The ladies of the Torriswood party retired for the night almost
immediately on their arrival there, but the gentlemen lingered a
little in the room used by Dr. Percival as his office. There was some
cheerful chat over the events of the day in which, however, Frank
Dinsmore took no part. He sat in moody silence, seeming scarcely to
hear what the others were saying.
"What's the matter with you, Frank?" queried the doctor at length.
"Didn't things go off to suit you to-day?"
"Well enough," grumbled Frank, "except that I don't seem to be
considered as worthy as my brother is of being taken into--a certain
family really no better than my own, unless as regards wealth."
"Oh, ho! so that's the way the land lies! It's Grace Raymond you're
after, eh? And she won't consent?"
"Her father won't. I must not say a word to her on the subject."
"And he is right, Frank," returned the doctor gravely. "She is far too
young and too delicate to begin with such things. Art would tell you
that in a moment if you should ask him. My opinion as a physician is
that marriage now would be likely to kill her within a year; or, if
she lived, make her an invalid for life."
"I'd be willing to let marriage wait if I might only speak and win her
promise; but no, I'm positively forbidden to say a word."
"You would gain nothing by it if you did," said Chester. "She is
devoted to her father and hasn't the least idea of falling in love
with any other man."
"Ridiculous!" growled Frank. "Well, things being as they are, I'll not
tarry long in this part of the country. I'll go back and attend to the
business of our clients, and you, Chester, can stay on here with your
fiancee and her family, and perhaps gather up a larger amount of
health and strength."
"Don't be in a hurry about leaving us, Frank," said Dick cordially.
"Maud has been calculating on at least a few days more of your good
company; and there's no telling when you may find it convenient to pay
us another visit."
"Thanks, Dick; you are hospitality itself; and this is a lovely home
you have secured, for yourself and Maud. I'll sleep on the question of
the time of departure. And now good-night and pleasant dreams. I hope
none of your patients will call you out before sunrise."
And with that they separated, each to seek his own sleeping apartment.
For some hours all was darkness and silence within and without the
house. Then the doctor was awakened by the ringing of his night bell.
"What is wanted?" he asked, going to the open window.
"You, doctah, fast as you kin git dar, down to Lamont--ole Massa
Gest's place. Leetle Miss Nellie she got a fit."
"Indeed! I am very sorry to hear it. I'll be there as soon as
possible," and turning from the window the doctor rang for his
servant, ordered horses saddled and brought to a side door, then
hurried on his clothes, explaining matters to the now awakened Maud as
he did so--gathered up the remedies likely to be needed, and hastened
away.
Directing his servant to keep close in his rear he rode rapidly in the
direction of the place named by the messenger. He found the child very
ill and not fit to be left by him until early morning.
It was in the darkest hour, just before day, that he started for home
again. All went well till he was within a few rods of home, but then
his horse--a rather wild young animal--took fright at the hoot of an
owl in a tree close at hand, reared suddenly and threw him violently
to the ground, then rushed away in the direction of his stable.
"Oh, doctah, sah, is you bad hurted?" queried the servant man, hastily
alighting and coming to his master's side.
"Pretty badly, I'm afraid, Pete," groaned the doctor. "Help me to the
house, and then you must ride over to Viamede as fast as you can, wake
up Dr. Harold Travilla and ask him to come to me immediately to set
some broken bones. Take one of the other horses with you for him to
ride. Ah," as he attempted to rise, "I'm hardly able to walk, Pete;
you will have to pretty nearly carry me to the house."
"I kin do dat, doctah; Ise a strong-built nigger; jes lemme tote you
'long like de mammies do de leetle darkies."
And with that Pete lifted Dr. Percival in his arms carried him to the
house and on up to his own sleeping room, where he laid him gently
down upon his bed in an almost fainting condition.
Maud was greatly alarmed, and bade Pete hasten with all speed for one
or another of the doctor cousins.
"Harold, Harold!" groaned the sufferer, "he is older than Herbert and
nearer than Art, who is at the Parsonage. And he can bring Herbert
with him should he see fit."
