Hills of the Shatemuc Part 124

"I don't know," said Mr. Inchbald, -- "and I daren't ask him. I doubt some poor friends of his know."

"Why do you?"

"I can't tell you why; -- something -- the least trifle, once or twice, has given me the idea."

"He's a Christian to look at!" said Mrs. Nettley, busying herself round her stove and speaking in rather an undertone.

"He's worse than a sermon to me, many times."

Her brother turned slowly and went out, thereby confessing, his sister thought, that Winthrop had been as bad as a sermon to him.

As he went out he saw a girl just mounting the stairs.

"Is Mr. Landholm in?" she said putting her head over the bal.u.s.ters.

"I don't know, my girl -- I think he may be."

"I'll know before long," she rejoined, taking the stairs at a rate that shewed she meant what she said. Like no client at law that ever sought his lawyer's chambers, on any errand.

Before Mr. Inchbald had reached the first landing, she was posted before the desired door, and had tapped there with very alert fingers. Winthrop opened the door.

"Clam!" -- said he. -- "Come in."

"Mr. Winthrop," said Clam, coming in as slowly as she had mounted the stairs fast, and speaking with unusual deliberation, and not in the least out of breath, -- "don't you want to help the distressed?"

"What's the matter, Clam?"

"Why Mr. Haye's took, and Miss 'Lizabeth's all alone with him; and she's a little too good to be let die of fright and worry, if she ain't perfect. Few people are."

"All alone!"

"She's keeping house with him all alone this minute."

"What do you mean by all alone?"

"When there ain't but two people in the house and one o'

them's deathly sick."

"Where are the servants? and Mrs. Haye?"

"They was all afraid they'd be took -- she and them both; so they all run -- the first one the best feller. I stayed, 'cause I thought the yaller fever wouldn't do much with one o' my skin; and anyhow it was as good to die in the house as in the street -- I'd rather."

"When did they go?" said Winthrop beginning to put up books and papers.

"Cleared out this mornin' -- as soon as they knowed what was the matter with Mr. Haye."

"His wife too?" said Winthrop.

"Not she! _she_ went off for fear she'd be scared -- years ago."

"Has Miss Haye sent for no friends?"

"She says there ain't none to send to; and I guess there ain't."

"Run home to your mistress, Clam, as fast as you can. -- When was Mr. Haye taken sick?"

"Some time yesterday. Then you're comin', Mr. Winthrop?"

"Yes. Run."

Clam ran home. But quick as her speed had been, when she got the handle of the door in her hand she saw a figure that she knew, coming down the street; and waited for him to come up.

Winthrop and she pa.s.sed into the house together.

The gentleman turned into one of the deserted parlours; and Clam with a quick and soft step ran up stairs and into the sick room. Mr. Haye lay there unconscious. Elizabeth was sitting by the side of the bed, with a face of stern and concentrated anxiety.

"Here's the stuff," said Clam, setting some medicine on the table; -- "and there's a gentleman down stairs that wants to see you, Miss 'Lizabeth -- on business."

"Business!" said Elizabeth, -- "Did you tell him what was in the house?"

"I told him," said Clam, "and he don't care. He wants to see you."

Elizabeth had no words to waste, nor heart to speak them. She got up and went down stairs and in at the open parlour door, like a person who walks in a dream through a dreadful labyrinth of pain, made up of what used to be familiar objects of pleasure. So she went in. But so soon as her eye caught the figure standing before the fireplace, though she did not know what he had come there for, only that he was there, her heart sprang as to a pillar of hope. She stopped short and her two hands were brought together with an indescribable expression, telling of relief.

"Oh Mr. Landholm! what brought you here!"

He came forward to where she stood and took one of her hands; and felt that she was trembling like a shaking leaf.

"How is your father?" was his question.

"I don't know!" said Elizabeth bending down her head while tears began to run fast, -- "I don't know anything about sickness -- I never was with anybody before --"

She had felt one other time the gentle kind hands which, while her own eyes were blinded with tears, led her and placed her on the sofa. Elizabeth took the sofa cus.h.i.+on in both arms and laid her head upon it, turning her face from her companion; and her whole frame was racked and shaken with terrible agitation.

In a few minutes this violent expression of feeling came to an end. She took her arms from the pillow and sat up and spoke again to the friend at her side; who meanwhile had been perfectly quiet, offering neither to check nor to comfort her.

Elizabeth went back to a repet.i.tion of her last remark, as if for an excuse.

"I never even tried to nurse anybody before -- and the doctor couldn't stay with me this morning --"

"I will do both now," said Winthrop.

"What?" -- said Elizabeth looking at him bewilderedly.

"Stay with you, and take care of Mr. Haye."

"Oh no! you must not!" she said with a sort of eager seriousness; -- "I shouldn't like to have you."

"I have seen something of the disease," he said smiling slightly, "and I am not afraid of it. -- Are you?"

"Oh yes! -- oh yes!!"

How much was confessed in the tone of those words! -- and she hid her face again. But her companion made no remark.