Vashti Part 19

CHAPTER XI.

"Bring her into my office. Steady, men! There may be broken bones, and jarring would be torture. Don't stumble over that book on the floor.

Lay her here on the sofa, and throw open the blinds."

"Dr. Grey, is she dead?"

"No, only badly stunned; and the contusion on the head seems to be very severe. Stand back, all of you, and give her air. When did it happen?"

"About twenty minutes ago. She is a stout, heavy woman, and we could not walk very fast with such a burden. Ah! you intend to bleed her?"

"Yes, I fear nothing else will relieve her. Mitch.e.l.l, hold the arm for me."

"How did she receive this injury?" asked Dr. Mitch.e.l.l, who had been holding a consultation with Dr. Grey relative to some perplexing case.

"Those gray ponies which we were admiring a half-hour since, as they trotted by the door, took fright at a menagerie procession coming up from the depot to the Hippodrome,--and ran away. In steering clear of the elephant, who was covered from head to foot, and certainly looked frightful, the horses ran into a ma.s.s of lumber and brick at the corner of Fountain and Franklin streets, where a new store is being erected, and the carriage was upset. Unfortunately the harness was very strong, and did not give away until the carriage had been dragged some yards among the rubbish, and one of the horses finally floundered into a bed of mortar, and broke the traces. The driver kept his hold upon the reins to the last, but was badly bruised, and this woman was thrown out on a pile of bricks and granite-caps. The munic.i.p.al authorities should prohibit these menagerie parades, for the meekest plough-horse in the State could scarcely have faced that band of musicians, flanked by the covered elephant and giraffe, and the cages of the beasts,--much less those fiery grays, who seem snuffing danger even when there is no provocation."

"Who is this woman?"

"She is a total stranger to me," answered Dr. Grey, bending down to put his ear to the heart of the victim.

A bystander seemed better informed, and replied,--

"She is a servant or housekeeper of the lady who lives at 'Solitude.'

But here comes the driver, limping and making wry faces."

Robert Maclean approached the sofa, and his scratched and bleeding face paled as he leaned over the prostrate form of his mother.

"Oh, doctors, surely two of you can save her! For G.o.d's sake, don't let her die! Does she breathe?"

"Yes, the bleeding has already benefitted her. She breathes regularly, and the action of her heart is better. Sit down, my man,--you look ghastly. Mitch.e.l.l, give him some brandy, and sew up that gash in his cheek, while I write a prescription."

"Never mind me, doctor; only save my poor mother. She looks like death itself. Mother, mother, it is all over now! Come, wake up, and speak to me!"

He seized one of her cold hands, and chafed it vigorously between both of his, while tears and blood mingled, as they dripped from his face to hers.

"Doctor, tell me the truth; is there any hope?"

"Certainly, my friend; there is every reason to believe she will ultimately recover, though you need not be surprised if she remains for some hours in a heavy stupor. Remember, a pile of brick is not exactly a feather pillow, and it may be some time before the brain recovers from the severity of the contusion. What is your name?"

"Robert Maclean."

"And hers?"

"Elsie Maclean. Poor, dear creature! How she labors in her breathing.

Suppose I lift her head?"

"No; let her rest quietly, just as she is, and I trust all will be well. Come to the table, and allow me to put some plaster over that cut which bleeds so freely. Trust me, Maclean, and do not look so woe-begone. I am not deceiving you. There may be serious internal injuries that I have not discovered, but this stupor is not alarming.

I can find no fractured bones, and hope the blow on the head is the most troublesome thing we shall have to contend with."

Dr. Grey proceeded to sponge the bruised and stained face and, hoping to divert the man's anxious thoughts, said, nonchalantly,--

"I believe you are in Mrs. Gerome's employment?"

"Yes, sir."

"How long have you been at 'Solitude'?"

"I came here, sir, and bought the place, while she was in Europe. Ah, doctor, if my mother should die, I believe it would kill my mistress."

"You are old family servants?"

"My mother took her when she was twelve hours old, and has never left her since. She loves Mrs. Gerome even better than she loves me--her own flesh and blood. I can't go home and tell my mistress I have nearly killed my mother. She would never endure the sight of me again.

Her own mother died the day after she was born, and she has always looked on that poor dear soul yonder as her foster-mother."

Robert limped back to the sofa, and, seating himself on a chair, looked wistfully into his mother's countenance; then hid his face in his hands.

"Come, be a man, Maclean; and don't give way to nervousness! Your mother's condition is constantly improving, though of course it is not so apparent to you as to me. What has been done with the carriage and horses?"

