REVELATIONS
Summer had gone at last, its fierce heat giving way to the cool, fresh
days of an early autumn. August, September, October--the months had
dragged interminably by, and now it was November, bleak and chill, with
gray skies and penetrating winds and sudden deluges of rain. Georgiana,
sweeping sodden leaves from a wet porch after an all-night storm, looked
up to see the village telegraph messenger approaching. With her one
dearest safe upon a couch within, and Stuart long since at home again,
she could not fear bad news. She thought of Jeannette, who was always,
in the absence of a telephone in the old manse, telegraphing her
invitations and demands.
She tore open the dispatch with a hope that it was from Jeannette, for
she had sadly missed her letters. Jeannette, indeed, it was who had
inspired the message, but its sender was her sister. Rosalie Crofton
wired that Jeannette had been taken suddenly and violently ill while on
a visit in New York and was to be operated upon at once; that she had
begged Georgiana to come and to bring James Stuart with her; that
Rosalie herself was dreadfully frightened and prayed Georgiana not to
lose a train nor to fail to bring Stuart.
Action was never slow with the receiver of this message; it had never
been quicker than now. With one brief explanation to her father, she was
off to find Stuart. Just at the dripping hedge she met him, his face
tense with the shock it was plain he had received. At sight of her he
drew a yellow paper from his pocket.
"You've heard?" he cried.
"Yes; this very minute."
"There's only an hour to catch the ten-ten. You'll go?"
"Of course. I was coming to tell you. I'll be ready."
She turned again and ran back. There was much to do in the allotted
hour, but with the help of Mrs. Perkins she accomplished it. When she
and Stuart were in the train, sitting side by side in the ordinary coach
of the traveler who must conserve his resources, as Georgiana had
decreed, Stuart spoke the first word of comment upon the situation.
"Of course, there was nothing to do but go," he said, "after that
telegram."
"Of course not," agreed Georgiana simply.
"She was perfectly well--last week," said Stuart.
"Was she? You know I haven't seen her since they came back."
"She said she had tried every way to get you there."
"She has. I was going--when I could. You know father hasn't been as well
since they came back in September."
"I know. But she's wanted to see you. She says she can't write half so
well as she can talk."
"No. One can't."
There was silence for some time after this exchange. Stuart seemed
restless, stirred often, once got up and stood for a long time at the
rear of the car, staring back at the wet tracks slipping away behind.
When they had changed trains and were headed for New York, with their
destination only a few hours away, Stuart, again in the vestibule of the
car, looking out through the closed entrance door upon a dull landscape
passing like a misty wraith through the November fog and twilight, found
Georgiana at his elbow.
"Jimps," she was saying in her straightforward way, "what's the use of
bothering to keep it covered when it shows so plainly? Do you think I
don't understand? I do--and it's absolutely all right."
He turned quickly, and his gloomy eyes stared down into her uplifted
face.
"O George!" he muttered. "Can you honestly say that?"
"Honestly. I know how it happened. You couldn't help it. It was meant to
be. The other--wasn't. That's all there is of it."
"I've been feeling such a sneak."
"Why should you? I've told you over and over----"
"I know you have. But--that last time----"
"That was really the beginning of--this other," said she with decision.
"You were not yourself and you didn't know just why. You thought it must
be because you cared for me, but it was--the stirring of your first real
feeling for any woman, only you didn't recognize it. That's the whole
thing, Jimps, and you are not to reproach yourself, particularly now
when----" She faltered suddenly, and he drew a quick breath that was as
if something stabbed him.
After a little he began very slowly: "It didn't really happen
till--Devonshire. Those two weeks--I can't tell you. No mortal man could
have resisted her. Yet I tried; I did, George. She didn't know about
you; she never has, except that we were old friends and dear ones. She
thinks the trouble is that she's a rich man's daughter and I'm only a
farmer."
"You're no ordinary farmer and she knows it. Her family know it. And if
she wants you she'll have you; they've never refused her anything."
"I haven't asked her."
"James Stuart!" It was her old tone with him. For the moment both forgot
the possible issue of this errand upon which they were going; only the
vital relations at stake seemed involved.
"But--she knows," said Stuart very low.
"Of course she does."
By and by Stuart spoke again. "George, you were never quite so close to
me as now."
She slipped her hand into his. "I'll stay close, dear; and I'll do all I
can for you both."
