IN THE DARK.
Often and often, during the next few weeks, Allie recalled the
conversation which had taken place between herself and Marjorie, months
before; for Charlie's time had come to prove his ability to bear trouble
and suffering as bravely as a boy could do. Early on the afternoon
following the accident, Dr. Brownlee had saddled his horse and ridden
away to meet Mrs. Burnam, and prepare her for the new care awaiting her;
but it was not until the next day that he told her of his real fear, the
danger that the injured eye might become so seriously inflamed that its
sight would be destroyed. How Howard and Allie found it out, it would be
impossible to say; but, before the day was over, they knew the secret,
and hovered about their cousin with an anxious care, the real cause of
which he understood as little as he did that of the doctor's extreme
gentleness of voice and touch, when he came, morning and night, to
examine the wound and renew the bandages.
It was a hard experience for the boy, for there were long days of
sickening, throbbing pain, that darted up and down about his eye, and
painted strange, lurid pictures against the darkness of his closed lids.
Then came the time when he was allowed to sit up once more, and to
wander clumsily about his narrow quarters, bruising himself by frequent
collisions with the unseen furniture, until Allie's heart ached for him,
and she longed to tear away the bandages, and let him have one short
hour of daylight again. His piano was his main solace in these days, for
Mrs. Burnam had had it moved into his room, and he amused himself with
it for long hours at a time, when his cousins were busy, or away from
home. Of course he grumbled a little at times, as any healthy boy would
do; of course he had hours of being undeniably cross; but, for the most
part, he showed a quiet endurance which won the admiration of all his
friends.
But, little by little, as the danger passed, his privileges increased,
and he was free to make daily excursions out into the parlor, which was
darkened for his use, and to receive short calls from the Everetts and
Marjorie. Allie had been his constant companion in these weeks,
entertaining him, leading him about the room, and even feeding him the
meals which Mrs. Burnam and Janey prepared so daintily. Then, at length,
came the great day when the bandage was taken off, to be replaced by a
shade, and only resumed for the hour when Allie was to be allowed to
lead him up and down the sunny piazza, and out along the street for
daily-increasing distances. For Charlie, all this was like coming back
into life once more. In spite of the darkness of his room, he could yet
see the dim outlines of objects in his narrow line of vision, and grope
his way about without being dependent upon his cousins for his every
need; and after a month of perfect helplessness, even this was a relief,
and he accepted it gratefully.
And, after all, dark as the days were, they yet had their bright spots.
In his constant visits, the doctor had quite won Charlie's heart with
his lively talk and fun, until the boy found himself eagerly looking
forward to the next call, and wondering what fresh interest his new
friend had in store for him. For the doctor, true to the instincts of
his profession, knew so well how to cover his real anxiety under his
gay, light manner, that his young patient had no idea of the possible
danger of his case, and only regarded it as a tedious, painful wound
which would soon heal.
"I am getting most awfully sick of this, though," he said one day, after
the doctor had gone. "It's a shame to be losing all this jolly weather,
and I've forgotten how everything looks. Dr. Brownlee is a first-rate
man; but he needn't make such a fuss over a scratch. I say, Allie, let's
run away and go for a ride up the gulch."
"Oh, wouldn't I like to!" responded Allie, with a fervor which led
Charlie to say gratefully,--
"I'll tell you what, Allie; it's a shame for you to stay tucked up with
me in this hole. You've stuck by me like a Trojan; but I'm well enough
off alone. Go out and have a lark; I would if I could."
"Sha'n't!" returned Allie composedly. "Besides, there isn't anybody to
lark with."
"Where are Marjorie and the boys?" demanded Charlie, casting himself
down in the easy-chair, and turning to face Allie, as she stood leaning
against the window curtain.
"They went fishing with Mr. Everett, up the canon."
"Bother!" exclaimed Charlie impatiently. "Here I am losing all the fun;
and you're so silly, you won't go without me, when you could, as well as
not. That's just like a girl."
"Now, Charlie, you just keep your temper," said Allie laughingly, while
she covered his mouth with her hand. "If you say anything more that's
saucy, I'll go off and never come back. I didn't want to go to-day; it's
too warm. Besides, we'll make up for all this when we go into camp."
"Are we really going? I thought 'twas given up." And Charlie started up
with quick enthusiasm.
"Yes, the plans are all made, and we're only waiting for you to be able
to go. We're going to be gone two weeks, and"--Allie paused, before
imparting her final bit of good news--"papa has asked Dr. Brownlee to go
too."
