LORD L'Estrange was pacing up and down the great hall with impatient strides and a troubled brow, waiting for his carriage.
Stern and silent, deeply immersed in politics, and partaking to the full of the pleasures of the world, he knew not the meaning of the word "Home." He spent most of his time in London, and as he would often take Lady L'Estrange with him, their child chiefly spent her time with the housekeeper and nurse, and her papa looked upon her more as his wife's doll than his own child. Consequently Geraldine was afraid of him, and shrank shyly from him whenever he took her in his arms.
Lady L'Estrange saw this, and wept over it in lonely silence.
One day she ventured to tell him her fears that Geraldine was very delicate, but though it awakened for a moment a passing concern, it was soon forgotten in the pressing occupations of business that followed.
So that this morning, soon after Christmas, he was utterly astonished and wholly unprepared to hear that his child was lying dangerously ill.
He had just left Lady L'Estrange sitting pale and anxious by the little cot, watching the restless fever-tossings of her unconscious darling.
Each tender moan cut more deeply into her heart as she vainly attempted to soothe the little sufferer.
“Fetch Dr. Gray at once," she said, pleadingly, to her husband; "I hear he is the first physician in the town.”
So Dr. Gray came, and his firm and gentle manner gave comfort and assurance round the little bed.
Each order was promptly obeyed, and ere long the child was sleeping in a calm slumber.
Day by day he returned, until Geraldine began to long for his coming, and would stretch out her tiny arms by way of welcome as he entered the door.
“You are Katie's papa," she said, one day; "Keats told me about you. How is Katie? I want to see her.”
“You shall see her some day, I hope," said he; "if your mamma has no objection I will bring her one morning in the carriage.”
Lady L'Estrange eagerly caught the words, and begged he would fulfill his promise, for the proposal had awakened a bright smile on the wan little face.
Keats was at work in the house many of the days during Geraldine's illness and the child would ask so eagerly for her, that she was often allowed to come and sit with her needle by her cot, and tell her pretty stories, and sing sweet hymns.
But the poor work-girl would weep bitter tears as she walked home at night, thinking of the change that illness had wrought in the bright face of the lovely child.
But Geraldine got better every day, though her mother had to hear with sorrow that she was a fragile blossom, which would need every care, and might even but too soon fade from her grasp.
Extreme delicacy of the chest was already manifesting itself, as the short, constant cough too plainly told; yet Dr. Gray held out every hope, and under his watchful eye the little life gained strength as weeks rolled on.
He did not forget his promise, and one fine clear day Katie came.
Geraldine was dressed and sitting on her mamma's lap. The two children looked at each other shyly, as Dr. Gray led his little girl in.
“I am going to pay one or two other visits in this direction," he said, "and I will leave Katie, and call for her again.”
So saying, he drew her towards the little invalid, and Lady L'Estrange following him out of the room, the children were left alone.
“I have often heard about you," said wee Katie, in her winning voice.
“And Keats told me about you," said Geraldine, putting up her mouth to kiss Katie.
Keats had heard the arrival as she was at work in the housekeeper's room, and now stole quietly across the passage, and peeped in.
A joyful recognition followed, and the children felt their bond of union had come, and were soon chattering away as if they had known each other all their lives.
Katie had never seen so many beautiful toys, and was quite sorry when papa returned to fetch her; and when the children reluctantly parted it was with the promise of another meeting very soon.
They did not, however, meet again for many weeks, for east winds came, with piercing, icy breath, searching through every nook and cranny in the house.
Katie would stand at her nursery window watching the dreary sleet hurrying past, and wondering if the golden crocuses and drooping snowdrops liked it, as their pretty heads came peeping up.
Geraldine had no green meadow country to look out on like Katie. The great garden belonging to the square presented no variety; nothing but smoothly trimmed grass, and gravel walks, with here and there a tree, bare and leafless, and a few evergreen shrubs.
But even this garden looked pretty when the snow floated down and covered the branches, and the child fancied all kinds of figures out of their fantastic forms, and would laugh merrily and clap her tiny hands, as the wind came by with playful toss, and her snowy minarets vanished one by one.
How she envied the little girls running races with their hoops, as joyous shouts reached her ear, and longed for Katie to come back again. During this time of imprisonment Keats became dearer than ever to the children.
She would carry their messages to each other, and sometimes a loving pencil note from Katie, which Geraldine managed to spell out on mamma's knee, so that, what with picture books and stories and kind friends, the little girls, although sometimes lonely, were not unhappy.
But springtime came at last; warm, bright, happy springtime, and the river in sight of Katie's home flashed brightly in the sunlight, while young lambs gamboled on its green banks, and trees burst forth into yellow-green on every hand.
The garden in Albert Square looked even gay now, for laburnums budded and the blushing sprays of the hawthorn bloomed in rich profusion, and merry children played with the daisies on the grass.
