A Day of Fate

by Edward Payson Roe

  CHAPTER IV

  IN THE DARK

  "Yes, Mrs. Yocomb, good nursing and nourishment are all that he nowrequires," were the reassuring words that greeted my waking later inthe evening. I opened my eyes, and found that a physician was feelingmy pulse.

  I turned feebly toward my kind hostess, and smilingly whispered:

  "There's no fear of my wanting these where you are, Mrs. Yocomb; butdon't let me make trouble. I fear I've made too much already."

  "The only way thee can make trouble, Richard, is to worry about makingtrouble. The more we can do for thee the better we shall be pleased.All thee's got to do is to get well and take thy time about it."

  "That's just like you. How long have I been ill?"

  "That's none of thy business at present. One thing at a time. Thedoctor has put thee in my hands, and I'm going to make thee mind."

  "I've heard that men were perfect bears when getting well," I said.

  "Thee can be a bear if thee feels like it, but not another wordto-night--not another syllable; am I not right, doctor?"

  "Yes, I prescribe absolute quiet of mind and body; that and good livingwill bring you around in time. You've had a narrow graze of it, but ifyou will mind Mrs. Yocomb you will yet die of old age. Good-night."

  My nurse gave me what she thought I needed, and darkened the room. Butit was not so dark but that I saw a beautiful face in the doorway.

  "Miss Warren," I exclaimed.

  "It was Adah," said Mrs. Yocomb quietly; "she's been very anxious aboutthee."

  "You are all so kind. Please thank her for me," I replied eagerly."Mother, may I speak to Richard Morton?" asked a timid voice from theobscurity of the hallway.

  "Not to-night, Adah--to-morrow." "Forgive me if I disobey you thisonce," I interrupted hastily. "Yes, Miss Adah, I want to thank you."

  She came instantly to my side, and I held out my hand to her. Iwondered why hers throbbed and trembled so strangely.

  "It's I who should thank thee: I can never thank thee enough. Oh, Ifeared I might--I might never have a chance."

  "There, Adah, thee mustn't say another word; Richard's too weak yet."

  Her hand closed tightly over mine. "Good-by," she breathed softly, andvanished.

  Mrs. Yocomb sat down with her knitting by a distant and shaded lamp.

  Too weak to think, or to realize aught except that I was surrounded byan atmosphere of kindness and sympathy, I was well content to lie stilland watch, through the open window, the dark foliage wave to and fro,and the leaves grow distinct in the light of the rising moon, which,though hidden, I knew must be above the eastern mountains. I had thevague impression that very much had happened, but I would not think;not for the world would I break the spell of deep quietude thatenthralled every sense of my body and every faculty of my mind.

  "Mrs. Yocomb," I said at last, "it must be you who creates thisatmosphere of perfect peace and restfulness. The past is forgotten, thefuture a blank, and I see only your serene face. A subdued light seemsto come from it, as from the shaded lamp."

  "Thee is weak and fanciful, Richard. The doctor said thee must bequiet."

  "I wish it were possible to obey the doctor forever, and that thisexquisite rest and oblivion could last, I am like a ship becalmed on asummer sea in a summer night. Mind and body are both motionless."

  "Sleep, Richard Morton, and when rested and well, may gales from heavenspring up and carry thee homeward. Fear not even rough winds, if theybear thee toward the only true home. Now thy only duty is to rest."

  "You are not going to sit up to-night, Mrs. Yocomb."

  She put her finger on her lips.

  "Hush!" she said.

  "Oh, delicious tyranny!" I murmured. "The ideal government is that ofan absolute and friendly power."

  I had a vague consciousness of being wakened from time to time, and oftaking something from Mrs. Yocomb's hand, and then sinking back into anenthrallment of blessed and refreshing slumber. With every respirationlife and health flowed back.

  At last, as after my first long sleep in the country, I seemed to hearexquisite strains of music that swelled into richer harmony until whatseemed a burst of song awoke me. Opening my eyes, I looked intentlythrough the open, window and gladly welcomed the early day. The air wasfresh, and I felt its exhilarating quality. The drooping branches ofthe elm swayed to and fro, and the mountains beyond were bathed inlight. I speedily realized that it was the song of innumerable birdsthat had supplied the music of my waking dream.

  For a few moments I gazed through the window, with the same perfectcontent with which I had watched the foliage grow distinct in themoonlight the previous evening, and then I looked around the room.

  I started slightly as I encountered the deep blue eyes of Adah Yocombfixed on me with an intent, eager wistfulness. "Can I do anything forthee, Richard Morton?" she asked, rising from her chair near the door."Mother asked me to stay with thee awhile, and to let her know if theewoke and wanted anything."

