Fairy Fingers Part 80

"Law sakes! You don't say so?" answered Mrs. Gratacap, as if the rebuke darted off from her without hitting. "I didn't suppose you'd go to fancy I was _snubbing_ him because I called him a young man! What could he be better? He's not an old one, is he? But I know some folks have a partiality to being called by their names, and I have no objection in life to humoring them. Well, then, when will Mr. Gramont be back? I'd like to know!"

"M. de Gramont did not inform me when he would return;" was the freezing rejoinder.

"Now, that's a pity! I want somebody in there for a moment, for the poor dear's so heavy I can't turn him all alone. Aren't you strong enough to lend a hand? To be sure, at your time of life, one an't apt to be worth much in the arms. At all events, an't you coming in to see him? You're his own mother; and, I swan, you haven't been near him this blessed day."

"Woman!" cried the countess, lashed into fury. "How dare you address such language to me?"

"Law sakes!" exclaimed Mrs. Gratacap, lifting up her hands and eyes.

"What _did_ I say? You _are_ his mother, an't you? There's no shame about it, I suppose. I hadn't a notion of putting you into a pa.s.sion. I thought it mighty queer you didn't come in to see your own son when he's lying so low; and I said so,--that's all! But if you don't want to come, I don't want to force you. I can't put natural feelings in the hearts of people that haven't got them; it stands to reason I can't, and you needn't be flying out at me on that account."

Mrs. Gratacap, after delivering this admonitory sentiment, was returning to the patient when she encountered Bertha, and inquired,--

"Did Mr. Gramont say when he would come back?"

"He did not say; but I think he will be absent for a couple of hours,"

replied Bertha.

"Oh, if that's the case, I must get a helping hand somewhere.

You're a young thing, and, I dare say, strong enough. Come along and help me move the poor dear."

"Willingly," replied Bertha, "if I am only able."

As they entered the count's chamber, Mrs. Gratacap again subdued her voice, and though her words and manner were always of the most positive kind, there was a sort of rude softness (if we may use the contradictory expression) in her mode of instructing Bertha in the service required.

When the count was comfortably placed, she sat down, and Bertha also took a seat.

"I say," commenced Mrs. Gratacap, in a half whisper, "that's the most of a tigress yonder I ever had the luck to come across. Why, she's got no more natural feeling than an oyster,--no more warm blood in her veins than a cauliflower. I wonder how such beings ever get created. Are there many of that sort in the parts you came from?"

"She is very proud," replied Bertha, "and I am afraid there is no lack of pride in France among the n.o.ble cla.s.s to which she belongs."

"Pride! Why, I wonder what she's got to be proud of? She looks as though she couldn't do a thing in life that's worth doing? I like pride well enough! I'm awful proud myself when I've done anything remarkable. But I wonder what that rock yonder ever did in all her born days to be proud of?"

Bertha tried to explain by saying, "Her pride is of family descent."

"I suppose she don't trace back further than Adam, does she? And we all do about that," was the answer.

Here the conversation was interrupted. Bertha was summoned to receive visitors.

The instant Maurice returned his grandmother attacked him. "Maurice, that woman's presence here is insupportable; there is no use of argument on the subject; I have made up my mind,--go and dismiss her at once, and seek somebody else!"

May not Maurice be pardoned for losing his temper and answering with considerable irritation,--"Have I not clearly explained to you, madame, that I cannot do anything of the kind? I have engaged her for a month, and I cannot turn her away without a good reason; here she must remain until the time expires."

"Pay her double her wages, and let her go!" urged the countess.

"Once more, and for the last time," cried Maurice, determinedly, "I tell you, I cannot and will not!"

"Then send her to me!" answered the countess.

Maurice did not stir; she repeated, in a more commanding voice, "Send her to me, I say!"

Maurice reluctantly went to his father's room and returned with Mrs.

Gratacap. Before the countess could commence the formal address she had prepared, the good woman took a chair, and with complacent familiarity, sat down beside her, saying, "Well, and what is it? I hope you feel a little better. I'm afraid you've a deal of _bile_; really, it ought to be looked after; if you can just get rid of it you'll be a deal more comfortable."

"Woman"--began the countess.

Mrs. Gratacap interrupted her, but without the least show of ill-temper.

"Now I tell you, if it's all the same to you, I'd just as lief you'd call me by my name, and that's 'Gratacap'--'Mrs. Gratacap!' Fair play's a jewel, you know, and you didn't like my calling your grandson a 'young man' even, but politely begged that I'd term him 'Mr. Gramont;' so you just call me by my name, and I'll return the compliment."

"I choose to avoid the necessity of calling you anything," returned the countess, when Mrs. Gratacap allowed her to speak. "You are discharged!

I desire you to leave my house" (the countess always imagined herself in her chateau, or some mansion to which she had the entire claim), "leave my house within an hour."

