Pretty Madcap Dorothy Part 38

"You will give me that promise, will you not, Jack?" she pleaded. "The pangs of death will be easier to bear if my mind is but at rest on that subject."

"You are going to get well soon, and the ceremony will take place as we have arranged," he said, soothingly; but she shook her head.

"If I should not, Jack," she whispered, fixing her burning eyes wistfully on his face, "let me have the a.s.surance from your lips that you will never, never put another in my place."

"If it will settle any doubts in your mind, I give you the promise that you ask," he answered, in a low, grave voice; and it was worth that promise to see the girl's pale face light up with a swift flush of joy.

"Oh, thank you--thank you, Jack!" she sobbed.

At that moment a strange incident was taking place in Dorothy's room.

Almost thoroughly exhausted with night-watching, Dorothy had fallen asleep in a chair, in which she had sat down for a few moments' rest.

Was it only a vision? she wondered, or did she hear some one call her name softly: "Dorothy! Dorothy!"

She turned her head quickly, but she could see no one, although some one was whispering:

"Why do you nurse Jessie so carefully? If it is destined that she should die, I wonder that you grieve when you know that her death will bring freedom to Jack Garner and love to you!"

The idea was so startling that for a time it nearly took her breath away.

"Let her drift quietly on to the end which is near. If you do not work too zealously to save her, your reward will be the heart of him whom you _love at last_. Take warning, and heed my words!"

Dorothy sprang from her chair, quivering with excitement.

She had been fast asleep, and the words that still rang in her ears shocked her yet, even though she knew it was but a dream--though such a vivid one--and the voice that whispered those words to her seemed so like Jack's.

Still the idea was in her head. If Jessie Staples died, her lover would be free again, and she knew what that would mean for herself.

She tried to put the thought from her, but she could not; it haunted her continually.

She tried to tell herself that even if Jessie were to die, she would never make herself known to Jack.

But, even after she had said all that, she knew in her own mind that she would be sure to let Jack know at last, for she would never realize a moment's happiness until she was once more what she had been to Jack in the past.

It had been such a slight affair that had parted them, and that had drifted two hearts asunder.

Alas! how light a cause may move Dissensions between hearts that love-- Hearts that the world in vain had tried, And sorrow but more closely tied; That stood the storm when waves were rough, Yet in a sunny hour fell off, Like s.h.i.+ps that have gone down at sea When heaven was all tranquillity."

CHAPTER x.x.xIV.

During the week that followed, the words that Dorothy had heard in her dream constantly recurred to her.

At first she fought against the feeling that seemed to be forced upon her.

She cried out to herself that Jessie must live; but with that thought always came the one that, if Jessie recovered, it would mean the downfall of all her own future happiness.

At last her growing love for Jack Garner conquered her. She yielded to it. It was like the intoxication of rare wine, of sweet, subtle perfume, until at last, in secret, she confessed to herself that she loved him.

She thought of nothing but that she loved Jack with all the strength and fervor of her despairing soul, and the only barrier between them was--Jessie.

To make matters all the worse, the sick girl made a confidante of her, and would talk to her for long hours at a time over her approaching marriage--that is, if she should recover.

Every word she said was like the sharp thrust of a sword to Dorothy; but day by day Dorothy could not help but notice the terrible change that was taking place in Jessie Staples.

Every afternoon her couch was drawn to the bay-window. She liked to be propped up where she could look out into the sunlit garden, with its green foliage and bright-hued flowers; for it was in the garden that Jack could be seen, pacing up and down under the trees, smoking his afternoon cigar.

She would always call for Jack when she saw him, and when he came into the room she would hold out her arms to him with a strange, low cry.

He would always kneel down by her side, talk to her, try to cheer her.

Sleep would never come to her unless he sat by her side, holding her hands in his.

It was with great relief that Mr. Garner heard at length that Doctor Crandall was so much better that he would visit Jessie the next afternoon.

When he came Doctor Kendal took him at once to the sick-room, and there they held a long and secret consultation.

"I am obliged to say, sir, that I shall have to abandon the case," said Kendal. "I am completely dumbfounded with it. I have most carefully followed out your every suggestion, and yet the patient fails rapidly before my eyes day after day."

Doctor Crandall looked thoughtful.

When he left Jessie's couch he found Mr. Garner awaiting him in the library.

"What do you think of her, sir?" he asked, quickly.

"There is not much the matter," he replied; "a good tonic, rest, and a little cheerful society will soon set the young lady right again."

"It is the first time that you have seen her, doctor," said Jack, rather dubiously. "You never saw her in health, sir. You do not know how alarmingly she has changed for the worse. She had a brilliant color, but it has all gone."

"It will soon return," said the doctor, encouragingly; and with a few further words he left Jack, more mystified than ever.

For forty odd years he had enjoyed a large practice, but in all that time he had never had a case exactly like this.

He made up his mind then and there that there was something about this case which was beyond him--there was something about it that he could not fathom, that was shrouded in mystery.

He wired without delay, an urgent message to an eminent physician with whom he was on excellent terms. It was almost midnight when Doctor Schimpf arrived at the Garner mansion.

His friend, Doctor Crandall, was awaiting him, and together they made their way at once to the sick-room.

"This is an urgent case, I suppose," said Doctor Schimpf.

"I am afraid so," was the reply. "You will be able to judge when you see the patient."

Doctor Schimpf's stern face grew sterner still as he made his examination of poor Jessie. Then the doctors quitted the room and commenced their consultation.

Nadine Holt looked after them with a strange smile on her face, her black eyes glittering.