MR. BROWN.
Nearly two weeks had elapsed since the night when Mr. Dubois had
brought Mr. Brown, in a sick and fainting condition, into his house.
That gentleman had lain very ill ever since. The disease was typhoid
fever; the patient was in a critical state, and nothing now but the
utmost care and quiet could save his life.
"What directions have you left for to-day, Dr. Wright?" said Adèle to
the physician, as he came one morning from the sick-room.
"Mrs. McNab has the programme", he replied.
"Will you please repeat it to me, sir? Mrs. McNab has been called
elsewhere, and will not have charge of the gentleman to-day".
Mrs. Dubois looked at Adèle with some surprise. She made no remark,
however, as Dr. Wright immediately began to give the directions for
his patient to that young lady.
When he had taken leave and closed the door, Adèle turned to her
mother and said, "I have suspected for several days that things were
not going on properly in that sick-room. Last night, I became
convinced of it. I cannot stop to tell you about it now, mamma, as
there is no time to lose with our invalid. But Mrs. McNab must
decamp. I have it all arranged, and I promise you I will not offend
Aunt Patty, but will dismiss her peaceably. Do trust her to me once,
mamma. Please go now and tell her there is a message waiting for her
in the dining-room. Stay with Mr. Brown just one half hour, and you
shall have no more trouble to-day".
"But, _ma chère_, you have no patience with Aunt Patty. I am afraid
you will be too abrupt with her".
"Don't fear, mamma, I promise you I will not outrage Aunt Patty.
Please go".
"Ah! well! I will go", said Mrs. Dubois.
Mrs. McNab soon made her appearance in the dining-room, and, with some
degree of trepidation, inquired who wanted her there.
"Micah was here an hour ago", replied Adèle, "and said Mrs. Campbell
sent him here to ask you to come and help her. Four of her children
are sick with the measles and she is nearly down herself, in
consequence of fatigue and watching. I did not speak to you then, as I
supposed you were sleeping. I told Micah I had no doubt you would
come, as there are enough here to take care of the sick gentleman, and
Mrs. Campbell needs you so much".
"Weel, Miss Ady", said Mrs. McNab, twitching violently a stray lock of
her flaming hair and tucking it beneath her cap, "I dinna ken how you
could tak' upon yourself to send such a ward as that, when Mr. Brown
is just on the creesis of his fever and not one of ye as knows how-to
tak' care o' him more than a nussin' babe".
"Ah! indeed! Aunt Patty", said Adèle, pretending to be offended, "do
you say that my mother knows nothing about sickness, when you are
aware she has carried my father through two dangerous fevers and me
through all the diseases of babyhood and childhood?"
"That mon 'ull never get weel if I leave him noo, when I've the run of
the muddesons and directions. A strange hand 'ull put everything wrang
and he'll dee, that's a'".
"And if he does die", said Adèle, "you will not be responsible. You
have done what you could for him and now you are called away. I am
sure you will not permit Mrs. Campbell to suffer, when she gave you a
comfortable home in her house all last winter".
"Weel, Mrs. Cawmmells' a gude woman enough and I'm sorry the bairns
are sick. But what's the measles to a fever like this, and the mon
nigh dead noo?" Aunt Patty's face flushed scarlet.
"Aunt Patty", said Adèle, very slowly and decidedly, "Mr. Brown is my
father's guest. We are accountable for his treatment, and not you. My
mother and I are going to take charge of him now. I sent word to Mrs.
Campbell that there was nothing to prevent you from coming to assist
her. You have had your share of the fatigue and watching with our
invalid. Now we are going to relieve you". There was something in
Adèle's determined air, that convinced Mrs. McNab the time for her to
yield had at length come, and that it was of no use for her to contest
the field longer. Feeling sure of this, there were various reasons,
occurring to her on the instant, that restrained her from a further
expression of her vexation. After a few moments of sullen silence, she
rose and said--
"Weel! I'll go and put my things tegither, that's in Mr. Brown's room,
and tell Mrs. Doobyce aboot the muddesons and so on".
"That is not necessary", said Adèle; "The Dr. has given me directions
about the medicines. Here is breakfast all ready for you, Aunt Patty.
Sit down and eat it, while it is hot. I will go to the gentleman's
room and gather up what you have left there. Come, sit down now".
Adèle placed a pot of hot coffee and a plate of warm rolls upon the
table.
Mrs. McNab stood for a moment, much perplexed between her impulse to
go back to Mr. Brown's room and unburden her mind to Mrs. Dubois, and
the desire to partake immediately of the tempting array upon the
breakfast-table. Finally, her material wants gained the ascendency and
she sat down very composedly to a discussion of the refreshments,
while Adèle, anticipating that result, hastened up stairs to collect
the remaining insignia of that worthy woman's departing greatness.
Mrs. Dubois, on going to Mr. Brown's room, had found the atmosphere
close and suffocating, and that gentleman, tossing restlessly on the
bed from side to side, talking to himself in a wild delirium. She left
the door ajar and began bathing his fevered head in cool water. This
seemed to soothe him greatly and he sank back almost immediately into
a deathlike slumber, in which he lay when Adèle entered the chamber.
Cautioned by her mother's uplifted finger, she moved about
noiselessly, until she had made up a large and miscellaneous package
of articles; then descended quietly, inwardly resolving that the
"Nuss" as she called herself, should not for several weeks at least,
revisit the scene of her late operations.
Mrs. McNab was still pursuing her breakfast, and Adèle sat down, with
what patience she could command, to wait for the close.
"You'll be wanting some ain to watch to-night, Miss Ady", said Aunt
Patty.
"Yes, Mr. Norton will do that. He has offered many times to watch. He
will be very kind and attentive to the invalid, I know".
"I s'pose he'll do as weel as he knows hoo, but I havena much faith in
a mon that sings profane sangs and ca's 'em relegious heems, to a
people that need the bread o' life broken to 'em".
"Have you heard him sing, Aunt Patty? I did not know you had attended
his meetings at the grove".
"I havena, surely. But when the windows were up, I heard him singin'
them jigs and reels, and I expectin' every minut to see the men,
women, and bairns a dancin'".
"They sit perfectly still, while he is singing", said Adèle, "and
listen as intently as if they heard an angel. His voice is sometimes
like a flute, sometimes like a trumpet. Did you hear the words he
sang?"
"The wards! yes! them's the warst of a!" said Mrs. McNab, expanding
her nostrils with a snort of contempt. "They bear na resemblance
whatever to the Psalms o' David. I should as soon think o' singing
the' sangs o' Robby Burns at a relegious service as them blasphemous
things".
"Oh! Aunt Patty, you are wrong. He sings beautiful hymns, and he tells
these people just what they need. I hope they will listen to him and
reform".
"Weel he's a very light way o' carryin himself, for a minister o' the
gospel, I must say".
"He is cheerful, to be sure, and sympathizes with the people, and
helps them in their daily labor sometimes, if that is what you refer
to. I am sure that is right, and I like him for it", said Adèle.
"Weel! I see he's a' in a' with you, noo", said Mrs. McNab, at last
rising from the table. "I'll go up noo and tak' leave o' the patient".
"No, no", said Adèle. "He is sleeping. He must not be disturbed on any
account. His life may depend upon this slumber remaining unbroken".
She rose involuntarily and placed herself against the door leading to
the stairs.
Mrs. McNab grew red with anger, at being thus foiled. Turning aside to
hide her vexation, she waddled across the room, took her bonnet and
shawl from a peg she had appropriated to her special use, and
proceeded to invest herself for her departure.
"Weel! I s'pose ye'll expect me to come when ye send for me", said
she, turning round in the doorway with a grotesque distortion of her
face intended for an ironical smile.
"That is just as you please, Aunt Patty. We shall be happy to see you
whenever you choose to come. Good-by".
"Good by", said Mrs. McNab in a quacking, quavering, half resentful
tone, as she closed the door behind her.
Adèle went immediately to the adjoining pantry, called Bess, a tidy
looking mulatto, gave her directions for the morning work and then
went up stairs to relieve her mother. Mrs. Dubois made signs to her
that she preferred not to resign her post. But Adèle silently insisted
she should do so.
After her mother had left the room, she placed herself near the
bedside that she might observe the countenance and the breathing of
the invalid. His face was pale as that of death. His breath came and
went almost imperceptibly. The physician had excluded every ray of
sunshine and a hush, like that of the grave, reigned in the apartment.
In her intercourse with the people of the settlement, Adèle had often
witnessed extreme illness and several dying scenes; but she had never
before felt herself so oppressed and awestruck as now. As she sat
there alone with the apparently dying man, she felt that a silent, yet
mighty struggle was going on between the forces of life and death. She
feared death would obtain the victory. By a terrible fascination, her
eyes became fixed on the ghastly face over which she fancied she could
perceive, more and more distinctly, shadows cast by the hand of the
destroyer. Every moment she thought of recalling her mother, but
feared that the slightest jarring movement of the atmosphere might
stop at once that feeble respiration. So she remained, watching terror
stricken, waiting for the last, absolute silence,--the immovable
repose.
Suddenly, she heard a long, deep-drawn sigh. She saw the head of the
sufferer turn gently on one side, pressing the pillow. A color--the
faintest in the world, stole over the features. The countenance
gradually settled into a calm, natural expression. The respiration
became stronger and more regular. In a few moments, he slept as softly
as a little child.
