and he could not keep warm, even with the cook-stovetop red hot and a blanket over his shoulders. By noon the chill hadgone and he was blazing with fever. Still the rain and the wind, and novisitors at the ropes, not even the light-keeper.
He lay down on his bed and tried to sleep, but though he dozed a bit,woke always with a start and either a chill or fever fit. His head beganto ache violently. And then, in the lonesomeness and misery, fear beganto take hold of him.
He remembered the symptoms the doctor had warned him against, headache,fever, and all the rest. He felt his wrists and arms and began toimagine that beneath the skin were the little bunches, like small shot,that were the certain indications. Then he remembered how that other manhad looked, how he had died. Was he to look that way and die like that?And he was all alone, they had left him alone.
Night came. The rain had ceased and stars were shining clear. Inside theshanty the minister tossed on the bed, or staggered back and forth aboutthe two rooms. He wondered what the time might be; then he did not care.He was alone. The smallpox had him in its grip. He was alone and hewas going to die. Why didn't some one come? Where was Mrs. Coffin? AndGrace? She was somewhere near him--Parker had said so--and he must seeher before he died. He called her name over and over again.
The wind felt cold on his forehead. He stumbled amidst the beach grass.What was this thing across his path? A rope, apparently, but why shouldthere be ropes in that house? There had never been any before. Heclimbed over it and it was a climb of hundreds of feet and the heightmade him giddy. That was a house, another house, not the one he had beenliving in. And there were lights all about. Perhaps one of them was thelight at the parsonage. And a big bell was booming. That was his churchbell and he would be late for the meeting.
Some one was speaking to him. He knew the voice. He had known it alwaysand would know it forever. It was the voice he wanted to hear. "Grace!"he called. "Grace! I want you. Don't go! Don't go! Grace! oh, my dear!don't go!"
Then the voice had gone. No, it had not gone. It was still there and heheard it speaking to him, begging him to listen, pleading with him togo somewhere, go back, back to something or other. And there was an armabout his waist and some one was leading him, helping him. He broke downand cried childishly and some one cried with him.
Early the next morning, just as day was breaking, a buggy, the horsewhich drew it galloping, rocked and bumped down the lighthouse lane.Dr. Parker, his brows drawn together and his lips set with anxiety, wasdriving. He had been roused from sleep in the hotel at Hyannis by a boywith a telegram. "Come quick," it read. "Mr. Ellery sick." The senderwas Noah Ellis, the lightkeeper. The doctor had hired a fast horse,ridden at top speed to Bayport, gotten a fresh horse there and hurriedon. He stopped at his own house but a moment, merely to rouse his wifeand ask her if there was any fresh news. But she had not even heard ofthe minister's seizure.
"My soul, Will!" she cried, "you don't think it's the smallpox, do you?"
"Lord knows! I'm afraid so," groaned her husband. "WHAT made me leavehim? I ought to have known better. If that boy dies, I'll never drawanother easy breath."
He rushed out, sprang into the buggy, and drove on. At the ropes, earlyas it was, he found a small group waiting and gazing at the shanty.The lightkeeper was there and two or three other men. They were talkingearnestly.
"How is he, Noah?" demanded the doctor, jumping to the ground.
"I don't know, doc," replied Ellis. "I ain't heard sence last night whenI telegraphed you."
"Haven't heard? What do you mean by that? Haven't you been with him?"
"No-o," was the rather sheepish reply. "You see, I--I wanted to, but mywife's awful scart I'll catch it and--"
"The devil!" Dr. Parker swore impatiently. "Who is with him then? Youhaven't left him alone, have you?"
"No-o," Noah hesitated once more. "No-o, he ain't alone. She's there."
"She? Who? Keziah Coffin?"
"I don't cal'late Keziah's heard it yet. We was waitin' for you 'fore wesaid much to anybody. But she's there--the--the one that found him. Yousee, he was out of his head and wanderin' up the lane 'most to the mainroad and she'd been callin' on Keziah and when she come away from theparsonage she heard him hollerin' and goin' on and--"
"Who did?"