This was all they said until the first lights of the great city, miles
out, were flashing past them. Then it occurred to Georgiana to put a
startled question:
"Jimps, have you any address to go to? There was none in my telegram."
"I know where they are staying." Stuart put his hand into his pocket and
drew out a thick letter, upon which Georgiana recognized her cousin's
handwriting. "This came only yesterday morning."
In spite of herself the girl felt a wild thrill of pain. Her chum--her
chum! And it was the first time he had ever failed to be open with her.
As if he recognized that the sight of the letter had told even more
plainly than words could have done, the degree of intercommunication
between the two presumable lovers, Stuart said quickly:
"I was going to tell you, George--on my word I was. I knew you didn't
care for me--that way, but I was afraid it might hurt just the same,
after all our vows. Somehow the days went by so fast and--well, you see
there was Channing. A while back I thought you were going to marry him,
more than likely."
"You didn't really think it, Jimps."
"I don't know what I thought. George, we're getting in. Oh----" And he
broke off.
She knew what had happened, for with the first glimpse of the great
terminal station the things which thus far had been never really vivid
in her consciousness had in the twinkling of an eye taken terrible form.
This was New York, and somewhere in it they were to find Jeannette,
stricken in the midst of her youth and beauty and joy of life and love.
If only they might find the worst of the danger safely past!
They were rushed in a taxicab to the great uptown hotel, to find there a
message saying that the whole family were at the hospital and that they
were to follow at once. In the second cab Georgiana's hand again found
Stuart's and stayed there. His face was set now; he spoke not a word,
and even through his glove his hand was cold to the touch. Then,
presently, they were at the big, grim-looking hospital with the
characteristic odour, so suggestive to the senses of the tragedies which
take place there night and day, meeting them at the very portal.
It was Georgiana who made the necessary inquiries, for Stuart seemed
like one dazed with fear of that which was to come. He followed her with
his fingers gripping his hat brim with a clutch like that of a vise, his
eyes looking straight ahead. An attendant led them to a private room,
and here in a moment Georgiana found herself caught in Rosalie's arms,
with pale faces all about which tried to smile reassuringly but could
succeed only in looking strained. It was Aunt Olivia who seemed most
composed and who made the situation clear. Uncle Thomas could only grasp
the newcomers' hands and press them, while his lips shook and his speech
halted.
"It is a very peculiar case, and we had to wait till a certain surgeon
came who was out of town--Doctor Craig. They seemed to think it safer to
wait for him. He has had extraordinary success in similar cases. He--is
with her now, operating. My dear, I am very glad you have come--and you,
Mr. Stuart. She wanted you both, and we felt that if her mind were at
rest her chances----" But here even Aunt Olivia's long training in
composure under all circumstances deserted her, and she let Georgiana
put her in a chair and kneel beside her, murmuring affection and hope.
It was a long wait--or so it seemed--interrupted only once by the
entrance of a young hospital interne, who came to advise the family of
the patient that thus far all was going well. It had proved, as was
expected, a complicated case, and there was necessity of proceeding
slowly. But Doctor Westfall had sent word to them to be of good cheer,
for the patient's pulse was strong, and Doctor Craig's reputation, as
they knew, was very great.
"It's Dr. Jefferson Craig, you know," explained young Chester Crofton
softly to Georgiana. "We're mighty lucky to get him. He only came back
from abroad two days ago, and he was operating out of town somewhere
last night. Doctor Westfall was awfully keen to have him and nobody
else."
Georgiana knew the name, as who did not? Jefferson Craig was the man
whose brilliant research work along certain lines of surgery had
astonished both his colleagues and an attentive general public, and his
operative surgery on those lines had disproved all previous theories as
to the possibilities of interference in a class of cases until recently
considered hopeless after an early stage. It was indeed subject for
confidence if Doctor Craig's skilful hands were those now at Jeannette's
service.
But there is no beguiling such periods of suspense with assurance of
former successes in similar cases. Jeannette's family had need of all
their fortitude for the bearing of such suspense before Doctor Westfall,
the Crofton's family physician from the home city, appeared in the
doorway. He had been brought on by them when they were summoned to
Jeannette's bedside. He had known the girl from her babyhood, and the
signs of past tension were clearly visible in his face as he looked upon
his patient's family, though his eyes were very bright and his lips were
smiling.
