A Girl in Ten Thousand

  CHAPTER IV.

  All through the long hours of that day Dorothy watched by the sickchild. The child was on the Borderland. Her life hung in the balance--afeather's weight on either side and she would go to the country fromwhich there is no return, or she would become well again. Dorothy'sefforts were directed to turning the balance in the scale toward life.

  Notwithstanding all her care, however, and all the alleviations whichshe used, the sick child suffered and moaned terribly. The awful stateof the throat, the terrible prostration caused by this form of bloodpoisoning, were no light foes to have to beat and conquer. But unceasingcare presently produced a happy result, and toward evening the hightemperature went down a couple of degrees, and the child's breathingbecame less difficult.

  "I believe she will recover," said Dorothy, looking at Dr. Staunton,who had just come into the room. "I hope you agree with me, doctor, inthinking that she is rather better?"

  "Yes," replied the doctor, "she is better; she is less feverish, and herbreathing is easier. You have done wonders already."

  "What happy news for her poor mother! I am so glad that I can tell herthat the child is really better," said Dorothy. "I want to induce her togive the little creature altogether into my care for the present, andnot to come near her again unless a change for the worse should set in.I hear Mrs. Harvey stirring now in the next room, so she may be in atany moment. May I speak to her, doctor? Do you give me leave to tell herthat her child is on the mend, and that you would rather she kept out ofthe room?"

  "I would do anything in the world to keep her out of the room," said thedoctor. "Yes, I give you full leave to say what you please. You wouldhave more influence with her than I should have. I am almost as great astranger to her as you are. Use your strongest influence, nurse--do whatyou can. I believe in you. I am sure she will do the same."

  "I'll go into the day nursery and wash my hands before I see Mrs.Harvey," said Dorothy.

  She was scarcely a moment away. In a couple of minutes she was standingby Mrs. Harvey's bed.

  Exhausted by her days and nights of watching, the tired-out mother hadslept all through the long hours of the day. She opened her eyes nowwith a start. Healing sleep had done wonders for her--the dewy look ofyouth had come back to her face; her beautiful blue eyes were fixed fora moment on Dorothy with a puzzled expression of non-recognition.

  "Where am I? What has happened?" she asked in a startled voice.

  "You have just had a lovely sleep," said Dorothy. "You'll be all thebetter for it."

  "And who are you? I cannot quite collect my thoughts--I know somethinghas happened. Who are you? I cannot remember you."

  "I am the nurse who is taking care of your dear little girl. She isbetter."

  "Oh, yes, now I remember," said Mrs. Harvey. She sat up in bed andclasped her hands tightly.

  "It was wrong of me to sleep so long," she said, "but I won't be a momentgetting dressed; I must go back to the child at once."

  "Will you come to your room?" said Dorothy. "You can change your dressthere. I know Mr. Harvey is most anxious that you should dine with himthis evening."

  "Dine with my husband!--have dinner? But Freda is ill; she is at death'sdoor."

  "She is ill undoubtedly, but she is better; she is on the mend. I amtaking good care of her. Don't you trust me?"

  "Oh, yes, I trust you; but I must go back to her. Don't talk to me ofdinner; I could not eat. Is it really evening? Oh, now I remembereverything--at last I remember! We have been in agony. We have livedthrough such a week. We have been down in the depths, truly. Yes, yes, Irecollect it all--my little child, my only little child, my darling, mytreasure! Oh, nurse, you should not have allowed me to sleep on all day,you should have called me; she may have been wanting me. But you say sheis better--better; but perhaps Dr. Staunton--oh, I am frightened! Areyou keeping anything from me? Oh, my head, my poor head! I shall gomad; I shall lose my senses."

  "No, dear Mrs. Harvey," said Dorothy; "I have good news for you, notbad. Freda is really better--she is less feverish, and her throat doesnot hurt her so badly. I don't pretend that she is yet out of danger,but if she continues to improve as she has done during the last seven oreight hours, she will be out of danger before long. Now I want you totake care of yourself and to trust your child to me."

  "Oh, I cannot give the child up to anyone. You must not keep me from heranother moment. I am not a bit hungry, but I'll have something to eat inher room if you'll bring it to me. How awfully my darling must havemissed me!--she is such a child for her mother. Let me go to her atonce--my dear little treasure!"

  "Dr. Staunton is very anxious that you should not go to her to-night."

  "How can he dare to keep a mother from her child? Here, give me mydress, will you? I tell you that nothing will keep me from the room. Iam sure you are deceiving me."