"How jolly!" Charlie exclaimed rapturously.
"Isn't it? The doctor didn't want you to get where he couldn't see to
you; and we all like him so much that papa said this was the best thing
to do, so we're going to start the very first day you are able."
"When does he say 'twill be?" asked the boy eagerly.
Allie hesitated. This part of her news was not so pleasant, for since
the first danger was over and Charlie was allowed to be up and about the
room, she knew that he was restless, and longing to be out with the
boys, enjoying his old free life once more.
"Well," he urged again, "when can we go?"
"Not for three or four weeks," she said gently, as her hand fell down
from his face, and rested on his shoulder with a little caressing
gesture.
The boy needed all her sympathy, for his disappointment was keen. The
prospect of a month more of an existence like that of the past three
weeks was too much for his courage; and, shaking off her hand, he rose
and tramped up and down the room, frowning and moody.
"I won't stand it!" he exclaimed suddenly, as he paused. "There's no
need of it, Allie, and I'm just not going to stand another month of it.
I'll risk my eyes, or let them slide; but I must get out of this stuffy
old room inside of a week, or I'll know the reason why."
But his temper was always short-lived, and he was soon his old bright
self again. That night he was cheered by hearing the doctor say that he
might go out into the parlor to see Ned and Grant for an hour in the
morning.
From that time on, his days began to pass more quickly. With Ned and
Marjorie at their head, the young people showed unlimited patience and
ingenuity in planning new amusements for their friend; and not a day
passed that they did not descend upon him in a body, laden with
offerings of fruit and flowers, trophies of their fishing expeditions,
and bits of gay gossip from mine and smelter, choir and Chinatown.
Marjorie, in particular, was his devoted slave. For the past few weeks,
she had been carrying, deep down in her heart, a little sore spot, left
there by the stinging memory of her hasty words an hour before the
accident; and, now that she could see her friend once more, she did her
best to make amends for her past sins. But though her endless fun and
rollicking kindness gave Charlie many a pleasant hour, it was to Allie
that he turned in any emergency, for her long days of devotion to him
had proved her a staunch, true friend.
"Allie is a pretty good sort of girl," he confided to Ned one day.
"She's just the kind to have round when you aren't well, for she's
jolly, and takes first-rate care of you, without being soft."
One afternoon, about three or four weeks after the accident, Marjorie
and the three boys were sitting on the little front porch at the
Everetts', reposing after a long ride. It was a cool, cloudy day; the
mist lay low over the mountain sides, and closed in between the walls
of the canon, and the wind blew up fresh and sharp. Allie had watched
the little group of riders as they cantered past the house and, turning
the corner, stopped at the Everetts'. Then she was seized with a sudden
inspiration.
"Get up, lazy boy," she commanded, going into her room where Charlie lay
on the sofa, stretched out at his ease, with his arms folded under his
head. "Mamma's coming in here, in a minute, to put on your blinders, and
then let's go down to the Everetts' for an hour. They're all down there,
and we'll take them by surprise."
Charlie started up eagerly enough. It was the longest walk that he had
taken, and he was glad to get out of his dull routine; so, ten minutes
later, he was on his way, with his hat pulled down over his face to
cover the ignominious bandage, and Allie's hand on his arm.
Grant was the first to see him coming.
"Hurrah!" he shouted. "There's Charlie Mac!"
"Where?" exclaimed Ned, turning around with a suddenness which made him
lose his balance, as he sat on the rail, and sent him rolling over
backwards to the ground. He was on his feet again in a twinkling, and
tore away up the street to meet his guest, and, usurping Allie's place
as escort, bring him back to the steps in triumph. "Sit down here, old
fellow," he said, as he deposited him in a chair, and seated himself
protectingly on the arm. "How jolly to have you round again!"
"Glad you think so," responded Charlie; "I was feeling fine to-day, and
Allie thought 't would be a good scheme to come down here. You can just
believe I was ready for a change of base."
The first chatter of eager greeting was not yet ended, when Louise
Everett appeared in the doorway behind them.
"I must just come out to speak to Charlie," she said, as she stepped
forward to his chair. "It's so long since I've seen you. No, don't get
up," she added hastily; "you look too comfortable to let me disturb you,
so I'll just sit down on the step beside Howard, if there's room."
"Always room for you, Miss Lou," returned Howard gallantly, as he curled
up his feet so that his dusty shoes should not soil her fresh, pink
gown. "We've set Charlie up in the middle, like a Chinese idol, and are
adoring him."
