THE TRAGEDY OF THE UNEXPECTED.
"Did you get any letters this morning, Wang?" inquired Mrs. Pennypoker,
as the Chinaman came in to remove the dishes from the breakfast table.
"No," replied Wang Kum briefly.
"Not any at all? How very strange!" And Mrs. Pennypoker looked
questioningly at Wang Kum, who returned her gaze with impenetrable
composure. "I thought I should surely hear from brother Nathaniel
to-day. What can have become of the letter!"
"Wang no sabe," answered the Chinaman with an almost imperceptible
shrug.
He turned away to go to the kitchen; but, just as he passed the window
where Louise stood looking out, he contrived to let a fork slip from the
plate in his hand. Louise started at the clatter, and glanced over her
shoulder, to be met by a wink and smirk of infinite cunning, before the
man stooped to pick up the fork, and finally vanished into the outer
room. A moment later she followed him.
"Did you want to speak to me, Wang?" she asked, trying in vain to appear
unusually dignified, as she faced the man who stood chuckling before
her.
But Wang, by no means abashed by her manner, bestowed upon her a second
wink of exceeding craftiness, while he slowly drew a note out from the
loose sleeve of his shapeless blue coat.
"Wang mus' a forgot him; you no tell," he said softly, with a stealthy
glance at the dining-room door behind him, as if expecting to see Mrs.
Pennypoker appear on the threshold and swoop down upon him at any
moment.
Louise glanced at the letter in her hand. She was annoyed to feel her
color come, as she saw that it was addressed to her in Dr. Brownlee's
well-known writing.
"Where did you get this, Wang?" she asked.
"Doc' Blownlee." And Wang Kum smiled knowingly.
"But he didn't tell you to give it to me this way, did he?" she asked
again.
"He no tell; Wang sabe, all samee. Wang no fool." And Wang marched back
to the dining-room, leaving Louise to read her note unobserved.
As she had supposed, it was merely a message to appoint the hour for a
ride they had agreed upon for that afternoon. There was not the
slightest reason that she should not have received and read it under the
eye of Mrs. Pennypoker; but long experience had taught her that the ways
of Wang Kum were past finding out, so she only tucked the note into her
belt and went on her way, resolving, however, to warn the doctor to
select another Cupid, in the future, to be the bearer of his messages.
Some weeks had slipped away since Ned's illness, and spring had once
more come to Blue Creek. The crisis of the fever once passed, the boy
had quickly rallied, and, thanks to the devoted care of Louise and the
doctor, his recovery had been sure and steady, until at length he was
pronounced nearly well enough to resume his former place among his
friends. Then came the time of thoroughly disinfecting and airing the
house, for Dr. Brownlee was not the man to leave any uncertainty as to
results. His quarantine had been as strict as his later measures were
energetic, and he had refused to rest until he was assured that no
danger could come from his patient. Owing to the negligence of Dr.
Hofer, the disease had been spreading across the creek, until the board
of health had interfered, and summarily taken the cases from his care to
give them into the hand of Dr. Brownlee, whose vigorous treatment had
checked the trouble, even though it had incurred the hostility of the
parents of the fever-stricken children.
But at last the doctor had said that all danger at the Everetts' was
over, and Grant had been allowed to come home once more. In spite of the
good times he had been having with Howard and Charlie, in spite of the
motherly welcome of Mrs. Burnam, the boy had been thoroughly homesick
during the period of his banishment from home. It was the first time
that he and his brother had ever been separated, and Ned was his hero
and idol, as well as his constant companion. During the long days of
waiting, when the fever was at its height, Grant had wandered
disconsolately about the house, refusing to be comforted, and looking so
pale and miserable as to be a mere shadow of his usual bright self, and
to cause Mrs. Burnam many an hour of anxiety lest he, too, were about to
be ill. Then came the sudden change for the better, and, for a day or
two, Grant was like a wild creature in the exuberance of his joy; but he
was restless and anxious to be at home with his brother again, sure that
no one else could take as good care of him as he. He had even waylaid
the doctor on the street one morning, and tried to bribe him to allow a
return home; but Dr. Brownlee was firm, and Grant had been forced to
bide his time.
The whole Everett household had been radiant with its new happiness,
during these last few weeks. It would have been enough for them all to
have Ned brought back to life, after their terrible hours of suspense;
and for days they hovered about the boy, almost unable to believe that
their bright, affectionate, impish Ned was to remain with them, after
all. Even Mrs. Pennypoker had cast aside her strict principles of
discipline, and coddled him and fussed over him to her heart's content,
while Wang openly prided himself on being the means of his recovery.
"Wang went 'way off out doors," he had confided to Louise; "all lonee;
hollered heap loud to Up-in-Sky. Up-in-Sky no say anything; he sabe, all
samee; came down heap quick to help Mas' Ned."
In the midst of this rejoicing there had come a cause for even increased
happiness. On the morning after Ned had turned the dangerous corner, and
started on his slow journey back into life once more, Dr. Brownlee had
gone into the parlor where Mr. Everett sat writing letters, and had
closed the door behind him. His stay was only a short one; then Mr.
