A KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY by Edward Payson Roe (world of reading .txt) 📖

An Excellent Prospect That He Would Enter

Heaven Before He Found A Welcome To The Exclusive Circles Of Hillaton.

Chapter L ("O Dreaded death!")

Haldane Found Time In the Enforced pauses Of His Journey To Write A Long

And Affectionate Letter To His Mother, Explaining all, And Asking Her

Forgiveness Again, As He Often Had Before. He Also Wrote To Mrs. Arnot A

Cheerful Note, In which He Tried to Put His Course In the Most Ordinary

And Matter-Of-Fact Light Possible, Saying That As A Medical Student It

Was The Most Natural Thing In the World For Him To Do.

 

 

 

As He Approached the Infected city He Had The Train Chiefly To Himself,

And He Saw That The Outgoing Trains Were Full, And When At Last He

Walked its Streets It Reminded him Of A Household Of Which Some Member

Is Very Ill, Or Dead, And The Few Who Were Moving about Walked as If

Under A Sad Constraint And Gloom. On Most Faces Were Seen Evidences Of

Anxiety And Trouble, While A Few Were Reckless.

 

 

 

Having Obtained a Carriage, He Was Driven To Mr. Poland'S Residence In a

Suburb. He Dismissed the Carriage At The Gate, Preferring To Quietly

Announce Himself. The Sultry Day Was Drawing To A Close As He Walked up

The Gravelled drive That Led to The House. Not Even The Faintest Zephyr

Stirred the Luxuriant Tropical Foliage That Here And There Shadowed his

Path, And Yet The Stillness And Quiet Of Nature Did Not Suggest Peace

And Repose So Much As It Did Death. The Motionless Air, Heavily Laden

With A Certain Dead Sweetness Of Flowers From The Neighboring Garden,

Might Well Bring To Mind The Breathless Silence And The Heavy Atmosphere

Of The Chamber In which The Lifeless Form And The Fading Funeral Wreath

Are Perishing Together.

 

 

 

So Oppressed was Haldane He Found Himself Walking Softly And Mounting

The Steps Of The Piazza With A Silent Tread, As If He Were In truth

Approaching The Majesty Of Death. Before He Could Ring The Bell There

Came From The Parlor A Low, Sad Prelude, Played on A Small Reed organ

That Had Been Built In the Room, And Then A Contralto Voice Of Peculiar

Sweetness Sang The Following Words With Such Depth Of Feeling That One

Felt That They Revealed the Innermost Emotion Of The Heart:

 

 

 

O Priceless Life! Warm, Throbbing Life, With Thought And Love And

Passion Rife, I Cling To Thee. Thou Art An Isle In the Ocean Wide; Thou

Art A Barque Above The Tide; How Vague And Void Is All Beside! I Cling

To Thee.

 

 

 

O Dreaded death! Cold, Pallid Death, Despair Is In thy Icy Breath; I

Shrink From Thee. What Victims Wilt Thou Next Enroll? Thou Hast A Terror

For My Soul Which Will Nor Reason Can Control; I Shrink From Thee.

 

 

 

Then Followed a Sound That Was Like A Low Sob. This Surely Was Amy,

Laura'S Cousin-Friend, And Already She Had Won The Whole Sympathy Of His

Heart.

 

 

 

After Ringing The Bell He Heard Her Step, And Then She Paused, As He

Rightly Surmised, To Wipe Away The Thickly Falling Tears. He Was Almost

Startled when She Appeared before Him, For The Maiden Had Inherited the

Peculiar And Striking Beauty Of Her Mother. Sorrow And Watching Had

Brought Unusual Pallor To Her Cheeks; But Her Eyes Were So Large, So

Dark And Intense, That They Suggested spirit Rather Than Flesh And

Blood.

 

 

 

"I Think That This Is Miss Poland," Commenced haldane In a Manner That

Was Marked by Both Sympathy And Respect, And He Was About To Hand Her

His Card Of Introduction, When She Stepped eagerly Forward And Took His

Hand, Saying: "You Are Mr. Haldane. I Know It At A Glance."

 

 

 

"Yes, And Wholly At Your Service."

 

 

 

Still Retaining His Hand, She Looked for A Second Into His Face, As If

She Would Read His Soul And Gauge The Compass Of His Nature; So Intent

And Penetrating Was Her Gaze, That Haldane Felt That If There Had Been

Any Wavering Or Weakness On His Part She Would Have Known It As Truly As

Himself.

