October had come! coy and chill in the morning, warm and winning at
noon, veiling her coat of many colors in a fleecy mist at evening, yet
lovely still in all her changeful moods. The gay butterflies of fashion
had already spread their shrivelled wings for the warmer atmosphere of
the city. Harry and Ruth still lingered;--there was beauty for them in
the hill-side's rainbow dyes, in the crimson barberry clusters, drooping
from the wayside hedges; in the wild grape-vine that threw off its
frost-bitten leaves, to tempt the rustic's hand with its purple
clusters; in the piles of apples, that lay gathered in parti-colored
heaps beneath the orchard trees; in the yellow ears of Indian corn, that
lay scattered on the seedy floor of the breezy barn; in the festoons of
dried apples, and mammoth squashes, and pumpkins, that lay ripening
round the thrifty farmers' doors; and in the circling leaves, that
came eddying down in brilliant showers on the Indian summer's soft but
treacherous breath.
* * * * *
"You are ill, Harry," said Ruth, laying her hand upon his forehead.
"Slightly so," replied Harry languidly; "a pain in my head, and--"
A strong ague chill prevented Harry from finishing the sentence.
Ruth, who had never witnessed an attack of this kind, grew pale as his
teeth chattered, and his powerful frame shook violently from head to
foot.
"Have you suffered much in this way?" asked the physician who was
summoned.
"I had the fever and ague very badly, some years since, at the west,"
said Harry. "It is an unpleasant visitor, doctor; you must rid me of it
as soon as you can, for the sake of my little wife, who, though she can
endure pain herself like a martyr, is an arrant little coward whenever
it attacks me. Don't look so sober, Ruth, I shall be better to-morrow.
I can not afford time to be sick long, for I have a world of business
on hand. I had an important appointment this very day, which it is a
thousand pities to postpone; but never mind, I shall certainly be better
to-morrow."
But Harry was not "better to-morrow;" nor the next day; nor the next;
the doctor pronouncing his case to be one of decided typhus fever.
Very reluctantly the active man postponed his half-formed plans, and
business speculations, and allowed himself to be placed on the sick
list. With a sigh of impatience, he saw his hat, and coat, and boots,
put out of sight; and watched the different phials, as they came in
from the apothecary; and counted the stroke of the clock, as it told
the tedious hours; and marvelled at the patience with which (he now
recollected) Ruth bore a long bed-ridden eight-weeks' martyrdom,
without a groan or complaint. But soon, other thoughts and images mixed
confusedly in his brain, like the shifting colors of a kaleidoscope.
He was floating--drifting--sinking--soaring, by turns;--the hot blood
coursed through his veins like molten lava; his eye glared deliriously,
and the hand, never raised but in blessing, fell, with fevered strength,
upon the unresisting form of the loving wife.
* * * * *
"You must have a nurse," said the doctor to Ruth; "it is dangerous for
you to watch with your husband alone. He might injure you seriously, in
one of these paroxysms."
"But Harry has an unconquerable dislike to a hired nurse," said Ruth;
"his reason may return at any moment, and the sight of one will trouble
him. I am not afraid," replied Ruth, between a tear and a smile.
"But you will wear yourself out; you must remember that you owe a duty
to your children."
"My _husband_ has the _first_ claim," said Ruth, resuming her place by
the bed-side; and during the long hours of day and night, regardless of
the lapse of time--regardless of hunger, thirst or weariness, she glided
noiselessly about the room, arranged the pillows, mixed the healing
draught, or watched with a silent prayer at the sufferer's bed-side;
while Harry lay tossing from side to side, his white teeth glittering
through his unshorn beard, raving constantly of her prolonged absence,
and imploring her in heart-rending tones to come to his side, and "bring
Daisy from the Glen."
Many a friendly voice whispered at the door, "How is he?" The Irish
waiters crossed themselves and stept softly through the hall, as they
went on their hasty errands; and many a consultation was held among
warm-hearted gentlemen friends, (who had made Harry's acquaintance at
the hotel, during the pleasant summer,) to decide which should first
prove their friendship by watching with him.
Ruth declined all these offers to fill her place. "I will never leave
him," she said; "his reason may return, and his eye seek vainly for me.
No--no; I thank you all. Watch _with_ me, if you will, but do not ask
me to leave him."
* * * * *
In the still midnight, when the lids of the kind but weary watchers
drooped heavily with slumber, rang mournfully in Ruth's ear the
sad-plaint of Gethsemane's Lord, "Could ye not watch with me one hour?"
and pressing her lips to the hot and fevered hand before her, she
murmured, "I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee."