# The Dilemma/Chapter LIX

CHAPTER LIX.
Long and anxious was the consultation between the two friends, when an hour or more afterwards Maxwell rejoined Yorke down-stairs, and they paced together the little garden before the inn. Both felt that there was no cause for sorrow in the fate of their friend, bereft of hope, and whose heroic death was in harmony with his noble self-sacrificing life; and after a short time their thoughts turned to the cares of the living. The shock undergone by Olivia had been greater to the brain than the nerves, said the doctor; there was great mental excitement, and no relief from tears or faintness, and it was difficult to decide what was best to be done. Stay here she could not, yet she was not fit to travel to the south, as was intended, still less to be left alone. "I almost think," he continued, "it would be best to accept the offer of your friends, and take her to them for a while, if you think they are really prepared to exercise so much hospitality."
Yorke knew enough of the Peevors to feel sure of this, and that, under present circumstances, they would not in the least resent her being taken to them under an assumed name, should they come to know it afterwards. They were just the people not to feel prudish at such a thing, and they would certainly be kind and hospitable; but then the difficulty of keeping the secret would be much increased by going to "The Beeches."
"It is no good trying to keep the secret," replied Maxwell; "she has told it to the landlady half-a-dozen times already, although the latter evidently regards it as a delusion brought on by the shock. And then there will have to be an inquest, so ​that secrecy seems impossible. Mrs. Polwheedle will be a comfort if she comes, bringing an old face at any rate; but she at the most could take her into London lodgings, and that would not be a fit place for her. Perfect quiet is what is wanted, and that, I understand, she might get at your friends' house. I really think that is the best thing we can do for her just at present. But we must wait and see whether Mrs. Polwheedle comes."
That lady arrived about mid-day. Yorke had done no more than justice to her good-nature in sending her this summons. She had come down by the first train after receiving it, taking a fly from the Shoalbrook station. It was not perhaps very easy to convey to her a clear idea of what had happened, she had so much to say herself; but she was unaffectedly glad to be of use; and as she mounted the narrow staircase after exchanging a few words with the landlady, a strong feeling of sympathy with Olivia was mingled with a sense of self-importance at having been called on to help.
When Maxwell rejoined Yorke, after showing Mrs. Polwheedle up-stairs, he had thought of a temporary home for Olivia. A cousin of his, a maiden lady, was head of a small sisterhood in the neighbourhood of London, where perhaps Olivia and her children might be received for a time. There she would be free from intrusion, and be sure of quiet and good nursing if needed. And, indeed, she was likely to want it, continued the doctor; this brain-excitement was very distressing and serious. He would go to Shoalbrook at once and telegraph to his cousin from there, and also procure a sedative, and if possible see the coroner, and arrange also for the unfortunate husband's funeral, returning to the inn as quickly as possible. But it might not be practicable to secure her reception at the sisterhood that day; Yorke had better see his friends and prepare for Olivia's moving to "The Beeches" if necessary. It was all-important that she should have a change of scene of some sort. So while the one returned in Mrs. Polwheedle's fly to Shoalbrook, the other walked up to "The Beeches."
Yorke's wish that Olivia should be left in quiet for a time had been respected; but he found a strong feeling of sympathy among all the members of the family for the unfortunate sufferers by the fire, and a keen desire to be of use. Mr. Peevor especially seemed delighted at the prospect of receiving the whole party, still more when he heard that it was to include Mrs. Polwheedle. Any friends of Colonel Yorke's, he said, were friends of his; he should have been very pleased to see them, and would have done his best to make them comfortable at any time, still more, of course, would he wish to do so under present circumstances. Mr. Peevor, indeed, who had deferred his journey to town till Yorke's return, and had already telegraphed to put off various guests invited to a dinner-party that evening, was in a state of mild excitement; a fire had happened in the neighbourhood, and there was no knowing how soon such a thing might happen again; then, in addition to the bad accident which had occurred, the sufferers by the fire had lost everything without being insured. "I never buy a picture, or a bit of china, or anything else," said Mr. Peevor, "without increasing my assurances; I should not be able to sleep a wink if I did not do this; it is anxious work enough as it is, living in such a household as this, and with so much to think about." Mr. Peevor was for sending down a couple of carriages at once to bring up the party, but Yorke explained that plans could not be finally arranged till he heard again from his friend Dr. Maxwell; and he returned alone in the dogcart laden with a parcel of clothing belonging to Mrs. Peevor, who was of about the same height as Olivia, and another of the children's things for the little ones. Lucy took this parcel from the hands of the maids who made it up, and brought it down-stairs to him. There was a change in her manner since he had seen her last, brought about by the partial revelation of the morning. She was still somewhat shy and timid; but the sense of security about her lover, which had succeeded the previous uncertainty, gave her a confidence in his presence which she had not felt till now. They had never been so much like lovers before; and Yorke driving down the hill to the river, thought with a sense almost of shame on certain little passages which passed between them as he took the parcel from her hands, a few broken words, a mere exchange of glances, but surely unfitting such a time.
