Chapter IX: An Exodus from London

THE time was drawing near when Mr. Bailey intended leaving London to make his abode at Haresdown House; Gerald had returned to school after the Christmas holidays; and Angel was regretfully counting the days which had yet to elapse before Uncle Edward would take his departure for good, when Mr. Willis suddenly fell ill, much to the dismay and consternation of all. He had been working very hard on his exhibition picture, but his illness had nothing to do with overwork; somehow he caught a severe chill which turned to pneumonia, and before his children realized that he was seriously ill, he lay at death's door.

On returning from school one dull, depressing February afternoon, Gerald found his sister, pale with anxiety, in earnest conversation with Mrs. Steer; and his heart throbbed painfully as the thought flashed through his mind that his father must be worse.

"Oh, Gerald, I am glad you have come!" Angel cried.

"How is father?" he asked, looking from the little girl's colourless face to the landlady's, which expressed deep concern and sympathy.

"Oh, he is very ill!" Angel answered, with a sob. "The doctor says he is much worse than he was in the morning; he does not know me now, and the nurse says I had better not see him again till—till he is better. Oh, Gerald, suppose he should never get better?"

"You mustn't suppose that, my dear," Mrs. Steer remonstrated, speaking more cheerfully than she felt; "you must keep up your spirits, and hope for the best. You ought to be very thankful he is having everything done for him that human skill can do. Ah, it was a fortunate day for you all when your uncle came home from Australia!"

"Yes, indeed," Angel agreed. "Uncle Edward has gone to get another nurse," she explained to her brother; "he says father shall not die for lack of good nursing. Oh, poor, poor father!" And she broke into a flood of tears.

"There, there, don't take on so, there's a dear child!" Mrs. Steer exclaimed in much distress. "Think how much worse things might have been if your uncle had not been here! Come, cheer up, my dear; tears never did any good yet, and never will; besides, you're upsetting your brother."

Angel dried her eyes, and glanced remorsefully at Gerald, who had thrown his bag of books into a corner of the room, and had sat down by the table on which he had laid his head, and was weeping without restraint. She went to his side immediately and tried to comfort him, but her tears broke forth afresh, and the two children clung together, overcome with grief.

Presently Mr. Bailey returned with the news that he had engaged a second nurse, who would arrive shortly.

"Now, look here, my dears," he said kindly but firmly, as he noticed the woe-begone countenances of his little niece and nephew, "I hope you will both try to be brave. Your dear father is very ill, it is true; but I trust he may recover. It would be far better to pray for him than to sit down and cry on account of your own unhappiness; don't you agree with me?"

"Oh yes!" they answered in one breath; and Angel added wistfully, "I am sure I could help in the nursing if only the doctor would let me."

"You may depend the doctor knows best. Your father is in good hands; perhaps, if God sees fit to spare his life, your help may be required later on."

For many days Mr. Willis lay at death's door; but at length he rallied, and one never-to-be-forgotten morning his nurses declared that he was better; the doctor confirmed their hopeful report, and Angel and Gerald's joy and relief was too great for words. That was a red letter-day for both children and Uncle Edward too.

"Now the crisis has passed, he will soon begin to gain strength," Mrs. Steer said cheerfully, when she heard the good news, "but we must not expect him to get well all at once after such a serious illness. It will be months before he'll be himself again."

"Then I am afraid he won't finish his picture in time for the Royal Academy this year!" Angel exclaimed, the brightness of her face becoming slightly overclouded at the thought.

"Good gracious, no, child, I should think not, indeed!"

"He will be terribly disappointed," the little girl said, "terribly! Never mind," she added smiling happily, "God has spared his life, and nothing else matters much."

"No, indeed!" Gerald agreed. "I wouldn't think about the picture!"

But Angel could not help thinking about the picture, for she realized more fully than did Gerald how all her father's hopes of success had been centred on this piece of work; after her brother had gone to school she crept softly upstairs, and unlocked the studio door.