 

 

 

Her Face Suddenly Lighted up With Gratitude And Friendliness, And She

Said, Earnestly:

 

 

 

"I _Do_ Thank You For Coming. I Had Purposed asking You Not To Take

So Great A Risk For Us, But To Return; For, To Be Frank With You, Our

Physician Has Told Me That Your Risk Is Terribly Great; But I See That

You Are One That Would Not Turn Back."

 

 

 

"You Are Right, Miss Poland." Then He Added, With A Frank Smile, "There

Is Nothing Terrible To Me In the Risk You Speak Of. I Honestly Feel It A

Privilege To Come To Your Aid, And I Have But One Request To Make: That

You Will Let Me Serve You In any Way And Every Way Possible. By Any

Hesitancy And Undue Delicacy In this Respect You Will Greatly Pain Me."

 

 

 

"Oh!" She Exclaimed in a Low And Almost Passionate Tone, "I Am So Glad

You Have Come, For I Was Almost Desperate."

 

 

 

"Your Father?" Asked haldane Very Gravely.

 

 

 

"He Is More Quiet, And I Try To Think He Is Better, But Doctor Won'T Say

That He Is. Ah, There He Is Coming Now."

 

 

 

A Carriage Drove Rapidly To The Door, And The Physician Sprang Up The

Steps As If The Hours Were Short For The Increasing Pressure Of His

Work.

 

 

 

"Miss Amy, Why Are You Here Yet? I Hoped that You And Your Little Sister

Were On Your Way To The Mountains," He Said, Taking Her Hand.

 

 

 

"Please Do Not Speak Of It Again," She Replied. "I Cannot Leave Father

And Mother, And Bertha, You Know, Is Too Young And Nervous A Child To Be

Forced to Go Away Alone. We Must All Remain Together, And Hope The Best

From Your Skill."

 

 

 

"God Knows I'M Doing all In my Power To Save My Dear Old Friend Poland,"

Said The Physician Huskily, And Then He Shook His Head As If He Had

Little Hope. "How Is He Now?"

 

 

 

"Better, I Think. Dr. Orton, This Is The Friend Of Whom I Spoke, Mr.

Haldane."

 

 

 

"You Have Always Lived at The North?" Asked the Physician, Looking The

Young Man Over With A Quick Glance.

 

 

 

"Yes, Sir."

 

 

 

"Do You Realize The Probable Consequences Of This Exposure To One Not

Acclimated?"

 

 

 

"Dr. Orton, I Am A Medical Student, And I Have Come To Do My Duty, Which

Here Will Be To Carry Out Strictly Your Directions. I Have Only One Deep

Cause For Anxiety, And That Is That I May Be Taken With The Disease

Before I Can Be Of Much Use. So Please Give Me Work At Once."

 

 

 

"Give Me Your Hand, Old Fellow. You Do Our Profession Credit, If Not

Fully Fledged. You Are Right, We Must All Do What We Can While We Can,

For The Lord Only Knows How Many Hours Are Left To Any Of Us. But, Amy,

My Dear, It Makes Me Feel Like Praying and Swearing In the Same Breath

To Find You Still In this Infernal City. A Friend Promised to Call This

Morning and Take You And Your Sister Away."

 

 

 

"We Cannot Go."

 

 

 

"Well, Well, As Long As The Old Doctor Is Above Ground He Will Try To

Take Care Of You; And This Young Gentleman Can Be Invaluable If He Can

Hold On For A While Before Following Too General A Fashion. Come, Sir, I

Will Install You As Nurse At Once."

 

 

 

"Doctor, Doctor Orton, What Have You Brought For Me?" Cried a Childish

Voice And A Little Girl, Fair And Blue-Eyed, Came Fluttering Down The

Stairs, Intercepting Them On The Way To Mr. Poland'S Room.

 

 

 

"Ah! There'S My Good Little Fairy," Said The Kind-Hearted man, Taking

Her In his Arms And Kissing Her. "Look In my Pockets, Little One, And

See What You Can Find."

 

 

 

With Delightful Unconsciousness Of The Shadows Around Her The Child

Fumbled in his Pockets And Soon Pulled out A Picture-Book.

 

 

 

"No Candy Yet?" She Exclaimed in disappointment.

 

 

 

"No Candy At All, Bertha, Nothing But Good Plain Food Till Next Winter.

You Make Sure Of This, I Suppose," He Said Significantly To The Elder

Sister.

