A Day of Fate

by Edward Payson Roe

  CHAPTER XIV

  KINDLING A SPARK OF LIFE

  I soon had coffee made that was as black as the night without. Insteadof calling Miss Warren, I took a tray from the dining-room, and carriedit with several cups upstairs.

  "Bring it here!" called the doctor.

  I entered Mrs. Yocomb's room, and found that she had quite fullyrevived, and that Reuben had supported his father thither also. Hereclined on the lounge, and his usually ruddy face was very pale. Bothhe and his wife appeared almost helpless; but the doctor had succeededin arresting, by the use of ice, the distressing nausea that hadfollowed consciousness. They looked at me in a bewildered manner as Ientered, and could not seem to account for my presence at once. Nor didthey, apparently, try to do so long, for their eyes turned towardlittle Zillah with a deeply troubled and perplexed expression, as ifthey were beginning to realize that the child was very ill, and thatevents of an extraordinary character had happened.

  "Let me taste the coffee," said the doctor. "Ah! that's the kind--blackand strong. See how it will bring them around," and he made Mr. andMrs. Yocomb each swallow a cup of it.

  "Miss Warren," he called, "give some of this to Miss Adah, if she isquiet enough to take it. I cannot leave the child."

  Miss Warren came at once. Her face was clouded and anxious, and shelooked with eager solicitude toward the still unconscious Zillah, whosehands Reuben was chafing.

  "I think Miss Adah will soon be better," she replied to the doctor'sinquiring glance, and she went back to her charge.

  "Take some yourself," said the physician to me, in a low tone. "I fearwe are going to have a serious time with the little girl."

  "You do not realize," I urged, "that Miss Warren needs keeping upalmost as truly as any of them."

  "You'll have to take care of her then," said the doctor hastily; "sheseems to be doing well herself, and doing well for others. Take hersome coffee, and say that I said she must drink it."

  I knocked at Adah's door and called, "Miss Warren, the doctor says youmust drink this coffee."

  "In a few moments," she answered, and after a little time she came out.

  "Where's your cup?" she asked. "Have you taken any?"

  "Not yet, of course."

  "Why of course? If you want me to drink this you must get some at once."

  "There may not be enough. I don't know how much the doctor may need."

  "Then get a cup, and I'll give you half of this."

  "Never," I answered promptly. "Do as the doctor bade you."

  She went swiftly to Mrs. Yocomb's room and filled another cup.

  "I pledge you my word I won't touch a drop till you have taken this.You don't realize what you have been through, Mr. Morton. Your hand sotrembled that you could scarcely carry the cup; you are all unnerved.Come," she added gravely, "you must be in a condition to help, for Ifear Zillah is in a critical condition."

  "I'm not going to break down," I said resolutely. "Give it to Reuben.Poor fellow, he was very wet."

  She looked at my clothes, and then exclaimed:

  "Why, Mr. Morton, don't you know you are wet through and through?"

  "Am I?" and I looked down at my soaked garments.

  "I don't believe you have a dry thread on you."

  "I've been too excited to think of it. Of course, I got wet on theroof; but what's a summer shower! Your coffee's getting cold."

  "So is yours."

  "You have the doctor's orders."

  "I would be glad if my wishes weighed a little with you," she said,appealingly.

  "There, Miss Warren, if you put it that way I'd drink gall andvinegar," and I gulped down the coffee.

  She vanished into Adah's room, saying, "You must take my word for itthat I drink mine. I shall sip it while waiting on my patient."

  Having insisted on Reuben's taking some also, I returned to the kitchenand made a new supply. Mr. and Mrs. Yocomb's extreme prostration, bothmental and physical, perplexed me. Their idolized child was stillunconscious, and yet they could only look on in wondering and perplexedanxiety. I afterward learned that a partial paralysis of every faculty,especially of memory, was a common effect of a severe shock ofelectricity. It was now evident that Miss Warren, from some obscurecause, escaped harm from lightning. The words I had employed toreassure her turned out to be true--she had merely swooned--and thus,on recovery, had full possession of all her faculties.

