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

From Which All Trace Of Suffering Had Been Banished almost As Truly

As From The Innocent Spirit.

 

 

 

Having Laid Her Back In the Crib, And Arranged the Little Form As If

Sleeping, He Carried the Crib, With Aunt Saba'S Help, To The Room Where

Mr. Poland Had Died. Then He Told The Old Negress To Return And Remain

With Her Mistress, And That He Would Watch Over The Body Till Morning.

 

 

 

That Quiet Watch By The Pure Little Child, With A Trace Of Heaven'S Own

Beauty On Her Face, Was To Haldane Like The Watch Of The Shepherds On

The Hillside Near Bethlehem. At Times, In the Deep Hush That Followed

The Storm, He Was Almost Sure That He Heard, Faint And Far Away, Angelic

Minstrelsy And Song.

 

 

 

Haldane'S Unusually Healthful And Vigorous Constitution Had Thus Far

Resisted the Infection, But After Returning From The Sad Duty Of Laying

Little Bertha'S Remains By Those Of Her Father, He Felt The Peculiar

Languor Which Is So Often The Precursor Of The Chill And Subsequent

Fever. Although He Had Scarcely Hoped to Escape An Attack, He Had Never

Before Realized how Disastrous It Would Be To The Very Ones He Had Come

To Serve. Who Was There To Take Care Of Him? Mrs. Poland Was Almost

Helpless From Nervous Prostration. Amy Required absolute Quiet To

Prevent The More Fatal Relapse, Which Is Almost Certain To Follow

Exertion Made Too Early In convalescence. He Knew That If He Were In the

House She Would Make The Attempt To Do Something For Him, And He Also

Knew It Would Be At The Risk Of Her Life. Old Aunt Saba Was Worn Out In

Her Attendance On Bertha, Amy, And Mrs. Poland. Her Husband, And A

Stranger Who Had Been At Last Secured to Assist Him, Were Required in

The Household Duties.

 

 

 

He Took His Decision Promptly, For He Felt That He Had But Brief Time In

Which To Act. Going To Mrs. Poland'S Room, He Said To Her And Amy:

 

 

 

"I Am Glad To Find You Both So Brave And Doing as Well As You Are On

This Sad, Sad Day. I Do Not Think You Will Take The Disease, Mrs.

Poland; And You, Miss Amy, Only Need perfect Quiet In order To Get Well.

Please Remember, As A Great Favor To Me, How Vitally Important Is The

Tranquillity Of Mind And Body That I Am Ever Preaching To You, And Don'T

Do That Which Fatigues You In the Slightest Degree, Till Conscious Of

Your Old Strength. And Now I Am Going away For A Little While. This Is A

Time When Every Man Should Be At His Post Of Duty. I Am Needed

Elsewhere, For I Know Of A Case That Requires Immediate Attention.

Please Do Not Remonstrate," He Said, As They Began To Urge That He

Should Take Some Rest; "My Mission Here Has Ended for The Present And My

Duty Is Elsewhere. We Won'T Say Good-By, For I Shall Not Be Far Away;"

And Although He Was Almost Faint From Weakness, His Bearing Was So

Decided and Strong, And He Appeared so Bent On Departure, That They Felt

That It Would Hardly Be In good Taste To Say Anything More.

 

 

 

"We Are Almost Beginning To Feel That Mr. Haldane Belongs To Us," Said

Amy To Her Mother Afterward, "And Forget That He May Be Prompted by As

Strong A Sense Of Duty To Others."

 

 

 

As Haldane Was Leaving The House Dr. Orton Drove To The Door. Before He

Could Alight The Young Man Climbed into His Buggy With Almost Desperate

Haste.

 

 

 

"Drive Toward The City," He Said So Decisively That The Doctor Obeyed.

 

 

 

"What'S The Matter, Haldane? Speak, Man; You Look Sick."

 

 

 

"Take Me To The City Hospital. I Am Sick."

 

 

 

"I Shall Take You Right Back To Mrs. Poland'S," Said The Doctor, Pulling

Up.

 

 

 

Haldane Laid His Hands On The Reins, And Then Explained his Fears And

The Motive For His Action.

 

 

 

"God Bless You, Old Fellow; But You Are Right. Any Effort Now Would Cost

Amy Her Life, And She Would Make It If You Were There. But You Are Not

Going To The Hospital."