As he drove up to the inn, Mrs. Polwheedle came down-stairs to meet him. Olivia had taken the sedative draught which Maxwell had sent from Shoalbrook, and was lying down: "But it does not seem to do her any good. She has begun talking now, mixing up all sorts of things in such a wild way, rolling her eyes about in a dreadful manner. I am trying to keep her quiet, but she is dreadfully excited. ​Perhaps after the draught takes effect she will wake up quieter."
Maxwell himself had not returned, but had sent a note to Yorke from Shoalbrook, which the latter found awaiting him at the Belle, "I must go on to town to see the lady superior," he wrote, "for her reply to my telegram is not clearly expressed. And I will arrange for the funeral being held there; it will thus attract much less attention than if held in the country. I shall be back by the evening at latest, but at any rate it will be desirable to accept your friends' offer to receive Olivia and the children for the night."
Accordingly Yorke arranged with Mrs. Polwheedle that he would come again with the carriage in the afternoon to convey the whole party to "The Beeches." Inquiring for the children, he was told that they had been sent out for a walk, and he met them returning as he drove away — which he did presently, as Mrs. Polwheedle was anxious to return to Olivia. They had been looking at the scene of the fire, and were prattling about it to their nurse as they came along, as if it were an interesting incident with which they had no personal concern. And when Yorke told the elder one that he had brought some pretty clothes for them to wear, the child became more animated and happy-looking than he had ever seen it look before.
On returning to "The Beeches," he found the ladies sitting down to luncheon. Mr. Peevor had gone off to town at last, to keep his business appointment with Mr. Hanckes, leaving many apologies for his enforced absence. And while sitting there in the well-ordered room, the table covered as usual with delicacies of which no one partook, and the ladies talking in the suppressed tones congenial to the eldest Miss Peevor, and in which the example was set by her stepmother, it seemed to Yorke for the moment as if the tragedy that had been enacted so close to them was merely a horrid dream, so difficult was it to associate the tragic with this scene of the comfortable and commonplace. Nor did the conversation turn much on the subject about which all the party were thinking; for the ladies, understanding that there was some mystery about the matter into which it did not become them to pry, with natural good-breeding abstained from more than a general expression of sympathy, and Yorke felt too deeply to find the words come freely.
But when luncheon was ended, and he rose to return, Mrs. Peevor mentioned that the rooms for Mrs. Wood and her party were quite ready, and asked what he would wish done about sending for them; and indeed the preparations had occupied all the morning. Ordinarily the getting ready of guest-chambers at "The Beeches" was a matter to be dealt with by the house-keeper; but on this occasion the sentiment of romance which had inspired Lucy extended itself to Mrs. Peevor and Cathy, and they had all been engaged in arranging the suite of rooms destined for the party, placing books and flowers in the sitting-room set apart for Olivia — and where she need see no one but Mrs. Polwheedle and the servants — to give it an air of use and comfort. A large bedroom was also in course of transformation into a day-nursery; but Yorke suggested that the children, at any rate, would like to be with the children of the house. Altogether, it was evident that, whether from the interest caused by her lonely condition and misfortunes, or from the fact of her being now known to be a friend of Yorke, Olivia and her party would be made warmly welcome, and treated also with the utmost delicacy. Mr. Peevor had left repeated injunctions about various things to be done, and especially that some of the ladies should go down to bring her away; who, Mrs. Peevor asked, did he think had better go? And Yorke, who had intended to return alone, after looking at the ladies all standing round him to receive his commands, proposed that Lucy should go. Lucy's winning face and gentle manner, he thought, might help to win the poor sufferer from the abyss of despair and self-reproach into which she had fallen. He would walk down at once, he said, if she would follow in the carriage. And Lucy, proud of being selected, and yearning to show her sympathy for her lover's friend, ran upstairs with a light step to get ready, while Yorke set off again for the riverside.