Hills of the Shatemuc Part 153

"I want to be here. You go to bed and keep quiet -- I'll tell you another time."

"Is she sick?"

"Yes -- I don't know -- Go in, Rose, and be quiet!"

Which Rose did. Clam came back and reported that there was no doctor to be sent for, short of a great many miles.

Elizabeth's heart sunk fearfully. What could she and her companions do with a dying woman? -- if she were really that.

Karen crept nearer the fire, and Clam built it up and made it blaze. Then she stood on one side, and her young mistress on the other.

"Go to bed, Miss 'Lizabeth," said Clam. "I'll see to her."

But Elizabeth did not move so much as an eyelid.

"I don't want nothin'," said Karen presently. "Miss Lizzie, if you see the Governor -- tell him --"

"Tell him what?"

"Tell him to hold on, -- will you? -- the way his mother went and the way he's a goin'. Tell him to hold on till he gets there. Will you tell him?"

"Certainly! I will tell him anything you please."

Karen was silent for a little s.p.a.ce, and then began again.

"Is't _your_ way?"

Elizabeth's lips moved a little, but they closed and she made no answer.

"Mis' Landholm went that way, and Governor's goin', and I'm goin' too.

"'I'm going, -- I'm going, -- I'm --'"

"Do you feel better, Karen?" said Elizabeth interrupting her.

"I'm goin' -- I don' know how soon axactly, Miss Lizzie -- but I feel it. I am all givin' away. It's time. I've seen my life all through, and I'm ready. I'm ready -- praise the Lord. I was ready a great while ago, but it wa'n't the Lord's time and now if he pleases, I'm ready."

"Wouldn't you feel better if you were to go to your own room and lie down?"

Karen made no answer for some time and then only was half understood to say that "this was the best place." Elizabeth did not move. Clam fetched a thick coa.r.s.e coverlid and wrapping herself in it, lay down at full length on the floor.

"Go to bed, Miss 'Lizabeth, -- I'm settled. I'll see to her. I guess she ain't goin' afore mornin'."

"You will go to sleep, Clam, and then she will have n.o.body to do anything for her."

"I'll wake up once in a while, Miss 'Lizabeth, to see she don't do nothin' to me."

Elizabeth stood another minute, thinking bitterly how invaluable Winthrop would be, in the very place where she knew herself so valueless. Another sharp contrast of their two selves; and then she drew up a chair to the fire and sat down too; determined at least to do the little she could do, give her eyes and her presence. Clam's entreaties and representations were of no avail. Karen made none.

They watched by her, or at least Elizabeth did, through hour after hour. She watched alone, for Clam slept and snored most comfortably; and Karen's poor head much of the time rested in her hands. Whether conscious or unconscious, she was very quiet; and her watcher trimmed the fire and mused with no interruption. At first with much fear and trembling; for she did not know how soon Karen's prophecy might come true; but as the night wore on and no change was to be seen or felt, this feeling quieted down and changed into a very sober and sad review of all the things of her own life, in the past and in the future. The present was but a point, she did not dwell on it; yet in that point was the sweetest and fairest thing her mind had in possession; her beginning of a new life and her hold of the promise which a.s.sured her that strength should not be wanting to live it until the end. She did look over her several present duties and made up her mind to the self- denying and faithful performance of them; but then her longing came back, for a human hand to hold her and help her on the journey's way. And her head bowed to the chair-back; and it was a good while before she recollected again to look at the fire or at her charge in front of it.

Karen's att.i.tude was more easy; and Elizabeth excessively fatigued, with pain as well as weariness, felt inclined to steal off to bed and leave her door open, that she might readily hear if she was wanted. But it occurred to her that Winthrop for his own ease never would have deserted his post.

She dismissed the thought of sleep and rest; and disposed herself to wear out the remnant of the night as she had begun it; in attendance on what she was not sure needed her attendance.

