_HOW PHEBE EARNED HER WELCOME._
Dr. Alec had not arrived, but bad tidings had, as Rose guessed the
instant her eye fell upon Aunt Plenty, hobbling downstairs with her
cap awry, her face pale, and a letter flapping wildly in her hand, as
she cried distractedly,--
"Oh, my boy! my boy! sick, and I not there to nurse him! Malignant
fever, so far away. What can those children do? why did I let Alec
go?"
Rose got her into the parlor; and, while the poor old lady lamented,
she read the letter which Phebe had sent to her that she might "break
the news carefully to Rose."
"DEAR MISS PLENTY,--Please read this to yourself first, and
tell my little mistress as you think best. The dear doctor
is very ill; but I am with him, and shall not leave him day
or night till he is safe. So trust me, and do not be
anxious; for every thing shall be done that care and skill
and entire devotion can do. He would not let us tell you
before, fearing you would try to come at the risk of your
health. Indeed it would be useless; for only one nurse is
needed, and I came first, so do not let Rose or anybody else
rob me of my right to the danger and the duty. Mac has
written to his father; for Dr. Alec is now too ill to know
what we do, and we both felt that you ought to be told
without further delay. He has a bad malignant fever, caught
no one can tell how, unless among some poor emigrants whom
he met wandering about quite forlorn in a strange city. He
understood Portuguese, and sent them to a proper place when
they had told their story. But I fear he has suffered for
his kindness; for this fever came on rapidly, and before he
knew what it was I was there, and it was too late to send me
away.
"_Now_ I can show you how grateful I am, and if need be give
my life so gladly for this friend who has been a father to
me. Tell Rose his last conscious word and thought were for
her. 'Don't let her come; keep my darling safe.' Oh, do obey
him! Stay safely at home; and, God helping me, I'll bring
Uncle Alec back in time. Mac does all I will let him. We
have the best physicians, and every thing is going as well
as can be hoped till the fever turns.
"Dear Miss Plenty, pray for him and for me, that I may do
this one happy thing for those who have done so much for
"Your ever dutiful and loving
"PHEBE."
As Rose looked up from the letter, half stunned by the sudden news and
the great danger, she found that the old lady had already stopped
useless bewailing, and was praying heartily, like one who knew well
where help was to be found. Rose went and knelt down at her knee,
laying her face on the clasped hands in her lap, and for a few minutes
neither wept nor spoke. Then a stifled sob broke from the girl, and
Aunt Plenty gathered the young head in her arms, saying, with the slow
tears of age trickling down her own withered cheeks,--
"Bear up, my lamb, bear up. The good Lord won't take him from us I am
sure: and that brave child _will_ be allowed to pay her debt to him; I
feel she will."
"But I want to help. I _must_ go, aunty, I must: no matter what the
danger is," cried Rose, full of a tender jealousy of Phebe for being
first to brave peril for the sake of him who had been a father to them
both.
"You can't go, dear, it's no use now; and she is right to say 'Keep
away.' I know those fevers, and the ones who nurse often take it, and
fare worse for the strain they've been through. Good girl to stand by
so bravely, to be so sensible, and not let Mac go too near! She's a
grand nurse: Alec couldn't have a better, and she'll never leave him
till he's safe," said Miss Plenty, excitedly.
"Ah, you begin to know her now, and value her as you ought. _I_ think
few would have done as she has; and if she does get ill and die it
will be our fault partly; because she'd go through fire and water to
make us do her justice, and receive her as we ought," cried Rose,
proud of an example which she longed to follow.
"If she brings my boy home, I'll never say another word. She may marry
every nephew I've got, if she likes, and I'll give her my blessing,"
exclaimed Aunt Plenty, feeling that no price would be too much to pay
for such a deed.
Rose was going to clap her hands, but wrung them instead; remembering
with a sudden pang that the battle was not over yet, and it was much
too soon to award the honors.
Before she could speak Uncle Mac and Aunt Jane hurried in; for Mac's
letter had come with the other, and dismay fell upon the family at the
thought of danger to the well-beloved Uncle Alec. His brother decided
to go at once, and Aunt Jane insisted on accompanying him: though all
agreed that nothing could be done but wait, and leave Phebe at her
post as long as she held out; since it was too late to save her from
danger now, and Mac reported her quite equal to the task.
Great was the hurry and confusion till the relief party was off. Aunt
Plenty was heart-broken that she could not go with them, but felt that
she was too infirm to be useful; and, like a sensible old soul, tried
to content herself with preparing all sorts of comforts for the
invalid. Rose was less patient, and at first had wild ideas of setting
off alone, and forcing her way to the spot where all her thoughts now
centred. But, before she could carry out any rash project, Aunt Myra's
palpitations set in so alarmingly that they did good service for once,
and kept Rose busy taking her last directions, and trying to soothe
her dying-bed; for each attack was declared fatal, till the patient
demanded toast and tea, when hope was again allowable and the rally
began.
