The Earth Trembled Part 56

"Yes," replied George, "for the square is filling up again, and we should keep as much s.p.a.ce here as possible. I have a small tent which I will put up at once for Mrs. Bodine and Mrs. Hunter. Then I'll rig an awning for my father, and help the rest of you in whatever you decide upon."

"George," said his father, anxiously, "let your visits to the house be as brief as possible."

Clancy offered to a.s.sist George in meeting the immediate need of shelter from the sun, and Dr. Devoe gave the morning to the care of his many patients. Mr. Willoughby said that he must first go to his home for clothing and to look after matters, but that he would soon return. Bodine was asked to mount guard and prevent, as far as possible, the fugitives from encroaching on the needed s.p.a.ce. This proved no easy task. Old Tobe, after having received some breakfast, maintained his watch over the medical stores, while Aun' Sheba, who had followed her husband as fast as her limited powers of travelling permitted, cleared away the remnants of the breakfast for her family, George a.s.suring her that he would soon make all comfortable provision for her and them.

With Clancy and the two colored men he repaired to his home, as the wrecked venture to a ship which may break up at any moment, in order to secure what was absolutely essential. A tent was soon pitched for the invalids; a shelter of quilts suspended over and around his father, and a large carpet jerked from the floor formed an awning for the ladies. Part of this awning was part.i.tioned off so as to give them all the privacy possible under the circ.u.mstances, and the remainder was inclosed on three sides, but left open toward the east.

"I'm not going to be sent to the hospital," said Mrs. Bodine. "I'd rather sit up and direct Ella how to transform this outer habitation into a drawing-room."

Then George brought her and his father easy-chairs. Rugs were spread on the gra.s.s, and the rude shelter became positively inviting. Ella and Mrs.

Willoughby made themselves so useful that at last Miss Ainsley so far recovered from her panic as to a.s.sist. She detested Mara, and Mrs.

Hunter's ghastly face and white hair embodied to her mind the terror of which all were in dread. The bright sunshine and homely work were suggestive of rural pleasures rather than of dire necessity, and helped, for the time, to retire the spectre of danger to the background. The coming and going of many acquaintances and friends also helped to rally her spirits, and incite her to the semblance of courage. Mrs. Willoughby, Mrs. Bodine, and Mara had stanch friends who sought them out the moment comparative safety had been secured for their nearer dependants. The demands of our story require nothing more than the brief statement that there was a general disposition on the part of the people to think of and care for all who had claims upon them. Even in the dreadful hours immediately following the first shock, much unselfish heroism was displayed; and during the weary days and nights which followed, men and women vied with each other in their attentions to those who most needed care.

Mrs. Bodine, Mrs. Willoughby, and the captain had several whispered conferences with those who felt surprise at a.s.sociations with Mr.

Houghton, and there was a quick, generous response to the old man's kindness. Some who would not have looked at him the day before now went and spoke to him gratefully and sympathetically, while for George only cordiality and admiration were manifested. He was not a little uneasy over the profuse attentions and offers of help which Ella received from several young men. To his jealous eyes she appeared unnecessarily gracious, and more ready to talk with them than with him; but he could not discover that she had an especial favorite among them. Indeed, she managed in their case as in his that Mrs. Willoughby, Miss Ainsley, or some one else should share in the conversation.

At last Bodine said to George, "I will now go to Mrs. Hunter's rooms and to Mrs. Bodine's residence, and obtain what is most essential. Can you spare one of your servants to carry what I cannot?"

"Certainly, and I will go with you myself. Clancy and Sam can continue operations here."

"George," said his father, "as soon as the absolute necessity for entering buildings is over, I wish you to keep away from them."

"Yes, father."

Ella added, "Remember, Mr. Houghton, that is a promise. Please let the words 'absolute necessity' have their full meaning;" and her face was so full of solicitude that he said, "I promise you also."

With a smile and flush she turned to her father whispering the tenderest cautions and emphasizing the truth that but few things were essential, some of which she mentioned. Jube had become like a faithful spaniel, the spirit of his young master rea.s.suring him so as to feel his only safety lay in obedience.

As George and Bodine went down the street they were saddened by the evidences of disaster on every side. Even Meeting Street was still so obstructed as to be almost impa.s.sable for vehicles, and in some places the ruins were still being searched for the dead. When they reached Mrs.

Hunter's home Bodine groaned inwardly, "How the poor girl must have suffered!" He added aloud, "The mental distress caused by my helplessness during the last few hours, Mr. Houghton, has been much harder to bear than the wound which cost me my leg and the suffering which followed."

"My dear captain," replied George, "your courage and clear head make you far less helpless than hundreds who only use their legs to run with. Let me enter this sh.e.l.l of a house alone."

"That would be a sad commentary on your remark."

They speedily obtained what they deemed essential, and turned off the gas, which was still burning. It was evident that no one had entered the house since its occupants had left it. Mrs. Bodine's residence was comparatively uninjured, and when leaving it the captain was able to lock the outer door.

