AN UNBIDDEN GUEST.
When the morning dawned the boy awoke with hot cheeks and bloodshot
eyes, moaning and restless, and would only be quiet when pillowed
in the arms of his new-found friend. A physician who was called
pronounced his ailment to be scarlet-fever. He soon became delirious,
and his fretful moans for his "new grandma" were so piteous that
Miss Ainslie could not make up her mind to leave him. She stayed
by his bed-side all day, saying nothing of returning to Red Wing,
until late in the afternoon a messenger came from there to inquire
after her, having traced her by inquiry among several who had seen
her during the storm, as well as by the report that had gone out
from the servants of her presence at Mulberry Hill.
When Hesden Le Moyne came to inform her of the messenger's arrival,
he found her sitting by his son's bedside, fanning his fevered brow,
as she had done the entire day. He gazed at them both in silence
a moment before making known his errand. Then he took the fan from
her hand and informed her of the messenger's arrival. His voice
sounded strangely, and as she looked up at him she saw his face
working with emotion. She cast down her eyes quickly. She could
not tell why. All at once she felt that this quiet, maimed veteran
of a lost cause was not to her as other men. Perhaps her heart
was made soft by the strange occurrences of the few hours she had
passed beneath his mother's roof. However that may be, she was
suddenly conscious of a feeling she had never known before. Her
cheeks burned as she listened to his low, quiet tones. The tears
seemed determined to force themselves beneath her downcast lids,
but her heart bounded with a strange undefined joy.
She rose to go and see the messenger. The sick boy moaned and
murmured her name. She stole a glance at the father, and saw his
eyes filled with a look of mingled tenderness and pain. She walked
to the door. As she opened it the restless sufferer called for her
again. She went out and closed it quickly after her. At the head
of the stairs she paused, and pressed her hand to her heart while
she breathed quick and her face burned. She raised her other hand
and pushed back a stray lock or two as if to cool her forehead. She
stood a moment irresolute; glanced back at the door of the room she
had left, with a half frightened look; placed a foot on the first
stair, and paused again. Then she turned suddenly back with a
scared resolute look in her gray eyes, opened the door and glided
swiftly to the bedside. Hesden Le Moyne's face was buried in the
pillow. She stood over him a moment, her bosom heaving with short,
quick sighs. She reached out her hand as if she would touch him,
but drew it quickly back. Then she spoke, quietly but with great
effort, looking only at the little sufferer.
"Mr. Le Moyne?" He raised his head quickly and a flush of joy swept
over his face. She did not see it, at least she was not looking at
him, but she knew it. "Would you like me to--to stay--until--until
this is over?"
He started, and the look of joy deepened in his face. He raised his
hand but let it fall again upon the pillow, as he answered humbly
and tenderly,
"If you please, Miss Ainslie." She put her hand upon the bed, in
order to seem more at ease, as she replied, with a face which she
knew was all aflame,
"Very well. I will remain for--the present."
He bent his head and kissed her hand. She drew it quickly away and
added in a tone of explanation:
"It would hardly be right to go back among so many children after
such exposure." So quick is love to find excuse. She called it
duty, nor ever thought of giving it a tenderer name.
He made no answer. So easy is it for the fond heart to be jealous
of a new-found treasure.
She waited a moment, and then went out and wrote a note to Eliab
Hill. Then she went into the room of the invalid mother. How sweet
she looked, reclining on the bed in the pretty alcove, doing penance
for her unwonted pleasure of the night before! The excited girl
longed to throw her arms about her neck and weep. It seemed to her
that she had never seen any one so lovely and loveable. She went
to the bedside and took the slender hand extended toward her,
"So," said Mrs. Le Moyne, "I hear they have sent for you to go back
to Red Wing. I am sorry, for you have given us great pleasure; but
I am afraid you will have only sad memories of Mulberry Hill. It
is too bad! Poor Hildreth had taken such a liking to you, too. I
am sure I don't blame him, for I am as much in love with you as an
invalid can be with any one but herself. Hesden will have a hard
time alone in this great house with two sick people on his hands."
"I shall not go back to Red Wing to-day."
"Indeed?"
"No, I do not think it would be right to endanger so many by exposure
to the disease." "Oh," carelessly; "but I am afraid yon may take
it yourself."
"I hope not. I am very well and strong. Besides, Hildreth calls
for me as soon as I leave him for a moment."
"Poor little fellow! It is pitiable to know that I can do nothing
for him."
"I will do what I can, Mrs. Le Moyne."
"But you must not expose yourself in caring for a strange child,
my dear. It will not do to be too unselfish."
"I cannot leave him, Mrs. Le Moyne."
She left the room quickly and returned to her place at the sufferer's
bedside. Hesden Le Moyne rose as she approached. She took the fan
from his hand and sat down in the chair he had occupied. He stood
silent a moment, looking down upon her as she fanned the uneasy
sleeper, and then quietly left the room.
"What a dear, tender-hearted thing she is!" said Mrs. Le Moyne to
herself after she had gone. "So lady-like and refined too. How
can such a girl think of associating with niggers and teaching a
nigger school? Such a pity she is not one of our people. She would
be just adorable then. Don't you think so, Hesden?" she said aloud
as her son entered. Having been informed of the subject of her
cogitations, Mr. Hesden Le Moyne replied, somewhat absently and
irrelevantly, as she thought, yet very warmly,
"Miss Ainslie is a very remarkable woman."
He passed into the hall, and his mother, looking after him, said,
"Poor fellow! he has a heap of trouble." And then it struck her
that her son's language was not only peculiar but amusing. "A
remarkable woman!" She laughed to herself as she thought of it. A
little, brown-haired, bright-eyed, fair-skinned chit, pretty and
plucky, and accomplished no doubt, but not at all "remarkable."
She had no style nor pride. Yankee women never had. And no family
of course, or she would not teach a colored school. "Remarkable!"
It was about the only thing Miss Ainslie was not and could not
be. It was very kind of her to stay and nurse Hildreth, though she
only did that out of consideration for the colored brats under her
charge at Red Wing. Nevertheless she was glad and gratified that
she did so. She was a very capable girl, no doubt of that, and she
would feel much safer about Hildreth because of her care. It was
just in her line. She was like all Yankee women--just a better class
of housemaids. This one was very accomplished. She had played
the piano exquisitely and had acted the lady to perfection in last
night's masquerade. But Hesden must be crazy to call her remarkable.
She chuckled lightly as she determined to rally him upon it, when
she saw him next. When that time came, the good lady had quite
forgotten her resolve.