"You'd better get Wang Kum out here to help," suggested the idol
complacently. "I'm afraid I'm not much to look at, Miss Lou; but
fortunately I don't have to see myself these days. I leave it to Allie,
to tell me if my hair's smooth."
Louise laughed, as she rested one hand affectionately on the girl's
shoulder.
"The doctor says she has been a most devoted Allie; and we all think
that we haven't seen much more of her than of you, this last month."
"I know that, Howard and I aren't any account, any longer," said
Marjorie, in an injured tone, from her seat on the rail. "Howard, which
of us shall get broken to pieces, so the other can 'tend to it?"
"What's the use?" returned Howard languidly. "Our noses are out of joint
now, and it doesn't seem to do us any good."
"Oh, by thunder!" exclaimed Grant, suddenly.
"Grant, dear, what words!" said his sister reprovingly.
"Can't help it, Lou; look there! Dr. Hornblower is coming down the road,
and I can see, by the northeast corner of his weather eye, that he's
going to stop and make us a visit."
"Dr. Hornblower? Do put me out of sight somewhere," begged Charlie.
"What for? You've never seen him, and he's lots of fun," said Howard,
without the faintest appearance of respect for the clerical brother.
"I know, but I'd rather meet him some time when I don't feel so much
like a mummy in a museum," urged Charlie again. "Can't you get me out of
this, Ned?"
"There isn't time, honestly. He's right here, or I would," answered Ned
in a low voice, as he drew his friend's soft hat forward and turned down
the brim. "You're all right; and, besides, he's such an old duffer that
he won't notice anything. He won't stay here, any way; he comes to see
cousin Euphemia, and help her out when she gets in a tight place with
Wang Kum. Wang's been cutting church lately, and most likely the
doctor's come to see about it."
The Reverend Gabriel Hornblower belonged to the fast vanishing school of
mossbacks, or "old-timers," as they more elegantly termed themselves,
the early settlers who had watched the State grow from its first
squatter population to its present comparative civilization. A mere boy
in the stormy days of Sixty-three, he had joined one of the many trains
of ox-teams which started across the country, on their slow, toilsome
march to the far West; and, for the next few years, his life had been
one of continual excitement and hardship. His father and grandfather
before him had been ministers; so it was small wonder that Gabriel, upon
arriving at man's estate, should feel that both his family tradition and
his name had called him to the life of a wandering preacher among the
mining camps and scattered ranches of the region, until he had finally
settled down to take charge of the little church in Blue Creek. He was
neither a great man, nor an educated one. On the contrary, he was
ignorant of any life outside of his own narrow sphere, and intolerant of
all spirit of advance or change, singularly devoid of tact, but literal,
honest, and well-meaning. Moreover, he was absolutely self-satisfied,
but utterly lacking in the sense of fun which makes conceited people so
much less disagreeable, since it gives them a glimmering appreciation of
their own absurdity.
As far as his outward man was concerned, the Reverend Gabriel Hornblower
was not fair to look upon. Although Mrs. Pennypoker never failed to
speak of him as "old Dr. Hornblower," in reality he was not far from
forty-five; but he looked a score of years older, for his constant
exposure to the fierce mountain gales and the burning suns of summer had
tanned and dried him until his complexion closely resembled a withered
seckel pear, and his body was as thin and wiry as that of a September
locust in a season of famine. But, in spite of his dull, yellow-brown
skin, his deep-set blue eyes retained all their old life and sparkle,
while his thick auburn hair was cut close at the back and sides of his
head, and allowed to grow long above his forehead, where it was combed
up to form a single curl, which ran straight across the top of his head,
from brow to crown. The peculiar nature of this curl had beguiled the
time of dreary sermons for many a youthful sinner; for, like
Melchisedek, it appeared to have its beginning and ending in nothing,
and there was a certain fascination in tracing its placid course above
the august forehead.
Approaching nearer to Dr. Hornblower, it was easy to see that he was a
close student, either of books or of human nature. His habit of profound
thought had developed an anxious frown, which had traced three deep
wrinkles between his eyebrows; while, upon the rare occasions when his
massive brain was at rest, and his brow was smoothed, two narrow lines
of white, untanned skin came to the surface, and gave his face a little
the appearance of a fantastic mask.
As he drew near the little group on the steps, Louise courteously rose
to greet him.
"Come in, Dr. Hornblower," she said hospitably. "Walk into the parlor,
and I'll call Mrs. Pennypoker."
