An Original Belle Part 69

"Hus.h.!.+" said Mr. Vosburgh, sternly. "Each one obey me. Out through the area door instantly."

Across this he also let down a heavy bar, and, taking his daughter's hand, he hurried her to the fence, removed the boards, and, when all had pa.s.sed through, replaced them. Mr. Erkmann, at his neighbor's request, had left his rear bas.e.m.e.nt door open, and was on the watch. He appeared almost instantly, and counselled the fugitives to remain with him.

"No," said Mr. Vosburgh; "we will bring no more peril than we must on you. Let us out into the street at once, and then bar and bolt everything."

"But where can you go at this time?"

"To my house," said Merwyn, firmly. "Please do as Mr. Vosburgh asks. It will be safest for all."

"Well, since you will have it so."

"Hasten, hasten," Merwyn urged.

Mr. Erkmann unlatched the door and looked out. The street was quiet and deserted, and the fugitives rushed away with whispered thanks.

"Marian, tie Riten's ap.r.o.n over your head, so as to partially disguise your face," said her father.

Fortunately they met but few people, and no crowds whatever. As they approached Merwyn's home his steps began to grow unsteady.

"Papa," said Marian, in agitated tones, "Mr. Merwyn is wounded; he wants your support."

"Merciful Heaven, Merwyn! are you wounded?"

"Yes, hasten. I must reach home before giving out."

When they gained his door he had to be almost carried up the steps, and Mr. Vosburgh rang the bell furiously.

Only a moment or two elapsed before the scared face of Thomas appeared, but as Merwyn crossed the threshold he fainted.

They carried him to his room, and then Mr. Vosburgh said, "Bring a physician and lose not a second. Say it is a case of life and death. Hold! first bring me some brandy."

"Oh, oh!" Marian moaned, "I fear it's death! O papa he gave his life for you."

"No, no," was the hoa.r.s.e response; "it cannot, shall not be. It's only a wound, and he has fainted from loss of blood. Show your nerve now. Moisten his lips with brandy. You, Riten, chafe his wrists with it, while I cut open his s.h.i.+rt and stanch the wound."

A second more and a terrible gash on Merwyn's breast was revealed.

How deep it was they could not know.

Marian held out her handkerchief, and it was first used to stop the flow of blood. When it was taken away she put it in her bosom.

The old servant, Margy, now rushed in with lamentations.

"Hus.h.!.+" said Mr. Vosburgh, sternly. "Chafe that other wrist with brandy."

But the swoon was prolonged, and Marian, pallid to her lips, sighed and moaned as she did her father's bidding.

Thomas was not very long in bringing a good physician, who had often attended the family. Marian watched his face as if she were to read there a verdict in regard to her own life, and Mr. Vosburgh evinced scarcely less solicitude.

"His pulse certainly shows great exhaustion; but I cannot yet believe that it is a desperate case. We must first tally him, and then I will examine his wound. Mr. Vosburgh, lift him up, and let me see if I cannot make him swallow a little diluted brandy."

At last Merwyn revived somewhat, but did not seem conscious of what was pa.s.sing around him. The physician made a hasty examination of the wound and said, "It is not so severe as to be fatal in itself, but I don't like the hot, dry, feverish condition of his skin."

"He was feverish before he received the wound," said Marian, in a whisper. "I fear he has been going far beyond his strength."

"I entreat you, sir, not to leave him," said Mr. Vosburgh, "until you can give us more hope."

"Rest a.s.sured that I shall not. I am the family physician, and I shall secure for him in the morning the best surgical aid in the city. All that can be done in these times shall be done. Hereafter there must be almost absolute quiet, especially when he begins to notice anything. He must not be moved, or be allowed to move, until I say it is safe. Perhaps if all retire, except myself and Thomas, he will be less agitated when he recovers consciousness. Margy, you make good, strong coffee, and get an early breakfast."

They all obeyed his suggestions at once.

The servant showed Mr. Vosburgh and his daughter into a sitting-room on the same floor, and the poor girl, relieved from the necessity of self-restraint, threw herself on a lounge and sobbed and moaned as if her heart was breaking.

Wise Mr. Vosburgh did not at first restrain her, except by soothing, gentle words. He knew that this was nature's relief, and that she would soon be the better and calmer for it.

The physician wondered at the presence of strangers in the Merwyn residence, and speedily saw how Marian felt towards his patient; but he had observed professional reticence, knowing that explanations would soon come. Meanwhile he carefully sought to rally his patient, and watched each symptom.

At last Merwyn opened his eyes and asked, feebly: "Where am I? What has happened?"

"You were injured, but are doing well," was the prompt reply. "You know me, Dr. Henderson, and Thomas is here also. You are in your own room."

"Yes, I see," and he remained silent for some little time; then said, "I remember all now."

"You must keep quiet and try not to think, Mr. Merwyn. Your life depends upon it."

"My mind has a strong disposition to wander."

"The more need of quiet."

"Miss Vosburgh is here. I must see her."

"Yes, by and by."

"Doctor, I fear I am going to be out of my mind. I must see Miss Vosburgh. I will see her; and if you are wise you will permit me to do so. My life depends upon it more than upon your skill. Do what I ask, and I will be quiet."

"Very well, then, but the interview must be brief."

"It must be as I say."

Marian was summoned. Hastily drying her eyes, she tried to suppress her strong emotion.

Merwyn feebly reached out his hand to her, and she sat down beside him.

"Do not try to talk," she whispered, taking his hand.

"Yes, I must while I am myself. Dr. Henderson, I love and honor this girl, and would make her my wife should she consent. I may be dying, but if she is willing to stay with me, it seems as if I could live through everything, fever and all. If she is willing and you do not permit her to stay, I want you to know that my blood is on your hands! Marian, are you willing to stay?"

"Yes," she replied; and then, leaning down, she whispered: "I do love you; I have loved you ever since I understood you. Oh, live for my sake! What would life be now without you?"

"Now you shall stay."