Part 22 (1/2)
”I pledge you my word I won't touch a drop till you have taken this.
You don't realize what you have been through, Mr. Morton. Your hand so trembled that you could scarcely carry the cup; you are all unnerved.
Come,” she added gravely, ”you must be in a condition to help, for I fear Zillah is in a critical condition.”
”I'm not going to break down,” I said resolutely. ”Give it to Reuben.
Poor fellow, he was very wet.”
She looked at my clothes, and then exclaimed:
”Why, Mr. Morton, don't you know you are wet through and through?”
”Am I?” and I looked down at my soaked garments.
”I don't believe you have a dry thread on you.”
”I've been too excited to think of it. Of course, I got wet on the roof; but what's a summer shower! Your coffee's getting cold.”
”So is yours.”
”You have the doctor's orders.”
”I would be glad if my wishes weighed a little with you,” she said, appealingly.
”There, Miss Warren, if you put it that way I'd drink gall and vinegar,” and I gulped down the coffee.
She vanished into Adah's room, saying, ”You must take my word for it that I drink mine. I shall sip it while waiting on my patient.”
Having insisted on Reuben's taking some also, I returned to the kitchen and made a new supply. Mr. and Mrs. Yocomb's extreme prostration, both mental and physical, perplexed me. Their idolized child was still unconscious, and yet they could only look on in wondering and perplexed anxiety. I afterward learned that a partial paralysis of every faculty, especially of memory, was a common effect of a severe shock of electricity. It was now evident that Miss Warren, from some obscure cause, escaped harm from lightning. The words I had employed to rea.s.sure her turned out to be true--she had merely swooned--and thus, on recovery, had full possession of all her faculties.
”I would be glad if my wishes weighed a little with you,” she had said.
In wonder at myself, I asked, ”What weighs more with me? By what right is this maiden, whom I have met but to-day, taking such absolute control of my being? Am I overwrought, morbid, fanciful, deluded by an excited imagination into beliefs and moods that will vanish in the clear sunlight and clearer light of reason? or has the vivid lightning revealed with absolute distinctness the woman on whom I can lean in perfect trust, and yet must often sustain in her pathetic weakness? The world would say we are strangers; but my heart and soul and every fibre of my being appear to recognize a kins.h.i.+p so close that I feel we never can be strangers again. It is true the lightning fuses the hardest substances, making them one; however, I am beginning to think that my hitherto callous nature has been smitten by a diviner fire. If so, Heaven grant that I'm not the only one struck.
”Well, it's a queer world. When I broke down, last Friday night, and sat cowering before the future in my editorial sanctum, I little dreamed that on Sunday night I should be making coffee in a good old Quaker's kitchen, and, what is still more strange, making a divinity out of a New York music-teacher!”
A moment later I added, ”That's a stupid way of putting it. I'm not making a divinity out of her at all. She is one, and I've had the wit to recognize the truth. Are her gentlemen friends all idiots that they have not--”
”What! talking to yourself, Mr. Morton? I fear the events of this day are turning your head.” And Miss Warren entered.
”Speak of an angel--you know the saying.” ”Indeed! The only word I heard as I entered was 'idiot.'”
”Pardon me, you overheard the word 'idiots,' so can gather nothing from that.”
”No, your mutterings are dark indeed. I see no light or sense in them; but the doctor came to Adah's door and asked me for more coffee.”
”How is Miss Adah?”
”Doing nicely. She'll sleep soon, I think.”
”I do hope little Zillah is recovering.”