"Hoighty-toighty! here's a pretty kettle of fis.h.!.+ But it's no use talking; I'm settled for a month! that's my engagement."

"I am aware of it; you will receive double your month's wages and go!"

"I'll receive nothing of the kind! I don't take money I've not earned; and I'll not go until the time's up! That's a declaration of independence for you, which I suppose you're not accustomed to in the outlandish place you came from, where people haven't a notion how to treat those they can't do without. Do you suppose your paltry money would compensate me for the injury it would do my character, if it should be said I was engaged for a month, and before I had been in the situation a day, I had to pull up stakes and make tracks? No,--unless you can prove that I don't know my business, or don't do my duty, I've just as much right here, being engaged to take up my quarters here, as you have. Don't think I'm offended; make yourself easy on that head.

I've learnt how to deal with all sorts of folks. I saw at the first squint that you and I would have a rather rough time, and I made ready for it. If you've got nothing more to say, I'll go back to the poor dear, for he's broad awake and may be wanting something."

"And you dare to refuse to go when I dismiss you?"

"_Dare?_ Law sakes! there's no _dare_ about it. _Who's to dare me?_ or to frighten me either? You don't think you've come to a free country to find people afraid of their shadows,--do you? I'm afraid of nothing but not doing my duty; I always dare do that, to say nothing of a.s.serting my own rights and privileges. So let's have no more nonsense, and I'll go about my business."

Mrs. Gratacap returned to her patient as undisturbed as though the countess had merely requested her presence as a matter of courtesy.

The torment Madame de Gramont was destined to endure from this straightforward, steady-of-purpose, unterrified New England woman, must exceed the comprehension of those who never felt within themselves the workings of an overbearing spirit. Mrs. Gratacap maintained her ground; there was no displacing her; and she had become thoroughly sovereign of the sick-room, as a good nurse ought to be. The only alternative for the countess was to avoid her; but she was a pursuing phantom that met the proud lady at every turn, haunted her with untiring pertinacity. Madame de Gramont absented herself from her son's chamber, except when Mrs.

Gratacap went to her meals; but little was gained by that, for the nurse was always flitting in and out of the drawing-room, or dining-room, at unexpected moments, and only the turning of the key kept her out of the countess's own chamber.

The first time that Madame de Gramont bethought herself of visiting her son when the inevitable _garde malade_ was absent, Mrs. Gratacap returned in one quarter the time which the countess imagined it would require to swallow the most hasty meal.

"Well, I _do_ say, that's a sight for sore eyes!" exclaimed the nurse.

"I am as pleased as punch to find you here; but I've been thinking that like as not, you're scared of sick folks; there's plenty of people that are; but there's nothing to be skittish about; I think this poor dear will get all right again."

"Silence, woman!" commanded the countess.

"Never you fear," replied Mrs. Gratacap, either misunderstanding her or pretending to do so. "I'm not talking loud enough for him to hear. I don't allow loud talking in a sick-room, nor much talking either, of any kind. If you'd stay here a little while every day, you'd get some ideas from my management."

The exasperated countess retreated from the apartment, falling back, for the first time, before an enemy.

As she made her exit Mrs. Gratacap said to Maurice, "It's a pity your grandmother is so cantankerous; but, I'm used to cranks and whims of all sorts of folks, and it's only for her own sake, that I wish she'd make herself more at home here. Who'd think she was the mother of that poor dear lying so low? and she never to have a word of comfort to throw at him. But people's ways an't alike, thank goodness! It may be the style over in your parts, but I'm thankful I was born this side of the great pond."

A fortnight pa.s.sed on, and the count rallied again. The shadows which obscured his brain seemed in a measure to have pa.s.sed away; but they were succeeded by a deep melancholy. No effort made by Maurice or Bertha (Madame de Gramont made none) could rouse him. His countenance wore an expression of utter despair. He never spoke except to reply to some question, and then as briefly as possible; but his answers were quite lucid. As far as mere _physique_ was in question, he was convalescing favorably.

Maurice received another letter from his partner, urging him to return to Charleston as soon as possible, and giving him the information that there was a most advantageous opening in his profession. While the count remained in his present feeble state, Maurice could not leave him; besides the countess and Bertha required manly protection.

Bertha continued to resist all Gaston's entreaties to name the day for their union, always replying that the day depended upon Madeleine, and if the latter remained single, she would do the same.

Maurice decided that, as soon as his father had recovered sufficiently to travel, it would be advisable for the whole party to take up their abode in Charleston. Many and sharp were the pangs he suffered at the thought of leaving a city which Madeleine's presence rendered so dear; but he would be worthier of her esteem, and his own self-respect, if he resolutely and steadfastly pursued the course he had marked out for himself before she was restored to him. To prepare the mind of his grandmother, and to learn Bertha's opinion of the proposed change, were subjects of importance which demanded immediate attention. He spoke to his cousin first, seizing an opportunity when the countess chanced to be absent.