WITHIN THE LITTLE ROOM
Nance's eyes were big with wonder as she walked by Nurse Marion's side
from the shore of the lake up to the hospital. They did not go by way of
the river, but landed near the steamer, and thus passed through the
busiest part of the town. Quabee kept close behind Nance, and seemed to
pay no attention to the curious glances which were cast upon her.
Never before had Nance been brought into contact with so many people.
When the stampede had taken place, and the prospectors and miners passed
into the Quaska region, she had been astonished at the number of men she
saw. But this crowd around her now was most bewildering. The natural
timidity which she possessed with the creatures of the wild came upon
her. She moved closer to the nurse, and the latter, noting that she was
trembling with apprehension, placed her right arm caressingly around
her.
"There is nothing to fear, Nance," she soothed, speaking the maiden's
name for the first time. "The men know who I am, and, see, some of them
are lifting their hats. Though they are rough at times outwardly, they
always respect a nurse from our mission."
And not only did some of the men know Nurse Marion, but those who had
come on the first steamer recognised Nance. They knew that it was the
first time she had been over to the town, and they now showed their
appreciation of her courage in defeating The Twins by lifting their hats
to her as well as to the nurse. They were not slow to see the difference
between the women who had entered the country merely for evil gain, and
the one who had come to care for the miners. For the former they had
uncouth remarks and jests, but for the latter only the highest regard.
Nance was greatly relieved when at last the hospital was reached. The
large room, which was to be used for patients, was all finished except
the fitting up of the cots. The place was fresh and new, just as the
workmen had left it. Everything was rough, from the walls and the roof
to the floor of whip-sawn planks, and the rude standees where the
patients would be placed. Several large well-filled canvas sacks were
lying upon the floor, which Nance eyed curiously.
"They are all filled with bedding, and things to brighten up the room,"
the nurse explained. "We had to work almost night and day to get things
ready to catch the _Northern Light_. We had such a short time in which
to do it after we received Mr. Russell's letter calling for a nurse."
"It is too bad that Dick isn't here now," Nance replied. "He didn't know
that you were coming to-day, or I am sure he would not have gone up
river."
"Who is Dick?" the nurse asked. "I never heard of him before."
"Why, the missionary, of course. The men all call him Dick here, and he
told me to do the same."
"Oh, I see," Nurse Marion mused. She nevertheless looked keenly into the
face of the young woman before her, but she saw only the perfect
innocence of a child in her clear blue eyes.
After a while they passed into the room where the nurse was to live.
This was a bright cosy place, and Nance was delighted as she looked
eagerly around.
"And this will be your home!" she exclaimed. "How nice it will be!"
"Yes, when it is fitted up," was the reply. "You will help me, will you
not? I have unpacked some of my things, but there is much to do yet."
Nance was greatly pleased to be of any assistance, so, directed by the
nurse, she at once set to work, while Quabee, squatted upon the floor,
watched with great interest all that was going on around her.
Nurse Marion was pleased and also surprised as she observed the deft way
in which Nance busied herself about the room. She did everything so
quietly, and yet speedily. At times the nurse found herself neglecting
her own work and watching the movements of the girl in whom she was
becoming so much interested. Where did she learn all these things? she
asked herself. Her foster-father must surely be a most remarkable man.
She thought, too, of his name, and wondered how she was going to find
out more about him, and whether he was the same man she had known years
before.
An idea came suddenly into her mind as she knelt by the side of a small
bag she was unpacking. She hesitated at first, but at length she drew
forth a package, carefully tied with a faded blue ribbon. She held it in
her hand for a while before opening it. How well she remembered the sad
day after her illness when, with trembling hands, she had tied up that
little package. She had never opened it since, although she had carried
it with her wherever she went. Slowly now her fingers loosened the
knotted ribbon, and smoothed out the paper wrapping. Nance saw what she
was doing, and with the impetuosity of a child knelt by her side.
"What are they?" she asked, observing several pieces of cardboard.
Nurse Marion lifted up the one on top, and turned it over.
"Why, it's the picture of a man!" Nance cried. "He is young, too, and so
good looking. Doesn't he wear a funny collar? Is he your brother?"
"No, no, not my brother, Nance. He is some one I knew long ago, but I
haven't seen him for years."
She then picked up another photograph, showing the same young man clad
in his robes of office. It was a good likeness, and the nurse caught her
breath as she looked upon it. How often in the happy days of old she had
held that picture before her and studied the fine face, the clear eyes,
and the dark hair brushed back carelessly from the brow. How full was
her young life then, he was her hero, and the future was very bright.
"What a funny dress!" Nance exclaimed. "I never knew that men wore such
things."
"He was a clergyman when I knew him," the nurse replied, "and during
service he always wore his robes, which you see here."
"Do all wear them?"
"No, not all."
"Does Dick?"
"Yes, I suppose so when he holds service. All the clergymen of the
Church to which I belong do."
Nurse Marion's little ruse had failed. She thought that perhaps Nance
might recognise the photographs of her foster-father. But not a sign of
recognition did she give, so the nurse slowly and thoughtfully folded up
the pictures, tied once more the ribbon around them, and placed them
back in the bag.
In her own mind Nurse Marion held one clear vision of the Martin Rutland
she had known. To her he had not changed in the least, and she could not
dream of him as a long-bearded man, hair streaked with grey, and hands
rough and toil-worn. When, therefore, Nance did not recognise him in the
photographs the nurse began to think that he could not be the same man
to whom she had once given her heart and hand. And yet she was not
satisfied. The idea which had taken possession of her haunted her still,
and while her hands were busy her mind kept constantly dwelling upon the
name. The sight of the photographs had brought back memories which she
could not stifle, try as she might. She talked with Nance, and seemed to
be in the gayest of moods as they fitted up the room, using every effort
to overcome its bareness with the few meagre things she had brought with
her. When they were at last through they both sat down upon the little
cot, which was to be the nurse's bed.
