VICARIOUS ATONEMENT
In happy ignorance of the fact that the order had been given merely to
get her outside, Smiles stumbled to the door with blind thankfulness,
and, as soon as she had closed it behind her, crumpled up in an
unconscious heap on the snow.
Within doors, the nurse was saying, "I think she's fainted, doctor. I
heard her fall."
"Probably," was the callous response. "Don't worry about her, the cold
will bring her around. We've got to get these sutures in. But, say,
hasn't she been a brick?"
Donald's prophecy was correct. Rose came to her senses a moment later,
and, trembling and sobbing uncontrolledly, stumbled through the darkness
to the woodpile, and sat down on it. For a time she was powerless to
move, but when, at length, she did re-enter the cabin, with an armful of
wood, although her face was drawn and white, her self-control was fully
restored.
Already the surgeon and nurse were bathing off the sewn wound with
antiseptic fluid, and it was not long before the little injured head was
wrapped in the swathing bandages which covered it completely, down to
the deathlike, sunken cheeks.
The period of coming out from under the merciful anaesthesia ended, the
drooping flower was restored to its freshly made bed, the evidences of
what had occurred removed, and then Smiles turned to her beloved friend
with a pleading, unspoken question in her eyes.
"I can't tell you yet, dear. I have ... all of us have done our mortal
best and now the issues are in higher hands than ours. I hope ... But
come, tell me, Rose, what made you feel so sure that the trouble _was_ a
tumor on the brain. Was it merely a guess, based on what I had explained
to you?"
"No. I ... I just _knew_ it. I reckon that God told me so," was her
reply.
"Well, God was certainly right, then," smiled Donald, glad of any chance
to relieve the tension. "Do you want to see the growth? See, it is as
large, nearly, as a walnut. Do you wonder that, with this thing pressing
more and more into her brain, Lou was robbed of her power to talk and
act?"
The girl broke down at last and wept hysterically, which caused Donald
to look as uneasy as any mere man is bound to in such a circumstance;
but Miss Merriman came to his rescue with comforting arms, and the
words, "There, there, dear. Cry all you want to now. It's all over, and
Dr. MacDonald will tell you that if she gets well--as we believe that
she will--little Lou will be as healthy and happy a baby as she ever
was in her life. He's taken out that wicked growth, kernel and all, and
it will never come back again. Will it, doctor?"
"Almost certainly not. Rose, we couldn't have done without you to-night.
You have been the brave little soldier that I told you to be; but I'm
afraid that it has been a terrible strain for you. Of course, it was an
exceptional operation, rare and dangerous; but it has given you a pretty
vivid idea of what trained nurses have to go through frequently. Has it
changed your mind? Do you still think that you want to go ahead and give
your life to such work?"
"Would you ask a real soldier if he wanted to quit, or keep on fighting,
after he had been in one battle, and seen men killed and wounded? It's
got to be done, hasn't it, if the poor sick babies and grown-up people
are to be made strong and well again? And I've just _got_ to help do it,
Donald."
He gave Miss Merriman a significant look; but his only response was,
"Well, unless you want another job--that of bringing back to life people
who have starved to death--you had better get us a bite to eat and some
of your strong coffee. My internal anatomy ..."
"Oh, I plumb forgot. You haven't had a thing to eat--nor poor
granddaddy, either. I'm so ashamed I could _die_."
* * * * *
Two hours later, after she had finished making the old man as
comfortable as possible for the night, Rose rejoined the other two in
the main cabin. She came just in time to catch Donald in the act of
half-heartedly trying to conceal a deep yawn.
As he, in turn, caught sight of her sympathetic smile, he said, "We have
given our patient a mild sleep inducer; and now, Rose, I want you to go
up into my loft room right away, and get a long night's sleep yourself.
You've been under a mighty heavy strain to-day; there are many other
hard days coming, and we can't have another patient on our hands."
The girl nodded, sleepily; but she had not taken one weary step before a
different thought struck her, and she turned back to cry, contritely,
"But you ... and Miss Merriman. There won't be any place for you to
sleep, or for her either. Oh, what can we do?"
"Just forget about us, my child. I shan't undress to-night, anyway, and
can roll myself in my big fur coat and camp out in your little room,
since Lou must stay out here where it is warmer. And as for Miss
Merriman ... if I catch her so much as closing her eyes for one minute,
to-night, I'll wring her neck."
The nurse laughed; but Smiles' lips set, purposefully. "I forgot again.
Of course some one has got to sit up with little Lou, and I'll do it.
Why, Donald, poor Miss Merriman has been traveling and working all day
long, and she's just tired to death--she must be. Of course she has got
to get some rest. You go right up into the loft room, dear ..." and she
began to push the nurse gently toward the ladder.
"Rose," cut in the doctor, sternly, although his eyes held a pleased
twinkle, "you're apparently forgetting one thing--that I'm boss here for
the present, and that my nurses must learn to do as they are told,
without arguing. I'm sorry for Miss Merriman, too; but she knows just
what to do if anything happens, and you don't--yet. Besides, it won't be
the first time that she has stayed up twenty-four hours at a stretch,
will it?"
"No, indeed--nor forty-eight," answered the nurse, as she smoothed the
pillow under the little patient's head. "I shall want you fresh and
strong to help me with the 'day shift,' Smiles dear. And, as the doctor
says, orders are orders."
The girl's tired eyes suddenly filled again, this time, with hurt,
rebellious tears, and a pout, almost like a child's, appeared on her
lips as she turned and moved slowly toward the ladder in the far corner.