 

 

 

Dr. Orton'S Intimate Acquaintance With The City Enabled him To Place

Haldane In a Comfortable Room Near His Own House, Where He Could Give

Constant Supervision To His Case. He Also Procured a Good Nurse, Whose

Sole Duty Was To Take Care Of The Young Man. To The Anxious Questioning

Of Mrs. Poland And Amy From Time To Time, The Doctor Maintained the

Fiction, Saying That Haldane Was Watching a Very Important Case Under

His Care; "And You Know His Way," Added the Old Gentleman, Rubbing His

Hands, As If He Were Enjoying Something Internally, "He Won'T Leave A

Case Till I Say It'S Safe, Even To Visit You, Of Whom He Speaks Every

Chance He Gets;" And Thus The Two Ladies In their Feeble State Were

Saved all Anxiety.

 

 

 

They At Length Learned of The Merciful Ruse That Had Been Played upon

Them By The Appearance Of Their Friend At Their Door In dr. Orton'S

Buggy. As The Old Physician Helped his Patient, Who Was Still Rather

Weak, Up The Steps, He Said With His Hearty Laugh:

 

 

 

"Haldane Has Watched over That Case, That He And I Told You Of, Long

Enough. We Now Turn The Case Over To You, Miss Amy. But All He Requires

Is Good Living, And I'Ll Trust To You For That. He'S A Trump, If He Is A

Yankee. But Drat Him, I Thought He'D Spoil The Joke By Dying, At One

Time."

 

 

 

The Sentiments That People Like Mrs. Poland And Her Daughter, Mrs.

Arnot, And Laura, Would Naturally Entertain Toward One Who Had Served

Them As Haldane Had Done, And At Such Risk To Himself, Can Be Better

Imagined than Portrayed. They Looked and Felt Infinitely More Than They

Were Ever Permitted to Say, For Any Expression Of Obligation Was

Evidently Painful To Him.

 

 

 

He Speedily Gained his Old Vigor, And Before The Autumn Frosts Put An

End To The Epidemic, Was Able To Render Dr. Orton Much Valuable

Assistance.

 

 

 

Amy Became More Truly His Sister Than Ever His Own Had Been To Him. Her

Quick Intuition Soon Discovered his Secret--Even The Changing

Expression Of His Eyes At The Mention Of Laura'S Name Would Have

Revealed it To Her--But He Would Not Let Her Speak On The Subject. "She

Belongs To Another," He Said, "And Although To Me She Is The Most

Beautiful And Attractive Woman In the World, It Must Be My Lifelong

Effort Not To Think Of Her."

 

 

 

His Parting From Mrs. Poland And Amy Tested his Self-Control Severely.

In Accordance With Her Impulsive Nature, Amy Put Her Arms About His Neck

As She Said Brokenly:

 

 

 

"You Were Indeed god'S Messenger To Us, And You Brought Us Life. As

Father Said, We Shall All Meet Again."

 

 

 

On His Return, Mrs. Arnot'S Greeting Was That Of A Mother; But There

Were Traces Of Constraint In laura'S Manner. When She First Met Him She

Took His Hand In a Strong, Warm Pressure, And Said, With Tears In her

Eyes:

 

 

 

"Mr. Haldane, I Thank You For Your Kindness To Amy And Auntie As

Sincerely As If It Had All Been Rendered to Me Alone."

 

 

 

But After This First Expression Of Natural Feeling, Haldane Was Almost

Tempted to Believe That She Shunned meeting His Eyes, Avoided speaking

To Him, And Even Tried to Escape From His Society, By Taking Mr.

Beaumont'S Arm And Strolling Off To Some Other Apartment, When He Was

Calling On Mrs. Arnot. And Yet If This Were True, He Was Also Made To

Feel That It Resulted from No Lack Of Friendliness Or Esteem On Her

Part.

 

 

 

"She Fears That My Old-Time Passion May Revive, And She Would Teach Me

To Put A Watch At The Entrance Of Its Sepulchre," He At Length

Concluded; "She Little Thinks That My Love, So Far From Being Dead, Is A

Chained giant That Costs Me Hourly Vigilance To Hold In lifelong

Imprisonment."