 

 

 

"Yes, As Far As Possible. I Will Wait For You Here."

 

 

 

They Ascended to A Large Airy Room On The Second Floor. Even To Haldane,

Mr. Poland Appeared far Down In the Dark Valley; But He Was In that

Quiet And Conscious State Which Follows The First Stage Of The Fever,

Which In his Case, Owing To His Vigorous Frame, Had Been Unusually

Prolonged.

 

 

 

Without A Word The Doctor Felt The Sick Man'S Pulse, Who Bent Upon Him

His Questioning Eyes. From The Further Side Of The Bed, Mrs. Poland,

Sitting Feebly In her Chair, Also Fixed upon The Physician The Same

Intense Searching Gaze That Haldane Had Sustained from The Daughter. Dr.

Orton Looked for A Moment Into Her Pale, Thin Face, Which Might Have

Been Taken As A Model For Agonized anxiety, And Then Looked away Again,

For He Could Not Endure Its Expression.

 

 

 

"Orton, Tell Me The Truth; No Wincing Now," Said Mr. Poland In low,

Thick Utterance.

 

 

 

"My Dear Old Friend, It Cuts Me To The Heart To Say It, But If You Have

Anything Special That You Would Like To Say To Your Family I Think You

Had Better Say It Now."

 

 

 

"Then I Am Going To Die," Said The Man And Both His Tone And Face Were

Full Of Awe; While Poor Mrs. Poland Looked as If _In Extremis_ Herself.

 

 

 

"This Return And Rapid Rise Of Fever At This Late Day Looks Very Bad,"

Said The Physician, Gloomily, "And You Insisted on Knowing The Truth."

 

 

 

"You Ever Were An Honest Friend, Orton; I Know You Have Done Your Best

For Me, And, Although Worked to Death, Have Come To See Me Often. I

Leave My Family In your Charge. God Grant I May Be The Only One To

Suffer. May I See The Children?"

 

 

 

"Yes, A Few Moments; But I Do Not Wish Them To Be In this Room Long."

 

 

 

"Don'T Go Just Yet, Orton. I--To Tell You The Truth, I Feel That Dying

Is Rather Serious Business, And You And I Have Always Taken Life

Somewhat As A Good Joke. Call The Girls."

 

 

 

They Came And Stood By Their Mother. Amy Was Beyond Tears, But Little

Bertha Could Not Understand It, And With Difficulty Could Be Kept From

Clambering Upon The Bed to Her Father.

 

 

 

"Amy'S Naughty, She Keeps Me Away From You, Papa. I'Ve Been Wanting To

See You All Day, And Amy Won'T Let Me."

 

 

 

The Doctor And Haldane Retired to The Hallway.

 

 

 

There Was An Unutterable Look In the Dying Man'S Eyes As He Fixed them

On The Little Group.

 

 

 

"How Can I Leave You? How Can I Leave You?" He Groaned.

 

 

 

At This The Child Began To Cry, And Again Struggled to Reach Her Father.

She Was Evidently His Idol, And He Prayed, "Wherever I Go--Whatever

Becomes Of Me, God Grant I May See That Child Again."

 

 

 

"Mother," He Said (He Always Called his Wife By That Endearing Name),

"I'M Sure You Are Mistaken. I Want To See You All Again With Such

Intense Longing That I Feel I Shall. This Life Can'T Be All. My Hearts

Revolts At It. It'S Fiendish Cruelty To Tear Asunder Forever Those Who

Love As We Do. As I Told You Before, I'M Going To Take My Chances--With

The Publican. Oh! That Some One Could Make A Prayer! Orton!" He Called

Feebly.

 

 

 

The Doctor Entered, Leaving The Door Open.

 

 

 

"Couldn'T You Offer A Short Prayer? You May Think It Unmanly In me, But

I Am In sore Straits, And I Want To See These Loved ones Again."

 

 

 

"Haldane," Cried dr. Orton, "Here, Offer A Prayer, For God'S Sake, If

You Can. I Feel As If I Were Choking."

 

 

 

Without Any Hesitancy Or Mannerism The Christian Man Knelt At Mr.

Poland'S Bedside And Offered as Simple And Natural A Prayer As He Would

Have Spoken To The Divine Man In person Had He Gone To Him In judea,

Centuries Ago, In behalf Of A Friend. His Faith Was So Absolute That He

That Was Petitioned became A Living Presence To Those Who Listened.

 

 

 

"God Bless You, Whoever You Are," Said The