Adèle's heart gave one bound, and then for a moment stood still. She
uttered a sigh of relief, but sank back in her chair, wearied by
excess of emotion. She felt instinctively, that the crisis had been
safely passed, that there was hope for the invalid.
Then, for a long time, her mind was occupied with thoughts respecting
death and the beyond.
Suddenly a shadow, flitting across the curtained window recalled her
to the present scene.
Ah! what a mercy, she thought, that Aunt Patty did not kill him,
before I discovered her beautiful mode of nursing sick people. No
wonder he has been crazed all this time, with those strange manoeuvres
of hers!
On the previous, night, Adèle had been the last of the family to
retire. Stealing noiselessly past the door of the sick-room, which was
somewhat ajar, her steps were arrested by hearing Aunt Patty, whose
voice was pitched on a very high key, singing some old Scotch song.
Thinking this rather a strange method of composing the nervous system
of a delirious patient, she stood and listened. Up, far up, into the
loftiest regions of sound, went Aunt Patty's cracked and quavering
voice, and then it came down with a heavy, precipitous fall into a
loud grumble and tumble below. She repeated again and again, in a most
hilarious tone, the words--
"Let us go, lassie, go,
To the braes of Balquhither,
Where the blaebarries grow.
'Mang the bonnie Highland heather".
In the midst of this, Adèle heard a deep groan. Then she heard the
invalid say in a feeble, deprecating tone--
"Ah! why do you mock me? Am I not miserable enough?"
Mrs. McNab stopped a moment, then replied in a sharp voice, "Mockin'
ye! indeed, it's na such thing. If ye had an atom o' moosic in ye, ye
wad ken at ance, its a sweet Scotch sang I'm singin' to ye. I've sung
mony a bairn to sleep wi' it".
There was no reply to this remark. All was quiet for a moment, when
Adèle, fancying she heard the clinking of a spoon against the side of
a tumbler, leaned forward a little and looked through the aperture
made by the partially opened door. The nurse was sitting by the fire,
in her huge headgear, wrapped in a shawl and carefully stirring, what
seemed, by the odor exhaled, to be whiskey. Her face was very red and
her eyes wide open, staring at the coals.
The sufferer uttered some words, which Adèle could not distinguish, in
an excited voice.
"I tell ye, there isna ony hope for ye", said Mrs. McNab, who, for
some reason, not apparent, seemed to be greatly irritated by whatever
remarks her patient made.
"There isna ony hope for thum that hasna been elected. Ye might talk
an' pray a' yer life and 'twould do ye na gude, I dinna ken where
you've been a' yer life, not to ken that afore. With a' yer furbelowed
claithes and jewelled watch and trinkets, ye dinna ken much aboot the
gospel. And then, this new preacher a' tellin' the people they can be
saved ony minut they choose to gie up their hearts to the Lord! Its a'
tegither false. I was taught in the Kirk o' Scotland, that a mon might
pray and pray a' his days, and then he wadna be sure o' bein' saved.
That's the blessed doctrine I was taught. If ye are to be saved, ye
will be. There noo, go to sleep. I'll read the ward o' God to ye".
Alas! for the venerable church of old Scotia, had she many such
exponents of her doctrine as Mrs. McNab.
Having thus relieved her mind, the nurse swallowed the contents of the
tumbler. She then rose, drew a chair towards a table, on which stood a
shaded lamp and took from thence a Bible; but finding her eyesight
rather dim, withdrew to a cot in one corner of the room, threw herself
down and was soon sleeping, and snoring prodigiously.
Adèle, who had, during the enactment of this scene, been prevented
from rushing in and deposing Mrs. McNab at once, only by a fear of
exciting the patient to a degree of frenzy, stole in quietly, bathed
his head with some perfumed water, smoothed his pillow and seated
herself, near the fire, where she remained until morning.
Mr. Brown slept only during the briefest intervals and was turning
restlessly and talking incoherently all night.
Soon after day dawn, Aunt Patty began to bestir herself, but before
she had observed her presence, Adèle had escaped to her own room.
Soon, hearing Micah's voice, she went to the kitchen. She found his
message from Mrs. Campbell, just the excuse she needed to enable her
to dispose of Mrs. McNab. She had become quite convinced that whatever
good qualities that worthy woman might possess as a nurse, her
unfortunate proclivities towards the whiskey bottle, united with her
rigid theological tenets, rendered it rather unsafe to trust her
longer with a patient, whose case required the most delicate care and
attention.
The queer, old clock in the dining-room struck one. Adèle heard it.
She was still watching. Mr. Brown still slept that quiet sleep. Just
then, Mrs. Dubois entered, took her daughter's hand, led her to the
door, and whispered--
"Now, take some food and go to rest. I will not leave him". Adèle
obeyed.