Part 9 (1/2)
”No one.”
”Has she suffered for care,-a woman's care, I mean?”
”Well, not exactly; and yet she might be more comfortable with a woman about her. Women are naturally better nurses than men, and Mr. Thornton is quite worn out, but it does not make much difference now; the lady--”
Daisy did not hear the last part of the sentence, and bidding him good-night, she went back to the hotel as swiftly as she had left it, while the doctor stood watching the flutter of her white dress, wondering how she found it out, and if she would ”tell and raise _Cain_ generally.”
”Of course not. I know her better than that,” he said, to himself. ”Poor woman” (referring then to Julia). ”Nothing, I fear, can help her now.”
Meanwhile, Daisy had reached the hotel, and without going to her own room, bade Sarah tell her the way to No. -.
”What! Oh, Miss McDonald! You surely are not--” Sarah gasped, clutching at the dress, which her mistress took from her grasp, saying:
”Yes, I am going to see that lady. I know her, or of her, and I'm not afraid. Must we let her die alone?”
”But your face,-your beautiful face,” Sarah said, and then Daisy did hesitate a moment, and glancing into a hall mirror, wondered how the face she saw there, and which she knew was beautiful, would look scarred and disfigured as she had seen faces in New York.
There was a momentary conflict, and then, with an inward prayer that Heaven would protect her, she pa.s.sed on down the narrow hall and knocked softly at No. -, while Sarah stood wringing her hands in genuine distress, and feeling as if her young mistress had gone to certain ruin.
CHAPTER XII.-IN THE SICK ROOM.
Julia had the small-pox in its most aggravated form. Where she took it, or when, she did not know; nor did it matter. She _had_ it, and for ten days she had seen no one but her husband and physician, and had no care but such as Guy could give her. He had been unremitting in his attention. Tender and gentle as a woman, he had nursed her night and day, with no thought for himself and the risk he ran. It was a bad disease at the best, and now in its worse type it was horrible, but Julia bore up bravely, thinking always more of others than of herself, and feeling so glad that Providence had sent them to those out-of-the-way rooms, where she had at first thought she could not pa.s.s a night comfortably. Her children were in the room adjoining, and she could hear their little voices as they played together, or asked for their mamma, and why they must not see her. Alas! they would never see her again; she knew, and Guy knew it too. The doctor had told them so when he left them that night, and between the husband and wife words had been spoken such as are only said when hearts which have been one are about to be severed for ever.
To Julia there was no terror in death, save as it took her from those she loved, her husband and her little ones, and these she had given into G.o.d's keeping knowing His promises are sure. To Guy she had said:
”You have made me so happy. I want you to remember when I am gone, that I would not have one look or act of yours changed if I could, and yet, forgive me, Guy, for saying it, but I know you must often have thought of that other one whom, you loved first, and it may be best.”
Guy could not speak, but he smoothed her hair tenderly, and his tears dropped upon the swollen face he could not kiss, as Julia went on.
”But if you did, you never showed it in the least, and I bless you for it. Take good care of my children; teach them to remember their mother, and if in time there comes another in my place, and other little ones than mine call you father, don't forget me quite, because I love you so much. Oh, Guy, my darling, it is hard to say good-bye, and know that after a little this world will go on the same as if I had never been.
Don't think I am afraid. I am not, for Jesus is with me, and I know I am safe; but still there's a clinging to life, which has been so pleasant to me. Tell your sister how I loved her. I know she will miss me, and be good to my children, and if you ever meet _that other one_, tell her,-tell her,-I--”
The faint voice faltered here, and when it spoke again, it said:
”Lift me up, Guy, so I can breathe better while I tell you.”
He lifted her up and held her in his arms, while through the open window the summer air and the silver moonlight streamed, and in the distance was heard the sound of music as the dance went merrily on. And just then, when she was in the minds of both, Daisy came, and her gentle knock broke the silence of the room and startled both Guy and Julia.
Who was it that sought entrance to that death-laden, disease-poisoned room? Not the doctor, sure, for he always entered unannounced, and who else dared to come there? Thus Guy questioned, hesitating to answer the knock, when to his utter surprise the door opened and a little figure, clad in airy robes of white, with its bright hair wreathed with flowers and gems, came floating in, the blue eyes s.h.i.+ning like stars, and the full red lips parted with the smile, half pleased, half shy, which Guy remembered so well.
”Daisy, Daisy!” he cried, and his voice rang like a bell through the room, as, laying Julia's head back upon the pillow, he sprang to Daisy's side, and taking her by the shoulder, pushed her gently toward the door, saying:
”Why have you come here? Leave us at once; don't you see? don't you know?” and he pointed toward Julia, whose face showed so plainly in the gaslight.
”Yes, I know, and I came to help you take care of her. I am not afraid,”