Part 10 (2/2)
”That is my old schoolmate and friend of whom I once spoke to you. I had no idea that she was in New York. She is a poor orphan.”
”Are you ready to return home? This episode has evidently driven pictures out of your head for to-day,” said Mr. Young, who had endeavoured to screen her from observation.
”Yes, quite ready to go, though I have enjoyed the morning very much indeed, thanks to your kindness.”
Soon after they reached home, Louisa was called into the parlour to see a young friend, and as Mrs. Young was absent, Irene found it rather lonely upstairs. She thought of a new volume of travels which she had noticed on the hall-table as they entered, and started down to get it. About half-way of the flight of steps she caught her foot in the carpeting, where one of the rods chanced to be loose, and despite her efforts to grasp the railing fell to the floor of the hall, crus.h.i.+ng one arm under her. The library-door was thrown open instantly, and the minister came out. She lay motionless, and he bent over her.
”Irene! where are you hurt? Speak to me.”
He raised her in his arms and placed her on the sofa in the sitting-room.
The motion produced great pain, and she groaned and shut her eyes. A crystal vase containing some exquisite perfume stood on his mother's work-table, and, pouring a portion of its contents in his palm, he bathed her forehead. Acute suffering distorted her features, and his face grew pallid as her own while he watched her. Taking her hand, he repeated--
”Irene, my darling! tell me how you are hurt?”
She looked at him, and said with some difficulty--
”My ankle pains me very much, and I believe my arm is broken. I can't move it.”
”Thank G.o.d you are not killed.”
He kissed her, then turned away and despatched a servant for a physician.
He summoned Louisa, and inquired fruitlessly for his mother; no one knew whither she had gone; it would not do to wait for her. He stood by the sofa and prepared the necessary bandages, while his sister could only cry over and caress the sufferer. When the physician came the white dimpled arm was bared; and he discovered that the bone was broken. The setting was extremely painful, but she lay with closed eyes and firmly compressed lips, uttering no sound, giving no token of the torture, save in the wrinkling of her forehead. They bound the arm tightly, and then the doctor said the ankle was badly strained and swollen, but there was, luckily, no fracture.
He gave minute directions to the minister and withdrew, praising the patient's remarkable fort.i.tude. Louisa would talk, and her brother sent her off to prepare a room for her friend.
”I think I had better go back to the Inst.i.tution, Mr. Young. It will be a long time before I can walk again, and I wish you would have me carried back. Dr. ---- will be uneasy, and will prefer my returning, as father left me in his charge.” She tried to rise, but sank back on the pillow.
”Hus.h.!.+ hus.h.!.+ You will stay where you are, little cripple; I am only thankful you happened to be here.”
He smoothed the folds of her hair from her temples, and for the first time played with the curls he had so often before been tempted to touch. She looked so slight, so childish, with her head nestled against the pillow, that he forgot she was almost sixteen, forgot everything but the beauty of her pale face, and bent over her with an expression of the tenderest love.
She was suffering too much to notice his countenance, and only felt that he was very kind and gentle. Mrs. Young came in very soon, and heard with the deepest solicitude of what had occurred. Irene again requested to be taken to the school, fearing that she would cause too much trouble during her long confinement to the house. But Mrs. Young stopped her arguments with kisses, and would listen to no such arrangements; she would trust to no one but herself to nurse ”the bruised Southern lily.” Having seen that all was in readiness, she insisted on carrying her guest to the room adjoining Louisa's, and opening into her own. Mr. Young had gone to Boston the day before, and, turning to her son, she said--
”Harvey, as your father is away, you must take Irene upstairs; I am not strong enough. Be careful that you do not hurt her.”
She led the way, and, bending down, he whispered--
”My little sister, put this uninjured arm around my neck, there--now I shall carry you as easily as if you were in a cradle.”
He held her firmly, and as he bore her up the steps the white face lay on his bosom, and the golden hair floated against his cheek. If she had looked at him then, she would have seen more than he intended that anyone should know: for, young and free from vanity though she was, it was impossible to mistake the expression of the eyes riveted upon her. Mrs. Young wrote immediately to Mr. Huntingdon, and explained the circ.u.mstances which had made his daughter her guest for some weeks at least, a.s.suring him that he need indulge no apprehension whatever on her account, as she would nurse her as tenderly as a mother could. Stupefied by the opiate, Irene took little notice of what pa.s.sed, except when roused by the pain consequent upon dressing the ankle. Louisa went to school as usual, but her mother rarely left their guest; and after Mr. Young's return he treated her with all the affectionate consideration of a parent. Several days after the occurrence of the accident Irene turned toward the minister, who stood talking to his mother.
”Your constant kindness emboldens me to ask a favour of you, which I think you will scarcely deny me. I am very anxious to see the friend whom I so unexpectedly met at the Academy of Design. Here is a card containing her address; will you spare me the time to bring her here to-day? I shall be very much obliged to you.”
”Very well. I will go after her as soon as I have fulfilled a previous engagement. What is her name?”
”Electra Grey. Did you notice her face?”
”Yes; but why do you ask?”
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