MUCH thinking and planning had to be done, for the unexpected situation
in which the young man found himself was complex and difficult. It was
essential that his patient should be as tranquil as possible. Knowledge
of her father’s death might prove disastrous. Hence she must be
deceived, and yet deception was unspeakably repugnant to the young man’s
nature. But now it was a duty, which above all things must be done. She
must be buoyed with hope. All her fortitude would be needed to bear the
miserable conditions of her imprisonment. Meantime, the young man would
post notices along the road, calling for help from the first persons
passing.
Already the road was wholly impassable, and it would grow worse. None
of the friends or relatives of the dead man and his daughter could have
been informed of their leaving the lakes. The natural conclusion from
their absence would be that an early winter of unusual severity had
compelled them to remain until spring. The people in the mountains would
have no way of learning that the two had failed to reach the railway.
Thus had the travellers been completely blotted out of their world.
No relief parties would be sent out to search for them. Not until the
unlikely discovery of the notices that Wilder would post could there be
the slightest knowledge of the tragedy.
More than that, the road upon which Wilder’s hut looked down was only
one of two that penetrated the wilderness in that direction. In
the summer it had a small travel, but by reason of its crookedness,
narrowness, and sharp grades it was avoided by heavy traffic. It would
be the last road to be cleared. Snow-shoes were practically unknown in
these mountains, for seasons of long snow blockades were rare; but
there would be no occasion for snow-shoe travel over this road. The only
prospect for the escape of Wilder and his charge was on foot, after the
lapse of the months that would be required for her recovery, and after
the snow was gone.
Innumerable domestic perplexities presented themselves to the young
man’s mind. His charge, being perfectly helpless, must depend entirely
upon him for her every want. Would she have the wisdom and goodness to
accept the situation cheerfully, or would its humiliation and hardships
gnaw constantly at her strength and patience, and delay her recovery
or precipitate her death? How could she possibly accept the situation
philosophically? She would find a bitter contrast between this life and
the one of luxury and indulgence to which she had been accustomed. Even
should she develop the highest order of fortitude, the rude food, in
small variety, that he had to give her, cooked badly, could hardly
tempt her appetite, and thus build up her strength. Then, her bed was a
wretched affair, and there was serious danger that its hardness alone,
without regard to her possible resignation to its discomforts, would
produce hurtful physical results. If only wise and helpful Dr. Malbone
could know and come!
Let the days bring forth what they would, Wilder would do his duty as
he knew it. The fire crackled cheerily on the hearth and filled the hut
with its warmth and glow and peace. The walls were tight and strong, and
were holding firm against the storm. The agonizing strain of the last
twelve hours was over, and all strength must be saved for the future.
In the flickering firelight the young man studied the face of his charge
at leisure, and he saw that she was singularly handsome; but there
seemed to be a certain hardness in her face, relaxed in unconsciousness
though it was. Perhaps it was only because there stood out before his
memory the one face in all the world that, with its infinite gentleness
and sweetness, embodied every grace for which his spirit yearned. It was
not so beautiful and brilliant a face as this,--but there came up
Dr. Malbone’s warning, uttered over and over with the most earnest
impressiveness:
“As you value your reason and life, as you value the possibilities of
your happiness and your usefulness to humanity, turn your face from the
past, and with all the courage and will of a man confront the future.
Nature is kind to all of her children who love her and seek her. She
heaps our past with wreckage, only to train and prepare us for a noble
future. There can be no peace where there has been no travail. There
would be no strength were there no weakness in need of its help. The man
who fails to the slightest extent in his duties to humanity and himself
burdens his life to that extent. Be brave and hopeful and helpful, as it
becomes a man to be, and labor incessantly for the best, as it becomes a
man to do.”
And the man with the curiously-twisted face peering out from the
tree-branches, what had been the aim of his life, that it should find
such an end? After all, was there any taint of unmanliness in that end?
Doubtless even now he was covered deep under snow. If he should be left
there, the great gray wolves might come down and find him. They were
big and powerful, and men who had seen them hungry told fearful tales
of their daring and ferocity. If the snow should drive them down, they
would find the dead horses under the tree; and after that there would be
but one house here where they could find human beings.
There need be no dread of them; but suppose that some night there should
come a scratching at the door of the hut,--that would mean the gaunt
shewolf, who bore away children to the wolf-pack.
She would beg for a rind of bacon to eat, and a corner on the hearth
to sleep. She would bear ugly wounds from her struggles with men and
beasts, and these would have to be dressed, and rents in her hide
stitched; and if there were broken bones, they must be set. Would she be
patient under the torture, or would she snap and howl after the manner
of wolves?...
Wilder was startled to full consciousness by a moan. He bent over his
patient and looked into her open eyes. She gazed up at him vacantly. He
took her hand; it was hot. He placed a hand upon her forehead; it was
burning. A haggard look of pain and distress sat upon her face.
An eager appeal was in her glance, and her lips moved feebly. He bent
his ear to them. She was faintly whispering--
“Water, water!”
His heart bounding with gladness, he brought cold water. With difficulty
he restrained her eagerness, lest she discover that she was crippled
and bound. He covered her eyes with a napkin, for he observed that her
glance was becoming strained and curious. She submitted quietly, while
he gave her the water with a spoon. After that she sighed in weariness
and content, but her deep inspiration was checked by pain. Her burning
skin and an uneasiness throughout her entire frame warned him that she
had a fever. He gave her a remedy for that. It was not until daylight
had come that, after watching her for hours as she lay awake and
seemingly halfconscious, he observed her finally drift into sound
slumber.
The young man rose and found himself weak and dizzy; but after he had
prepared and eaten a simple breakfast he felt stronger. Seemingly by a
miracle, he had gone through his task in safety thus far. He must now
leave his patient for a while, to discharge a grim duty that awaited
him in the road below,--a duty from which his every sensibility recoiled
with unspeakable repugnance. Lest an untoward accident should happen in
his absence, he gave his patient a stupefying drug.
He dreaded to open the front door of his hut. When he did, he found the
thing that he feared: the wind had ceased after midnight, and the snow
had been falling ever since, and still was falling. It had whitened
the walls of the canon, and, before the wind had ceased, had eddied and
drifted about the hut in a way that filled the young man with alarm for
the future. Would his strength be sufficient to fight it if the storm
should be greatly prolonged, to the end that he and his charge should
not be buried alive?
He put this dread away, and with a heavy heart followed the steep trail
down to the road.