"Why"--the lightkeeper glanced at his companions--"why, doc, 'twas GraceVan Horne. And she fetched him back to the shanty and then come and gotme to telegraph you."
"Grace Van Horne! Grace Van--Do you mean to say she is there with himNOW?"
"Yes. She wouldn't leave him. She seemed 'most as crazy's he was. Mywife and me, we--"
But Parker did not wait to hear the rest. He ran at full speed to thedoor of the shanty. Grace herself opened it.
"How is he?" demanded the doctor.
"I think he seems a little easier; at any rate, he's not delirious. He'sin there. Oh, I'm so thankful you've come."
"Is that the doctor?" called Ellery weakly from the next room. "Is it?"
"Yes," replied Parker, throwing off his coat and hat. "Coming, Mr.Ellery."
"For God's sake, doctor, send her away. Don't let her stay. Make her go.Make her GO! I've got the smallpox and if she stays she will die. Don'tyou understand? she MUST go."
"Hush, John," said Grace soothingly. "Hush, dear."
Dr. Parker stopped short and looked at her. She returned the look, butwithout the slightest semblance of self-consciousness or embarrassment.She did not realize that she had said anything unusual, which mustsound inexplicably strange to him. Her thoughts were centered in thatadjoining room and she wondered why he delayed.
"Well?" she asked impatiently. "What is it? Why do you wait?"
The doctor did not answer. However, he waited no longer, but hurried into his new patient.
CHAPTER XVIII
IN WHICH KEZIAH DECIDES TO FIGHT
The news was flying from house to house along the main road. Breakfastswere interrupted as some neighbor rushed in to tell the story whichanother neighbor had brought to him or her. Mr. Ellery was very sickand it was feared he had the smallpox, that was what Mrs. Parker, thedoctor's wife, told those who lived near her. By the time the Cornersheard of it the tale had grown until the minister was said to be dying.And when it reached Gaius Winslow's home at the upper end of the town hewas reported dead. This was denied, upon investigation, but soon anotherrumor grew and spread; Grace Van Horne was with him, had taken him backto the shanty, and insisted upon staying there until the doctor came.Facing that dreadful disease and--It was wonderful--and queer.
At the Danielses' house the servant girl rushed into the dining room toserve the toast and the story at one swoop. Captain Elkanah's dignitydeserted him for an instant and his egg spoon jingled to the floor.Annabel's face turned a dull red. Her eyes flashed sparks.
"Pa!" she cried, "I--I--if you don't do something now I'll never--"
Her father shook his head warningly. "Debby," he said to the maid, "youneedn't wait."
Debby departed reluctantly. After the kitchen door had closed, CaptainElkanah said: "My dear, we mustn't be too hasty in this matter.Remember, Mr. Ellery is very sick. As for--for the Van Horne girl, wehaven't heard the whole truth yet. She may not be there at all, or itmay be just an accident--"
"Accident! Pa, you make me boil. Accident! Accidents like that don'thappen. If you let her stay there, or if--Oh, to think of it! And wewere calling him a hero and--and everything! Hero! he stayed there justso she might--"
"Hush! hush, child!"
"I shan't hush. Pa, are you going to let him disgrace himself with HER?"
"No, no. Probably there ain't any idea of his marrying her. If thereis--"
"If there is you put him out of the church and out of this town. Andas for HER--O-oh! And we've been having him here at dinner and--and Ihave--Oh, I shall die! I wish I WAS dead!"
Then followed hysterics and agony, greedily listened to by Debby, whoseear was at the crack of the door. Captain Elkanah soothed and pleadedand tried to pacify. It ended by his pro
mising to investigate and, ifnecessary, take steps 'immejitly.'
Lavinia Pepper sprung the mine on her brother. Kyan was horrified. Hehad grown to be one of Ellery's most devoted worshipers.
"Smallpox!" he groaned. "The minister got the smallpox. Oh! that'sturrible."
