Mildred Keith

by Martha Finley

  Chapter Twenty-Fourth.

  "Calamity is man's true touch stone."

  IT was to Mildred Celestia Ann's parting words were spoken, Mildredsitting in dumb despair beside the bed, where Cyril and Don lay tossingand moaning in a burning fever. Her heart sank like lead in her bosom,as she listened to the rumbling of the wheels of the wagon that wasbearing away her late efficient helper. "What could they do withouther?"

  A quiet step crossed the room, a soft hand was laid caressingly onMildred's bowed head, and looking up she saw her mother's sweet, paleface bending over her; a worn and weary face, but with a strangepeacefulness shining through its care and sorrow.

  "O mother, mother, whatever shall we do?" cried the girl in a brokenwhisper, and with a burst of tears.

  Mrs. Keith had a small Bible in her hand, her finger between the leaves.She laid it open before Mildred, pointed to a passage in thesixty-second psalm, and just touching her lips to her daughter'sforehead, turned away to the little sufferers on the bed.

  "Mother's darlings! mother's poor little men! Try to be very patient andgood like the dear Lord Jesus when he was in pain, and mother hopes youwill soon be well again. She is asking Jesus to make you well."

  "I wish he would," moaned Cyril, while; Don uttered some incoherentwords, showing that his mind wandered.

  "I'se better, mamma," piped the baby voice of Annis from another bed."Fan and me's better. I dess Dod will make us well, 'tause we asked himto."

  "Yes, mother, don't fret about us," joined in Fan and Zillah patiently.

  She went over and kissed all three, calling them "dear good children,"then passed on into the kitchen.

  Rupert was there trying to make a custard; Ada washing dishes.

  "You see you're not entirely without help in this department yet,mother," the lad said laughingly.

  "No," she answered with a smile that he felt was ample reward for hisefforts, "how are you succeeding?"

  "Bravely; at least it looks nice. Please come and tell me if 'tis readyto be taken off."

  "It will be in a moment. Run out and get me a handful of leaves fromthat young peach tree, to flavor it with."

  He obeyed, she stirring the custard and commending Ada's industry, whilehe was gone.

  "Here they are, mother; is this enough?" he asked, coming back.

  "Quite," she said taking them from him; then as her hand touched his,"Rupert," she cried with anguish in her tones, "you are sick! burning upwith fever!"

  "Heated over the stove, mother," he said, trying to laugh it off, as helifted the kettle from the fire and poured its contents into a bowl.

  "No, I am not to be deceived," she answered in a choking voice, "youought to be in bed now."

  He shook his head. "Somebody must keep up; several somebodies to takeanything like proper care of the sick ones. And, mother, I'm as able asyou are; you look dreadfully worn and ill."

  She was all that; she felt the chills creeping over her at that moment,and her head seemed ready to burst; her heart also.

  Oh, she had need of all the comfort and support of the words she hadpointed out to Mildred, and of the exhortation contained therein.

  "My soul, wait thou only upon God; for my expectation is from him. Heonly is my rock and my salvation; he is my defense, I shall not bemoved. In God is my salvation and my glory; the rock of my strength andmy refuge is in God."

  She whispered them to herself, as with clasped hands and closed eyes,she sank heavily into a chair, half unconscious of what she was doing.

  Rupert sprang to her side, thinking she was about to faint, and Ada,with the same thought in her mind, set down the plate she was wiping andhurried to her also.

  They caught the last words. "'The rock of my strength and my refuge isin God.'"

  "Yes, mother, dear," sobbed the lad, putting his arms around her, "andoh, you know it's a refuge that will never fail. 'Therefore will we notfear though the earth be removed and though the mountains be carriedinto the midst of the sea.' 'Man's extremity is God's opportunity,' andHe will help us through this strait somehow."

  "Yes," she whispered, "and though it should be by death, what is thatbut going, home? To those of us who love the Lord and trust in Hisimputed righteousness," she added, looking earnestly, questioningly intohis face.

