Six to Sixteen | Page 7

am sure I shall die if I stay here!" she cried,
and it ended in her going away at once. There was some difficulty as to
accommodating me and Ayah, and it was decided that, if necessary, we
should follow my mother later.
For my own part, I begged to remain. I had no fear of cholera, and I
was anxious to dine with my father on my birthday, as he had promised
that I should.
It was on the day before my birthday that one of the surgeons was
buried. The man next in rank to the poor Colonel was on leave, and the
regiment was commanded by our friend Major Buller, whose little
daughters were invited to spend the following evening with me. The
Major, my father, and two other officers had been pall-bearers at the
funeral. My father came to me on his return. He was slightly chilled,
and said he should remain indoors; so I had him all to myself, and we
were very happy, though he complained of fatigue, and fell asleep once
on the floor with his head in my lap. He was still lying on the floor
when Ayah took me to bed. I believe he had been unwell all the day,
though I did not know it, and had been taking some of the many
specifics against cholera, of which everybody had one or more at that
time.
Half-an-hour later he sent for a surgeon, who happened to be dining
with Major Buller. The Doctor and the Major came together to our
bungalow, and with them two other officers who happened to be of the
party, and who were friends of my father. One of them was a particular
friend of my own. He was an ensign, a reckless, kind-hearted lad "in his
teens," a Mr. Abercrombie, who had good reason to count my father as
a friend.
Mr. Abercrombie mingled in some way with my dreams that night, or
rather early morning, and when I fairly woke, it was to the end of a

discussion betwixt my Ayah, who was crying, and Mr. Abercrombie, in
evening dress, whose face bore traces of what looked to me like crying
also. I was hastily clothed, and he took me in his arms.
"Papa wants you, Margery dear," he said; and he carried me quickly
down the passages in the dim light of the early summer dawn.
Two or three officers, amongst whom I recognized Major Buller, fell
back, as we came in, from the bed to which Mr. Abercrombie carried
me. My father turned his face eagerly towards me, but I shrank away.
That one night of suffering and collapse had changed him so that I did
not know him again. At last I was persuaded to go to him, and by his
voice and manner recognized him as his feeble fingers played tenderly
with mine. And when he said, "Kiss me, Margery dear," I crept up and
kissed his forehead, and started to feel it so cold and damp.
"Be a good girl, Margery dear," he whispered; "be very good to
Mamma." There was a short silence. Then he said, "Is the sun rising yet,
Buller?"
"Just rising, old fellow. Does the light bother you?"
"No, thank you; I can't see it. The fact is, I can't see you now. I suppose
it's nearly over. GOD'S will be done. You've got the papers, Buller?
Arkwright will be kind about it, I'm sure. You'll break it to my wife as
well as you can?"
After another pause he said, "It's time you fellows went to bed and got
some sleep."
But no one moved, and there was another silence, which my father
broke by saying, "Buller, where are you? It's quite dark now. Would
you say the Lord's Prayer for me, old fellow? Margery dear, put your
hands with poor Papa's."
"I've not said my prayers yet," said I; "and you know I ought to say my
prayers, for I've been dressed a long time."

The Major knelt simply by the bed. The other men, standing, bent their
heads, and Mr. Abercrombie, kneeling, buried his face on the end of the
bed and sobbed aloud.
Major Buller said the Lord's Prayer. I, believing it to be my duty, said it
also, and my father said it with us to the clause "For Thine is the
kingdom, the power, and the glory," when his voice failed, and I,
thinking he had forgotten (for I sometimes forgot in the middle of my
most familiar prayers and hymns), helped him--"Papa dear! for ever
and ever."
Still he was silent, and as I bent over him I heard one long-drawn
breath, and then his hands, which were enfolded with mine, fell apart.
The sunshine was now beginning to catch