Chapter VI: Claude

WHEN the doctor had pronounced Claude's illness to be scarlet fever, Mrs. Malden had gone to her husband for a brief consultation.

After the first dismayed explanations, she had said:

"I cannot leave you, my dear; that is one point settled, and I do not see how I can leave him."

"Then you must necessarily have us both in one room," answered her husband with one of his sweet, reassuring smiles.

She answered the smile with a very loving one, but shook her head.

"I shall have him left where he is."

"In the morning-room?"

"Yes. I put him on the sofa there because he was so feverish and miserable, to be out of the way of the other children, and to be with me. I am glad I did."

Mr. Malden thought for a few minutes. "It is the best plan," he said at last.

"And I shall go over to the cottage and ask Greta to keep Lionel and Marian."

"What shall you do without Marian?"

"I shall have to do," answered Mrs. Malden decidedly; "that is, dearest, if God spares me my strength and health."

She looked fondly in his face. To her, her health was most precious; for what would her invalid husband do without her, especially since Courtenay's marriage?

"We are all in God's hands," she said with a long-drawn sigh. "I ought not to be anxious."

"Was that sigh one of resting all the load on Him?" asked Mr. Malden, taking her hand, and looking up in her face.

"I think it was," she answered.

Mr. Malden had learned many a lesson during those eight years since his accident, and so had she.

"I must go," she said softly, bending to kiss his forehead. Then stopping suddenly, she added, "You do not think there is any undue risk to you?"

"None at all, my dear; I believe I have had it."

"I did when a child," she answered. "You know I could get a nurse, but there are so many difficulties, and I could not bear not to nurse him myself if I am able. The little ones will be quite safe with Martha. That girl is worth her weight in gold."

"We have many mercies, though we have some trials, my dear. Do not let us forget them in this blow."

She assented warmly, and then hurried through the window out into the garden, anxious to secure that her elder children should not return to the house before she had spoken to her sister.

Mr. Malden looked after her with a tender smile.

"Who would have thought she could ever have turned from that beautiful, fashionable girl into this lovely wife and mother, more beautiful than ever in my eyes?" he murmured to himself.

Mrs. Malden soon returned with her sister's answer, and then went to make up a bed for her boy.

Sunnyside had been built by Courtenay with every arrangement for his father's comfort, and thus it happened that the chief sitting-room had been appropriated to his use, its French windows opening on to a verandah, commanding one of the most beautiful views at Leesworth. Adjoining this, with a door made wide enough for his wheeled chair to pass through, was Mr. Malden's bedroom. And on the other side, a little morning-room had been planned where his wife could retire for the writing of letters, or to do necessary business, while she could still be within call of her husband, and watch over him with that vigilant care which had been her characteristic, ever since she had waked up to the knowledge that he would never be strong again.

And so she settled in to her new duties, and went backwards and forwards to Claude during the two first days.

There was no particular anxiety. His attack seemed of a mild nature. And after she had once accepted the fact of infectious illness being in the house, and of the necessary separation from her other children, she went about her nursing with a calm spirit, feeling not unhappy in the quiet and peace in which she found herself.

On the Tuesday evening, as she sat in the twilight with Claude, just as her eldest son (had she known it) was in such peril on the reef, he stretched out his little hot hand to her, looking up from a short doze.

"What did Dr. Smith say this morning, mother?"

"That you were doing as well as we could expect, dear."

"How soon does he think I shall be better?"

"He did not say; but I hope a few days may make a great difference."

"I wish my pillow were cool."

"Let me turn it, my darling."

"But it gets hot again."

He moved restlessly.

"It is very tiring for you, dear, but it helps us to be patient to remember that the Lord Jesus is with you, and is sorry for your pain."

The child's eyes quivered with a tear, and his lip trembled.

"I should like to get better soon," he said, laying his face down on his mother's hand.

"So should I like you to, dearie; but I am glad Jesus knows about it."

"Yes," said Claude assentingly.

He soon slept again, and then Mrs. Malden disengaged her hand gently, and went to her husband, closing the door behind her, as she always did, so as to keep the air as separate as she could.

She sat down by Mr. Malden's side very silently, and gazed out on the sea abstractedly.

"How is he now, my dear?"

"I thought he seemed a little low," she answered, hesitating.

"We have to expect ups and downs, my dear; we must not allow ourselves to go up and down with them."

"No—"

"Our feet must stand upon a Rock. What was it you read me in that old version the other day? How Christ says to His disciples, 'What dread ye?' Christ holds it all quite safely in His hand; it is only we who are uncertain."

She leaned her head against his chair for a long time without speaking.

"I think he loves Jesus," she said at last; "I have thought so for some time."

"I believe he does, my dear. I do not think you need to be anxious on that score."

"I should like to be sure," she answered with a sound of tears in her voice.