  "Mother, I believe I do," he said, "though I have never told you sobefore."

  "Now I can bear it," she whispered, closing her eyes again, while asweet smile played about her lips.

  Her head dropped heavily on her son's shoulder.

  "Oh," shrieked Ada, "she's dying! mother's dying!"

  "Hush!" cried Rupert sternly, thinking of the mischief her cry mightwork should it reach the ears of the sick ones, "she has only fainted. Atumbler of water; quick, quick, Ada!"

  As the terrified child hastened to do his bidding, Mildred came flyingfrom the inner room, her face pale, her whole frame trembling withaffright.

  "Mother!" the word came in tones of agony from her pale, quivering lips.

  "It's only a faint," said Rupert hoarsely. "Help me to lay her down andloosen her clothes. And haven't you hartshorn or something! whateverthere is.

  "Yes, Ada, quick, quick! the bottle of smelling salts! it's on the standby father's bedside. O, mother, mother! you too! what's to become of us?O, Rupert, she's just killed with nursing! and I couldn't help it."

  "Of course you couldn't; you are nearly killed yourself," he said, histears falling almost as fast as hers, while between them they halfcarried, half dragged the insensible form into the adjoining room andlaid it tenderly down upon a lounge.

  Poor children! so utterly overwhelmed were they by their mother'shelpless condition, superadded to all the other causes for anxiety,perplexity and distress, so taken up with efforts for her restoration toconsciousness, that they scarcely heard the cries of the sick littleones, who could not understand why they were thus left alone, or thecalls of their father who had roused from sleep and missed his gentlenurse; nor did they notice who it was that came in through the openkitchen door and silently assisted them, raising the window blind andsprinkling water on the still white face.

  At last Mrs. Keith's eyes unclosed and she started up asking faintly"What is it? have I been ill?" then fell back again completelyexhausted.

  "You were faint, mother dear," said Mildred, vainly striving to steadyher voice, "but lie still for a while and I hope you will get over it.You have been doing too much and must rest now."

  "Rest, child! how can I? There is your father calling me. And thechildren are crying."

  She started up again but with the same result as before.

  "My poor sick husband! my little ailing children! what is to become ofyou?" she sighed, tears stealing from beneath the closed eyelids andtrickling down the pale cheeks.

  "Mother, I will do my best," sobbed Mildred; "only lie and restyourself."

  "And I am here to assist, and able to do it," said a somewhat harsh,discordant voice, though there was in it a tone of kindness too.

  Then they looked up and saw standing near, the stiff, angular figure ofDamaris Drybread.

  "You?" Mildred exclaimed in utter surprise.

  "Yes, I, Miss Keith. Did you think there was none of the milk of humankindness in me? My school's broke up by this pestilence, and only one ofour family has took the fever yet; so when I heard that you were nearlyall down sick here, and your girl had gone off and left you, I said tomyself, 'There's a duty for you there, Damaris Drybread; go right awayand do it,' And I came."

  "And it was very, very kind in you," Mildred said, extending her hand."I have hardly deserved it from you, for I've judged you, harshly."

  "Well, I shouldn't wonder if I'd done the same to you," Damaris answeredcoldly, taking the offered hand only to drop it again instantly. "Butthat's neither here nor there; and I don't ask no thanks. I'm onlytryin' to be a good Samaritan to you, because we're told, 'Go, and dothou likewise.'"

  The cries of the children had become so piteous and importunate that
Mildred rushed away to attend to them.

  Her father's calls had ceased and as the little ones quieted down shecould hear a manly voice speaking to him in gentle soothing tones.

  "It is the doctor," she thought, with an emotion somewhat akin topleasure; he was so sorely needed and had not called since the previousnight; but on going in she found Mr. Lord by the bedside.

  He turned, showing a face full of sympathy and concern, and held out hishand.