Everett came out, and went in search of Louise.
"Come, my girl," he said gently; "Winthrop is waiting for you. Your
mother would have been very happy to-day, as happy as I am." And he led
her to the parlor door; then he went away, and left them alone together.
To Louise, it had seemed as if the world had suddenly been created anew
that spring. The days flew by like one long, happy dream, while she
spent hour after hour amusing her brother during his tedious
convalescence, or left him to Mrs. Pennypoker's care when she escaped to
the parlor, to enjoy the doctor's short, but frequent calls. Ned had
been as rapturous as his sister when the good news was told to him; and
he had saluted the doctor as Brother Brownlee upon the occasion of his
next visit.
"It's just too jolly," he had said, with the first return of his old,
irrepressible manner. "I'd rather have you take Lou than anybody else I
know; and I'm no end glad I helped it on. You know you'd never have come
to the point, if I hadn't scared you both out of your senses; but"--he
paused, and then asked wickedly, "but I say, Lou, what do you suppose
the Reverend Gabriel will have to say about it?"
The Reverend Gabriel, in the mean time, had kept himself informed on the
subject of Ned's illness, and although he had held himself at a prudent
distance from all danger of infection, he had not neglected the young
invalid. As soon as it was definitely known that the boy was on the way
to recovery, Dr. Hornblower had sent him, through the safe medium of the
post-office, a little book of "Sick-room Meditations," whose black cover
bore the cheering design of a tomb under a pair of weeping willows.
Though the gift was doubtless intended in all kindness, it was received
with more amusement than gratitude, and Ned kept it under his pillow to
read aloud choice bits from it, whenever Louise and Dr. Brownlee were
together in his room.
But, during the weeks that the Reverend Gabriel had been unable to call
at the Everetts'; he had been slowly making up his mind upon a matter
of weighty importance; and now at length the time had come for him to
carry out his intentions.
The Reverend Gabriel Hornblower, it should be stated, was a romantic
soul; and, in his tanned, weather-beaten old body, there throbbed a
heart as ardent as ever beat in the breast of a boy of eighteen. Its
manifestations, however, were often a little eccentric, for its owner
was as ignorant and unworldly as a child. For years he had fed his
elderly imagination upon the most impassioned love scenes to be found in
the pages of novel or biography. Unfortunately for him, there was
nothing in the least modern about his literary taste; but he had
confined his reading to the histories of the Evelinas and Cherubinas of
yore, until his idea of the tender passion was as old-fashioned and
stilted as the books from which it had been derived. Nevertheless, the
Reverend Gabriel was becoming weary of boarding-house existence, and
beginning to long for the comforts of home and the charms of conjugal
society.
It would be hard to say whether the sight of Louise Everett's blonde
beauty, or the contemplation of his own frayed cuffs and ragged
buttonholes had been the moving cause; but the result was the same.
Upon this particular afternoon, he had spent an hour in reading over one
of his old favorites; then, seizing his hat and cane, with an air of
desperate resolution, he had hurried out of the house, and up the street
towards the Everetts'.
He was ushered into the parlor by Wang Kum, who assured him that Louise
would soon be at home, and rolled out the great leather-covered chair
from its accustomed corner, in order that the Reverend Gabriel might be
as comfortable as possible, while he awaited her coming. Then he
withdrew, leaving the guest to his meditations.
They were not altogether enjoyable ones, however. Wang Kum had told him
that Louise was riding with Dr. Brownlee, and the Reverend Gabriel, with
the jealous eye of a lover, was not slow to discern a possible rival in
the handsome young man, who had been a constant attendant at the house,
during the past few weeks. Moreover, the room was very warm, and the
Reverend Gabriel was beginning to grow a little uncomfortable, for Wang
Kum, with the keen malice of his race, had carefully arranged the chair
directly opposite the register, which brought the heat from the stove in
the next room. Dr. Hornblower had been feeling rather nervous, all that
day; now he feared that he was becoming feverish. He drew his hand
across his moist brow, and sighed anxiously. Could it be that he was
going to be ill?
At length Louise came in. She looked so bright and pretty in her dark
habit, and with her golden hair loosened by the wind and curling about
her face, that the Reverend Gabriel felt his admiration momentarily
increasing, while he gazed at her. And yet, something in her fresh,
girlish beauty made him long to draw back from his coming interview, as
he rose to greet her, and caught sight of his own dull, brown face in
the mirror above her head.
"I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long," Louise said courteously,
while she unbuttoned her gloves and slowly drew them off. "It is such a
glorious day that we stayed out a little longer than we meant to."
"It is a fine day, a very fine one," returned the Reverend Gabriel,
eagerly catching at the safe topic of the weather.
"Yes, and we were shut in so long that I enjoy being out, more than
ever," said Louise, while she speculated vainly as to the doctor's
motive for this call.
"You have had a painful experience," he answered gloomily; "a trying and
painful experience; but I trust that you are benefited by it. My
thoughts were continually with you during the--um--the ordeal."
"Thank you, Dr. Hornblower," Louise returned gratefully. "Our friends
were all very kind."