 

 

 

But Laura Understood Him Much Better Than He Did Her. Her Manner Was The

Result Of A Straightforward Effort To Be Honest. Of Her Own Free Will,

And Without Even The Slightest Effort On The Part Of Her Uncle And Aunt

To Incline Her Toward The Wealthy And Distinguished mr. Beaumont, She

Had Accepted all His Attentions, And Had Accepted the Man Himself. In

The World'S Estimation She Would Not Have The Slightest Ground To Find

Fault With Him, For, From The First, Both In conduct And Manner, He Had

Been Irreproachable.

 

 

 

When The Telegram Which Announced mr. Poland'S Death Was Received, He

Tried to Comfort Her By Words That Were So Peculiarly Elegant And

Sombre, That, In spite Of Laura'S Wishes To Think Otherwise, They Struck

Her Like An Elegiac Address That Had Been Carefully Prearranged and

Studied; And When The Tidings Of Poor Little Bertha'S Death Came, It

Would Occur To Laura That Mr. Beaumont Had Thought His First Little

Address So Perfect That He Could Do No Better Than To Repeat It, As One

Might Use An Appropriate Burial Service On All Occasions. He Meant To Be

Kind And Considerate. He Was "Ready To Do Anything In his Power," As He

Often Said. But What Was In his Power? As Telegrams And Letters Came,

Telling Of Death, Of Desperate Illness, And Uncertain Life, Of Death

Again, Of Manly Help, Of Woman-Like Self-Sacrifice In the Same Man, Her

Heart Began To Beat In quick, Short, Passionate Throbs. Bat It Would

Seem That Nothing Could Ever Disturb The Even Rhythm Of Beaumont'S

Pulse. He Tried to Show His Sympathy By Turning His Mind To All That Was

Mournful And Sombre In art And Literature. One Day He Brought To Her

From New York What He Declared to Be The Finest Arrangement Of Dirge

Music For The Piano Extant, And She Quite Surprised him By Declaring

With Sudden Passion That She Could Not And Would Not Play A Note Of It.

 

 

 

In Her Deep Sorrow And Deeper Anxiety, In her Strange And Miserable

Unrest, Which Had Its Hidden Root In a Cause Not Yet Understood, She

Turned to Him Again And Again For Sympathy, And He Gave Her Abundant

Opportunity To Seek It, For Laura Was The Most Beautiful Object He Had

Ever Seen; And Therefore, To Feast His Eye And Gratify His Ear, He Spent

Much Of His Time With Her; So Much, Indeed, That She Often Grew Drearily

Weary Of Him. But No Matter When Or How Often She Would Look Into His

Face For Quick, Heartfelt Appreciation, She Saw With Instinctive

Certainty That, More Than Lover, More Than Friend, And Eventually, More

Than Husband, He Was, And Ever Would Be, A Connoisseur. When She Smiled

He Was Admiring Her, When She Wept He Was Also Admiring Her. Whatever

She Did Or Said Was Constantly Being Looked at And Studied from An

Aesthetic Standpoint By This Man, Whose Fastidious Taste She Had Thus

Far Satisfied. More Than Once She Had Found Herself Asking: "Suppose I

Should Lose My Beauty, What Would He Do?" And The Instinctive Answer Of

Her Heart Was: "He Would Honorably Try To Keep All His Pledges, But

Would Look The Other Way."

 

 

 

Before She Was Aware Of It, She Had Begun To Compare Her Affianced with

Haldane, And She Found That The One Was Like A Goblet Of Sweet, Rich

Wine, That Was Already Nearly Exhausted and Cloying To Her Taste; The

Other Was Like A Mountain Spring, Whose Waters Are Pure, Ever New,

Unfailing, Prodigally Abundant, Inspiring Yet Slaking Thirst.

 

 

 

But She Soon Saw Whither Such Comparisons Were Leading Her, And

Recognized her Danger And Her Duty. She Had Plighted her Faith To

Another, And He Had Given Her No Good Reason To Break That Faith. Laura

Had A Conscience, And She As Resolutely Set To Work To Shut Out Haldane

From Her Heart, As He, Poor Man, Had Tried to Exclude Her Image, And

From Very Much The Same Cause. But The Heart Is A Wayward Organ And Is

Often At Sword'S-Point With Both Will And Conscience, And Frequently, In

Spite Of All That She Could Do, It Would Array Haldane On The One Side

And Beaumont On The Other, And So It Would Eventually Come To Be, The

Man Who Loved her, _Versus_ The Connoisseur Who Admired her, But Whose

Absorbing Passion For Himself Left No Place For Any Other Strong

Feeling.

Chapter LIII