  "This is kind," she said, putting hers into it.

  "My poor child!" he responded feelingly, raising the hand to his lips inhis absent way, "my heart aches for you. And there are many others inlike affliction; many others! all round the country people are sick,dying; many of them simply for lack of suitable nourishment."

  The tears rolled down his manly cheeks as he spoke, and the sight ofthem did not lower him in the girl's esteem.

  "And what can I do?" he went on. "I know nothing of cooking; I can onlycarry them crackers to sustain their poor bodies, and try to feed theirsouls with the bread of life. I feel for them all; but for you--O,Mildred, dear girl, what can I do to help and comfort you in thisextremity?"

  "We have need of nurses. Mother--"

  But with that word she broke into uncontrollable weeping; suppressed,for fear of disturbing her father, who had fallen into a doze--butshaking her whole frame with its violence.

  It distressed her listener. He made a step toward her, a gesture as ifhe would fold her in his arms, but drew hastily back, blushing andconfused as the door opened and Dr. Grange came in.

  Chapter Twenty-Fifth

  "All love is sweet, Given or returned. Common as light is love, And its familiar voice wearies not ever." --SHELLEY.

  "AH, good morning, my dear child! Good morning, sir," the doctor said inan undertone, giving his hand to Mildred and the minister in turn. Thenwith an anxious glance at the bed "How is he? sleeping now, I see. Howdid he rest through the night?"

  "Not very well, and--"

  "Your mother? where is she? not down too?" with almost a groan, as heread the truth in the young girl's face.

  Mildred led him to her. She lay on the lounge still, with closed eyesand face of deathly pallor, her cheek resting against the dark curls ofRupert, who had thrown himself on the floor by her side, and laid hishead on the same pillow, while he held one of her hands, caressing ittenderly.

  His cheeks were burning, his eyes sparkling with fever.

  The doctor glanced from one to the other. "Ought to be in bed; both ofyou. Go my boy, at once; you are not fit to be here."

  "I can't, sir, indeed; I'm needed to take care of the others."

  "You will help most by giving up at once," said the doctor; "otherwiseyou will make yourself so sick as to need a great deal of attention."

  "Yes, go, my dear boy," whispered Mrs. Keith.

  "I will, since you bid me, darling mother," he answered, pressing hishot lips to her cheek, then tottering from the room.

  She looked after him with sad, pitying eyes, "So sick, and your mothernot able to nurse you! Mildred, my poor dear child, how are you to standit?" she sighed, turning them upon her daughter's face as she bent overher.

  "Try not to be troubled and anxious, my dear madam," said the doctor,"the more quiet and free from care you can keep your mind, the betterfor you. Trust the Lord that all will come out right."

  "I will; he is all my hope and trust for myself and for my dear ones,"she answered, with almost her accustomed cheerfulness. "Things lookvery dark but 'behold, the Lord's hand is not shortened that it cannotsave; neither his ear heavy that it cannot hear.'"

  "And he has sent us some help already," observed Mildred; "from a mostunexpected quarter."

  Damaris came in at that moment from the kitchen, saluted the doctor inher usual formal way, and turning to Mrs. Keith, remarked,

  "I hope you're not going to be very sick; but you'd ought to go to bedfor to-day, anyhow. Don't you say so, doctor?"

  "I do most emphatically," answered the physician, who had seated himselfat the table and was busied in measuring out medicines; "and I'm veryglad, Miss Damaris, to see you here."

  "It appeared to be my duty to come," she said, looking not ill-pleased;"I'm no great nurse, but I can do housework and cook for sick or well;and them things is as necessary as the nursing."

  "Certainly," said Dr. Grange, and went on to give directions to herconcerning the proper food for his patients, and to Mildred in regard tothe administering of medicines and other remedies.

  He made his round among them, pronounced Zillah much better, Mr. Keithslightly so. He was silent as to the little boys, and Mildred's heartwas full of anguish as she perceived from his countenance, or thoughtshe did, that their recovery was still very doubtful.

