The Harvest of Years Part 4

"You and he have only seen nineteen short years. Wisdom is the ripened fruit of years; you cannot judge of your future from to-day."

That comforted me, and I felt better in my mind. I planned something to say to Louis, but every opportunity was lost, and the last week of his stay had already begun. The plans of his little mother had been confided to me, and work had commenced.

There was to be an addition of four large rooms on the west side of our house, and they were planned in accordance with Clara's ideas. She did not call them her's, and started with the understanding that the improvements were just a little present for her dear cousins. Best of all, we were to have a bow window in one of the rooms, and this was something so new, so different, it seemed a greater thing to me than the architecture of the ancient cathedrals. A bow window, and the panes of gla.s.s double, yes, treble the size of the old ones!

I heard father say to mother that this new part would make the old one look very shabby; but Louis had told me his mother intended to do all father would allow her to, and encourage him a little, etc. And we were to have a new fence. You cannot imagine how fairy-like this all seemed to me, and I could hardly believe what I saw. It seemed as if we were in a wonderland country, and I had moved as in a dream up to the last hour of my walk with Louis. Then I seemed to awake, as if shaken by a rough hand, and since then I had been striving to appear what I was not, all the time thinking that Louis misunderstood me, and here we were in the last week of his stay and no word as yet in explanation. I had thought it over until it became a truth to me that after all he had not meant that he loved me other than as a sister, and it also seemed to me that was just what I needed. What remained was to have it settled between us, and to do that I must clothe my thoughts with words, else how could he know how I felt. It seemed, too, that it was sheer boldness on my part to dream for a moment that Louis spoke of life's crowning love. He meant to be as a brother to me, and again I sighed, as I stood at the ironing table, "Ah, Emily Minot, you are a born mistake, that's just what you are!" and as I sighed I spoke these words, and, turning, found myself face to face with Louis, who had just come from the village. He never could wait for the stage to come, and had been over as usual for letters.

"The only mistake is that you don't know yourself," he said.

And the tears that had welled up to my eyes fell so fast, and I was so choked, that I turned from work, thinking to escape into mother's bedroom and hide myself; but my eye caught sight of a letter in his hand unopened, and love for Hal rose above all my foolish tears, and so I stood quietly waiting the denouement.

"Come into the other room with me, Emily; I have something to tell you."

He sat down on the little chintz-covered lounge, and I beside him.

"Emily, you are a strong woman, your heart will beat fast, but you will neither scream nor faint when I tell you; your brother is ill. There was a letter in the office and also a telegram at the depot. What will be done, who can go to him?"

I did not scream or faint as he had said, but I clasped my hands tightly and shut my eyes as if some terrible sight was before me, while my poor heart grieved and brain reeled, as I thought, "Oh! he will die, poor Hal! alone among strangers, and how would our patient mother bear it, and what should we do!"

My face was white, I know, for grief always blanched my face and brought those terribly silent tears, that fall like solemn rain drops--each a tongue. You must remember that I was a smothered fire in those days.

Louis put his strong arm around me, and stroked my forehead as if I were a child and he my mother.

"He will not die, little flower, thy brother will live; you must go to him, and I will go with you. You must not go alone to a great city."

"Oh Louis!" I said, "he had only just begun to love me when he went away, and now if he dies, what shall I do without him? Prayers have but little weight, they ought to have saved him, I have prayed so long, so hard, Louis, for his safety. But I must tell mother." And when she heard me, and I said I must go to him, she sat down as if in despair; but a moment after looked almost cheerful as she said:

"You must start to-night, my dear, and I must get all the little medicines I can think of ready for you to take, and as soon as he is able he must come home. If it is a fever, I fear for his lungs."

Clara waited until our talk was over, and then came and said Louis must go with me; put into my hands a well filled purse, and said:

"Bring the brother back, dear cousin; don't wait for him to get well; bring him back on a bed if necessary; he will never get well among strangers."

When father came he was pained beyond expression, and his first thought was for means to do all that must be done.

"Clara has provided that, father," and he was too thankful to reply.

Everything was ready; Louis and I said "good-bye" to all, and drove rapidly away, for in order to reach the station below ours, where we could take a night train West, we must ride thirty miles. The train was due at eight-forty-five, and it was four o'clock when we started; a neighboring farmer (Mr. Graves), who had a span of fleet horses took us, and we dashed over the ground rapidly, having full five minutes to breathe in at the depot ere we took the train. No luxurious palace cars in those days, you know, just the cushioned seats, but that was enough for me; I thought I could have sat on a hard wooden seat, or on anything if I only could reach that suffering boy. Louis tried to arrange our baggage so that I could sleep.

"Sleep will not come to my eyelids to-night, Louis, I shall not sleep until I see Halbert, and know how he is and is to be."

"Now, Miss Emily," he said as he took my hand in his, "I say you must sleep. Watching will do him no good until we get there, and more than this, it may do him much harm, for if you get so tired, you will be ill yourself when you arrive and then he will have no sister. For Hal's sake, Miss Emily, you shall go to sleep; lean on my shoulder, and I believe I can help your nerves to become quiet."

I knew he was right, and yielded myself to the strong control he possessed over me, and I slept I know not how long. When I awoke Louis said we were getting along at good speed.

"Day will break soon, and then comes a change of cars, and in a little while we shall see the great city."

I was for a few moments at a loss to realize everything; when I did I said:

"Selfish girl to sleep so long, and you have sat here watching me, and now you are so tired."

"Not so tired,--so glad for your rest--I can sleep to-morrow, and when we get to Chicago you shall watch him days and I will watch nights; we shall go to him armed with strength, which is more than medicine; I told you long ago I had something to do for Hal, you see it is coming."