The news flew fast, as such tidings always do: and Aunt Plenty was
constantly employed in answering inquiries; for her knocker kept up a
steady tattoo for several days. All sorts of people came; gentle-folk
and paupers, children with anxious little faces, old people full of
sympathy, pretty girls sobbing as they went away, and young men who
relieved their feelings by swearing at all emigrants in general and
Portuguese in particular. It was touching and comforting to see how
many loved the good man who was known only by his benefactions, and
now lay suffering far away, quite unconscious how many unsuspected
charities were brought to light by this grateful solicitude, as hidden
flowers spring up when warm rains fall.
If Rose had ever felt that the gift of living for others was a poor
one, she saw now how beautiful and blest it was,--how rich the
returns, how wide the influence, how much more precious the tender tie
which knit so many hearts together, than any breath of fame, or
brilliant talent, that dazzled, but did not win and warm. In after
years she found how true her uncle's words had been; and, listening to
eulogies of great men, felt less moved and inspired by praises of
their splendid gifts than by the sight of some good man's patient
labor for the poorest of his kind. Her heroes ceased to be the world's
favorites; and became such as Garrison fighting for his chosen people;
Howe restoring lost senses to the deaf, the dumb, and blind; Sumner
unbribable, when other men were bought and sold: and many a
large-hearted woman working as quietly as Abby Gibbons, who for thirty
years has made Christmas merry for two hundred little paupers in a
city almshouse, beside saving Magdalens and teaching convicts.
The lesson came to Rose when she was ready for it, and showed her what
a noble profession philanthropy is, made her glad of her choice, and
helped fit her for a long life full of the loving labor, and sweet
satisfaction unostentatious charity brings to those who ask no reward,
and are content if "only God knows."
Several anxious weeks went by with wearing fluctuations of hope and
fear; for Life and Death fought over the prize each wanted, and more
than once Death seemed to have won. But Phebe stood at her post,
defying both danger and death with the courage and devotion women
often show. All her soul and strength were in her work; and, when it
seemed most hopeless, she cried out with the passionate energy which
seems to send such appeals straight up to Heaven,--
"Grant me this one boon, dear Lord, and I will never ask another for
myself!"
Such prayers avail much, and such entire devotion often seems to work
miracles when other aids are vain. Phebe's cry was answered; her
self-forgetful task accomplished, and her long vigil rewarded with a
happy dawn. Dr. Alec always said that she kept him alive by the force
of her will; and that, during the hours when he seemed to lie
unconscious, he felt a strong, warm hand holding his, as if keeping
him from the swift current trying to sweep him away. The happiest hour
of all her life was that in which he knew her, looked up with the
shadow of a smile in his hollow eyes, and tried to say in his old
cheery way,--
"Tell Rose I've turned the corner, thanks to you, my child."
She answered very quietly, smoothed the pillow, and saw him drop
asleep again, before she stole away into the other room, meaning to
write the good news; but could only throw herself down, and find
relief for a full heart in the first tears she had shed for weeks. Mac
found her there, and took such care of her that she was ready to go
back to her place,--now indeed a post of honor,--while he ran off to
send home a telegram which made many hearts sing for joy, and caused
Jamie, in his first burst of delight, to propose to ring all the city
bells and order out the cannon.
"Saved: thanks to God and Phebe."
That was all; but every one was satisfied, and every one fell
a-crying, as if hope needed much salt water to strengthen it. That was
soon over, however, and then people went about smiling and saying to
one another, with hand-shakes or embraces, "He is better: no doubt of
it now!" A general desire to rush away and assure themselves of the
truth pervaded the family for some days; and nothing but awful threats
from Mac, stern mandates from the doctor, and entreaties from Phebe
not to undo her work, kept Miss Plenty, Rose, and Aunt Jessie at home.
As the only way in which they could ease their minds and bear the
delay, they set about spring cleaning, with an energy which scared the
spiders, and drove char-women distracted. If the old house had been
infected with small-pox, it could not have been more vigorously
scrubbed, aired, and refreshed. Early as it was, every carpet was
routed up, curtains pulled down, cushions banged, and glory-holes
turned out, till not a speck of dust, a last year's fly, or stray
straw could be found. Then they all sat down and rested in such an
immaculate mansion that one hardly dared to move for fear of
destroying the shining order everywhere visible.
It was late in April before this was accomplished, and the necessary
quarantine of the absentees well over. The first mild days seemed to
come early, so that Dr. Alec might return with safety from the journey
which had so nearly been his last. It was perfectly impossible to keep
any member of the family away on that great occasion. They came from
all quarters in spite of express directions to the contrary; for the
invalid was still very feeble, and no excitement must be allowed. As
if the wind had carried the glad news, Uncle Jem came into port the
night before; Will and Geordie got a leave on their own
responsibility; Steve would have defied the entire Faculty, had it
been necessary; and Uncle Mac and Archie said simultaneously,
"Business be hanged to-day."
