Part 13 (1/2)
”Have you heard from Mary lately, Belle?”
”Not for a week, and I'm quite worried about her. Before that, she wrote to me dutifully every two or three days, telling me all about her work.
I've kept on writing to her just the same, making excuses for her to herself, and never doubting her for a minute; but to tell you the truth, Dave, I'm getting dreadfully anxious.”
Then I told her what I had heard.
”Don't you believe it, David! I never shall till I hear it from herself. I know now for a certainty that I love that girl! I'll believe her before all the world! I'll stick by her through thick and thin! I'll not insult her by writing to the Hospital! What now matters the little inconveniences of living with her? What have a few clothes and toilet articles, more or less, to do with it? If she has failed, she shall come _home_, and we'll begin the three years' fight all over again. I'll sit down now and write her the nicest letter I can write.”
That sounded very brave, but inwardly I knew that my wife suffered agonies the next few days.
”Perhaps if I had done this,” she would say, ”or if I had done that--it seems precisely like a death, and I've killed her.”
Tuesday morning, two letters came from Mary. They were hurriedly and excitedly written.
”My dear good mother, I am accepted! It is the happiest day of my life; it will be a red letter day for you! I love you. I have tried so hard for your sake; I have tried to make my life hear one long prayer and the dear Lord helps me. I did not write because the exam. was delaid, and I wanted to wait untill I had something _good_ to tell you. I look nice in the unniform. It is pink and a white cap, ap.r.o.n and cuffs. Oh I am so contented; this work is so filling. I never get lonely or homesick. _We_ nurses had a party, and we danced and served ice cream, and there was some lovely doctors here, and the Princippal is so kind to us we have lots of fun”--and so the letters ran on.
The reaction was too much for Belle. She cried, then she laughed, then she fell on her knees and thanked G.o.d, and she told me she added that, for pity's sake, He _must_ set His angels to guard Mary, for she was a poor, frail child, who had got lost in coming this time, and many persecuted her because she was pretty, and might find a resting place and get a little of what rightfully (?) belonged to them.
After a while she went down to see Mr. Armstrong, and read him the letters. He turned very white.
”Oh, the pity of it!” said he.
”I wish I could gather her slanderers into one room and read them these letters,” said Belle.
For days afterward she b.u.t.ton-holed people in the street to tell them about Mary, or to read them sc.r.a.ps of her letters. If they had said she was vain and idle, and selfish and incompetent, just like the half of their own daughters, Belle could have forgiven them. It was their determination to shove her into the gutter which made my wife her valiant champion.
”Whatever that girl amounts to, Dave, will be born of our faith in her, and we must never go back on her. She writes me that whenever she has a hard task, such as attending fits, there I stand at her back and help.”
”Just between ourselves, though, you must confess that it is a great relief to have her away.”
”You can't begin to feel that as I do. I live again! I read my own books, think my own thoughts. I belong to myself. No one says, 'What's the matter?' 'Where are you going?' 'What makes you grave--or gay?' I sit and chat with my 'odd-fish.' I go to all kinds of meetings and discuss all kinds of 'isms, and have no tag-tail constantly asking 'Why?' 'Why?' or 'Tell me!' It's the little things that grind. The next time I try to help a young girl, I'll not risk losing my influence with her by taking her into my house. Do you know, Dave, I sometimes feel that Mary must have been my own child in a previous incarnation, and I neglected and abused her; that's why she was thrust back upon me this time, whether I liked it or not.”
After Christmas Isabel decided that she must go up to Chicago to see Mary, and on her return thrilling was the account she gave of her experiences, which included an attendance at an autopsy--but upon that I shall not enlarge.
Introducing herself to the Superintendent of the School, she said:
”Can I have Miss Gemmell for two days at my hotel?”
”Indeed, no, madam. We are short of help, and it would be entirely against the rules.”
”Then I'll stay here with her.”
The Lady Superintendent looked distressed.
”Don't think us inhospitable, but there is absolutely no provision for guests in all this great building.”
”Oh!” said Belle, unabashed. ”I seem to be unfortunate in breaking, or wanting to break, the rules of this house. Now, will you kindly tell me what I can do? How can I see the very most of my Mary while I am in Chicago?”