"Safely over," was his instant greeting, and his hand fell with the
touch of hearty friendship on the shoulder of Mr. Thomas Crofton. "I
wouldn't come till I was sure I might bid you draw a long breath and
ease up on this strain of waiting."
They came around him, Aunt Olivia's lips trembling, her hand fast in
Georgiana's. Young Chester Crofton gave a subdued whoop of joy, and
pretty Rosalie, scarcely out of emotional girlhood, burst into
hysterical crying which she struggled vainly to keep soundless.
"Mind you," warned Doctor Westfall, wiping his own eyes though he
continued to smile, "I don't say all danger is past. Doctor Craig would
be the last man to countenance such a statement. We must hold steady for
several days before we can speak with absolute assurance. But every sign
points to safety, and certainly--certainly--well,"--he paused as if he
could not readily find words for that which he wished to say,--"if it
had been anybody but our Jeannette I should have congratulated myself on
the chance to see such a piece of work as that. I've never seen
Jefferson Craig operate, though I've been a fascinated follower of his
research and have read every word he has written. And he's astonishingly
young. I expected to see a man of my own age."
"We must see him, Doctor," murmured Mrs. Crofton, striving to regain her
composure which, as is often the case, was more shaken by the assurance
of good news than by the fear of bad. "We must thank him for ourselves.
He will come in to see us?"
"As soon as he is out of his gown. I'm going back for him in a minute,
for I knew you would want the words from his own lips. You will like
him--you will like him immensely."
He went away again presently on this errand, an imposing figure of a man
of fifty, accustomed to responsibility and able to carry it, a typical
city physician of the class employed by the prosperous, but with certain
clearly defined lines about his eyes and lips which proclaimed him a
lover of human nature and a sympathizer with its sufferings, in whatever
class he might find his patients.
"He's such a dear," declared Rosalie, wiping away her tears and smiling
at James Stuart. "He's adored Jeannette ever since she was born, and I
know he's been just as anxious as we were. Do cheer up, Jimmy. I'm just
as sure she's going to get well now as I was sure she wasn't before."
"I don't dare to be sure," he answered in a low tone.
Georgiana looked at him and saw how shaken he still was, notwithstanding
the reassuring news. In spite of her anxiety she had been observant,
ever since she entered the room, of the attitude of Jeannette's family
toward James McKenzie Stuart. It had not been difficult to come to the
conclusion that for Jeannette's sake they would accept him, and that for
his own sake they were forced, in varying degrees, to like him. How
could they help it? she wondered, when they looked at his fine, frank
face and observed his manly bearing. He was college bred; he was a
successful worker with his brain as well as with his hands, for his
farming was scientific farming, and his results established a model for
the community. He was by no means poor--and yet--Georgiana realized that
the change for Jeannette from a home of luxury to one of comparative
austerity of living would be a tremendous one. Well, such events had
occurred before in the world's history, and it was by no means
unthinkable that they should occur again. As Georgiana noted the tense
look on Stuart's face, and saw the hardly abated suffering in his eyes,
she said to herself that if Jeannette cared as much for him as he for
her, she cared quite enough to bring her family to terms at any price.
The door opened again, as quietly as hospital doors invariably open,
and Doctor Westfall advanced once more into the room, followed by a
younger man with a grave, clean-cut face and the unassuming, quietly
assured bearing of established success. As Georgiana's eyes fell upon
the distinguished surgeon whose name was Jefferson Craig she recognized
her former lodger, Mr. E. C. Jefferson. That she did not for a moment
wonder what Mr. Jefferson was doing here in the famous surgeon's place
was due to the fact that her mind instantly bridged the chasm between
the two personalities and made them one. Yet there was a subtle, but
easily recognizable, difference between the personality of Mr. Jefferson
and that of Doctor Craig. There could be no question that here his foot
was on his native heath! The literary worker had for the time vanished,
and here was the man who did things with his hands and did them better
than other men. She had long understood that he had another and more
active place in the world than that which he had temporarily occupied as
solely a writer of books. This was the place, and nothing could have
seemed less surprising than to find him in it.
At the same time, the finding occasioned a difficulty in maintaining her
own composure of face and manner. She had known Mr. Jefferson; she did
not know Doctor Craig. She understood instantly, without any
explanation, that he had chosen to be known in the obscure village by
only a part of his name, because that name was so notable that even the
two village doctors, the old one and the young, would have recognized it
and been at his heels, to the detriment of those months of rest from
surgery which he had dedicated to the exposition of his methods upon
paper. She was quick to perceive also that it would be easy enough for
Doctor Craig to prove as different from Mr. Jefferson in relation to his
acquaintance as he was different in his position in the world. What,
indeed, had Dr. Jefferson Craig and little Georgiana Warne in common?