  "With you here this bright morning, how could I want anything more?" Iasked, with a smile, for her young, beautiful face comported so wellwith the early morning of the summer day as to greatly please both myeye and fancy. The color of the early morning grew richer in her faceas she replied:

  "I'm glad thee doesn't want me to go away, but I must go and have thybreakfast brought up."

  "No, stay; tell me all that's happened. I seem to have forgotteneverything so strangely! I feel as if I had known you all a long time,and yet that can't be, for only the other day I was at my office in NewYork."

  "Mother says thee's too weak to talk yet, and that I must not answerquestions. She says thee knows thee's been sick and thee knows thee'sgetting well, and that must do till thee's much stronger."

  "Oh, I feel ever so much stronger. Sleep and the good things yourmother has given me have made a new man of me."

  "Mother says thee has never been sick, and that thee doesn't know howto take care of thyself, and that thee'll use thy strength right up ifwe don't take good care of thee."

  "And are you going to take care of me?"

  "Yes, if thee pleases. I'll help mother."

  "I should be hard to please were I not glad. I shall have so nice atime getting well that I shall be tempted to play sick."

  "I'll--I'll wait on thee as long as thee'll let me, for no one owesthee more than I do."

  "What in the world do you owe me?" I asked, much perplexed. "If you aregoing to help me to get well, and will come to my room daily with aface like this summer morning, I shall owe you more than I can everrepay."

  "My face would have been black enough but for thee; but I'm glad theethinks I look well. They are all saying I look pale and am growingthin, but if thee doesn't think so I don't care," and she seemed aglowwith pleasure.

  "It would make a sick man well to look at you," I said, smiling."Please come and sit by me and help me to get my confused brainstraight once more. I have the strangest sense of not knowing what Iought to know well. You and your kind father and mother brought me homefrom meeting. Your mother said I might stay here and rest. Miss Warrenwas here--she was singing in the parlor. Where is Miss Warren?"

  "She has gone out for a walk," said the girl a little coldly.

  Her manner perplexed me, and, together with my thought of Miss Warren,there came a vague sense of trouble--of something wrong. I tried toraise my hand to my brow, as if to clear away the mist that obscured mymind, and my hand was like lead, it was so heavy.

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

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

  "I only am to blame, Mrs. Yocomb: I would talk. I'm trying to get thepast straightened out; I know that something happened the other eveningwhen you spoke so beautifully to us, but my memory comes up to thatpoint 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 itsufficient to know that thee has been ill, and that thy life depends onquiet? Thee can scarcely lift thy hand to thy head; thy words are slowand feeble. Can't thee realize that it is thy sacred duty to rest andgrow strong before taking up the cares and burdens that life brings tous 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 bevery good now, and do just what you bid me."

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

  "Good-by, Adah," I said, smiling. "Don't look so concerned; you haven'tdone me a bit of harm. Your face was as bright and welcome as thesunshine."

  "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 wasthe remedy that Nature instinctively grasped, for it gave back part ofthe strength that I had lost.

  When I awoke again I felt wonderfully the better for a long rest thathad not been broken, but made more beneficial from the fact that I wasslightly roused from time to time to take stimulants and nourishment.The heat and glare of the summer day had passed. This I could perceiveeven through the half-closed window-blinds. At first I thought myselfalone, but soon saw that Reuben was seated in the furthest corner,quietly carving on some woodwork that interested his boyish fancy. Hisround, 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 callher."

  "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 toplay 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 welljust enough to drive Dapple around with me. He'll put life intothee--never fear. When I get hold of the reins he fairly makes my handstingle. But there, mother said I shouldn't let thee talk, but tell herright 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 onechange so. But to-day she has been like a lark. She went with me to thevillage this morning, and she had almost as much spirit and life asDapple. She's a jolly good girl. I like her. We're all so glad thee'sgetting well we don't know what to do. Father said he felt like jumpingover 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 beneficentdragon 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 leftZillah 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 herwonderfully. Go away, Reuben, and tell Zillah to bring the broth--notanother 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 senseof not remembering something that happened after you spoke to us theother evening."

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

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

  "Well, thee knows where to come now when thee's going to have anotherbad turn. I hope, however, that thee'll be too good a man to overworkso 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 couldcome; but he's so hearty-like that I won't trust him till thee'sstronger."

  "Is--is Miss Warren so hearty-like also? It seems to me her laugh wouldput 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, thuscreating a general sense of comfort and refreshment. Now she lifted myhead on her strong, plump arm, and brushed my hair. Tears came into myeyes as I said brokenly:

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

  "Thee'll always have some one to care for thee now; but thee mustn'tsay 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.

  "Did I say that? I must have been out of my head."