"Oh, the carriage is a sweet pudding; and the grays--curses on 'em!--are badly bruised. One of them had his flank laid open by a saw lying on a lumber-pile; and I only wish it had sawed across the jugular. They are vicious brutes as ever were bitted, and it makes my blood run cold sometimes to see their devilish antics when Mrs. Gerome insists on driving them. They will break her neck, if I don't contrive to break theirs first."

"I should judge from their appearance that it was exceedingly unsafe for any lady to attempt to control them. They seem very fiery and unmanageable. What has been done with them?"

"The deuce knows!--knocked in the head, I trust. I asked two men, who were in the crowd, to take them to the livery-stable. Mrs. Gerome is not afraid of anything, and one of her few pleasures is driving those gray imps, who know her voice as well as I do. I have seen them put up their narrow ears and neigh when she was a hundred yards off; and sometimes she wraps the reins around her wrists and quiets them, when their eyes look like b.a.l.l.s of fire. But Rarey himself could not have stopped them a while ago, when they determined to run over that menagerie show. My mistress will say it was my fault, and she will stand by the gray satans through thick and thin. Hist, doctor, my mother groans!"

"Would it not be best for you to go home and acquaint Mrs. Gerome with what has occurred?"

"I would not face her without my mother for--twenty kingdoms! You have no idea how she loves her 'old Elsie,' and I couldn't break the news to her,--I would sooner break my head."

"This is not a proper place for your mother, and I advise you to remove her to the hospital, which is not very far from my office. She can be carried on a litter."

"Oh, my mistress would never permit that! She will let no one else nurse my mother; and, of course, she could not go to a public place like a hospital, for you know she is so dreadful shy of strangers."

After many suggestions, and much desultory conversation, it was finally decided that Elsie should be placed on a mattress, in the bottom of an open wagon, and carried slowly home. A careful driver was provided, and when Dr. Grey had seen his patient comfortably arranged, and established Robert on the seat with the driver, he yielded to the solicitations of the son, that he would precede them to "Solitude,"

and acquaint Mrs. Gerome with the details of the accident.

Although ten months had elapsed since the latter took possession of her new home, so complete had been her seclusion that she remained an utter stranger; and, when visitors flocked from town and neighborhood to satisfy themselves concerning the rumors of the elegant furniture and appointments of the house, they were invariably denied admittance, and informed that since her widowhood Mrs. Gerome had not re-entered society.

Curiosity was piqued, and gossip wagged her hundred busy tongues over the tormenting fact that Mrs. Gerome had never darkened the church-door since her arrival; and, occasionally, when she rode into town, wore a thick veil that thoroughly screened her features; and, instead of shopping like other people, made Elsie Maclean bring the articles to the carriage for her inspection.

The servants seemed to hold themselves as much aloof as their mistress, and though Robert and his mother attended service regularly every Sabbath, they appeared as gravely silent and ungregarious as Sphinxes. The ministers of various denominations called to pay their respects to the stranger, but only the clerical cards succeeded in crossing the threshold; and, while rumors of her boundless wealth crept teasingly through Newsmongerdom, no one except Salome Owen had yet seen the new-comer.

Cases of books and pictures occasionally arrived from Europe, and never failed to stir the pool of gossip to its dregs; for the wife of the express-agent was an intimate friend of Mrs. Spiewell, whose husband was pastor of the church which Elsie and Robert attended, and who felt personally aggrieved that the Rev. Charles Spiewell was not welcomed as the spiritual guide of the mistress of "Solitude."

Finally, a morbid, meddling inquisitiveness goaded the chatty little woman beyond the bounds of ministerial decorum, and, having rashly wagered a pair of gloves that she would gain an entrance to the parlors (whereof the upholsterer's wife told marvellous tales), she armed herself with a pathetic pet.i.tion for aid to build a "Widow's Row," and, with a subscription-list for a "Dorcas Society," and confident of ingress, boldly rang the bell. Unfortunately, Elsie chanced that day to be on post as sentinel, and, though she immediately recognized the visitor as the mother of the small colony of Spiewells who crowded every Sunday morning into the pew of the pastor, she courtesied, and gave the stereotyped rebuff,--

"Mrs. Gerome begs to be excused."

"Ah, indeed! But she does not know who has called, or she would make an exception in my favor. I am your minister's wife, and must really see her, if only for two minutes. Take my card to her, and say I call on important business, which cannot fail to interest her."