A Day of Fate Part 31

"A plague on my memory!" I exclaimed. "We were in the parlor, and Miss Warren was singing. Your mother spoke--would that I might hear her again!--it's all tolerably clear up to that time, and then everything is confused."

"Adah, how's this?" said Mrs. Yocomb reproachfully. "Thee was not to let Richard Morton talk."

"I only am to blame, Mrs. Yocomb: I would talk. I'm trying to get the past straightened out; I know that something happened the other evening when you spoke so beautifully to us, but my memory comes up to that point as to an abyss, and I can't bridge it over."

"Richard Morton, doesn't thee believe that I'm thy friend?"

"My mind would indeed be a total blank if I doubted that."

"Well, then, do what I ask thee: don't question, don't think. Isn't it sufficient to know that thee has been ill, and that thy life depends on quiet? Thee can scarcely lift thy hand to thy head; thy words are slow and feeble. Can't thee realize that it is thy sacred duty to rest and grow strong before taking up the cares and burdens that life brings to us all? Thee looks weak and exhausted."

"I am indeed weak enough, but I felt almost well when I awoke."

"Adah, I fear I can't trust thee as a nurse," her mother began gravely.

"Please don't blame her; it was wholly my fault," I whispered. "I'll be very good now, and do just what you bid me."

"Well, then, thee must take what I have prepared, and thy medicine, and sleep again."

"Good-by, Adah," I said, smiling. "Don't look so concerned; you haven't done me a bit of harm. Your face was as bright and welcome as the suns.h.i.+ne."

"If it hadn't been for thee--" she began.

Mrs. Yocomb raised a warning finger, and the girl stole away.

"Can--can I not see Miss Warren this morning?" I asked hesitatingly.

"Thee must sleep first."

The medicine she gave evidently contained a sedative, or else sleep was the remedy that Nature instinctively grasped, for it gave back part of the strength that I had lost.

When I awoke again I felt wonderfully the better for a long rest that had not been broken, but made more beneficial from the fact that I was slightly roused from time to time to take stimulants and nourishment.

The heat and glare of the summer day had pa.s.sed. This I could perceive even through the half-closed window-blinds. At first I thought myself alone, but soon saw that Reuben was seated in the furthest corner, quietly carving on some woodwork that interested his boyish fancy. His round, fresh face was like a tonic.

"Well, old fellow," I laughed, "so you are playing nurse?"

"Is thee awake for good, Richard Morton?" he asked, springing up.

"I hope so."

"'Cause mother said that as soon as thee really waked up I must call her."

"Oh, wait a moment, and tell me all the news."

"Mother said I mustn't tell thee anything but to get well."

"I'm never going to get well."

"What!" exclaimed the boy, in consternation.

"Your mother and Miss Adah take such good care of me that I am going to play sick the rest of my life," I explained, laughing. "How is Dapple?"

"Oh, thee's only joking, then. Well, all I ask of thee is to get well just enough to drive Dapple around with me. He'll put life into thee--never fear. When I get hold of the reins he fairly makes my hands tingle. But there, mother said I shouldn't let thee talk, but tell her right away," and he started for the door.

"How is Miss Warren? Is she never coming to see me?"

"Emily Warren's been dreadfully anxious about thee. I never saw any one change so. But to-day she has been like a lark. She went with me to the village this morning, and she had almost as much spirit and life as Dapple. She's a jolly good girl. I like her. We're all so glad thee's getting well we don't know what to do. Father said he felt like jumping over a five-bar fence. Only Adah acts kind of queer and glum."

"I think I hear talking," said Mrs. Yocomb, entering.

"Dear Mrs. Yocomb," I laughed, "you are the most amiable and beneficent dragon that ever watched over a captive."

"Thee wants watching. The moment my back's turned thee's into mischief, and the young people are just as bad. Reuben, I might better have left Zillah here."

"Do let her come," I exclaimed; "she'll do more good than medicine."

"Well, she shall bring thee up thy chicken broth; that will please her wonderfully. Go away, Reuben, and tell Zillah to bring the broth--not another word. Does thee feel better, Richard?"

"Oh, I am almost well. I'm ashamed to own how hungry I am."

"That's a good sign--a very good sign."

"Mrs. Yocomb, how did I become so ill? I'm haunted by the oddest sense of not remembering something that happened after you spoke to us the other evening."

"There's nothing strange in people's being sick--thee knows that. Then thee had been overworking so long that thee had to pay the penalty."

"Yes, I remember that. Thank Heaven I drifted into this quiet harbor before the storm came. I should have died in New York."

"Well, thee knows where to come now when thee's going to have another bad turn. I hope, however, that thee'll be too good a man to overwork so again. Now thee's talked enough."

"Can I not see Mr. Yocomb, and--and--Miss Warren this evening?"

"No, not till to-morrow. Father's been waiting till I said he could come; but he's so hearty-like that I won't trust him till thee's stronger."

"Is--is Miss Warren so hearty-like also? It seems to me her laugh would put life into a mummy."

"Well, thee isn't a mummy, so she can't come till to-morrow."

She had been smoothing my pillow and bathing my face with cologne, thus creating a general sense of comfort and refreshment. Now she lifted my head on her strong, plump arm, and brushed my hair. Tears came into my eyes as I said brokenly:

"I can remember my mother doing this for me when I was ill once and a little fellow. I've taken care of myself ever since. You can have no idea how grateful your manner is to one who has no one to care for him specially."

"Thee'll always have some one to care for thee now; but thee mustn't say anything more;" and I saw strong sympathy in her moist eyes.

"Yes," I breathed softly, "I should have died in New York."

"And thee said an imp from the printing-house could take care of thee,"

she replied, with a low laugh.