"We can ask Him to let us know, and to make it all right for us. It says, 'Cast thy burden upon the Lord.'"

She knelt down by his side, his hand clasping hers. Many a prayer had gone up from those two, and many an answer of peace had come back. They had learned "to make their requests known," and the peace of God which passeth understanding came in answer, and "kept their hearts."

"I must go now," whispered Mrs. Malden when he had ceased praying. "Would you like lights?"

"No; I will sit so for a little longer. There will be no stars to-night."

She left him, entering the sick-room again softly. Claude still slept, but was tossing restlessly. She seated herself by him, and smoothed his forehead with her cool fingers.

"That is nice," he said, opening his eyes. "I do have such nasty dreams."

"I am so sorry, darling."

He nestled against her hand, but said no more, and again seemed to sleep. So the hours passed, and the night drew on. Mr. Malden went to bed, but she told him she intended to sit up all night.

"You will be worn out," said her husband.

"I had a fairly good night on the sofa there last night, but he is worse this evening. I shall get some sleep in the arm-chair I daresay."

Just as she was preparing the last things for the night, seeing that she had milk and all things ready for her invalid, a note was handed in by the maid who waited on her.

It was from her sister, Mrs. Chantry. Seeing that it contained news of some importance, she took it in to read with her husband, the few words her eye had caught alarming her very much. It ran:

"Do not be frightened, dearest Ella, for all is now going on well. I only tell you to-night, because we mutually promised to have no reservations whatever. Your dear Lionel has had a fall on the reef this evening, and has hurt his foot badly. He had some trouble to extricate his leg from between two rocks, and then, alarmed at the rising tide, he attempted to get home on his one foot. He thinks he hurried too much; at any rate, he slipped again, this time falling on to a lower ridge nearer the water, straining his hand very seriously, I fear. He thinks he fainted, but, at any rate the first thing he remembers was the sea washing over him. He managed to get up and stand; but there was no means in his wounded condition of climbing up the steep rock behind him, or of swimming to shore. He says he did his utmost, but every movement of his hand made him so faint that he feared he would fall down into the sea; he therefore stood still, and waved his handkerchief, hoping to attract the notice of some of the fishermen. None saw his signal of distress, however, not even Alick, who was anxious about him, and had gone out to look for him.

"By the merciful providence of God, however, Alick went right on to the reef after him, and was able to rescue him just before the water had risen so high as to have carried him away. It is too long to tell you all about how he saved him, and got him home; it is sufficient now to say that when he was brought in, he asked to be put into Salome's care, and we have placed him in the nursery, and I hope in a few days he will be quite himself again.

"Salome and I are both clever with wounds and bruises, and already he looks relieved by our cold applications. I am writing by his side, and he sends his love, and says he is 'so comfortable now.'

"I ought perhaps to say that he did not tell us this long story word for word, but that I have gathered it from Alick's account, to which Lionel has added a few sentences. But I do not encourage him to talk, as I think quietness is essential to recovery. I will let you know how he is in the morning. I do not think you have need to be in the least anxious, but be as 'thankful' as you like, Ella.

"Your loving sister,

"GRETA CHANTRY."

Mrs. Malden read every word, and then sat as if stunned. Her husband touched her hand.

"Let us thank God for his preservation; he has been in great danger, Ella, or she would not have written such a letter."

"We promised each other—"

"But for a fall or a sprain, she would not have filled two sheets. Our boy has been close to the gates of death."

"And I never knew—"

"How few things we know, love? We walk along day after day, and danger and death may come close alongside of us, and we be as unconscious as a newborn babe of it; and yet our Father knows. He only allows what He sees best for our eternal interests, and holds back all that would injure us—I mean in the true sense. It may be the valley of the shadow of death to us, but 'He' is with us, He will comfort us through all."

"Yes, yes, I know it. I am glad to know it."

She was forced to hasten back to her child. But though she wrapped herself up in a warm cloak, and prepared herself to rest, sleep forsook her eyes. She lived over and over again the scenes pictured in her sister's letter, and thought she could see every stone in the way over which her poor, wounded boy had had to pass. How she longed to hear all the particulars.

Soon after the clock struck one, she was rising softly to make up the fire, when Claude raised his head with a woebegone look in his face.

"Oh," he exclaimed, shrinking away from something in horror. "Oh, don't let it come! Oh, I'm so frightened!"

His voice sank to a whisper of intense fear, and his face was so utterly wretched that Mrs. Malden threw herself on her knees by his side, and clasped her arms round him protectingly, hiding the wide-open eyes in her neck.

"Mother is here," she said tenderly; "do not be afraid, darling. Nothing can really hurt you. It is only a bad dream."

He continued to clasp her convulsively, whispering in terror, "I'm so frightened, mother; don't let it come."

"Remember Jesus is here," she entreated, her heart broken by her inability to soothe him; "He will take care of you."