Pete, alarmed at the condition of his master, to whom he had become
strongly attached, made all the haste he could to bring the needed
help; but the sun was already above the tree tops when he reached
Viamede.
The first person he saw there was Captain Raymond, who had just
stepped out upon the veranda.
"Morning, sah! is you uns one ob de doctahs?" he queried in anxious
tones, as he reined in his horse at the foot of the veranda steps.
"No," replied the captain; "but there are doctors in the house. You
are from Torriswood, I think. Is any one ill there?"
"Massa doctah, he's 'most killed! Horse frowed him. Please, sah, where
de doctahs? I'se in pow'ful big hurry to git dem dere fore----"
"Here," called the voice of Harold from an upper window; "is it I that
am wanted? I'll be down there in five minutes or less."
"Yes, I think it is you, and probably Herbert also, who are wanted in
all haste at Torriswood," answered Captain Raymond, his voice
betraying both anxiety and alarm. "It seems Dick has met with a
serious accident and has sent for one or both of you."
"Yes," replied Herbert, speaking as Harold had from the window, "we
will both go to him as speedily as possible and do what we can for his
relief. Please, captain, order another horse saddled and brought round
immediately."
The captain at once complied with the request, and in a very few
minutes both doctors were riding briskly toward Torriswood. They found
their patient in much pain from a dislocated shoulder and some broken
bones; all of which they proceeded to set as promptly as possible. But
there were symptoms of some internal injury which occasioned more
alarm than the displacement and fracture of the bones. They held a
consultation outside of the sick room.
"I think we should have Cousin Arthur here," said Harold. "'In
multitude of counsellors is safety,' Solomon tells us, and Art excels
us both in wisdom and experience."
"Certainly," responded Herbert; "let us summon him at once. I am glad
indeed that he is still within reach."
"As I am. I will speak to Maud and have him sent for immediately."
A messenger was promptly despatched to the Parsonage and returned
shortly, bringing Dr. Conly with him. Another examination and
consultation followed and Dr. Percival, who had become slightly
delirious, was pronounced in a critical condition; yet the physicians,
though anxious, by no means despaired of his ultimate recovery.
The news of the accident had by this time reached all of the
connection in that neighborhood, and silent petitions on his behalf
were going up from many hearts. On behalf of his young wife also, for
poor Maud seemed well-nigh distracted with grief and the fear of the
bereavement that threatened her.
Mrs. Embury, too, was greatly distressed, for Dick and she had been
all their lives a devotedly attached brother and sister. No day now
passed in which she did not visit Torriswood that she might catch a
sight of his dear face and learn as far as possible his exact state;
though neither her nursing nor that of other loving relatives was
needed--the doctors and an old negress, skilled in that line of work,
doing all that could be done for his relief and comfort.
Mrs. Betty Norton, his half-sister, was scarcely less pained and
anxious; as indeed were Maud's brothers and all the relatives in that
region.
It was from her father Lucilla first heard of the accident--when she
joined him on the veranda at Viamede directly after the departure of
the doctors and Pete for Torriswood.
"Oh, father," she exclaimed, "I do hope he is not seriously injured!
Poor Maud! She must be sorely distressed, for he has proved such a
good, kind husband, and she almost idolizes him."
"Yes, I feel deeply for her as well as for him. We will pray for them
both, asking that if it be consistent with the will of God, he may be
speedily restored to perfect health and strength."
"Yes, papa; what a comfort it is that we may cast upon the Lord all
our care for ourselves and others!"
"It is indeed! I have found it so in many a sore trial sent to myself
or to some one dear to me. I am glad for Maud that she has her
brothers with her now."
"I too, papa, and I suppose Chester will stay with her to-day."
"Most likely; and my daughter must not feel hurt should he not show
himself here at his usual early hour, or even at all to-day."
"I'll try not, papa. I am sure it would be very selfish in me to
grudge poor dear Maud any show of sympathy or any comfort she might
receive from him--her own dear eldest brother."