"Doubtless they were," responded Dr. Hornblower, as he sympathetically
wiped his eyes. "We were all grieving over the prospective demise of a
young brother. And yet some consolation would have reached you, Miss
Everett; love is the only pocket-handkerchief to wipe the mourner's
eyes."
Louise blushed hotly at the reference. Although she had made no secret
of the matter of her engagement, still she was a little surprised to
have the Reverend Gabriel allude to it in such an unexpected fashion.
But she was determined to carry off her embarrassment as easily as
possible, so she smiled brightly, as she said,--
"Then you have come to congratulate me; thank"--
"Pardon me!" interrupted Dr. Hornblower, as stiffly as if his rheumatism
had suddenly penetrated from his joints to his manners. "It is not yet
the time for congratulation; and, when the hour comes, it is I who will
receive them."
"You?" And Louise stared at the Reverend Gabriel in unfeigned
astonishment.
"At least, so it is to be hoped," returned the doctor gravely.
For a moment, there was an awkward pause, while Louise wondered whether
the worthy minister had suddenly taken leave of his senses, and the
doctor writhed uneasily in his chair, as he realized that his hour had
come. The hush was beginning to be painful, and Louise was just opening
her lips to speak, to say something, no matter what, when she was
suddenly struck speechless by seeing the Reverend Gabriel lay his hat
and cane on the floor beside his chair, then clumsily kneel down before
her and clasp his hands. For one brief instant, she supposed that he was
about to give her the benefit of his professional services, and she
composed her face to listen with befitting gravity; but his first words
dispelled the illusion.
"Louisa," he began, in a tone so devoid of expression as to suggest the
possibility of his having written out the words and committed them to
memory; "Louisa, behold me a suppliant before you, begging,
imploring"--
But Louise had started from her chair, and stood facing him, her cheeks
white with mortification for herself and pity for him.
"Dr. Hornblower," she begged hastily; "get up, please! You mustn't say
any more."
"But you do not catch my full meaning," he went on. "I ask you"--
"Get up at once," she repeated. "You mustn't say it; it's impossible!
Suppose some one should come in. Oh, do get up!"
Yielding to her evident alarm, he awkwardly scrambled to his feet, and
threw himself down in in his chair once more, with a force that pushed
it back against the opposite wall.
"Truly, I never thought of such a thing," Louise said penitently. "I
always supposed that you came to see Cousin Euphemia, not me; or I might
have prevented this."
"Why should you, Louisa?" returned the Reverend Gabriel, with a cheerful
assurance that grated upon her ears. "I am willing to wait and hope; my
heart is eternally yours."
"Oh, I hope not!" she answered quickly. "Really, Dr. Hornblower, it
never can be, never could have been; I never even thought of such an
idea. You have always been very kind to me, I know," she went on
hesitatingly, trying to soften her words a little; "but I thought it was
only because you felt a fatherly interest in me."
"I'm not so old as you seem to think," began Dr. Hornblower testily;
then, bethinking himself that this was not according to his models, he
made a dramatic pause, before he asked his final question, "Is there,
then, Another?"
Louise hung her head and blushed.
"I'm afraid there is," she faltered.
"And his name?"
The girl looked at him haughtily; then her face softened, as she thought
of the mortification that she was inflicting upon the old man before
her, and she answered gently,--
"It is Dr. Brownlee."
Once more the Reverend Gabriel hesitated. He had carefully rehearsed his
part, until he was thoroughly familiar with it; but his imaginary
interviews had taken only the one form, and he had never counted upon
such an ending as this. However, he was resolved to carry it through to
the close; and, after a hasty review of the ways of rejected lovers, he
recalled the case of the luckless Alphonso Ludovico, and felt himself
prepared to meet the new emergency.
"It is the end," he said slowly. "Pardon my intrusion, Miss Everett; I
will no longer impose upon your kindness. I go forth upon my lonely
way."
He started to rise from his chair, but came to a sudden pause, while a
sound of rending and cracking broke the silence that had followed his
tragic words. All unconsciously, Wang Kum had given him the sticky
chair; and the heat of the room and the doctor's feverish agitation, had
combined to produce the catastrophe. The Reverend Gabriel Hornblower was
trapped as effectually as a fly in a pool of molasses, and could only
struggle helplessly in his efforts to free himself.
Louise came to his relief, and together they succeeded in separating his
coat from the chair-back, and he took his ignominious departure. The
young girl stood looking after him, until he disappeared around the
corner, then she fled to her own room, and into the very depths of her
closet, to smother the sound of her hysterical laughter. But when at
last she grew quiet, her face became very gentle once more, as she said
to herself, in a tone of womanly pity,--
"Poor old man! But at least, I can keep his secret; not even Winthrop
shall ever know."
In the mean time, the Reverend Gabriel had slowly betaken himself to his
lonely room, where he laid aside his hat, and approached the mirror.
"No," he said to himself, as he stood gazing at the reflected face
before him; "it wouldn't do; it wouldn't do. She's too beautiful; and
I'm--too old." And he seated himself in his worn old easy-chair, and
took up the book he had laid aside an hour before.