Certainly far, far less than had had Mr. E. C. Jefferson and that same
Georgiana Warne.
He did not see her at once, for the father and mother of his patient met
him in the middle of the floor, and his first glance fell upon them and
remained there while he spoke to them of their daughter. Even in his
manner of speaking Georgiana felt a decided difference. There was a
curious crispness and succinctness of speech that marked the
professional man, which was decidedly different from the more expanded
conversational manner of Mr. Jefferson.
"Yes, she is sleeping quietly under the last effects of the anæsthetic,"
he was saying when Georgiana took note of his words once more. "We will
let her sleep. It will spare her some hours of consciousness."
"Will she suffer very much when she wakes, Doctor?" was the mother's
anxious question.
Doctor Craig's smile was the very one Georgiana had first liked about
him, for it transformed his face and gave it back the youth which his
early responsibility in a serious profession had done its best to age.
"We shall not let her suffer very much," he promised. "That's not
necessary nor desirable."
"When may we see her?" Mrs. Crofton pursued.
"You may all see her for a moment before she wakens, if you wish.
Afterward her mother and father for just a word, and--I am told she
expressed a very strong wish to see a young man who was on his way. Has
he come? For the sake of her contentment I have agreed to allow him a
word with her by and by--just a word, if he will be very quiet."
It was Uncle Thomas who turned to beckon James Stuart forward, and then
to nod at Georgiana. Immediately Stuart was presented to Doctor Craig,
who, looking intently into the young man's questioning face, said
straightforwardly: "Mr. Stuart and I have met before under quite
different circumstances. He knew me as a writer of books and may be
surprised to find me here--as I am surprised to find him."
"Let me present you to my niece, Miss Warne, Doctor Craig," said Aunt
Olivia, and Georgiana was glad of the preparation the minutes had given
her, for here indeed was need for all her powers of self-control. Her
eyes had no sooner looked into those which met them with such a keen and
searching glance than she was stirred to the depths. She had thought she
had known what it would be to feel those eyes upon her again, but she
had not reckoned with the effect of absence.
He made no effort to conceal the situation. "When your daughter sees me
next, Mrs. Crofton," he said, without turning from Georgiana, "she will
know me, as Miss Warne and Mr. Stuart do. I spent last winter in Miss
Warne's home, under the name of Jefferson alone, to find time to work at
a book I am writing. I gave it up sooner than I had expected, because my
work here would not be denied."
"Didn't Jean know you when she saw you before the--the operation?" cried
Rosalie, full of curiosity at this unexpected turn of affairs.
"She did not see me before she was anæsthetized," explained Doctor
Craig; and Doctor Westfall added, patting Rosalie's hand: "It's rather
like a story, isn't it, Rosy? Doctor Seaver, of the staff here, was
telling me this morning how Doctor Craig tried to take a year off to
rest and write, but how they got him back--and glad enough to have him,
too. And yet we want that book. It's rather hard to have a reputation so
big it won't give you time to rest. He needed the rest, Seaver told
me."
"I had it. Six months in the country did more for me than a year in
town," said Doctor Craig. He turned at the sound of a light knock upon
the door. He gave the impression of a man whose senses were every one
alert.
An apologetic interne came in with a message for Doctor Craig and he
left them, with a final word of confidence and the request that they all
retire to rooms at the nearby hotel where they were staying.
Georgiana found Rosalie at her side. "O George! is he really the man you
had in your house all this year? You lucky thing! Didn't you fall in
love with him instantly? Why, he's perfectly wonderful!"
"You think so now, child, because you know he's distinguished. If you
had seen him quietly working at his book you probably wouldn't have
looked at him a second time."
Rosalie studied her cousin's face so intently that Georgiana had some
difficulty in maintaining this attitude of cool detachment. The young
girl shook her head. "He couldn't have changed his face," she insisted.
"He's not a bit handsome, but he's stunning just the same. Oh, how
astonished Jean will be when she finds out who's saved her life! When do
you suppose he'll let Jimmy Stuart see her? He'll die if he doesn't make
sure she's alive pretty soon."