  "I would be glad if my wishes weighed a little with you," she had said.In wonder at myself, I asked, "What weighs more with me? By what rightis this maiden, whom I have met but to-day, taking such absolutecontrol of my being? Am I overwrought, morbid, fanciful, deluded by anexcited imagination into beliefs and moods that will vanish in theclear sunlight and clearer light of reason? or has the vivid lightningrevealed with absolute distinctness the woman on whom I can lean inperfect trust, and yet must often sustain in her pathetic weakness? Theworld would say we are strangers; but my heart and soul and every fibreof my being appear to recognize a kinship so close that I feel we nevercan be strangers again. It is true the lightning fuses the hardestsubstances, making them one; however, I am beginning to think that myhitherto callous nature has been smitten by a diviner fire. If so,Heaven grant that I'm not the only one struck.

  "Well, it's a queer world. When I broke down, last Friday night, andsat cowering before the future in my editorial sanctum, I littledreamed that on Sunday night I should be making coffee in a good oldQuaker's kitchen, and, what is still more strange, making a divinityout of a New York music-teacher!"

  A moment later I added, "That's a stupid way of putting it. I'm notmaking a divinity out of her at all. She is one, and I've had the witto recognize the truth. Are her gentlemen friends all idiots that theyhave not--"

  "What! talking to yourself, Mr. Morton? I fear the events of this dayare turning your head." And Miss Warren entered.

  "Speak of an angel--you know the saying." "Indeed! The only word Iheard as I entered was 'idiot.'"

  "Pardon me, you overheard the word 'idiots,' so can gather nothing fromthat."

  "No, your mutterings are dark indeed. I see no light or sense in them;but the doctor came to Adah's door and asked me for more coffee."

  "How is Miss Adah?"

  "Doing nicely. She'll sleep soon, I think."

  "I do hope little Zillah is recovering."

  "Yes, Reuben put a radiant face within the door, a few minutes since,and said Zillah was 'coming to,' as he expressed it. Adah is doing sowell that I feel assured about the others. Now that she is becomingquiet, I think I can leave her and help with Zillah."

  "And you're not exhausting yourself?"

  "I've not yet reached the stage of muttering delirium. Mr. Morton, willyou permit me to suggest that you go to your room and put on dryclothes. You are not fit to be seen. Moreover, there is a mark athwartyour nose that gives to your face a sinister aspect, not becoming inone whose deeds of darkness this night will bear the light of allcoming time. It might be appropriate in a printing-office; but I don'tintend to have little Zillah frightened. Oh, I'm so glad and gratefulthat we have all escaped! There, that will do; give me the tray."

  "Beg your pardon: I shall carry it up myself. What on earth would Ihave done without you in this emergency?"

  "Come, Mr. Morton, I'm not used to being disobeyed. Yes, you did lookas helpless as only a man can look when there's illness; and there's notelling what awful remedies you might have administered before thedoctor came. I think I shall take the credit of saving all our lives,since you and Reuben won't."

  She pushed open the door of Mrs. Yocomb's room, and her face changedinstantly.

  Little Zillah lay on the bed and was still unconscious. Mrs. Yocomb hadbeen moved into an armchair, and every moment comprehension of thetruth grew clearer, and her motherly solicitude was intensified.

  Reuben evidently was frightened, and the doctor's brow was knitted intoa frown of perplexity.

  "We thought she was coming to," said Reuben to Miss Warren, "but s
he'sgone back worse than ever."

  "Mr. Morton, I wish you to give to all a cup of that coffee and takesome yourself," said the physician, in a quiet but authoritative voice."Mr. Yocomb, you must not rise; you will be ill again, and I now needall the help I can get with this child. We must try artificialrespiration, spraying the chest with cold water, and every possiblemeans."

