Family Pride Or Purified by Suffering Part 47

"Yes, Dr. Morris Grant, from Ma.s.sachusetts," the latter replied, his surprise increasing when Wilford rejoined:

"Send Satan himself sooner than he. I hate him."

The words dropped hissingly from the firmly set teeth, and Wilford fell back upon his pillow, exhausted with excitement and anger that Morris Grant should be there in the same building and offered as his physician.

"Never while my reason lasts," he whispered to himself, with hatred of Morris growing more intense with every beat of his wiry pulse.

Wilford was very sick, and when next the surgeon came around he knew by the bright, restless eyes that reason was tottering.

"Shall I send for your friends?" he asked, and Wilford answered, savagely:

"I have no friends--none, at least, but what will be glad to know I'm dead."

And that was the last, except the wild words of a maniac, which came from Wilford's lips for many a day and night. When they said he was dangerous, Marian Hazelton the "new nurse," sought and obtained permission to attend him, and again the eyes of the other occupants of the room were turned wonderingly toward her as she bent over the sick man, parting his matted hair, smoothing his tumbled pillow, and holding the cooling draught to the parched lips which muttered strange things in her ear, talking of Brighton, of Alnwick and Rome--of the heather on the Scottish moors, and the daisies on Genevra's grave, where Katy once sat down.

"She did not know Genevra was there," he said. "She never guessed there was a Genevra; but I knew, and I felt almost as if the dead were wronged by that act of Katy's. Do you know Katy?" and his black eyes fastened upon Marian, who, with the strange power she possessed over her patients, soothed him into quiet, while she told him she knew Katy, and talked to him of her, telling of her graceful beauty, her loving heart, and the sorrow she would feel when she heard how sick he was.

"Shall I send for her?" she asked, but Wilford answered:

"No, I am satisfied with you," and holding her hand he fell away to sleep.

This was the first day of her being with him, but there were other days when he was not so quiet, when all her strength and that of Morris, who, at her earnest solicitation, came to her aid, was required to keep him on his bed. He was going home, he said, going back to Katy's; he had punished her long enough, and like a giant he writhed under a force superior to his own, and which held him down and controlled him, while his loud outcries filled the buildings, and sent a shudder to the hearts of those who heard them. As the two men, who at first had occupied the room with him, were well enough to leave for home, Marian and Morris both begged that unless absolutely necessary no other one should he sent to that small apartment, where all the air was needed for the patient in their charge. And thus the room was left alone for Wilford, who grew worse so fast that Morris wrote to Katy, while Marian followed the letter with a telegram, bidding her come at once.

Slowly the wintry night was pa.s.sing, the fifth since Morris' letter was sent to Katy, and Morris sat by Wilford's cot, wondering if the morning would bring her to him, when suddenly he met Wilford's eyes fixed upon him with a look of recognition he could not mistake.

"Do you know me?" he asked, so kindly and with so much of genuine sympathy in his voice that the heavy eyelids quivered for an instant, as Wilford nodded his head, and whispered:

"Dr. Grant."

There had been a momentary flash of resentment when he saw who was the watcher beside him, but Wilford was too weak, too helpless to cherish that feeling long, and besides there were floating through his still bewildered mind visions of some friendly hand, which had ministered to him daily, of a voice and form, distinct from the one he thought an angel's, and which was not there now with him. That voice, that form, he felt sure belonged to Morris Grant, and remembering his past harshness toward him, a chord of grat.i.tude was touched, and when Morris took his hand he did not at once withdraw it, but let his long, white fingers cling around the warm, vigorous ones, which seemed to impart new life and strength.

"You have been very sick," Morris said, antic.i.p.ating the question Wilford would ask, "You are very sick still, and at the request of your nurse I came to attend you."

A pressure of the hand was Wilford's reply, and then there was silence between them, while Wilford mastered all his pride, and with quivering lips whispered:

"Katy."

"We have sent for her. We expect her every train," Morris replied, and Wilford asked:

"Who is we? Who has been with me--the nurse, I mean? Who is she?"

Morris hesitated a moment, and then said:

"Marian Hazelton--she who took care of baby."

"I know--yes," Wilford said, having no suspicion as to who was the woman standing now just outside his door, and listening, with a throbbing heart, to his rational questions.

In all their vigils held together no sign had ever pa.s.sed from Dr.