Of course, the aunts arrived all in their best; all cautioning
everybody else to keep quiet, and all gabbling excitedly at the least
provocation. Jamie suffered most during that day, so divided was he
between the desire to behave well and the frantic impulse to shout at
the top of his voice, turn somersaults, and race all over the house.
Occasional bolts into the barn, where he let off steam by roaring and
dancing jigs, to the great dismay of the fat old horses and two sedate
cows, helped him to get through that trying period.
But the heart that was fullest beat and fluttered in Rose's bosom, as
she went about putting spring flowers everywhere; very silent, but so
radiant with happiness that the aunts watched her, saying softly to
one another, "Could an angel look sweeter?"
If angels ever wore pale-green gowns and snowdrops in their hair, had
countenances full of serenest joy, and large eyes shining with an
inward light that made them very lovely, then Rose did look like one.
But she felt like a woman: and well she might; for was not life very
rich that day, when uncle, friend, and lover were coming back to her
together? Could she ask any thing more, except the power to be to all
of them the creature they believed her, and to return the love they
gave her with one as faithful, pure, and deep?
Among the portraits in the hall hung one of Dr. Alec, taken soon after
his return by Charlie, in one of his brief fits of inspiration. Only a
crayon, but wonderfully life-like and carefully finished, as few of
the others were. This had been handsomely framed, and now held the
place of honor, garlanded with green wreaths, while the great Indian
jar below blazed with a pyramid of hot-house flowers sent by Kitty.
Rose was giving these a last touch, with Dulce close by, cooing over a
handful of sweet "daffydowndillies," when the sound of wheels sent her
flying to the door. She meant to have spoken the first welcome and had
the first embrace; but when she saw the altered face in the carriage,
the feeble figure being borne up the steps by all the boys, she stood
motionless till Phebe caught her in her arms, whispering with a laugh
and a cry struggling in her voice,--
"I did it for you, my darling, all for you!"
"O Phebe, never say again you owe me any thing! I never can repay you
for this," was all Rose had time to answer, as they stood one instant
cheek to cheek, heart to heart, both too full of happiness for many
words.
Aunt Plenty had heard the wheels also, and, as everybody rose _en
masse_, had said as impressively as extreme agitation would allow,
while she put her glasses on upside-down, and seized a lace tidy
instead of her handkerchief,--
"Stop! all stay here, and let _me_ receive Alec. Remember his weak
state, and be calm, quite calm, as I am."
"Yes, aunt, certainly," was the general murmur of assent: but it was
as impossible to obey as it would have been to keep feathers still in
a gale; and one irresistible impulse carried the whole roomful into
the hall, to behold Aunt Plenty beautifully illustrate her own theory
of composure by waving the tidy wildly, rushing into Dr. Alec's arms,
and laughing and crying with an hysterical abandonment which even Aunt
Myra could not have surpassed.
The tearful jubilee was soon over, however; and no one seemed the
worse for it: for the instant his arms were at liberty Uncle Alec
forgot himself, and began to make other people happy, by saying
seriously, though his thin face beamed paternally, as he drew Phebe
forward,--
"Aunt Plenty, but for this good daughter I never should have come back
to be so welcomed. Love her for my sake."
Then the old lady came out splendidly, and showed her mettle; for,
turning to Phebe, she bowed her gray head as if saluting an equal;
and, offering her hand, answered with repentance, admiration, and
tenderness trembling in her voice,--
"I'm proud to do it for her own sake. I ask pardon for my silly
prejudices, and I'll prove that I'm sincere by--where's that boy?"
There were six boys present: but the right one was in exactly the
right place at the right moment; and, seizing Archie's hand, Aunt
Plenty put Phebe's into it, trying to say something appropriately
solemn, but could not; so hugged them both, and sobbed out,--
"If I had a dozen nephews, I'd give them _all_ to you, my dear, and
dance at the wedding, though I had rheumatism in every limb."
That was better than any oration; for it set them all to laughing, and
Dr. Alec was floated to the sofa on a gentle wave of merriment. Once
there, every one but Rose and Aunt Plenty was ordered off by Mac, who
was in command now, and seemed to have sunk the poet in the physician.
"The house must be perfectly quiet, and he must go to sleep as soon as
possible after the journey; so all say 'Good-by' now, and call again
to-morrow," he said, watching his uncle anxiously, as he leaned in the
sofa corner, with four women taking off his wraps, three boys
contending for his overshoes, two brothers shaking hands at short
intervals, and Aunt Myra holding a bottle of strong salts under his
devoted nose every time there was an opening anywhere.
With difficulty the house was partially cleared: and then, while Aunt
Plenty mounted guard over her boy, Rose stole away to see if Mac had
gone with the rest; for as yet they had hardly spoken in the joyful
flurry, though eyes and hands had met.