Donald watched her with sympathetic understanding and the thought, "She
must think me a brute"; but, before he could speak the word of
consolation which was on his tongue, she whirled about, just as she had
when sent to bed on the first night of their acquaintance, and running
back, threw herself into his arms. As she clung to him passionately,
sobbing without restraint from weariness and the break in the tension
which had kept her up for so long, she whispered, "Oh, I love you so,
dear Don. You have been so good, so good to me, and I'm so very happy."
"Well, well," answered the man huskily, as he patted her shoulder, "you
certainly have a funny way of showing it; but, after all, women are
queer creatures. I'm happy, too, dear--happy to be here and to have been
able to help you. And now," he concluded, lightly, "my happiness will be
complete if you will just let me see that sunny smile on your face, as
you obey that order which I have had to give you three times already."
The tired girl, for the moment more child than woman, leaned back in his
arms and looked up at him with an expression so transcendently appealing
that it was only by the exercise of all his moral force that he was able
to restrain the impulse to crush her to him. He saw that the nurse was
regarding him with a peculiar expression, and as she, in turn, caught
his eye and turned hastily away with a little added color in her cheeks,
Donald recovered himself, lightly kissed the forehead so close to his
lips, and said, "Now for the fourth, and last, time, '_go to bed_.'
Good-night, little sister."
This time Rose actually departed, and, after the physician had given
Miss Merriman a few final directions, and bidden her call him instantly,
if anything appeared to be going wrong, he said good-night to her also,
and stepped toward the little room which he was to occupy. On reaching
it he paused, for there had come a low, uncertain knock on the cabin
door.
Lest it be repeated more loudly, and disturb the quiet into which the
room had finally settled, Donald forestalled the nurse's act, hurried
softly to the door, and opened it a few inches.
He started. There, leaning dejectedly against one of the pronged cedar
posts on the tiny stoop, was a spectre figure, ghastly of
countenance--Judd's. The doctor read in it the awful anguish of
uncertainty which had driven the mountaineer, against his will, back to
the cabin which held for him either hope or blank despair--and the man
he hated.
Donald slipped outside, and closed the door softly behind him. He
touched the inert form on the shoulder, and said in an undertone, "Come
with me away from the house, Judd."
The other followed him, with dragging feet and sagging shoulders, his
obedience being like that of a whipped dog. As he reached the rock
before the gnarled oak, which, in happier days, had been the target for
Big Jerry's first practice shot with the rifle that was later to play a
part in the tragedy of Mike's death, Donald stopped and faced the man
who had sworn himself his mortal enemy. The sight of the rock had
re-awakened bitter memories; but they perished still-born as his gaze
turned on the dimly seen figure beside him.
"Judd," he began, almost kindly, "you know why I came here this time?"
The other made an indistinct sound of assent.
"I ... I operated on your little sister's brain, to-night. Wait. It was
absolutely necessary, if she were to have even a single chance for life.
She was dying, Judd. The operation was a desperate one--a last resort. I
can't promise you anything certainly, but she's still alive, and I
honestly believe that she is going to live--and get well."
For an instant the listener stood motionless. Then his pent-up emotions
broke their bounds in one deep, shuddering breath, and he sank down
beside the boulder, flung his tensed arms across it, and buried his face
on them.
At last he spoke, hoarsely, and without raising his head. "I done my
damnedest ter kill ye, an' now yo' ... yo' saves Lou's life fer me. I
reckon I don't know how ter thank ye, er repay ... but ... my life air
yourn ter take hit, ef yo' likes."
"Nonsense," was the sharp response. "And as for thanks, why I don't want
any. I did it for Smiles' sake."
The kneeling body quivered once; but, when the answer came, it was
uttered in even tones. "Yes, I reckoned so. Yo' hev the right ter do
things fer her, an' I ... I haint. She ... she warnt fer me ... never. I
warnt never worthy uv her."
"She isn't for me, either," said Donald. "And besides, I'm no more
worthy of her than you, Judd. I should have told you long ago--I was a
fool not to have done so--I'm going to marry another girl,--a girl at
home whom I have known all my life."
"Do Rose know hit?" came the mountaineer's quick, suspicious query.
"Of course she does; she's known it for a year. Judd ..." he seated
himself beside the younger man. "I want to tell you that I was
altogether to blame for ... for what happened up there last summer. I
should have told you then, and ... and I'm sorry."
"No, hit war I who war ter blame."
"Well, let's both try to forget it, now. You owe me nothing for
to-night; but you owe Rose a debt of gratitude that you can never hope
to pay in full, my boy."
"I knows hit. I kaint never pay even part uv hit."
"I think that you can."
"How kin I?"
"I don't pretend to be much of a preacher, but I can say this as a man,
Judd. By trying to live the kind of a life she would have you live. She
wants to be your friend."
"I haint fit ter be named friend uv her'n, after what I done," he
replied, dully.
"But _we're_ going to forget all about that, and certainly she won't
hold it against you, lad. I heard your Mr. Talmadge talking about ...
about religious things, once, and I think that, if he were here now, he
would tell you that Smiles and little Lou, together, have made what ...
what the Bible calls 'atonement' for what ... for what you did. Smiles'
love and your baby sister's suffering have brought us together; each has
had a chance to realize and confess that he was wrong and had been
wicked; and now the way is clear for us to be ... friends. At least I'm
willing, if you are, to shake on that."
Judd sprang to his feet, and his lean hand shot out to grasp the one
which Donald held out to him in the darkness. And their firm clasp was a
seal to the bond that the quarrel between them was ended for all time.
"Rose will be glad, Judd. I can't let you see Lou to-night; but come
to-morrow morning ... come early before I leave, and we'll tell them all
about it, and start things all over again. Good-night, my boy," said
Donald, heartily.
And there was a new light on the face of each man, as one returned to
Jerry's cabin, and the other strode, with restored hope, to his own
abode, which had been once so cheerless.