Grant to Marian that he knew her, but he had waited anxiously for this moment, knowing well that in his present state Wilford must not be shocked, as a sight of Marian would shock him. He knew she was outside the door, and as Wilford turned his head upon the pillow, he went to her, and leading her to a safe distance, said softly:

"His reason has returned."

"And my services, then, are ended," Marian rejoined, looking him steadily in the face, but not in the least prepared for his affirmative question:

"You are Genevra Lambert?"

There was a low, gasping sound, and Marian staggered forward a step or two, then steadying herself, she said:

"And if I am, it surely is not best for him to see me. You would not advise it?"

She looked wistfully at Morris, the great desire to be recognized, to be spoken to kindly by the man who once had been her husband overmastering for a moment all her prudence.

"It would not be best, both for his sake and Katy's," Morris said, reading her thoughts aright, and with a moan like the dying out of her last hope, Marian turned away, her eyes dim with tears and her heart heavy with a sense of something lost, as in the gray dawn of the morning she went back to her former patients, who hailed her coming with childish joy, one fair young boy from the Granite hills kissing the hand which bandaged his poor crushed arm so tenderly, and thanking her that she had returned to him again.

She had not asked Dr. Grant how much he knew of her story, or where he had learned it. She was satisfied that he did know it, and she left her case in his hands, wondering if at any time Wilford had been conscious of her presence as a nurse, and if he would miss her any. He did miss her, but he made no comment, and when, as the morning advanced, another nurse appeared, he said to himself:

"Surely this cannot be Miss Hazelton," but asked no questions of any kind, and Marian's heart grew heavier when in answer to her inquiry, Morris said: "He has not mentioned you."

"Mr. J. Cameron, Miss Bell Cameron," were the names on the cards sent to Dr. Grant late that afternoon, and in a few moments he was with the father and sister asking so anxiously for Wilford and explaining why Katy was not with them.

Wilford was sleeping when they entered his room, his face looking so worn and thin, and his hands folded so helplessly upon his breast, that with a gush of tears Bell knelt beside him and laying her warm cheek against his bony one, woke him with her sobs. For a moment he seemed bewildered, then recognising her, he raised his feeble arm and winding it about her neck, kissed her more tenderly than he had ever done before. He had not been demonstrative of his affection for his sisters.

But Bell was his favorite, and he held her close to him while his eyes moved past his father, whom he did not see, on to the door as if in quest of some one. It was Katy, and, guessing his thoughts, Bell said:

"She is not here. She could not come now. She is sick in New York, but will join us in a few days."

There was a look of intense disappointment in Wilford's face, which even his father's warm greeting could not dissipate, and Morris saw the great tears as they dropped upon the pillow, the proud man trying hard to repress them, and asking no questions concerning any one at home. He was too weak to talk, but he held Bell's hand firmly in his as if afraid that she would leave him, while his eyes rested alternately upon her face and that of his father, who, wholly unmanned at the fearful change in his son, laid his head upon the bed and cried aloud.

Next morning Bell was very white and her voice trembled as she sought her brother's side and asked how he had rested. She had come from a conference with Dr. Morris, who had told her that her brother would die.

"He may live a week and he may not," he said, adding solemnly: "As his sister you will tell him of his danger while there is time to seek the refuge without which death is terrible."

"Oh, if I could only pray with and for him," Bell thought, as she went next to her brother, mourning her misspent days, and feeling her courage giving way when at last she stood in his presence and met his kindly smile.

"I dreamed it was all a dream," he said, "and that you were not here after all. I am so glad to find it real. How long before I can go home, do you suppose?"

He had stumbled upon the very thing Bell was there to talk about, his question indicating that he had no suspicion of the truth. Nor had he, and it came like a thunderbolt, when Bell, forgetting all her prudence, said impetuously:

"Oh, Wilford, maybe you'll never go home. Maybe you'll--"

"Not die!" Wilford exclaimed, clasping his hands with sudden emotion.

"Not die, you don't mean that. Who told you so? Who said I was near to death?"

"Dr. Grant," was Bell's reply, which brought a fierce frown to Wilford's face, and awoke all the angry pa.s.sions of his heart.

"Dr. Grant," he repeated. "He says so because he wishes it. He would like me removed from his path, but it shall not be. I will not die. Tell him that. I will not die," and Wilford's voice was hoa.r.s.e with pa.s.sion as he raised his clinched fists in the air.