"Have you seen the others this morning?" said she, making a strong
effort to conceal the chagrin this revulsion of feeling occasioned.
"Yes; Mrs. Hoyt will get well."
"Does she know of her child's death?"
"Yes."
"You are not going, surely?" she continued, as he took his hat and
glanced at his watch.
"I am needed elsewhere. Only nursing can now avail here. You know
very well what is requisite. Either Dr. Asbury or I will be here
again to-night to sit up with this gentle girl."
"You need neither of you come to sit up with her. I will do that
myself. I shall not sleep another moment until I know that she is
better."
"Very well." He left the room immediately.
"How he cases his volcanic nature in ice!" thought Beulah, sinking
into the armchair. "Last night he seemed so kind, so cordial, so
much my friend and guardian! To-day there is a mighty barrier, as
though he stood on some towering crag and talked to me across an
infinite gulf! Well, well, even an Arctic night passes away; and I
can afford to wait till his humor changes."
For many hours the rain fell unceasingly, but toward sunset the pall
of clouds was scourged on by a brisk western breeze, and the clear
canopy of heaven, no longer fiery as for days past, but cool and
blue, bent serenely over the wet earth. The slanting rays of the
swiftly sinking sun flashed through dripping boughs, creating
myriads of diamond sprays; and over the sparkling waters of the bay
sprang a brilliant bow, arching superbly along the eastern horizon,
where a bank of clouds still lay. Verily, it seemed a new covenant
that the destroying demon should no longer desolate the beautiful
city, and to many an anxious, foreboding heart that glorious rainbow
gave back hope and faith. A cool, quiet twilight followed. Beulah
knew that hearses still bore the dead to their silent chambers; she
could hear the rumbling, the melancholy, solemn sound of the wheels;
but firm trust reigned in her heart, and, with Clara's hand in hers,
she felt an intuitive assurance that the loved one would not yet be
summoned from her earthly field of action. The sick in the other
part of the house were much better, and, though one of the gentlemen
boarders had been taken since morning, she lighted the lamp and
stole about the room with a calmer, happier spirit than she had
known for many days. She fancied that her charge breathed more
easily, and the wild stare of the inflamed eyes was concealed under
the long lashes which lay on the cheeks. The sufferer slept, and the
watcher augured favorably. About nine o'clock she heard steps on the
stairs, and soon after Drs. Asbury and Hartwell entered together.
There was little to be told, and less to be advised, and while the
latter attentively examined the pulse and looked down at the altered
countenance, stamped with the signet of the dread disease, the
former took Beulah's hand in both his, and said kindly: "How do you do, my little heroine? By Nebros! you are worth your
weight in medical treatises. How are you, little one?"