  Mr. Lord had remained at Mr. Keith's bedside while the doctor andMildred were absent from the room, and was still there when theyreturned. He looked perplexed and ill at ease.

  "I have no skill in nursing," he said; "never have had any experience;am in fact a very unsuitable person for the task; being very absentminded, as you both know. But if I can be of any service, I--MissMildred, I can sit here and hand anything he asks for, call you if heneeds your assistance, and give the medicines, if you will be goodenough to remind me when it is time to do so."

  The offer was gladly accepted and the new nurse entered upon his dutiesimmediately.

  Yet even with these new and unexpected helps it was clearly impossiblefor the weary girl to give proper attention to five very sick persons,and two who were barely convalescent. Her heart was overwhelmed; theburden heavier than she could bear.

  But blessed be God, the God of Israel, his people need not bear theirgriefs and anxieties alone; he bids them not.

  "Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee." "Call uponme in the day of trouble; I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorifyme."

  These and other like great and precious promises were brought home withpower and sweetness to Mildred's mind in this time of deep distress andanguish, and kept her from sinking beneath the load.

  "O Lord of hosts, blessed is the man that trusteth in thee." "For thou,Lord, wilt bless the righteous; with favor wilt thou compass him as witha shield."

  There seemed no earthly friend left to come to Mildred's aid; she couldthink of none. Claudina Chetwood and Lucilla Grange were both themselveslying upon sick beds; so were all her lady acquaintances in PleasantPlains except such as, like herself, had their hands more than full withthe care of the sick in their own families; and Aunt Wealthy was so far,far away that before a message could reach her, they might all be intheir graves.

  How long it seemed since she went away! how long since the beginning ofthis dreadful sickly season that had, as it were, shut her (Mildred)away from all pleasant social intercourse with her young companions intoher own little world of trial and trouble!

  It was a comfort that some one was attending to domestic affairs, someone sitting with her sick father and Rupert, who now shared his bed; butah, she could not more than half attend to the pressing needs of theothers.

  The day was intensely hot, scarce a breath of air stirring though everydoor and window stood wide open. The little boys feverish and restless,wanted to be fanned every moment, and called almost incessantly for"cold fresh water."

  The others craved it, too; and it could be had only from the spring atthe foot of the steep river bank. And ice being an unknown luxury inPleasant Plains at that period, it could not be kept cool for any lengthof time.

  She did not feel at liberty to call upon either Miss Drybread or Mr.Lord for this service, and as the one judged it unnecessary that thewater should be brought frequently and the other was too absent-mindedto think of offering to bring it, and she could not leave her charges togo herself, even if her strength had been equal to the effort inaddition to all the other demands upon it, she could but endure thepain of seeing the loved ones suffer from thirst.

/>   "Water, water, cold water, Milly," sobbed little Don.

  "This is cold water, dear," she said holding a cup to his lips.

  "No, 'tisn't right cold," he fretted, pushing it away; "it doesn't tastegood. Oh, send somebody to bring cold, _cold_ water!"

  She set down the cup and burst into tears.

  Absorbed in her grief and distress, she did not hear the gate gentlyopened and shut again, or a step coming up the path, across the porch,through the hall and into the room where she sat weeping such bittertears as she had never wept before.

  But it was a cautious tread; as of one who feared to disturb the sick,as was the fact. With that fear before his eyes Wallace Ormsby had takenthought even to come in slippered feet.

  He should have paused at the room door till invited to enter, but forgoteverything else at sight of Mildred's distress, and never stopped tillhe was close at her side.

  "O, Mildred, dear Mildred, what is it? what can I do to help and comfortyou?" he said in tones tremulous with love and pity, as he bent over herand took her hand in his.

  She started with surprise, but the hand was not withdrawn, and the lipsand eyes smiled faintly through the rain of tears as she looked up intohis noble face and read there ardent affection and deep sympathy in hersorrow.