A longer night Elizabeth never knew, and with fear in the first part and watching in the last part of' it, the morning found her really haggard and ill. But Karen was no worse; and not knowing what to think about her, but comforting herself with the hope that at least her danger was not imminent, Elizabeth went to bed, coveting sleep inexpressibly, for its forgetfulness as well as its rest. But sleep was not to be had so promptly.

"Miss 'Lizabeth! --" And there stood Clam before her opening eyes, as fresh and as black as ever, with a clean turban in the last state of smartness.

"What _is_ the matter?"

"Where will you have breakfast? Karen ain't goin' at all at present. Where will you have it?"

"Nowhere."

"Will I clear her out of the kitchen?"

"No! -- let her alone. Mrs. Haye's woman may see to breakfast in her mistress's room -- I don't want anything -- but sleep.

Let Karen have and do just what she wants."

"Won't Clam do as much!" -- said the toss of the clean turban as its owner went out of the room. And the issue was, a very nice little breakfast brought to Miss Haye's bed-side in the s.p.a.ce of half an hour. Elizabeth was waked up and looked dubious.

"You want it," said her handmaid. "The Governor said you was to take it."

"Is he here!" exclaimed Elizabeth, with an amount of fire in eye and action that, as Clam declared afterwards, "had like to have made her upset everything." But she answered demurely,

"He ain't here just yet. I guess he's comin', though."

Elizabeth's eye went down, and an eye as observant if not so brilliant as her own, watched how the pink tinge rose and mounted in the cheeks as she betook herself to the bread and coffee. "Ain't she eatin' her breakfast like a good child!"

said Clam to herself. "_That_ put her down."

And with a "Now you'll sleep --" Clam carried off the breakfast tray, and took care her mistress should have no second disturbance from anybody else. Elizabeth only heard once or twice in the course of the day that nothing was wanted from her; so slept her sleep out.

It was slept out at last, and Elizabeth got up and began to dress. Or rather, took her dressing-comb in hand and planted herself in front of the window, and there forgot what she had to do. It was a fine afternoon of October, late in the day. It was very fair outside. The hills touched here and there in their green with a frost-spot -- yellow, or tawny, or red; the river water lying very calm; and a calm sky over-head; the air as pure as though vapours and mists were refined away for ever. The distant trees of the woodland shewed in round distinct ma.s.ses of foliage, through such an atmosphere; the rocky sh.o.r.e edge cut sharp against the water; the nearer cedars around the home valley seemed to tell their individual leaves. Here and there in some one of them a Virginia creeper's luxuriant wreaths were colouring with suspicious tokens of crimson. Not in their full brilliancy yet, the trees and the vine-leaves were in fair preparation; and fancy could not imagine them more fair than they looked that afternoon.

"So bright without! -- and so dark within!" -- Elizabeth thought. "When will it end -- or is it only beginning? Such a flood of brightness was over me a little while ago, -- and now, there is one burden in one room, and another in another room, and I myself am the greatest burden of all. Because my life has nothing to look forward to -- in this world -- and heaven is not enough; I want something in this world. -- Yes, I do. -- Yet Winthrop Landholm has nothing more than I have, in this world's things, and he don't feel like me. What is the reason?

Why is his face _always_ so at rest, -- so bright -- so strong?

Ah, it must be that he is so much better than I! -- he _has_ more, not of this world's things; religion is something to him that it is not to me; he must love his Master far better than I do. -- Then religion might be more to me. -- It shall be -- I will try; -- but oh! if I had never seen another Christian in all my life, how well his single example would make me know that religion is a strong reality. What a reward his will be!

I wonder how many besides me he will have drawn to heaven -- he does not dream that he has ever done me any good. Yet it is pleasant to owe so much to him -- and it's bitter! --"

"You'll tire yourself with lookin', Miss 'Lizabeth," said Clam behind her. "Mannahatta ain't so far off as that."

Elizabeth started a little from her fixed att.i.tude and began to handle her dressing-comb.

"'Taint so far folks can't get here, I guess."

"Clam!" -- said her mistress facing about.

"Well, Miss Lizzie --"