"Yes, so I think," said her father, "and I should not expect it of any
one of my daughters."
Chester came at length, some hours later than his wont, and looking
grave and troubled. In answer to inquiries, "Yes, poor Dick is
certainly badly hurt," he said, "and Maud well-nigh distracted with
grief and anxiety. She is a most devoted wife and considers him her
all."
"But the case is not thought to be hopeless?" Mr. Dinsmore said
inquiringly.
"No, not exactly that, but the doctors are not yet able to decide just
what the internal injury may be."
"And while there is life there is hope," said Grandma Elsie in
determinately cheerful tones. "It is certainly in his favor that he is
a strong, healthy man, in the prime of life."
"And still more that he is a Christian man; therefore ready for any
event," added her father.
"And so loved and useful a man that we may well unite in prayer for
his recovery, if consistent with the will of God," said Captain
Raymond.
"And so we will," said Cousin Ronald. "I feel assured that no one of
us will refuse or neglect the performance of that duty."
"And we can plead the promise, 'If two of you shall agree on earth as
touching anything that they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my
Father which is in heaven,'" said Mrs. Dinsmore. "So I have strong
hope that dear Dick will be spared to us. He is certainly a much loved
and very useful man."
"And Maud must be relieved as far as possible from other cares,"
remarked Mrs. Travilla. "I shall at once invite my brother and his
family here. There is room enough, especially as my two sons are there
and will be nearly, if not all, the time while Dick is so ill."
"No, cousin," said Chester, "thank you very much, but Cousin Sue is
making herself very useful and could not well be spared. She has
undertaken the housekeeping, leaving Maud to devote herself entirely
to Dick."
"Oh, that is good and kind in her," was the quick response from
several voices.
"And very fortunate it is that she happened to be there, ready for the
undertaking," said Mrs. Rose Croly; "and if Dick had to have that
accident he couldn't have found a better time for it than now, while
there are three good doctors at hand to attend to him."
"True enough," assented Chester. "Things are never so bad but they
might be worse."
Days of anxiety and suspense followed, during which Dr. Percival's
life seemed trembling in the balance. Drs. Harold and Herbert scarcely
left the house and spent much of their time in the sick room, while
Dr. Conly made several visits every day, sometimes remaining for
hours, and the rest of the relatives and near friends came and went
with kind offers and inquiries, doing all in their power to show
sympathy, and give help, while carefully avoiding unwelcome intrusion
or disturbance of the quiet that brooded over Torriswood and seemed so
essential under the circumstances. Nothing was neglected that could be
done for the restoration of the loved sufferer, and no one of the many
relatives and connections there felt willing to leave the neighborhood
while his life hung in the balance.
Chester spent a part of each day with his distressed and anxious
sister, and a part with his betrothed, from whom he felt very
unwilling to absent himself for even one whole day.
The young people and some of the older ones made little excursions, as
before, on the bayou and about the woods and fields, Captain Raymond
and Violet usually forming a part of the company; especially if his
daughter Grace and Frank Dinsmore were in it.
At other times they gathered upon the veranda or in the parlors and
entertained each other with conversation, music, or games of the quiet
and innocent kind.
In the meantime many earnest prayers were sent up on behalf of the
injured one--the beloved physician--in the closet, in the family
worship, and in the sanctuary when they assembled there on the Sabbath
day; and many a silent petition as one and another thought of him on
his bed of suffering. They prayed in faith, believing that if it were
best in the sight of Him who is all-wise and all-powerful and with
whom there is no variableness or shadow of turning, their petition
would be granted.
And at length so it proved; the fever left him, consciousness and
reason were restored, and presently the rejoicing physicians were able
to declare the danger past, the recovery certain should nothing occur
to cause a relapse.
Then there was great rejoicing among those who were of his kith and
kin, and those to whom he was the beloved physician. Then such as were
needed at their places of residence presently bade farewell and
departed for their homes; Drs. Conly and Herbert Travilla among them,
leaving Dr. Harold in sole charge of the invalid.
