Part 7 (1/2)
”Oh, I am so glad that you have come, doctor!” she said, clasping her little hands. ”My poor father is so much worse. Please step in this way!”
He was ushered into a little sitting-room, and as he entered it he saw that everything was scrupulously neat and clean.
”Poor papa is out of his mind, doctor. Please come quickly, and see him!”
It did not require a second glance for the doctor to understand all; and straightway he proceeded to give the man a draught, which had the effect of quieting him. The young girl stood by the man with clasped hands and dilated eyes, scarcely breathing as she watched him.
The young doctor turned impulsively to the girl by his side.
”Pardon me for the question, but do you live alone with your father?” he asked.
”Yes,” she replied in a voice that thrilled him as the grandest, sweetest music he had heard had never had power to do. ”We have only each other,” she added, watching the distorted face on the pillow with a fond wistfulness that made the young doctor, who was watching her, almost envy the father.
”I will come again to-morrow,” he said, ”and prescribe for him. I have done all the good that is possible for the present.”
”Good-morning, Miss Moore,” he said, standing with his hat in his hand, and bowing before her as if she were a princess. ”If you should have occasion to need me in a hurry, send for me at once. This is my address.” And he handed her his card.
Again she thanked him in a voice so sweet and low that it sounded to him like softest music.
He closed the door gently after him; and it seemed to him, as he walked slowly down the narrow dark stairs, that he had left Paradise and one of G.o.d's angels in it.
CHAPTER IX.
”WHAT A LONELY LIFE FOR THIS BEAUTIFUL YOUNG GIRL!”
All that day the sweet face of Bernardine Moore was before Doctor Gardiner. He found himself actually looking forward to the morrow, when he should see her again. He deceived himself completely as to the cause, telling himself that it was because of his pity for her, and the desolate life she was leading.
The next day when he called, Bernardine again met him at the door.
”Papa has been calling for you,” she said. Then she stopped short, in dire confusion, as she remembered the reason why he was so anxious to see him. ”He has just fallen into a light sleep. I will go and awaken him at once and tell him you are here.”
”By no means,” he said. ”Pray do not awaken him; the sleep he is having is better than medicine. Will you permit me to sit down and talk with you for a few moments, until he awakens?”
She looked anxiously at him for a moment, then said, with charming frankness:
”Would you mind very much if I went on with my work. I have several baskets to be finished by night, when they will be called for.”
”By no means. Pray proceed with your work. Do not let me disturb you,”
he answered, hastily. ”I shall consider it a great favor if you will allow me to watch you as you work.”
”Certainly,” said Bernardine, ”if you will not mind coming into our little work-shop,” and she led the way with a grace that completely charmed him.
The place was devoid of any furniture save two or three wooden chairs, which the girl and her father occupied at their work, the long wooden bench, the great coils of willow--the usual paraphernalia of the basket-makers' trade.
She sat down on her little wooden seat, indicating a seat opposite for him. He watched her eagerly as her slim white fingers flew in and out among the strands of trailing willow quickly taking shape beneath her magic touch.