The time had come for our little winter prisoners to be set free, and those long, sunny spring days were full of pleasure to Katie and Geraldine.
The London season had begun, and Lord and Lady L'Estrange left as usual for town.
They would have taken Geraldine with them, but Dr. Gray strongly advised her being kept at home until she was stronger, when he recommended a change to the seaside. Dr. and Mrs. Gray promised to look after her, and Geraldine and Katie met almost every day. Sometimes it was for a long drive into the country in the doctor's carriage, and while he was visiting at some house or cottage, the little ones would jump out and fill their baskets with primroses, cowslips, mosses and ferns, which were treasured and planted, with and without roots, in Katie's garden.
Great were the preparations in her nursery when Geraldine was expected to spend the day there.
The doll's house was set in order, its carpets and furniture dusted and the numerous dolly family arranged on the sofas and chairs, while the best china tea set was unpacked and spread on a little table at one end of the nursery.
Miss Melina, Katie's big doll, was decidedly the worse for wear; her face was cracked and her nose disappearing altogether, nevertheless Katie loved it a great deal more than Geraldine did her grand waxen ladies in their silks and satins.
Katie liked going to Albert Square very much, to ride on the prancing rocking-horse and play with toys she had never seen or heard of before. But it never made her envious or discontented with her own nursery, and the two children at last seemed to consider each other's things as joint property.
It was a very pretty sight to see them together at play, Geraldine's long golden curls mingling Katie's chestnut locks, as they sat side by side intent upon some game or plan.
One morning the postman came, and brought a letter for Katie.
A real letter all to myself," said the joyful child, as she read her name on the envelope. "It is from grandmamma, I know," and the eager little fingers having broken the seal, Katie read as follows: “Silversands Farm, “Wednesday.
“MY DEAR LITTLE KATIE,
“Your papa and mamma have kindly consented to lend you to us for a little visit, and as we are expecting you on Tuesday next, you must begin to get ready to come.
“Nurse will accompany you, and Aunt Barbara will be at the station to meet you.
“I do not think you need bring Dolly, as we have plenty of toys here; your little sand spade and bucket are quite safe. I need not tell you anything about the pets, as you will see them all soon for yourself.
"From your affectionate grandmamma,
"FRANCES RUTHERFORD.”
Katie's face was one glow of pleasure as she read; but after the first outburst of joy she suddenly recollected she must leave Geraldine behind, and a cloud overshadowed the bright brow.
“It will be a great deal worse for her than for me," thought the unselfish child, "so I must make the best of it when we meet," and running upstairs to her nursery she found Keats waiting to try on the pretty new frock she was making for her.
Two days after, while standing at her nursery window, Katie watched a carriage and pair drive in at the gate, and instantly recognizing it, she ran down just in time to see Lady L'Estrange enter the door leading in her little Geraldine.
While the two mammas were having their long talk in the drawing room, the two children, having scampered upstairs, spent a happy hour with Keats.
After the visit was over, and Katie was disconsolately retracing her steps upstairs, Mrs. Gray called her into the dining room, and taking her on her lap, said she had something to tell her.
“Oh, mamma, what is it?" said Katie, putting both arms around her neck, and looking up into her face.
Mrs. Gray smiled, and said, "Lady L'Estrange is going to lend you a real live doll to take to grandmamma.”
“A real live doll, mamma," repeated Katie, with a puzzled face; "what does it mean? Oh, I guess," said she, after a moment's pause, "it is Geraldine; say it is Geraldine, mamma!”
“Well, yes, it is Geraldine," answered Mrs. Gray; but you must not get too excited about it. We did not tell you of the plan before, as it was not settled until to-day. Your papa wrote to London and proposed it, saying the air of Silversands would do wonders for your little friend, and Lady L'Estrange came home at once to see about it, and propose going herself and finding lodgings there, but we have persuaded her to let her go to the Farm instead, and grandmamma is delighted at the idea; Geraldine's nurse has just been sent away, so Keats is going in her place to help your nurse to take care of you both.
“Oh, mamma, mamma!" cried Katie; "how very, very nice! Does Geraldine know about it?”
“Not yet," said Mrs. Gray; "her mamma will tell her to-day after she gets home; and now run upstairs and hear what Keats has to say about it.”
Very joyful were the days of preparation that followed, and at last the long wished for Tuesday morning dawned, and the happy children found themselves in the train on their way to Silversands.
From the glorious heaven,
Where the angels are,
God looks down on children,
Seeth them afar;
Heareth all they ask for,
All the night and day;
Watcheth like a Father
All that work and play.
As a father giveth,
So He gives them bread;
Saves them out of danger,
Watches by their bed.
Tell all little children
Of God's constant care-
That he loves and pities
Children everywhere.