On their way back to the square George stammered:

"Captain Bodine, it may be very bad taste to speak of such a matter now, but we do not know what an hour will bring forth. I would like to have some understanding with you. Beyond that there may be no need of anything further being said until all these troubles are over. I--I--well, can I venture to make my former request? Your daughter has my happiness wholly in her hands. I do not intend to embarra.s.s her by a word until she is again in her own home, but I wish to know that my hopes and efforts to win her regard have your sanction."

"How does your father feel about this?" Bodine asked gravely.

"He has given his full and cordial approval. Now that he has seen Miss Bodine she has won him completely."

"Mr. Houghton, I owe to you her life which I value more than my own. You know we are lacking in everything except pride and good name."

"My dear sir," interrupted George earnestly, "G.o.d has endowed your daughter as man could not. You know I love and honor her for herself and always shall."

"You are right," said the father proudly, "and you are so truly a man, as well as a gentleman, that you estimate my penniless daughter at her intrinsic worth. As far as my approval and good wishes are concerned you have them."

Ella thought that George's face was wonderfully radiant when he appeared.

As soon as she could get a word alone with her father, she asked, "What have you been saying to Mr. Houghton?"

"I have only answered his second request that he might pay you his addresses."

"Oh, papa! what a tantalizing answer! What did he say, and what did you say, word for word? Surely you didn't tell--"

"I only gave my consent, not yours. You are at perfect liberty to reject him," was the smiling reply.

"That is well as far as it goes, but I wish to know every word."

Her father's heart was too heavy to permit continuance in a playful vein, and he told her substantially what had been said. "Well," she concluded, with a complacent little nod, "I think I'll let him pay his addresses a while longer. The absurd fellow to go and idealize me so! Time will cure such folly, however. Papa, there's something troubling you besides the earthquake."

"Yes, Ella, and you must help me--you and Cousin Sophy." Then he told her how he thought matters stood between Mara and Clancy, checked her first indignant words, explained and insisted until she promised that she and Mrs. Bodine would shield Mara, and act as if she were as free as she had ever been. "It will all come about yet, papa," Ella whispered, "for Mr.

Clancy has evidently committed himself to Miss Ainsley, although now I reckon he regrets it."

"Well, Ella dear, redouble your kindness and gentleness to Mara, and let matters over which we have no control take their course."

Clancy had not been idle during the morning, finding in constant occupation, and even in the incurring of risks, a relief to his perturbed thoughts. He and Sam procured a small cooking-stove, and also set up the cross-sticks of a gypsy camp before the open side of the awning. Aun'

Sheba was placed in charge of the provisions, a responsibility in which Uncle Sheba wished to share, but she said severely, "Mr. Buggone, you'se dun git yer lowance wid Sissy an' de chil'n."

Mr. Willoughby at last returned on an express-wagon, well loaded with articles which would add much comfort in the enforced picnic. His face was sad and troubled as he greeted his wife.

"Oh, Jennie," he said, "our pretty home is such a wreck!"

"No matter, Hal, since you are safe and sound," was her cheery reply.

"Come, girls, we can now dress for dinner. I feel like a fool in this light silk."

They all eventually reappeared in costumes more suitable for camping.

Mrs. Bodine was also enabled to exchange her blanket wrapper for the one she was accustomed to wear at home. With almost the zest of a girl she appreciated the picturesque elements of their experiences; and her high spirits and courage were infectious. With the aid of Sam and Jube, Aunt Sheba entered vigorously on preparations for dinner; a breeze with pa.s.sing clouds tempered the sun's hot rays; and hope again began to cheer as time pa.s.sed without further disturbance.

CHAPTER XLVI

"ON JORDAN'S BANKS WE STAND"

Aunt Sheba had succeeded fairly well with the dinner, considering the materials and the appliances available. Not one, however, was disposed to epicurean fastidiousness. The situation was gravely discussed, and the experiences of friends related. Dr. Devoe gave cheering a.s.surances that injury to life and limb had been far less than might have been expected.

"The first shock could scarcely have come at a better time," he said. "If it had happened when the streets were full of people, one shudders to think of the number that would have been killed or maimed. The fact is, the great majority of casualties appear to have occurred as people were leaving their houses."

Mrs. Hunter received much attention from him, and she continued so ill that Mara did not leave her. Bodine became convinced that a chance to speak with Mara in private might not be obtained very speedily, and therefore, with kindly consideration for her feelings, resolved to write that afternoon. He had nothing at hand better than pencil and note-book.

He wrote:

"MY DEAR MARA--You have so many sorrows and anxieties now that I cannot wait longer in my effort to relieve you of one of them. You should have been more frank with me; yet, so far from reproaching you, I only remember that you are the daughter of my dearest friend, and that you need me as protector and father rather than as lover. I appreciate your motive to sacrifice yourself for my sake. Perhaps you will remember that I have warned you against this n.o.ble impulse of self-sacrifice--a tendency, however, which may be carried much too far. You utterly misjudge me if you think I would consciously accept any such sacrifice on your part. As far as I am concerned you are free from any obligation whatever, except that of trusting me, and coming to me as Ella does, as nearly as you can. You need a stanch and faithful protector against yourself, and such will be HUGH BODINE."