The room was dusty, for it had not been touched during its owner's illness, so she fetched a duster and dusted it thoroughly, taking care to keep every thing in place, that her father should find nothing altered. Then she turned to an easel pushed back into one corner of the room, and lifted the cloth which hid the unfinished picture. She had often watched the artist at work upon it; and, perhaps, from the fact of seeing it gradually grow beneath his touch, had never looked at it with the same comprehending eyes as she did now. It seemed to her very beautiful, the work of a genius, as she told herself proudly; and her heart swelled with pain at the thought of the keen disappointment it would be to her father not to be able to finish it in time for exhibition that spring.

The picture was to be called "Righteousness and peace," and the subject was an ambitious one representing two beautiful female forms clad in loose flowering garments in the act of kissing each other. As Angel stood looking at it, she heard some one, enter the room, and turning quickly saw Mr. Bailey. He came to her side, and fixed his eyes scrutinously upon the picture.

"It still requires many finishing touches, I perceive," he said at length. "I fancy he cannot mean to do much more to the women's faces, to my mind they tell all he means them to express— 'Righteousness and Peace have kissed each other.' He told me he had been at work on the drapery—ah, yes, I see! I wonder what your father's artist friends think of his picture. It seems to me good, very good; but, then, I fear my opinion does not go for much. I am sorry to think it will not be exhibited this year. The doctor says your father must not dream of work for many weeks to come, and advises he should live in a milder climate."

"But how can he?" Angel questioned, looking distressed.

Mr. Bailey was silent for a few minutes. He watched the little girl carefully recover the picture, then he replied—

"I want him to give up these lodgings altogether and make his home with me at Haresdown House; I should like you all to come and live with me, for you are the only relations I have in the world. One thing is quite certain, your father must not be allowed to spend the spring in town, and he could not find a milder, more salubrious climate anywhere than at Wreyford. I believe he would soon get well there. Gerald could attend the Grammar School, and you—"

"Oh, Uncle Edward!" Angel interrupted excitedly, "do you really mean it? Do you really want us all to come?"

"Yes, I do. Haresdown House is a big abode for one man; and I feel, child, that it would be for your father's benefit if he will only agree to my plan. We must manage to break it to him gradually; but he will not be strong enough to consider the matter yet."

The first time Angel was allowed to see her father after he had taken a turn for the better, she was shocked at the alteration in his appearance, for he looked terribly ill, his cheeks had fallen in, and there were deep hollows beneath his eyes. He did not seem inclined to talk, but only smiled at her and whispered her name; and it was the same when Gerald went in to see him. But as the days glided on, he grew stronger, and the children were delighted when he began to ask them questions, and take an interest in things generally again. At last, there came a day when he broached the subject of his picture to Angel, and said he would not be able to finish it by the time he had intended it to be completed.

"I don't believe I could use a brush, my hand shakes so," he acknowledged ruefully, "and so end all my hopes of success for the present. I trust I shall soon get well, Angel, for we must have been running in debt during my illness."

"No, I don't think we have," she answered simply. "Uncle Edward has seen to everything, and he told me yesterday we didn't owe a penny!"

The invalid's wan face lit up with a smile, and he drew a deep breath of relief. "I would rather be indebted to Uncle Edward than to any one else in the world," he confessed; "my illness must have been a great expense. I must work hard when I am stronger."

"The doctor says you ought not to stay in London," Angel said, thinking this a suitable opportunity for telling him the truth; "he says you must go to a warmer climate, almost directly."

"That is impossible, my dear."

"Oh no, father, indeed it is not! Uncle Edward wants us all to go and live with him at Haresdown House; he has spoken to the doctor about the climate of Wreyford, and he says it will just suit you, for it is beautifully mild and dry. Oh, father, we want you to get well quickly, and you never will if you stay in London!"

"Is Uncle Edward in the house now?" Mr. Willis asked, his voice trembling with mingled weakness and excitement.

"Yes; I think he is in the sitting-room."

"Then, run and ask him to come here, say I wish most particularly to speak to him."

Angel obeyed, and in a few words explained the situation to Mr. Bailey.

"I am very glad you have mentioned the matter to him, my dear," he said; "I will certainly go and hear what he has to say, and I have little fear but that he will do as I wish him. He will see that for his children's sake his health ought to be his first consideration."

