It was evening when the train reached my destination, a quiet,
pleasant, Autumn evening. The tinted leaves were stirring gently on
the boughs, and here and there an early star was twinkling in the
dusky vault above me. As soon as the noise and tumult had abated a
little, I arose and sauntered slowly towards the doorway of the now
deserted car. On the platform outside stood Mr. Dalton and Freddy,
looking anxiously at the passengers as they filed out from each exit.
Freddy saw me first and cried out impulsively. "Here she is!"
Mr. Dalton turned quickly around and hurried towards me.
"What is the news?" I asked, studying both their faces. "Is he dead?"
"No Amey," Mr. Dalton answered with a voice of deep sympathy, "it is
not so bad as that, though he is very ill indeed!"
"Thank God!" I muttered, "I shall see him and speak to him then after
all."
I got into the carriage with them and drove towards home. Mr. Dalton
did not wait for me to question him, but began to tell me the sad
story of my father's sudden prostration, as soon as the horses' heads
were turned away from the noisy depot.
He had been sitting with him the night before, he said, and they
talked quite cheerfully as usual over their cigars. "He had even been
quizzing me as an old bachelor," Mr. Dalton observed, with a faint
smile, "telling me I had wasted my life in solitude, and all that kind
of thing. It was a fine night and we sat smoking and chatting until it
was quite late, when suddenly I looked at my watch and started up. It
was near midnight."
"Although I have no one to scold me for keeping late hours," said I,
"I must hurry away now; it is time for respectable Christians to be
dreaming."
"And are you a respectable Christian, Dalton?" he interrupted,
playfully.
"Well I might be worse," said I.
"Yes yes, old fellow, that's true" he answered, "I wish more of us
were like you. You're a good fellow Dalton," he continued, rising up
and slapping me vigorously on the shoulders.
With this we shook hands and bade one another goodnight. I lit a fresh
cigar and went out by the library door. There was a bright moonlight
outside, and I sauntered quietly down the causeway towards the street
beyond. I had just reached the gate when I heard Mrs. Hampden's screams
in the distance. I listened and heard her call my name. I flung down
my cigar and rushed back towards the library. The door was open and
your father was lying on the floor with his eyes closed. I persuaded
them all to be quiet, for the servants, and Mrs. Hampden, and Fred
here had all rushed frantically in. We despatched a messenger
immediately for the doctor and in a little while we had the patient
removed to his room, where he now lies. "We are awaiting a crisis" he
added in a low tone, as we drew up in front of our doomed house, "the
doctor says nine hours will bring one change or another."
We stepped out of the vehicle and passed quietly in. Not a sound was
audible anywhere. I went up to my own familiar, little room, and flung
my hat and other out-door apparel listlessly upon the bed. I bathed my
eyes and smoothed my hair, before going out to encounter any one of
the household. In the dimly lighted hall outside, I met old Hannah,
who dropped her apron from her eyes at my approach and whispered:
"The Lord be praised, Miss Amelia but I am glad to see you back. How
do you feel yourself?"
"Oh! I am all right Hannah" I answered, "but how is poor papa, will he
ever get better?"
"God is good Miss Amelia and he does what's best" she put in vaguely,
"when our time comes, you know, the best of us has to go. It's right
to be prepared for the worst, for the will of God must be our will
too."
Her words brought the hot, blinding tears into my eyes again.
"Can I go to him?" I asked, leaning towards her, "Could I speak to
him, would he know me?"
She shook her head silently for a moment and then said:
"The doctor will be here in half an hour or so, perhaps he'd let you
in to see him when he comes. In the meantime" she added, "come down
and eat a bit, for I am sure you don't look much too well yourself."
"What doctor have you?" I asked after a moment's reflection.
"Well, there's two, you know," she answered me gravely, "but Dr
Campbell comes the oftenest. Dr. Jasper and himself came together last
night but he's been here twice to-day already. Oh! he's been so kind
and attentive Miss Amelia, it would do you good to see him."
I changed the subject by asking bluntly, "Where's Mrs. Hampden?"
Hannah hesitated a moment and moved towards the stair.
"She's lying down" she said, "the shock's made her weak."
I followed and we descended into the dining-room below. Some tea
things were spread out upon a tray and Hannah brought in the urn. I
sat down and resting my elbows carelessly on the table, I buried my
face in my hands. With a strict injunction to take some supper Hannah
left me, having various duties to perform outside. The strong aroma of
the freshly-made tea was almost enough to satisfy me. At any rate I
did not pour out any immediately. I was too tired, too dazed, too
everything to exert myself in anyway. My head was still unsteady from
the motion of the car. My eyes burned from the bitter tears I had
shed. My lips were parched, and dry, and feverish, my temples throbbed
with a dull oppressive pain, and my heart was very heavy. I heaved a
deep unsuppressed sigh which died away into a plaintive moan. My lids
closed wearily and two large hot tears fell upon the smooth white
linen table-cloth.