  "Surely you will let me help you in this dreadful time when there's nomore proper person to do it?" he said with earnest entreaty. "Why shouldwe care for conventionalities now? You are weak and worn out, in soreneed of assistance; I am well and strong, able and more than willing togive it. Say, may I not stay here by your side and help with thisnursing?"

  "Water, cold water!" sobbed Don, "oh, go get cold water for me andCyril."

  "Yes, Wallace, Mr. Ormsby," Mildred said, the tears coursing down hercheeks, "I cannot sacrifice them to conventionalities, and so gladlyaccept your kind offer of help."

  "Oh, don't talk! go get water, quick!" fretted Don, "I can't wait,Milly, what makes you so naughty to me?"

  Wallace seized a pitcher standing near, and hastened to the spring. Hewas no stranger to the premises and knew the way.

  For the next fortnight he had what he considered the blessed privilegeof sharing Mildred's burdens, griefs and cares; watching with her overeach of those dear ones as they passed through the crisis of thedisease, and the first stages of the after convalescence; for they allrecovered; a fact which the parents and older children recognized withdeep heart-felt gratitude to Him to whom "belong the issues from death."

  Nor did they forget the thanks due their earthly helpers and friends.The minister held a warmer place than before in the hearts of theseparishioners, and Damaris Drybread received a substantial reward for herservices; which, as she was dependent upon her own exertions for alivelihood, was not declined.

  That fearful sickly season passed away; but not soon to be forgotten bythe survivors, and comparative health and prosperity again dawned uponthe town and surrounding country.

  The Keiths returned to their old busy cheerful life, and Wallace Ormsby,beloved by the whole family, seemed as one of them. Years of ordinarysocial intercourse could not have brought him into so close an intimacywith them, and especially with Mildred, as those two weeks in which theytwo shared the toils, the cares and anxieties of those who watch by bedsof sickness that may end in death.

  They had learned to know each other's faults and weaknesses, strongpoints and virtues, and with the knowledge their mutual esteem andadmiration had but increased; they had been warm friends before, nowthey were--not plighted lovers, Ormsby had not spoken yet--but

  "To his eye There was but one beloved face on earth, And that was shining on him."

  _The End_]

  * * * * *

  Transcriber's note:

  Numerous punctuation printing errors were corrrected.

  Page 22, words obscurred "the little" is presumed from context andpartial letters (interruptions from the little)

  Page 77, "th" changed to "the" (into her parlor, the)

  Page 93, "Rhode" changed to "Rhoda" (you neither, Rhoda Jane)

  Page 101, "you you" changed to "see you" (he wants to see you)

  Page 124, "the're" changed to "they're" (Jane? they're gimp)

  Page 159, "n" changed to "an" (has an old faded)

  Page 179, "Jan" changed to "Jane" ("slicked up," as Rhoda Jane)

  Page 180, "ooked" changed to "looked" (looked out upon the)

  Page 182, parts of text missing on left margin bottom of page. "mark"and "ource" completed as "remark" and "resource" (remark upon theweather) (resource when all other)

  Page 195, "a" changed to "at" (passed between them at)

  Page 196, "w d" presumed to be "walked" (as he walked away)

  Page 210, "eying" changed to "eyeing" (eyeing it disapprovingly)

  Page 216, the original of this text credits T. H. Baylie as the authorof the poetry couplet. The actual spelling is (Thomas Haines) Bayly.

  Page 246, "t" changed to "it" (it was innocently)

  Page 251, word "I" added to text to fill in space ("I found Ada down,too,")

  Page 264, "ther" changed to "there" (but after all there)

  Page 315, word "and" added to text in space (street. Doors and)

  Page 315, "s d" changed to "seemed" (scarcely any one seemed)

  Page 326, "whatever the" changed to "whatever there is." (whatever thereis)