Angel sat down, and waited impatiently till Mr. Bailey returned. He was absent what appeared to her a very long time; but when he did at last reappear, his face was beaming with pleasure, and his manner triumphant. "It is all settled, Angel," he told her; "your father has promised as soon as ever he is well enough to leave here for Haresdown House. I must run down to Wreyford in the course of a few days, and see everything is in readiness. And I think Mrs. Steer had better be informed of our plans, so that she may look out for fresh lodgers."

Mr. Bailey was evidently much elated at the prospect of having his own way; he told Gerald the news the moment the latter returned from school, and was pleased at the boy's intense delight.

"I shall have to leave school before the end of the term," Gerald remarked, "for Easter will not be here till the beginning of April, and it is only the middle of March now!"

"Never mind, never mind!" Mr. Bailey told him. "It will not be much loss for you to miss a week or so."

"But father will have to pay a term's fees, as he hasn't given a term's notice for Gerald to leave!" Angel cried anxiously.

"What a little woman of business it is!" Mr. Bailey exclaimed, laughing amusedly. "Don't worry that wise head of yours about details. Leave everything to me."

Angel was quite ready to do that, as was her father now that he had consented to his uncle's plan; he was still far too weak to be troubled about business matters, and appeared perfectly satisfied with the existing state of affairs.

The only person who was not entirely pleased at the prospect of the exodus of the Willis family from London was Mrs. Steer. She shed tears when discussing the subject with Angel, and only cheered up when the little girl promised to write to her when they were all settled at Wreyford.

"It isn't only that I'm sorry to lose you as lodgers, Miss Angel," she said, "for I take a real interest in you all. Your pa's as pleasant spoken a gentleman as I ever knew, and during the two years and more he's been beneath my roof, I don't think he's once spoken a cross word to me, much less complained that his food hasn't been properly cooked, as some folks are so fond of doing. And I don't know that I ever came across any one so hopeful when things go wrong as he is. I wish him good health, and every success in the future, that I do; and I'm only sorry he wasn't brought to some good trade or profession, so that he might have had a chance of making a comfortable income, instead of having to paint for a living—and a poor living it is, I take it!"

"Ah, but some day, when father has finished his great picture, as he would have done before now if only he had not fallen ill, he will make a good living!" Angel declared, her eyes glistening at the thought.

"I am sure I hope he may," Mrs. Steer replied, her face expressive of the doubt she felt, "for I'm very certain he deserves success; but folks don't always get what they deserve in this world, and it's as well not to expect too much."

This was not a very cheering sentiment, but Angel was far too happy to allow herself to be depressed, or to be annoyed because Mrs. Steer did not fully appreciate her father's abilities.

Mr. Bailey paid a short visit to Wreyford within a few days, and on his return reported that everything had been done at Haresdown House according to his instructions, and the house was now fit to be occupied. He had been recommended a middle-aged woman as housekeeper, and he had seen her installed and left her with orders to prepare for the reception of his family.

"So our home is ready for us," Mr. Bailey said, "and we need only wait for the doctor's permission to allow you to travel, John. There is no necessity for you to worry, or even think about the packing of your belongings, for I will superintend everything myself."

By that time Mr. Willis was able to go into the sitting-room every day; his nurses had left him; and he was slowly but surely gaining strength. He had been sitting by the fire listening to his uncle's remarks, and there was deep feeling in his voice as he replied—

"You are our good angel, Uncle Edward; it seems as though God sent you home to be with us in our time of need. I dare not imagine what would have become of us but for you! I can never thank you for all you have done, and I can never repay you for your kindness—"

"Nonsense, nonsense!" Mr. Bailey interrupted. "I want no thanks— have only done for you what, if our positions had been reversed, you would have done for me."

His face was very red as he spoke, and there was certainly a mistiness in his eyes, to hide which he blew his nose, and then went on to make plans for their move into the country.

They were all eager to leave London, Angel as much so as either of the others, yet when she came to say good-bye to the dingy lodgings which had been home to her for more than two long years, there were tears in her eyes. She thought how, in all probability, she would never more look out on the miles of roofs, and listen to the city's roar; and she wept aloud as she kissed Mrs. Steer, whilst that good woman was not less moved, and declared that she had never had lodgers she had felt parting with before.