The doctor paused irresolutely, while he looked up into her fair young
face.
"Um--thank you," he said awkwardly. "I will--at least I didn't exactly
come to see Mrs. Pennypoker, this afternoon. I"--
"Shall I call Wang Kum?" suggested Grant, with an air of ready interest,
as he rose and moved a step towards the door.
"Not just now," said the Reverend Gabriel stiffly. "Miss Everett, may I
not have the--the pleasure of sitting at your feet?" And he fixed his
eyes on the patent-leather tips of her shoes.
"Of course we should be very glad to have you with us, Dr. Hornblower,"
returned Louise, while the pink color in her cheeks grew a shade deeper,
as she heard an irrepressible giggle from Marjorie. "Ned, will you
please bring out another chair? This is Charlie MacGregor, Dr.
Hornblower," she added, as she saw the doctor's eyes turn inquiringly in
his direction.
"In--deed; the young boy who was injured while at play? How do you do,
Charles?" asked the Reverend Gabriel, after pausing to contemplate the
lad, who had risen to his feet.
"Very much better, thank you," replied Charlie, while Howard gave him a
stealthy poke with his foot.
"Ah? I am glad to hear it, for I have been much interested in your case.
I hope you are properly thankful that there is now some slight
possibility that your sight may be restored to you."
"Take this chair, Dr. Hornblower," interposed Louise hastily, while
Charlie turned an appealing face towards his cousins. "It is a long time
since you have been here; Mrs. Pennypoker was speaking of it only
yesterday."
"Yes, I have been much occupied with the duties of my calling," returned
the Reverend Gabriel, as he seated himself in the low chair, which
brought his bony knees almost on a level with his chin. "My time has
been engaged in visiting the erring members of my flock; and now,
to-day, I find that I have an hour in which to call on you."
"I hope you don't look upon me as an erring member," Louise said,
laughing lightly.
"Pardon me, my dear young friend, no; you are misapprehending me,"
answered the doctor, with a stiff-necked bow which sent Grant and
Marjorie into the house to laugh unseen. "I only wished to state that"--
"Cousin Euphemia will be here in a minute, Lou," interrupted Ned,
reappearing in the doorway. "She saw the doctor coming, and she sent me
out to say she'd be right here; she wants to talk up something about
Wang. Come on, Charlie, I want to show you something in the house."
"Really," exclaimed the discomfited doctor, as he looked beseechingly at
Louise; "I had no wish to disturb your cousin, Miss Everett. I trust
that she did not feel that she ought to see me, if it is inconvenient."
"Not at all; she'll be delighted to see you," answered his young
hostess, with a grateful glance at her brother as he disappeared through
the open door.
"There!" said Ned triumphantly, as the children settled themselves
inside the parlor. "We'll stay cached in here, out of the way; and maybe
there'll be some fun before long, if Cousin Euphemia and the doctor get
after Wang. He's been to our church all the time lately, ever since our
choir started up; and Cousin Euphemia doesn't like it. I just heard her
telling Wang to go out to them as soon as he could get ready."
Ned's suspicions were well founded. A few moments later Wang Kum came
shuffling around the corner of the house, with his hat cocked defiantly
on the back of his head, and his hands buried in the pockets of his
loose blue toga.
"How do you do, Wang Kum?" asked the doctor, benevolently eyeing the
stray lamb before him.
"Heap well," returned Wang Kum calmly, as he kept his eyes fixed on the
ground, to avoid Mrs. Pennypoker's warning glance.
"I was afraid you were ill," observed the doctor, with an approving
smile for his own crafty manner of approaching the subject.
"Uh?" inquired Wang Kum.
"I thought perhaps you might be sick," repeated the doctor. "I hadn't
seen you at church lately."
Wang shook his head contemptuously.
"Wang no get sick," he remarked.
"Then why haven't you been to church?" asked the doctor.
But Wang Kum only replied with a scarcely perceptible shrug.
"Wang, didn't you hear Dr. Hornblower speak to you?" asked Mrs.
Pennypoker sharply.
Wang still stood gazing on the ground and nodding his head in a slow,
thoughtful way which communicated a rhythmic undulation to his pigtail.
At Mrs. Pennypoker's question, he glanced up.
"Wang no likee your church," he answered coolly. "Pisplykal church heap
lot better; smell good, sound good." He paused, then added, with a
cunning twinkle in his little dark eyes, "Make heap washee for
washee-shop." And, turning on his heel, he marched off towards the
kitchen, with the air of a man who had solved vast economic problems.