  "Thee'll see that all was ordered for the best, and be content whenthee gets strong. People are often better every way after a good fit ofsickness. I believe the Good Physician will give His healing touch tothy soul as well as thy body. Ah, here is Zillah. Come in, little girl.Richard wishes to see thee."

  Bearing a bowl in both hands, she entered hesitatingly.

  "Why, Zillah, you waiting on me, too! It's all like a fairy tale, andI'm transformed into a great prince, and am waited on right royally.I'm going to drink that broth to your health, as if you were a greatlady. It will do me more good than all the drugs of all the doctors,just because you are such a good little fairy, and have bewitched it."

  The child dimpled all over with pleasure as she came and stood by myside.

  "Oh, I'm so glad thee's getting well!" she cried. "Thee talks queer,but not so queer as thee did before. Thee--"

  A warning gesture from her mother checked her, and she looked a littlefrightened.

  "That will do, Zillah. After Richard has taken this I'm not going tolet him talk for a long time."

  "Do you want to make me all well, Zillah?" I asked, smiling into hertroubled and sympathetic face.

  She nodded eagerly and most emphatically.

  "Then climb on a chair and give me a kiss."

  After a quick, questioning look at her mother, she complied, laughing.

  "Ah, that puts life into me," I said. "You can tell them all that youdid me more good than the doctor. I'll go with you to see the robinssoon."

  "I've got something else for thee downstairs," she whispered,"something that Emily Warren gathered for thee," and she was gone in aflash.

  A moment later she stood in the doorway, announced in advance by theperfume of an exquisite cluster of rosebuds arranged in a dainty vaseentwined and half hidden with myrtle.

  "Put the vase on the table by Richard, and then thee mustn't come anymore."

  "Thee surely are from the Garden of Eden," I exclaimed. "These and yourkiss, Zillah, will make me well. Tell Miss Warren that I am going tothank her myself. Good-by now," and she flitted out of the room, brightwith the unalloyed happiness of a child.

 
"Dear me," said Mrs. Yocomb, "thee must indeed get strong fast, for Ido have such a time keeping the young people out of thy room. Reubenasks a dozen times a day if he can see thee, and father's nearly asbad. No more shall see thee to-day, I promise thee. Now thee must resttill to-morrow."

  I was well content, for the roses brought a presence very near. Intheir fragrance, their beauty, their dewy freshness, their superiorityto other flowers, they seemed the emblem of the maiden who had madeharmony in the garden when Nature was at her best. The scene, as we hadstood there together, grew so vivid that I saw her again almost inreality, her face glowing with the undisguised, irrepressible pleasurethat had been caused by my unexpected tribute to the absolutetruthfulness of her character. Again I heard her piquant laugh; thenher sweet, vibratory voice as she sang hymns that awakened other thanreligious emotions, I fear. By an odd freak of fancy the flowers seemedan embodied strain from Chopin's nocturne that she had played, and thedifferent shades of color the rising and falling of the melody.

  "What do they mean?" I murmured to myself. "At any rate I see no Yorkand Lancaster buds among them."

  "Is thee so very fond of roses that thee gazes so long and intently atthem?" Mrs. Yocomb quietly asked.

  I started, and I had still sufficient blood to crimson my pallid face.

  Turning away I said, "They recalled a scene in the garden where theygrew. It seemed to me that Miss Warren had grown there too, she was solike them; and that this impression should have been made by a girlbred in the city struck me as rather strange."

  "Thy impression was correct--she's genuine," Mrs. Yocomb repliedgravely, and her eyes rested on me in a questioning and sympathetic waythat I understood better as I thought it over afterward.

  "Yes," I said, "she made just that impression on me from the first. Wemet as strangers, and in a few hours, without the slightest effort onher part, she won my absolute trust. This at first greatly surprisedme, for I regret to say that my calling has made me distrustful. I soonlearned, however, that this was just the impression that she shouldmake on any one capable of understanding her."

  A deep sigh was my companion's only answer.

  "Mrs. Yocomb," I continued, earnestly, "was I taken ill while you werespeaking? I have a vague, tormenting impression that something occurredwhich I cannot recall. The last that I can remember was your speakingto us; and then--and then--wasn't there a storm?"

  "There may have been. We've had several showers of late. Thee had beenoverdoing, Richard, and thee felt the effects of the fever in thysystem before thee or any of us knew what was the matter. Thy mind soonwandered; but thee was never violent; thee made us no trouble--only ouranxiety. Now I hope I've satisfied thee."

  "How wondrously kind you've all been to such a stranger! But Miss Adahmade reference to something that I can't understand."

  Mrs. Yocomb looked perplexed and annoyed. "I'll ask Adah," she said,gravely. "It's time thee took this medicine and slept."

  The draught she gave me was more quieting than her words had been, forI remembered nothing more distinctly until I awoke in the brightness ofanother day.