Those who had come on the _Dolphin_ decided to return on it, though
they would linger somewhat longer--no one feeling it a trial to have
to delay for days or weeks where they were.
Frank Dinsmore was one of the earliest to leave, and Chester, finding
that more Southern climate beneficial to him at that season of the
year, was entirely willing to entrust the business of the firm to his
brother for a time.
So, relieved of anxiety in regard to Dick and still numerous enough to
make a very pleasant party, the time passed swiftly and most agreeably
to them--especially to the two affianced pairs and the children;
Cousin Ronald and Max now and then entertaining them by the exertion
of their ventriloquial powers. The young people from Magnolia Hall
were often with them and their presence added zest to the enjoyment of
little Elsie and Ned in the fun made by their indulgent
ventriloquists. That particular sport was apt to begin unexpectedly to
the children, making it a little more difficult to recognize it as the
doings of the ventriloquists.
One afternoon, after playing romping games upon the lawn until weary
enough to enjoy a quiet rest on the veranda where the older people
were, they had hardly seated themselves when they heard a sound of
approaching footsteps, then a voice that seemed like that of a little
girl, asking, "Dear little ladies and gentlemen, may I sit here with
you for a while? I'm lonesome and would be glad of good company, such
as I am sure yours must be."
Some of the children, hearing the voice but not able to see the
speaker, seemed struck dumb with surprise.
It was Violet who answered, "Oh, yes, little girl. Take this empty
chair by me and tell me who you are."
"Oh, madam, I really can't tell you my name," answered the voice, now
seeming to come from the empty chair by Violet's side. "It seems an
odd thing to happen, but there are folks who do sometimes forget their
own name."
"And that is the case with you now, is it?" laughed Violet. "Your
voice sounds like that of a girl, but I very much doubt if you belong
to our sex."
"Isn't that rather insulting, madam?" asked the voice in an offended
tone.
"Oh, I know you're not a girl or a woman either!" cried Ned Raymond
gleefully, clapping his hands and laughing with delight. "You're a
man, just pretending to be a little girl."
"That is insulting, you rude little chap, and I shall just go away,"
returned the voice in indignant tones, followed immediately by the
sound of footsteps starting from the chair beside Violet and gradually
dying away in the distance.
"Why, she went off in a hurry and I couldn't see her at all!"
exclaimed one of the young visitors; then, as everybody laughed, "Oh,
of course it was Cousin Ronald or Cousin Max!"
"Why, the voice sounded to me like that of a little girl," said
Violet, "and Cousin Ronald and Max are men."
"Of course they are, and could not talk in the sweet tones of my
little girl," said a rough masculine voice that seemed to come from
the doorway into the hall.
Involuntarily nearly everybody turned to look for the speaker, but he
was not to be seen.
"And who are you and your girl?" asked another voice, seeming to speak
from the farther end of the veranda.
"People of consequence, whom you should treat with courtesy," answered
the other, who seemed to stand in the doorway.
"As we will if you will come forward and show yourselves," laughed
Lucilla, putting up her hand as she spoke to drive away a bee that
seemed to buzz about her ears.
"Never mind, Lu; its sting won't damage you seriously," said Max,
giving her a look of amusement.
"Oh, hark! here come the soldiers again!" exclaimed Elsie Embury, as
the notes of a bugle, quickly followed by those of the drum and fife,
seemed to come from a distant point on the farther side of the bayou.
"Don't be alarmed, miss; American soldiers don't harm ladies," said
the voice from the farther end of the veranda.
"No, I am not at all alarmed," she returned with a look of amusement
directed first at Cousin Ronald, then at Max; "not in the least afraid
of them."
The music continued for a few minutes, all listening silently to it,
then as the last strain died away a voice spoke in tones apparently
trembling with affright, "Oh, please somebody hide me! hide me quick!
quick! before those troops get here. I'm falsely accused and who knows
but they may shoot me down on sight?"
The speaker was not visible, but from the sounds seemed to be on the
lawn and very near at hand.
