone, "and I am hardlysurprised."

  "Oh, sir, what ailed her?" sobbed Myra, "She scarce ever complained ofbeing ill."

  "No, but I knew she had heart trouble likely to carry her off should shebe subjected to any great or sudden shock."

  "And he's been took that suddent! and she so fond o' him," groanedBetty. "Well, well, well! we've all got to die, but when my time comes I'ope I'll go a bit slower; that I do!"

  The doctor was looking at his watch. "I must be going," he said, "for Ihave other patients needing attention; but I'll drive to the vicarageand ask Mrs. Rogers to come and oversee matters here. By the way, caneither of you tell me where any relatives are to be found?"

  "No, sir, that we can't," replied the cook, sighing heavily. "LeastwaysI don't remember so much as oncet hearing the capting nor Mrs. Eldonmention no relations 'cept it might be some o' her folks 'way acrost thesea somewheres."

  "Too far away to be of any use in this extremity," muttered thephysician meditatively. Then a little louder, "Well," he said, "I'll gofor the vicar's wife, and she'll see to all the necessary arrangements.Where are the children?"

  "Out walkin' in the fields, sir," answered Myra. "Oh, dear, the poorlittle things! Whatever will they do? What's to become o' them withoutno father nor no mother?"

  "I dare say there are relations somewhere," returned the doctor, thenhurried out to his gig, and in another minute was driving rapidly in thedirection of the parsonage.

  Not far from the house he came upon the little group of childrenreturning from their walk.

  "Oh, doctor," cried Ethel, and perceiving that she wanted to speak tohim, he reined in his horse for a moment, "have you been to our house?and did you find papa better? Oh, I hope--I think he is very much better,and will soon be well."

  "Yes, my dear," returned the kind-hearted physician after a moment'spause, as if considering the question and the best reply to make. "Ifound him entirely free from the pain from which he has been so longsuffering; and I am sure you and your little brother and sisters will beglad of it."

  "Oh, yes, indeed, sir! just as glad as we can be; as I am sure dearmamma must be."

  The doctor drove on, sighing to himself, "Poor little orphans! I wonderwhat is to become of them. If I were only a rich man instead of a poorone with a family of my own to support--ah, well! I hope there arerelatives somewhere who will see that they are clothed, fed, andeducated."