Nora also about this time took to her bed with fever. Again and again
Pierre rode thirty miles and back to get ice for her head. All were kind
to her now. The vengeance upon Dugard seemed to have wiped out much of
her shame in the eyes of Bamber's Boom. Such is the way of the world.
He that has the last blow is in the eye of advantage. When Nora began to
recover, the child fell ill also. In the sickness of the child the old
man had a great temptation--far greater than that concerning Dugard. As
the mother grew better the child became much worse. One night the doctor
came, driving over from another settlement, and said that if the child
got sleep till morning it would probably live, for the crisis had come.
He left an opiate to procure the sleep, the same that had been given to
the mother. If it did not sleep, it would die. Pierre was present at
this time.
All through the child's illness the old man's mind had been tossed to and
fro. If the child died, the living stigma would be gone; there would be
no reminder of his daughter's shame in the eyes of the world. They could
go away from Bamber's Boom, and begin life again somewhere. But, then,
there was the child itself which had crept into his heart,--he knew not
how, and would not be driven out. He had never, till it was taken ill,
even touched it, nor spoken to it. To destroy its life!--Well, would it
not be better for the child to go out of all possible shame, into peace,
the peace of the grave?
This night he sat down beside the cradle, holding the bottle of medicine
and a spoon in his hand. The hot, painful face of the child fascinated
him. He looked from it to the bottle, and back, then again to the
bottle. He started, and the sweat stood out on his forehead. For though
the doctor had told him in words the proper dose, he had by mistake
written on the label the same dose as for the mother! Here was the
responsibility shifted in any case. More than once the old man uncorked
the bottle, and once he dropped out the opiate in the spoon steadily; but
the child opened its suffering eyes at him, its little wasted hand
wandered over the coverlet, and he could not do it just then. But again
the passion for its destruction came on him, because he heard his
daughter moaning in the other room. He said to himself that she would be
happier when it was gone. But as he stooped over the cradle, no longer
hesitating, the door softly opened, and Pierre entered. The old man
shuddered, and drew back from the cradle. Pierre saw the look of guilt
in the old man's face, and his instinct told him what was happening. He
took the bottle from the trembling hand, and looked at the label.
"What is the proper dose?" he asked, seeing that a mistake had been made
by the doctor.
In a hoarse whisper Magor told him. "It may be too late," Pierre added.
He knelt down, with light fingers opened the child's mouth, and poured
the medicine in slowly. The old man stood for a time rigid, looking at
them both. Then he came round to the other side of the cradle, and
seated himself beside it, his eyes fixed on the child's face. For a long
time they sat there. At last the old man said: "Will he die, Pierre?"
"I am afraid so," answered Pierre painfully. "But we shall see." Then
early teaching came to him, never to be entirely obliterated, and he
added: "Has the child been baptised?"
The old man shook his head. "'Will you do it?" asked Pierre
hesitatingly.
"I can't--I can't," was the reply.
Pierre smiled a little ironically, as if at himself, got some water in a
cup, came over, and said: "Remember, I'm a Papist!"
A motion of the hand answered him.
He dipped his fingers in the water, and dropped it ever so lightly on the
child's forehead.
"George Magor,"--it was the old man's name,--"I baptise thee in the name
of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen." Then he
drew the sign of the cross on the infant's forehead.
Sitting down, he watched beside the child. After a little he heard a
long choking sigh. Looking up, he saw tears slowly dropping from Magor's
eyes.
And to this day the child and the mother of the child are dear to the old
man's heart.