The whole journey was pleasant, and sometimes it seemed wicked when Hal was so sick for me to feel so rested and peaceful, but here I was controlled, and it was blessed to be. I might never have come back to my mother had it not been for the power of Louis' strong thought and will.

The journey accomplished, it was not long ere we saw the dear face of my blessed brother. I will not detail all the small horrors that met me in the house where we found him. It might have seemed worse to me than it really was, but oh! how I needed all the peace that had settled upon me, to take in the surroundings of that fourth story room. Soul and sense revolted at the sickening odors of the little pen, where, on a wretched cot, my brother lay. I thought of our home, and drew rapid contrasts between our comfortable beds, and the straw pallet before me; our white clean floors, home-made rugs, and,--but never mind. Then I said in my heart, "G.o.d help me to be more thankful," and with br.i.m.m.i.n.g eyes I caught both Hal's hands in my own, and looked in his flushed face, trying vainly to catch a look of recognition. He did not know me. Louis had kindly stepped aside to give me all the room, but he watched me closely, and caught me as I staggered backward feeling all the strength go suddenly from my limbs, while from my lips came the words which burned into my soul, "He will die." I had never in my life fainted, and did not now. Louis drew a little flask of brandy from his pocket and forced a few drops into my mouth. My will came back to me, and in a few moments I could think a little. "A doctor, Louis, oh! where is there one--what shall we do?" Even as I spoke, Hal's employer entered and with him Dr. Selden. The merchant did not come as near to me as did the old doctor with his good-natured, genial face, and quiet but elastic step. I forgot everything but the sufferer, and turned to him with upraised hands and streaming eyes, saying:

"Oh! tell me quickly what to do, don't let him die, he has a good home and friends, we love him dearly, help me to get him there," adding, in answer to his look of inquiry, "I am his sister, and this gentleman,"

turning to Louis, "is our friend Mr. Desmonde."

The doctor laid his hand on my head and said:

"I have not seen the patient before; an examination will doubtless help me to answer your question, and to give you the help you ask. Rest yourself, Miss, you will soon need a physician's aid yourself," and he drew a chair close to the foot of the bed for me. Then he felt Hal's pulse, stroked his head a little, and sat quietly down at the foot of the bed just opposite me, and laid one hand over Hal's heart, leaning forward a little, and looking as if half mystified. The few minutes we sat there seemed to me an hour, waiting, as it seemed, for decision between life and death. Suddenly Halbert sprang up and shouted:

"Here! here! this way, almost finished--hold my heart--hold it still; I'll make Emily's eyes snap when I get home, ha, ha!" and then a sort of gurgling sound filled his throat, and he placed both hands over his chest, and sank back, while for an instant all the blood left his face.

I put my hand into Louis', and groaned, trying hard to control myself, for I knew we were close to the shadows, and perhaps, "Oh, yes," I comfortingly thought, "perhaps we need not pa.s.s through them all."

Doctor Selden moved to the head of his bed, and held both hands on Hal's temples; for a few moments it seemed as if no one breathed, then Hal drew a long breath as if he were inhaling something, and whispered:

"That feels good; my head is tired, tired, tired."

This gave me courage. It seemed then as if he were feeling the power of an uplifting hand, and soon--

"Emily, Emily!" pa.s.sed his lips. "Tell her to come to me, she will help me, tell her to come." Then for a few moments all was still, and he slept. Dr. Selden looked at me with hope in his eyes, and tears of grat.i.tude gathered to run like a river of rain drops over my cheeks. He slept twenty minutes, and as he stirred the doctor motioned me to come where he could see me. His eyes opened and met mine.

"Emily!" he said, and putting both arms around my neck, drew my head down to his pillow, and whispered:

"Don't cry--I'll go home with you--all right, the end will be all right." Fearing for his strength, I said softly:

"Don't talk, you're too weak, Hal; lie still for a little while and shut your eyes." I raised my head and put my hand on his forehead, and soon he was asleep. Then in a low, kind tone the doctor told us the crisis was past, and now we must wait for the changes, which were one by one to fall on him. Hal's employer urged me to go to his house, and let Louis remain with Halbert, and at last it was arranged that at night I should sleep there, and Louis stay with Hal. Several hours would elapse, however, before night, and during this time Dr. Selden, Louis and I would stay with Hal.

I had time during his long sleep to think of something to be done for him, and realized, as I recovered from the first shock his situation gave to my nerves, the importance of a different room, better ventilation, etc., and when Dr. Selden motioned to Louis to take his seat near Hal's head, where he could lay his hand upon him when he woke, I whispered to him my thoughts. His answer, though somewhat comforting, bade me wait until he could decide what was best. He took my hand in his and called me "little girl,"--just think of it, I was five feet six inches high, my face looked every day of forty that minute,--told me I was too tired to plan, and he would attend to it all, adding, at the close of his dear good talk:

"His artist soul has nearly used up his physical strength. I feel there has been great pressure on the nerves. If so there must be, according to the course of nature, rapid changes up to a certain point, and then there will be a thorough change slowly wrought out. Do not doubt my skill, 'little girl,' he will come out all right; you and I have a sure hold on his heart-strings."

I could hardly wait to ask the question, "What do you mean by his artist soul? what is he doing? and the doctor's eyes were looking in wonder at me, and his lips parting with a word, when Hal's voice startled us with:

"Emily, who is this?" and we turned to see him looking at Louis, whose hand was on his head.

I answered, "The dear friend Hal who brought me here."

"What a beautiful hand he has. Oh! how it rests my tired, tired brain,"

he said. "Water, Emily, sister, a little water."

Dr. Selden gave him a gla.s.s, saying, "Drink all you like."

"I am faint," said Hal.