"Ain't it?" observed his sister, also horrified, but rather relishingthe horror. "And if it hadn't been for Gracie Van Horne--"
"WHAT?"
"What's the matter with you? I say, if Gracie Van Horne hadn't happenedto meet him, wanderin' around, crazy as a coot, and toted him back--"
"Gracie--Van--Horne! Godfreys mighty! She--she met him? Where? Down toPeters's grove, was it?"
"Peters's grove! No. What on earth made you think 'twas there? She'dbeen visitin' Keziah Coffin at the parsonage, and when she come outon the main road she heard him aravin' down the lane. Must have passedright by this house and we never heard him. I never see such a dead manas you be when you're asleep. You don't SOUND dead, I'll say that foryou, but nothin' wakes you up."
"Why, Laviny! you never woke up yourself."
"That's right, lay it onto me. I expected you would; it's just likeyou. But why in time did you think Grace met the minister way down toPeters's grove? That's the most loony notion ever I heard, even fromyou. What made you think of it?"
"Nothin', nothin'. I guess I WAS loony, maybe. Dear! dear! dear! haveyou heard how's he's gettin' on? Is he took bad?"
"I ain't heard nothin' yet, nobody has. But see here, 'Bish Pepper, youact funny to me. I want to know more about that Peters's grove notion.WHY did you say it?"
Kyan wriggled upon the rack and dodged and squirmed for the next twentyminutes. He tried his best to keep the fateful secret, but he admittedtoo much, or not enough, and his sister kept up the cross-examination.At the end of the session she was still unsatisfied, but she was onthe scent and her brother knew it. He fled to the woodshed and therepunctuated his morning task of kindling chopping with groans and awfulforebodings.
One of the very first to hear of the minister's illness was KeziahCoffin. Mrs. Parker told her and Keziah started for the beach before thetale of Grace's part in the night's happenings reached the village. Shedid not wait for a conveyance, hardly waited to throw a shawl over hershoulders, but began to cover the three miles on foot. She had walkednearly two thirds of the distance when Captain Zeb Mayo overtook her andgave her a seat in his chaise.
They said little during the drive, the shock and anxiety forbiddingconversation. At the ropes was the same group, larger now, and Dr.Parker's horse was hitched to one of the posts.
"You can't go in, Mrs. Coffin," said Thoph Black. "The doctor give ushis orders not to let nobody get by. I guess nobody wants to, but allthe same--"
Keziah paid not the slightest attention to Mr. Black. She stoopedbeneath his arm, under the rope and was on her way to the shanty beforethey realized her intention. Captain Zeb roared a command for her toreturn, but she kept on. No one followed, not even the captain. Mrs.Mayo had strictly forbidden his passing the dead line.
Keziah opened the door and entered the little building. The living roomwas empty, but at the sound of her step some one came from the roomadjoining. That some one was Grace.
"Aunt Keziah!" she cried. "What did you come here for? Why did you?"
"Gracie!" exclaimed the housekeeper. "You?--YOU?"
Dr. Parker appeared, holding up a hand for silence.
"Hush!" he cried. "He's quiet now and I think he will sleep. Don't talkhere. Go outside, if you must talk--and I suppose you must."
Grace led the way. Fortunately, the door was on the side not visiblefrom the spot where Captain Zeb and the rest were standing. Keziah,bewildered and amazed at the girl's presence, followed dumbly.
"Now, auntie," whispered Grace, turning to her, "you want to know howhe is, of course. Well, I think he is better. The doctor thinks so, too.But why did you come here?"
"Why did I come? I? Why, because my place was here. I belonged here.For the love of mercy's sakes what are YOU doin' here? With HIM? And thesmallpox!"
"Hush. I can't help it. I don't care. I don't care for anything anymore. I'm glad I came. I'm glad I was the one to find him and help him.No matter what happens--to me--I'm glad. I never was so glad before. Ilove him, Aunt Keziah. I can say it to you, for you know it--you mustknow it. I LOVE him and he needed me and I came. He was calling my namewhen I found him. He might have died there, alone in the wet and cold,and I saved him. Think what that means to me."