"Ask Him," murmured Claude, shuddering.

His mother whispered their request.

And then with a long-drawn breath, the boy's arms relaxed, and he sank back on to his pillow.

"It's so nice to have you, mother," he said gratefully.

"And so nice to have Jesus to go to," she added, looking in his weary little face for a response.

"Yes," he answered softly. "He made it go away."

"If it comes again, you must try to remember His mighty power, Claude, and His mighty love."

He did not answer, but closed his eyes as if satisfied.

And then his mother rose from her knees and sat down by him again, pondering on what he had said, and thanking God that so far her prayer had been answered.

Towards morning, he slept more quietly, and Mrs. Malden had some sleep.

Thus, a few days passed away; sometimes better, sometimes worse, till on Sunday evening, the doctor coming in unexpectedly, Mrs. Malden looked up surprised.

"I thought I would have a look at him again to-night," he explained, and though his tone was cheerful, the mother's heart sank.

He came over and felt his pulse, and looked at his tongue.

"You do not think him quite so well?" said Mrs. Malden in a low voice.

"Not quite, his pulse is not so good as it was this morning, and much quicker than last night."

"I hoped we had turned the corner."

"These things are very treacherous. Now, my little man, that's all I want of you to-night. You have been a very patient boy."

Claude did not respond in words, but he gave a very sweet smile.

"Keep him up all you can. Feed him every few minutes. I'll come in again the first thing in the morning."

Then turning at the door, he beckoned Mrs. Malden outside.

"I do not like the look of him to-night. Keep his spirits up. Do not let him know you are anxious. Feed him well; nearly everything depends on that."

Mrs. Malden went back. She bent and kissed her boy's face tenderly.

"Claude, darling, you must eat all you can. Dr. Smith wants you to get stronger."

"I do not so much care about that now," he answered, his heavy eyes glancing in her face, she fancied, to see the effect of his words.

"Do you not, dear? Why?"

"I've been talking to Jesus."

He said it very tenderly and softly, and she held her breath to hear.

"You love Him then, darling? He is your own Saviour?"

"Yes, mother."

"And what did you talk to Him about?"

"I asked Him to do as He likes."

"That is the best, darling," she said, quietly swallowing down the tears which would force themselves into her eyes. She managed to keep them out of her voice she thought.

"I'm quite willing, only I'm so tired. Do you think people get tired in heaven?"

"I am sure they do not."

He seemed to think for awhile and then he fell asleep, and she could do nothing but wait.

When she felt she must rouse him for food, his increased inability to take it alarmed her greatly. He besought her more with his eyes than with his voice not to press him. But remembering Dr. Smith's commands, she entreated him to be patient and take what she thought necessary.

He yielded, but by-and-by, though seemingly unable to speak, with his little weak fingers he pushed the spoon away, holding her hand down with a beseeching touch that wrung her heart.

"I 'can't,'" he whispered when she made another effort; "my throat—"

Then she sat still and knew all hope was over.

He slept quietly hour after hour, and she moistened his lips from time to time, but she could not get him to take even a half-spoonful.

About an hour before dawn, he suddenly opened his eyes and raised himself in bed, looking eagerly upwards, while a smile hovered round his lips.

"Mother, look! White babies."

She gazed where he gazed, but the spirit world, though it was visible to him, was hidden from her.

"Oh, Claude!" she said, laying her cheek against his. "I wish I could see Jesus as soon as you will."

He put his weak arms round her neck, and said in a little tone that seemed only a murmur, "It's so nice—Jesus."

She loosened his clasp, thinking he would be tired, and he seemed satisfied to hold her hand. And so they sat for another half-hour, when he gave one gentle sigh and so passed home.

Mrs. Malden's first thought was that he saw his Saviour's face now. She kissed him and laid him down tenderly, crossing his hands on his breast, and then she went through to her husband's room.

He was sleeping quietly, and though she spoke a few low words, he did not hear. She turned away and came back again into the chamber of death.

Yes, no longer Claude's room—no longer her own loved little boy lying in the bed—but something which made her shrink and tremble, and feel herself unutterably alone.

She sat down for a moment to think, and then there swept over her one of those fierce assaults of the Evil One which left her no power to extricate herself from his clutches.

Doubt after doubt sent cruel blows against her soul, and for awhile she felt as if everything on which she had trusted in heaven and earth were swept away from her.

But One mighty to save was with her, though she knew it not. The Holy Comforter drew near and spoke to her,—

"Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted."

"Them that sleep in Jesus will God bring with Him."

She looked up; a light was shining in the midst of the darkness. In her overwhelming desolation, she hardly had strength even to cry for help, but watchful, everlasting love had sent it just in her hour of sorest need.

"God will bring him with Jesus," she murmured; "my darling 'is' asleep in Him."