  "Would to God that I could help thee!" cried Mrs. Yocomb.

  "You can help by keeping absolutely quiet. Mr. Morton, in thisemergency you must become as a brother or one of the family."

  "I am one with them to-night," I said earnestly; "let me help you inany way."

  "You three must rub her with flannel and spirits, while I lift her armsslowly up and down to try to induce respiration."

  The poor limp little body--how sacred it seemed to me!

  We worked and worked till the perspiration poured from our faces. Everyexpedient was tried, until the physician at last desisted and stoodback for a moment in anxious thought.

  Then, in a tone broken with anguish, Mr. Yocomb exclaimed:

  "Would to God the bolt had fallen on my head, and not on this dearlittle lamb."

  In bitter protest against it all I cried, "The bolt has fallen on yourheart, Mr. Yocomb. How is it that God has thunderbolts for lambs?"

  "Richard Morton, thee's unjust," began Mrs. Yocomb, in a voice that shetried to render quiet and resigned. "Who art thou to judge God? 'What Ido thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know--' Oh, my child, mychild!" broke out her wailing cry, and motherhood triumphed.

  Reuben was sobbing over his sister with all the abandon of boyishgrief, but Miss Warren stood before the little form, apparentlylifeless, with clasped hands and dilated eyes.

  "I can't--I won't give her up," she exclaimed passionately, and dartedfrom the room.

  I followed wonderingly. She was already in the kitchen, and had found alarge tub.

  "Fill this with hot water," she said to me. "No! let me do it; I'lltrust no one. Yes, you may carry it up, but please be careful. I'llbring some cold water to temper it. Doctor," she exclaimed, re-enteringthe room, "we must work till we know there is no chance. Yes, and afterwe know it. Is not hot water good?"

  "Anything is good that will restore suspended circulation," he replied;"we'll try it. But wait a moment. I've employed a nice test, and ifthere's life I think this little expedient will reveal it." He held thechild's hand, and I noted that a string had been tied around one of thesmall white fingers, and that he intently watched the part of thefinger beyond the string. I comprehended the act at once, andrecognized the truth that there would be little hope of life if thistest failed. If there was any circulation at all the string would notprevent the blood flowing out through the artery, but it would preventits return, and, therefore, if there was life a faint color wouldmanifest itself in the finger. I bent over and held my breath in myeager scrutiny.

  "The child's alive!" I exclaimed.

  By a quick, impressive gesture the physician checked my manifestationof feeling and excitement as he said:

  "Yes, she's alive, and that's about all. We'll try a plunge in the hotbath, and then friction and artificial respiration again."

  We set to work once more with double zeal under the inspiration of MissWarren's words and manner, but especially because assured that lifestill lingered. In less than a quarter of an hour there was aperceptible pulse. At last she was able to swallow a little stimulant,and the faint spark of life, of which we scarcely dared to speak lestour breath might extinguish it, began to kindle slowly. When at lastshe opened her eyes, Miss Warren turned hers heavenward with a fulnessof gratitude that must have been sweet to the fatherly heart of God ifthe words be true, "Like as a father pitieth his children."

  Mrs. Yocomb threw herself on her knees by the bedside, sobbing, "ThankGod! thank God!"

  Reuben was growing wild with joy, and the father, overwhelmed withemotion, was struggling to rise, when the doctor said, in low, decidedtones:

  "Hush! Nothing must be said or done to excite or surprise her. Mr. andMrs. Yocomb, as you love your child, control yourselves. You, Mr.Morton, would seem strange to her, and, with Reuben, had better leaveus now. Miss Warren will help me, and I think all will be well."

  "Don't overtax Miss Warren," I urged, lingering anxiously at the door amoment.

  She gave me a smiling, reassuring nod, as much as to say that she wouldtake care of herself.

  "God bless her!" I murmured, as I sought my room. "I believe she hassaved the child."