Medoline Selwyn's Work Part 49

"She's no better, ma'am, and Missus thinks she'll never be; but, my! we da.s.sent tell her; she's that 'fraid of death."

"Does she see strangers?"

"There's not many comes to see her, but I'll tell her you're here. Just step in here, please, and sit down for a minute."

She opened a door near by; but I thanked her and said I would wait in the garden among the roses for her answer.

She soon came for me with a smiling face, saying Mrs. Le Grande would be glad to see me, and then led the way to her room.

Mrs. Le Grande was reclining in an invalid's chair, propped up with pillows, a rich satin quilt thrown over her feet, and robed in a pink silk wrapper that matched perfectly her exquisite complexion and the roses fastened in her hair. She received me with a gaiety that, under the circ.u.mstances, astonished me, saying: "Why, how well you look! Your attack of fever could not have been so severe as mine."

"I was very ill indeed, I cannot imagine how one could be worse and live," I said, gravely.

"But I shall not be so strong as you for some weeks. It has left me with a troublesome cough, I shall be well when that leaves me."

I felt constrained; uncertain what to say. Since her recovery was doubtful I shrank from encouraging her in a false hope, and I could not tell her that we all thought she must soon die. She soon noticed my constraint, and began to rally me.

"Is it on account of Mr. Winthrop's absence you are looking so sorrowful?" she asked.

"I was not thinking of him, but of you alone."

"That is kind, but I am not flattered. I did not think I was such a gloomy object for reflection."

"I was only sorry to see you looking so frail, and wishing I could help you," I said, gently.

"If you only could, I would very soon discharge those useless doctors; they are all alike, I believe; for I have tried each one of them in turn, and they none of them have done much for me."

"I do not think there is so much difference in doctors as people imagine, if they but learn the nature of the disease, they all know the proper remedies to use."

"That is poor consolation for me, I know if I had a good physician I would be well in a few days; but the trouble with those who have attended me is, they do not understand my case and do not administer the proper remedies."

"Nature is an excellent healer herself. If wisely a.s.sisted, she soon works the miracle of healing, unless,--" I hesitated.

"Unless what?" she asked sharply.

"G.o.d has willed otherwise."

"I cannot listen to such words, I am not going to die until I am old. Oh, why must we grow old and die at last? it was a cruel way to create us."

"The other world seemed so beautiful to me when I was so sick, I scarcely wanted to come back to this."

"Well, it seems just the reverse to me, I lie awake at night and shudder when I think of death and the grave. It makes me shudder now in the sunshine, and with you smiling down so kindly at me. Please to never mention such things to me again."

I felt grieved; for then my task in coming here would be a vain one.

Day by day as I came to see her, the hectic flush in her cheek kept deepening, and the eyes grew brighter and more sorrowful, while she grew gradually weaker.

Very soon the pretty parlor was vacated, while her bed was the only comfortable resting-place. She was anxious to have me come, and the nurse said she counted the hours between my departure and return. Her eagerness to have me read to her puzzled me at first, especially since she was indifferent as to what I read, but after a while I found that she prized my reading merely because it acted as a sedative. During the night sleep usually forsook her; but when I left she was generally sleeping peacefully. She permitted me to read the Bible as much as I chose. One day she explained the reason for her indifference in the matter:--

"I do not wish to get interested in anything you read, for then I would keep awake to listen; but the sleep you bring me is better than all my medicine, I set nurse reading to me one day; but her voice was uncultivated, and her emphasis intolerable I should soon be well if you would read to me all the time."

"I never heard of any one getting raised from a sick-bed by so simple a remedy."

"You do not try to encourage me," she said, fretfully.

I read on to her day after day until my voice grew husky, and the mere act of speaking often wearied me.

We all saw the end was rapidly approaching, but no one had the courage to tell her. She got so angry with me one day when I suggested bringing Mr.

Lathrop to visit her, that I slipped quietly away to escape the storm I had raised. I used to go and return with a sense of defeat that paralyzed all hopeful enthusiasm, and fearing that Mr. Winthrop's displeasure had probably been a second time incurred, without any corresponding gain to debit the loss.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE SOUND OF MARRIAGE BELLS.

I came home one day more dispirited than usual. I had found Mrs. Le Grande weaker than ever, and yet she was clinging tenaciously to life, and had that morning dictated an order to her dress-maker in New York for a most elaborate costume. When I tried to urge her to think of something more enduring than the raiment whose fashion and beauty soon changes, she forbade me mentioning such a thing again in her presence, nor would she listen to the Scripture reading on which I always insisted as the one condition on which I would read to her at all. I knew my own words were powerless to break the crust of worldliness and selfishness that bound her heart, but I hoped G.o.d's word might pierce it. Hubert had returned from college a few days before, and just as I entered the oak avenue from the little footpath through the wood, I met him cantering along on Faery.

"A stranger has just arrived whom you will be surprised to see," he called to me.

"Any one I know?" I asked carelessly.

"I should say it was; and one whom you will be glad to see, if I am not mistaken."

"Won't you tell me who it is and so prolong my pleasure, for I am not going direct to the house. I intend taking a stroll through the garden to try and get some unhappy fancies brushed away by the blossoms."

"Antic.i.p.ation is said to exceed realization, so I will generously leave you the former," he said, giving Faery the whip and cantering rapidly away.

I did not find the flowers such comforters as I hoped, and soon entered the house, no doubt slightly impelled thereto by a natural curiosity as well. I glanced into the drawing-room and parlors as I pa.s.sed along the hall and began to think Hubert was merely subjecting me to one of his practical jokes, as I could see no sign of visitors anywhere, and I concluded to go to the library and try for a while to forget myself and heartaches in an hour's hard reading. I found the door ajar and when I entered the room was surprised to find the curtains drawn, and the room flooded with the June sunshine. I turned to the study-table to see who might be taking such liberties in the master's absence when there, standing with his back to me stood Mr. Winthrop himself. He turned suddenly and saw me. "Ah, little one, have you come to speak to me?"

"I did not know you were here; but I am very glad to speak to you--to welcome you home," I said, giving him my hand.

"You seem like one come back to me from the dead," he said, soberly, still holding my hand.

"I am not sure if it was not you who held me back from those shining gates."

"What do you mean?"

"When you held my hand through that long night, I thought but for your firm grasp I should drift out of reach of life altogether."

"I tried to pray that night, Medoline, as I had never done before; I believe my prayers were answered."

"Then you have found that the Bible is true?" I asked, looking up eagerly into his face.

"Yes, every day more clearly."

"Then it was well worth all the weariness and pain I endured to have you say this; but have you fully forgiven me, Mr. Winthrop, and may we take up our friendship as before?"