"Oh, run round the house and get the servants to hide you in the
kitchen or one of the cellars," cried Ned, not quite able, in the
excitement of the moment, to realize that there was not a stranger
there who might be really in sore peril.
"Thanks!" returned the voice, and a sound as of some one running
swiftly in the prescribed direction accompanied and followed the word.
Then the tramp, tramp, as of soldiers on the march, and the music of
the drum and fife seemed to draw nearer and nearer.
"Why, it's real, isn't it?" exclaimed one of the children, jumping up
and trying to get a nearer view of the approaching troop.
"Oh, don't be afraid," laughed Grace; "I'm sure they won't hurt us or
that poor, frightened man either."
"No," chuckled Ned. "If he went to the kitchen, as I told him to,
he'll have plenty of time to hide before they can get here."
"Sure enough, laddie," laughed Cousin Ronald, "they don't appear to be
coming on very fast. I hear no more o' their music or their tramp,
tramp. Do you?"
"No, sir; and I won't believe they are real live fellows till I see
them."
"Well now, Ned," said Lucilla, "I really believe they are very much
alive and kindly making a good deal of fun for us."
"Who, who, who?" came at that instant from among the branches of the
tree near at hand--or at least seemed to come from there.
"Our two ventriloquist friends," replied Lucilla, gazing up into the
tree as if expecting to see and recognize the bird.
"Oh, what was that?" exclaimed one of the little girls, jumping up in
affright, as the squeak of a mouse seemed to come from among the folds
of her dress.
"Nothing dangerous, my dear," said Mr. Dinsmore, drawing her into the
shelter of his arms. "It was no mouse; only a little noise."
"Oh, yes, uncle, I might have known that," she said with a rather
hysterical little laugh.
Just then the tramp, tramp was heard again apparently near at hand, at
one side of the house, where the troops might be concealed by the
trees and shrubs; the music of the drum and fife following the next
moment.
"Oh," cried Ned, "won't they catch that fellow who just ran round to
the kitchen as I told him to?"
"If they do I hope they won't hurt him," laughed Lucilla.
The music seemed to arouse the anger of several dogs belonging on the
place and at that moment they set up a furious barking. The music
continued and seemed to come nearer and nearer, the dogs barked more
and more furiously; but presently the drum and fife became silent, the
dogs ceased barking and all was quiet. But not for long; the voice
that had asked for a hiding-place spoke again close at hand.
"Here I am, safe and sound, thanks to the little chap who told me
where to hide. The fellows didn't find me and I'm off. But if they
come here looking for me, please don't tell which way I've gone.
Good-by."
"Wait a minute and tell us who you are before you go," called out Eric
Leland, and from the tree came the owl's "Who, who, who?"
"Who I am?" returned the manlike voice, seeming to speak from a
greater distance, "Well, sir, that's for me to know and you to find
out."
"Now please tell us which of you it was--Cousin Ronald and Max," said
Ned, looking from one to the other.
"That's for us to know and you to find out, little brother," laughed
Max.
"Papa," said Ned, turning to their father, "I wish you'd order Max to
tell."
"Max is of age now and not at present under my orders," replied
Captain Raymond, with a humorous look and smile, and just then came
the call to the tea table.
Ned was unusually quiet during the meal, gazing scrutinizingly every
now and then at his father or Max. When they had returned to the
veranda he watched his opportunity and seized upon a moment when he
could speak to his brother without being overheard by anyone else.
"Brother Max," he queried, "won't you ever have to obey papa any
more?"
"Yes, little brother," returned Max, looking slightly amused, "I
consider it my duty to obey papa now whenever it pleases him to give
me an order; and that it will be my duty as long as he and I both
live."
"And you mean to do it?"
"Yes, indeed."
"So do I," returned Ned with great decision. "And I think all our
sisters do too; because the Bible tells us to; and besides papa knows
best about everything."
"Very true, Ned; and I hope none of us will ever forget that or fail
to obey his orders or wishes or to follow his advice."