But Swinny was in love--in love with Pinker. And to be in love with
Pinker was to live in a perfect delirium of hopes and fears. No sooner
was Swinny delivered over to the ministers of love, who dealt with her
after their will, than Baby too agonized and languished. His food ceased
to nourish him, his body wasted. They bought a cow for his sole use and
benefit, and guarded it like a sacred animal but to no purpose. He drank
of its milk and grew thinner than ever. Strange furrows began to appear
on his tiny face, with shadows and a transparent tinge like the blue of
skim-milk. As the pure air of Drayton did so little for him, Mrs. Nevill
Tyson wondered how he would bear the change to London.
"Shall I take him, Nevill?" she asked.
"Take him if you like," was the reply. "But you might as well poison the
little beast at home while you're about it."
So it was an understood thing that when Mr. and Mrs. Nevill Tyson settled
in town, Baby was to be left behind at Thorneytoft for the good of his
health. It was his father's proposal, and his mother agreed to it in
silence.
Her indifference roused the severest comments in the household. Mrs.
Nevill Tyson was an unnatural mother. From the day she weaned him, no one
had ever seen her caress the child. She handled him with a touch as light
and fleeting as his own; her lips seemed to shrink from contact with his
pure soft skin. There could be no doubt of it, Mrs. Nevill Tyson's
behavior was that of a guilty woman--guilty in will at any rate, if not
in deed.
A shuddering whisper went through the house; it became a murmur, and the
murmur became an articulate, unmistakable voice. The servants were
sitting in judgment on her. Swinny spoke from the height of a lofty
morality; Pinker, being a footman of the world, took a humorous, not to
say cynical view, which pained Swinny. Such a view could never have been
taken by one whose affections were deeply engaged.
The conclusions arrived at in the servants' hall soon received a
remarkable confirmation.
It was on a Monday. Mrs. Nevill Tyson was seen to come down to breakfast
in an unusually cheerful frame of mind. Tyson was away; he had been up in
town for three weeks, and was expected home that evening. She looked for
letters. There were two--one from the master of the house; one also from
Stanistreet, placed undermost by the discreet Pinker. The same thoughtful
observer of character noticed that his mistress blushed and put her
letters aside instead of reading them at once. At ten Swinny came into
the breakfast-room, bearing Baby. This was the custom of the house. By
courtesy the most unnatural mother may be credited with a wish to see her
child once a day.