"This certainly does look more homelike now," the nurse declared,
looking approvingly around the room. "You have been such a help to me,
as well as company. I do not like to work alone."
"It is so nice here," Nance replied. "May I come often? You do not know
what it means to have a white woman to talk to."
"But it seems to me that you have learned many things here in the
wilderness, Nance. Unless you had told me I could not believe that you
had never been with a white woman before. I suppose it was your father
who taught you so much."
"Yes, daddy has been so good, and he knows most everything. Besides, I
learned so much from the books I read, and how white women lived and
talked. But there is one person who has been of such great help to me."
"What, some one living here?" the nurse asked.
"Oh, no. I have never seen her, but I have heard much about her."
"From whom?"
"From daddy. When I was quite young he told me many things about her,
and I have always kept her in my mind, and tried to be just like her."
"Indeed! Tell me more, please," and the nurse settled herself in a more
comfortable position.
"Well, when I was very small daddy used to tell me fairy tales, which
were so interesting. The one I liked best of all was about the man who
had a beautiful garden. There were all kinds of flowers, and he had to
care for them. Then one day he hurt one of the flowers, and he was not
allowed to look after the garden any longer. He went away and wandered
about from place to place for years. At last he went into the
wilderness, and there he found a little flower, which he took with him,
and they lived together for a long time. The name of that little flower
was Heart's Ease. Don't you think it is a pretty story?"
"And was Heart's Ease the name of the woman you had in your mind all of
these years?" and the nurse looked questioningly into the face of the
young story teller.
"Oh, no. There was another. Daddy told me about one of the flowers in
the garden which felt so badly at what the gardener did. He said it was
the most beautiful flower of all. Then when I got older he told me that
this flower was a woman, very lovely, with wonderful eyes, and that she
could sing so beautifully."
"Oh!" This involuntary exclamation came from Nurse Marion's lips as she
sat erect upon the cot. Her form trembled, and her face was white. She
now began to read this story in its true light, and what was merely a
fairy tale to Nance, to her was terribly real.
"Yes," Nance continued, "the flower was a woman, and daddy told me so
much about her that I wanted to be like her. I would sit hour after hour
thinking about her, and wondering how she looked and talked. She seemed
very real to me. Isn't it funny," and Nance turned toward the nurse,
"that when I look at you and listen to you I imagine that you are my
Beryl?"
"Beryl!" The word came from the nurse's lips like a startled cry. She
grasped Nance's arm, and looked into her eyes. "Did you say the woman's
name was Beryl?"
"Yes, that was her name. But are you sick?" she asked, noting the
other's white face and excited manner.
"No, no, I am all right now," and the nurse gave a little hollow laugh.
"I was so much interested in your story that I forgot myself for the
moment."
All doubt was now removed from Nurse Marion's mind as to the identity of
Nance's foster-father. It could be no one else, she felt sure of that.
She rose to her feet and looked out of the little window at the east
side of the house, but saw nothing beyond. Her brain was throbbing, and
her hands were firmly clenched. What was she to do? she asked herself.
Would it be possible for her to remain in this place, so near to the
man, the history of whose life she so well knew, and who had almost
broken her heart? Would it not be better for her to go back on the
_Northern Light_, and send some one else in her place? But how could she
explain such a move on her part to the people at the mission station
down river? Would it not appear cowardly as well? No, she must stay and
face whatever might come.
This decision once reached a sense of peace stole into her heart. Strive
as she might she could not banish the desire to see Martin Rutland once
more. But she did not wish to see him face to face and thus have him
recognise her. No, that would never do, the gulf was too deep and wide
between them ever to be bridged again. If she could see him and not be
known herself that would be a degree of satisfaction. She longed to know
if he had changed much, and how the years of his remorse had dealt with
him.
An exclamation of surprise startled her and caused her to turn quickly
around. There in the doorway stood the missionary with an expression of
intense wonder stamped upon his face. His eyes swept the room in one
swift comprehensive glance, resting upon Quabee, Nance, and, last of
all, the woman standing before the window.
"Why, Nurse Marion," he began, as soon as he had somewhat recovered from
his astonishment, "I had no idea that you were here. It is too bad that
I happened to be away when the steamer arrived. I am so sorry that I was
not on hand to welcome you. But if it is not too late, allow me to do so
now," and stepping across the room he held out his hand.
"Oh, don't worry, Mr. Russell," the nurse laughingly replied. "I have
been well looked after, and have been having such an interesting time."
"I am glad of that," and Dick turned and looked fondly upon Nance, whose
face was now beaming with joy. "I might have known that everything would
be all right."
Nurse Marion saw the look of complete understanding which passed between
the two, and she needed no words to explain its significance.
"You have made a very cosy room for me here, Mr. Russell," she remarked,
"and I wish to thank you for what you have done. I am sure that I shall
be comfortable."
"It is not so bad, considering what has been done," and Dick glanced
approvingly around. "My, I am glad that you are here. A poor chap got
badly hurt out at the diggings, and several miners are bringing him in
over the trail. I hurried on ahead to see if I couldn't fit up a place
in here to keep him."
Nurse Marion was all alert now. "We can fix up a cot at once," she
replied. "If you will open the bales, Nance will help me to get ready,
won't you?" and she turned to the interested girl at her side.
"Oh, may I?" Nance responded, eager to be of any service to this woman,
who seemed such a wonderful person in her eyes.