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Underneath was written those striking words: "Is it well with the child?" and the answer, "It is well." It was that picture that made Alwyn Gaythorne's name. Olivia hurried round to Brunswick Place as soon as her husband broke the news to her, and spent the greater part of each day there for the next week or two.
"Certainly," said Nell; "papa is in his study, and I will go and fetch them." Mr. Enderby willingly surrendered the drawings to amuse and oblige the cherished guest, and Hetty's work was spread out on a table before Reine. "Why, these are beautiful," cried she; "and they are really done by a girl of fourteen who never learned to draw!" "Really," said Nell, enjoying Miss Gaythorne's surprise.
When Olivia's face appeared on the threshold Mr. Gaythorne's eyes brightened under their rugged brows, and his voice insensibly softened. To her, and her only, he showed his real self. "He has a strange complex nature," she said once to her husband. "He is very reserved, there are some things of which he never speaks. He has not once mentioned his son.
I am a splendid listener, as my dear Fergus used to say." "Something wonderful," repeated Olivia, breathlessly. "Why, Aunt Madge, I feel as though I were in the third volume of a sensational novel. What do you think? Robert Barton, whom Marcus found starving on a doorstep, is Mr. Gaythorne's long-lost son, Alwyn." It was evident that Mrs.
At the sound, Robert Barton shivered and shrank back against the easel. Olivia picked it up, and tried to place it in Mr. Gaythorne's hand again, but he never noticed her. His eyes were fixed with a look of agonised intensity on the white face of the young artist. "It is Alwyn," he said again, in the same suppressed voice, "and yet he does not speak or look at me!"
"Hold your tongue, Livy!" returned Marcus, good-humouredly. "I mean my wife to be well-dressed for once in her life. Now I must go to the tailor's for that great-coat. There won't be much of Mr. Gaythorne's cheque left by the time I get home. We shall want the balance for Christmas groceries." Olivia groaned in spirit over Marcus's recklessness, but she could not bear to damp his enjoyment.
On the breakfast-table, propped up with books, was a small framed picture, the very cornfield, with the brown baby asleep under the hedge, and the old terrier guarding it, that she had so admired. A card, with Mr. Gaythorne's compliments and Christmas greeting, was beside it. "What do you think of your friend now, Livy?"
Enderby herself pushed a stately old oaken chair towards the rose-framed sash and said encouragingly: "Sit down, Mrs. Kane, and make yourself comfortable. There is nothing to be nervous about. You know we are all friends of your favourite, Hetty." Mrs. Kane was trembling with some curious excitement, and could not remove her eyes from Reine Gaythorne's face.
Martha's round eyes widened with amazement when the hamper was opened, and a plump turkey, and a fine York ham came to view; there were also half a dozen bottles of old port-wine for Dr. Luttrell, with Mr. Gaythorne's compliments, and a box of candied fruit and a jar of preserved ginger for his wife. "Oh, Marcus! is not this kind?"
Sitting near the window the figures of the girls looked charming against so picturesque a background. Miss Gaythorne's face, upraised to the light, was full of goodness, sweetness, and intelligence.
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