The girl was in a sort of frenzy of excitement and hystericalexaltation. All the night she had been calm and quiet, repressing herfeelings, and tending the man she loved. Now, with some one to whom shecould confide, she was calm no longer. Keziah answered her soothingly,questioning her from time to time, until, at last, she learned the wholestory.
The door opened softly and Dr. Parker came out.
"He's asleep," he said. "And he's better, much better. And I'll tell yousomething else, if you won't make too much noise about it--he hasn't gotthe smallpox."
The two women looked at him.
"Fact," he said, with an emphatic nod. "Not a symptom of it. I'd havebet my best hat that he wasn't going to have it and I won't have to gobareheaded yet awhile. He is pretty close to brain fever, though, but Iguess he'll dodge that this time, with care. On the whole, Keziah, I'mglad you came. This young lady," with a movement of the head towardGrace, "has done her part. She really saved his life, if I'm notmistaken. Now, I think she can go away and leave him to you and me. I'llpretty nearly guarantee to have him up and out of this--this pesthole ina fortnight."
Here was joyful tidings, the better for being so unexpected. Keziahleaned against the boards and drew a long breath. Grace said nothing,but, after a moment, she went into the house.
"That's a good thing, too," commented Parker, watching her as she went."I wanted to talk with you, Keziah Coffin, and right away. Now, then,there's something up, something that I don't know about, and I ratherguess you do. Young women--even when they're her kind and that's as gooda kind as there is--don't risk smallpox for any young man they pick upcasually. They don't carry--I guess it was pretty nearly carrying--himhome and put him to bed and care for him and cry over him and call him'dear.' And he doesn't beg them to run away and let him die rather thanto stay there and risk dying, too. No, not to any great extent. Now,Keziah, you and I are fairly good friends and we ought to know eachother by this time. I see a light--a little one. Now, then, if you turnup the lamp, so that I can see the whole blaze, maybe I can help thosetwo in yonder."
Keziah considered. "All right, doctor," she said, when she reached adecision, "all right; I'll tell you the whole thing, and you can see oneof the reasons why my hair is gettin' grayer. This thing has reached thepoint now where there's no keepin' it quiet. Folk'll know--I s'pose theyknow already--that she's been here with him. They'll suspect a lot moreand the truth is better than suspicion--that is, it can't be worse thanthe suspicions that come natural to a good many minds in this town. Iam glad I can tell you, for I guess the time's come to step out inbroad daylight and h'ist our colors. Now, you listen. Here 'tis, frombeginnin' to end."
She went on to tell all she knew of her parson's love story.
Dr. Parker listened.
"Hum!" he said thoughtfully, "I see. What made her change her mind sosuddenly? You say, or you gather from what Mr. Ellery told you, that shehad all but agreed to marry him. She cares for him, that's sure. Then,all at once, she throws him over and accepts Nat. Of course her uncle'ssudden seizure was a shock and he wanted Nat to have her, but she isn'tthe kind of girl to be easily swayed. Why did she do it?"
"Well, doctor, that's kind of a puzzle to me. All I can think is thatshe come to realize what it might mean to him, the minister, if hemarried a Come-Outer. I think she done it for his sake, to save him,though what made her realize it all at once I don't know. There's thepart we ain't heard."
"I guess you're right. Something happened between the time she leftEllery an
d when you and I reached the tavern. But never mind that, thatdoesn't count now. Let's look at things as they are this minute. She'shere and folks know it. As they do know it they'll begin to talk, andthe more they talk the farther from the truth they'll get--most of 'em.Nat, poor chap, is dead, so her promise to him is canceled. Ellery willget well if he isn't troubled, and her being with him will help morethan anything else. I can understand now why he broke down."
"Yes, he ain't been himself since it happened."
"Of course, and the last few weeks of worry and night work have helpedto wreck his nerves. Well, as I see it, there's only one thing to do. Ifshe leaves him he'll go to pieces again, so she mustn't leave. And shecan't stay without an explanation. I say let's give the
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