Part 15 (1/2)
”No--no--it's nothing--I'm just a wee bit afraid of an owl, that's all.”
A dark figure slowly approached and stood with uncovered head.
”What is it, James?” the master asked.
”It's too late, sir, for you and the mistis to be out in dis air--it's chill an' fever time--”
”Thank you, James--we'll go in at once.”
When the faithful footfall had died away, the lover lifted his bride in his arms and carried her in, while she softly laughed and clung to his strong young shoulders.
It came with swift, sure tread, the silent white figure of the Pestilence that walks in Tropic Splendor.
The lover laughed the doctor's fears to scorn and the old man was brave and cheerful in the presence of youth and happiness.
James Pemberton followed him to the gate and held his horse's bridle with a tremor in his black hand.
”You don't think, doctor--” he paused, afraid to say the thing--”you don't think my young mistis gwine ter die?”
”She's very ill, Jim--it's an even fight for life.”
”Ef she do--hit'll kill my young marster--”
”Soldiers can't die that way--no--”
”Ya.s.sah--but dey ain't been married but three months, sah, an' he des wors.h.i.+p de very groun' her little foot walks on--she des can't die--she too young an' putty, sah--hit des natchally can't be--”
The doctor's gray head slowly moved as if in remembrance of tragic scenes.
”Death loves a s.h.i.+ning mark sometimes!”
He turned to the slave in tones of warning:
”Watch your master closely--”
”My _marster_--sah!”
”He'll go down next--”
”Ya.s.sah--ya.s.sah!”
Two days later, the strong man collapsed with a crash that took even the experienced old doctor by surprise. An iron will had bent over the bedside of his bride and fought with grim defiance the battle with unseen foe until the last ounce of strength had gone.
In his delirium they moved him to another room and he awoke to find himself in a prison cell on a desert island a thousand miles from the mate he adored.
He watched his jailers and at last his hour came. The tired guard beside his prison pallet slept. With fevered stealth he rose and with the strength of a giant, bent the bars of his cage and crawled and fought his way over hill and valley, rocks and mountains, back to the bedside of his beloved.
He paused in rapture at the door. She was sitting up in bed, the pillows propped behind her back, singing their favorite song--”Fairy Bells.” How soft and weirdly sweet her voice--its notes so far away and plaintive--never had she sung so divinely!