"Amey, my poor child," said someone, laying a heavy hand upon one of
my shoulders. I started and raised my eyes involuntarily. Mr. Dalton
was standing by my chair looking down upon me with an infinite pity in
his face.
"I thought no one was here" I said coldly. "When did you come in?"
He did not answer me with words but I shall never forget the way he
looked when I asked this unfeeling question. His reproachful glance
brought the color to my pale cheeks. I felt ashamed and sorry for
having spoken thus, and I sought to excuse myself in a measure by
saying, "I feel so wearied and distracted, I hardly know what I am
doing."
"Drink a cup of tea, it will refresh you," he said with much deep
solicitude in his voice.
He poured it out himself and laid it down beside me. It was an action
as gentle and graceful as any woman's. Through all my grief and
fatigue, I could not but notice it.
I took it from him and sipped it obediently, while he, with his hands
thrust into his pockets, walked up and down the room in silent
meditation. Before I had finished, the door opened again and Freddy
appeared saying:
"Doctor Campbell is with my father now. He has asked to see you."
Remembering Hannah's words that he might allow me to talk a little to
my father, I jumped from my seat at the sound of this intelligence and
hurried after Freddy.
Mr. Dalton held the door open for me as I passed, and though he spoke
not a word, I knew immediately that he had put a wrong construction
upon my eager response to this summons. It was not a time for
explanations, however, and I hastened past him and up the broad
stairway outside.
At the door of the sick-room Doctor Campbell stood waiting for me. He
put out both hands eagerly and clasped mine. When we are condoling
with one another in such hours as this, we throw off the restraint of
conventionality and stand before one another, as two human souls,
bound by the holy ties of an earnest sympathy; the question of
ordinary decorum becomes suspended, while we weep with our afflicted
brother and sister, and we call one another tenderly and respectfully
by name, though the next moment we must be distant and reserved as
before.
Doctor Campbell led me quietly into the room where my father lay
prostrate, the victim of a dreadful illness. There was hardly any
change discernible in his placid features, only a haggard line about
his mouth that told of inward pain and struggle. His face was a little
flushed and his breathing labored. He opened his eyes so, we
approached the bed and smiled at me. Doctor Campbell seeing that he
recognized me stole from the room and left us alone.
"Poor Amey!" Were the first faint words he uttered closing his eyes
wearily again.
"Do you feel any better?" I asked bending over him and touching my
lips to his brow.
He shook his head on the pillow and muttered feebly:
"It's all over with me, child, only a matter of time."
"Maybe not, father" I argued, but with little confidence. There was
something ominous in his changed expression, something that smote my
heart with a solemn fear as I looked with anxious scrutiny upon him. I
stole from the room for a moment, and went in search of Doctor
Campbell. He was in the library standing before the book shelves when
I entered.
"I want to know Doctor," said I, full of my purpose, "whether my
father is in danger of immediate death."
He started at my question and turned quickly around.
"I am afraid that his chances of life are few indeed Amey," he
answered earnestly. "Perhaps it is as well to let you know."
"It is better" said I, "it is your duty," and with these words I left
the room as abruptly as I had entered it.
It was indeed his duty, for it concerned the destiny of a human soul
that was soon to pass from time into eternity. My father was really
dying, and every moment was of infinite value to him now. As soon as
this terrible realization was thrust upon me, I dried my eyes
deliberately, and calmed my agitated feelings. There will be plenty of
time for grief afterwards, I said to myself, when I am friendless and
alone in the world.
No one had thought of caring for my poor father's spiritual needs in
this awful hour. My step-mother considered her best was done when the
services of two able medical men had been secured, and no one else
wished to make any delicate suggestions while she was assuming the
management. I had arrived therefore in the nick of time, for before
the sun was very high in the heavens on the morning following my
return, my father lay cold and white upon his bed.
All night long, I had watched and prayed with him. Now and then his
feeble voice broke forth in earnest responses, as his dim gaze fell
upon the bronze crucifix I had placed between his fingers, and once
when I had paused to listen to his breathing, he uttered plaintively:
"More, Amey, go on."
How I thanked God for this favor! I, who had prayed so often on bended
knees and with tearful eyes for the ultimate conversion of my father.
When I placed the lighted candle in his dying hand and saw him receive
the last rites of Holy Church, I felt that all the gloom and sorrow of
my heart had been lifted and dispelled in a moment.
When the gray of the early morning crept in through the latticed
window, his eye-lids drooped slowly and shut the things of earth from
his mortal gaze forever.
His lips trembled with a final effort. "Have mercy on me, O God,
according to thy great mercy," and with the words "Father, into thy
hands I commend my spirit!" his last breath was spent, and his voice
echoed into eternity.