Part 31 (2/2)
The physician was rather young and inexperienced, and he p.r.o.nounced Mr. Jocelyn's trouble to be congestion of the brain. He agreed to go with Roger to the old mansion and do what he could for the patient, although holding out slight hope of recovery.
”She is learning to a.s.sociate me with misfortune, and will dread my presence as if I were a bird of ill-omen,” Roger groaned mentally, as he recalled the several miserable occasions which, in the mind of Mildred, were inseparably connected with himself; ”but some day--SOME DAY, if I have to strive for a lifetime--she shall also learn that it is not I who bring the trouble.”
Christmas comes at the darkest and dreariest season of the year, making short, cold days, and longer, colder nights the holiday season, just as He, whose birth the day commemorates, comes to human hearts in the darkest and coldest hours of desolation. Even in the great city there were few homes so shadowed by poverty and sorrow that they were not brightened by some indications of the hallowed time. The old mansion, that once may have been embowered in evergreens, was again filled with the aromatic breath of the forest, for Roger had commissioned a friend in the country to send so large a supply to Belle that she was embarra.s.sed with riches of hemlock, laurel, and pine, which, although given away prodigally, left enough to transform their rooms into the aspect of bowers. Since they had not money for toys, they could make the Christmas-tide a time of wonder and delight to Fred and Minnie in this inexpensive way, and Mildred, who would naturally shrink from the wild mountain home of the evergreen boughs, found in weaving and arranging them into tasteful decorations a pleasure alloyed by only one thought--she was indebted for it to Roger Atwood, the silent yet determined rival of the man she loved. Though he buried his feeling in such profound silence, and hid all manifestation so carefully that even her intuition could not lay hold of any one thing, and say, ”This proves it,” she nevertheless felt the presence of his love, and sometimes thought she felt it all the more because of its strong repression. It almost vexed her that he made no advances, and gave her nothing to resent, while all the time he was seeking her with the whole force of his will, or at least waiting for some possibility of the future. When Belle proposed that he should help decorate their living-room, since they, at this season, had only the remnants of evenings to give, and were wearied, too, almost beyond the power for extra effort, she felt that for Belle's sake she ought not to object, and that for her own sake she could not, so scrupulous had been the quiet, distant respect with which he had treated her.
When he came he seemed to antic.i.p.ate her thoughts and to obey her wishes in the arrangement of the greenery, even before she spoke, so keen was his observation and quick his sympathy with her mind.
These very facts increased her prejudice and dislike. He was too clever, too keen-sighted and appreciative. Had he been indifferent toward her, and not so observant, she would have soon learned to like him and enjoy his society, for he had a bright, piquant way of talking, and was seldom at a loss for words. In fact, he had plenty of ideas, and was fast gaining more. One reason why Mildred shrank from him in strengthening repulsion was because, in his absorbing interest and his quick comprehension of her thought and feeling, he came too near. Without intending it, and in spite of himself, he intruded on her woman's privacy; for no matter how careful he might be, or how guarded she was in words or manner, she felt that he understood what was in her mind. Her natural impulse, therefore, was to shun his presence and suppress her own individuality when she could not escape him, for only an answering affection on her part could make such understanding appreciation acceptable.
Roger was not long in guessing quite accurately how he stood in her thoughts, and he was often much depressed. As he had said to Clara Bute, he had a downright dislike to contend against, and this might not change with his success. And now it was his misfortune to become a.s.sociated in her mind with another painful event--perhaps a fatal one. She might thank him sincerely for his kindness and the trouble he had taken in their behalf, but, all the same, deep in her heart, the old aversion would be strengthened.
”That invertebrate, Arnold,” he muttered, ”represents to her the old, happy life; I, her present life, and it's my luck always to appear when things are at their worst. After to-night she will shudder with apprehension whenever she sees me. What WILL become of them if Mr. Jocelyn dies!”
Full of forebodings and distress at the shock and sorrow impending over those in whom he was so deeply interested, he and the physician placed Mr. Jocelyn in a covered express wagon that was improvised into an ambulance, and drove up town as rapidly as they dared.
In response to a low knock Mrs. Jocelyn opened the door, and the white, troubled face of Roger announced evil tidings before a word was spoken.
”My husband!” she gasped, sinking into a chair.
The young man knelt beside her and said, ”Mrs. Jocelyn, his life may depend on your courage and fort.i.tude.”
He had touched the right chord, and, after a momentary and half-convulsive sob, she rose quietly, and said, ”Tell me what to do--tell me the worst.”
”I have brought him with me, and I have a physician also. I found him on a steamer, by accident. They were about to send him to a hospital, but I was sure you would want him brought home.”
”Oh, yes--G.o.d bless you--bring him, bring him quick.”
”Courage. Good nursing will prevent the worst.”
Roger hastened back to the patient, stopping on the way only long enough to ask Mrs. Wheaton to go to Mrs. Jocelyn's room instantly, and then, with the physician's aid, he carried the unconscious man to his room, and laid him on his bed.
”Oh, Martin! Martin!” moaned the wife, ”how changed, how changed!
Oh, G.o.d! he's dying.”
”I hope not, madam,” said the physician; ”at any rate we must all keep our self-possession and do our best. While there is life there is hope.”
With dilated eyes, and almost fierce repression of all aid from other hands, she took the clothing from the limp and wasted form.
”He IS dying,” she moaned; ”see how unnatural his eyes are; the pupils are almost gone. Oh, G.o.d! why did I let him go from me when he was so ill!”
”Would you not like Belle and Miss Mildred summoned at once?” Roger asked.
”Yes, yes, they ought to be here now; every moment may be precious, and he may become conscious.”
”At the same time I would like you to call on Dr. Benton in Twenty-third Street,” added the physician. ”He is a friend of mine, and has had much experience. In so serious a case I would like to consult him.”
<script>