  "Do you really think I would deceive you?" said Dorothy. "Before youwent to sleep you promised to trust me. Look at me now--look into myeyes. I have nursed a great many sick children--I have seen many mothersin agony--I have never deceived one. When the truth was good I have toldit; when it was bad I have also told it. I am not deceiving you, Mrs.Harvey."

  Poor Mrs. Harvey's dazed and frightened eyes gazed into Dorothy's strongface. Its repose, its calm, impressed her. She was in an overstrung andhighly hysterical state. She burst into tears.

  "I do trust you, nurse," she said, with a great sob. "I trust you, andI bless you. I know my dear little one is better. Oh, thank God; thankthe great and good God! But, dear nurse, I must go to her. You aretired, and I am quite rested and refreshed. I'll spend the night withthe child, and you can go to bed."

  "No, dear madam; I cannot resign the care of the child to anyone. I amusing a certain remedy in the form of a spray which no one in this houseunderstands but me. If that remedy--which has made the child better--isnot continued unceasingly during the whole of this night, her throatwill get as bad as ever, and there will be no hope of her recovery. Iwant you, Mrs. Harvey, to sleep to-night, and leave the child in mycare, I wish this, and the doctor wishes it, and I am sure, if you askedyour husband, he would tell you that he wished the same. You are notrequired to do anything for little Freda, and it is your duty to takecare of yourself. If she gets worse, I promise to come for you--Ipromise this, Mrs. Harvey. Now, will you go to your room and dress, andthen go downstairs and have some dinner? In the morning I expect to havesplendid news for you."

  Mrs. Harvey clasped her hands in perplexity and uncertainty.

  "It is dreadful to keep a mother from her child," she said; "andyet--and yet----"

  "And yet in this case it is right," said Dorothy. "You must rememberthat you have not only Freda to think of. There is your husband,and----"

  "Oh, yes, I know; there is my poor little unhappy baby, but I cannotlove it as I love Freda."

  "Still you owe it a duty. It is not right of you to do anything to riskits life or your own. When it comes to you, you will see how dearly youlove it. Now, please, let me take you to your room."

  "But may I not take one peep at my little treasure?"

  "She is asleep just now, and you may wake her. Please let me take you toyour room."

  Mrs. Harvey staggered to her feet.

  "I trust you, nurse," she said, with a wistful sort of look. "You willremember your promise?"

  "I will; nothing in the world will make me go back from my word. Now,come with me."

  Dorothy led Mrs. Harvey away. They walked down the corridor together.The nurse opened a baize door, which shut away the nurseries from therest of the house, and a moment later found herself standing in Mrs.Harvey's luxurious bedroom. Her maid was there, and Dorothy asked her tohelp her mistress to dress.

  "What dress will you wear, madam?" asked the girl.

  "Anything--it doesn't matter what," replied Mrs. Harvey.

  "Yes, it matters a great deal," said Dorothy. "You ought to wear apretty dress; I think it is your duty to do so. You have got to think ofthe Squire. Nothing wil
l please him and reassure him more than to seeyou coming down to dinner looking bright and pretty in one of your nicedresses."

  "Really, nurse, you amaze me"--began Mrs. Harvey, but then the shadow ofa smile crept into her eyes. "I don't think you would talk like that ifyou did not really think Freda would get well," she exclaimed suddenly.

  "My impression is that she will get well," replied Dorothy, "Now, pleaseput on one of your pretty dresses."

  "That pink dress with the lace ruffles, Martin," said Mrs. Harvey,turning to the maid. She got up as she spoke, walked across the room,and put her arms round Dorothy's white neck.

  "You are a very brave woman," she said. "You are someone to lean on. Itrests me to lean on you--I love you already."

  "And I love you," said Dorothy in her simple, direct fashion. "God hasgiven you to me to take care of just now, and I fully believe that yoursweet little girl will be spared to you. Now, I see you are going to bevery brave and good yourself, and I'll go back to the child. I ought notto be too long away from her."

  All through the night that followed, the nurse persevered in theremedies which were slowly but surely undermining the awful bloodpoisoning. Slowly but surely, as the hours advanced, the fell diseaselost its power, the choking sensation grew less and less in the throat,the horrible fungus-like membrane became absorbed, and the child,exhausted, worn to a little shadow, dropped toward morning into apeaceful and natural sleep.

  "From my heart, I believe I have conquered," thought Dorothy. She sankon her knees by the bedside. She felt worn-out herself. Never before hadshe nursed a case like this. Never before had she gone through such ahand-to-hand fight with death. The child was far gone when she arrived.The diphtheria was particularly acute, and the poor little frame wasalready terribly weakened by the sharp attack of scarlet fever.

  "Another twelve hours, and nothing would have saved her," murmuredDorothy. "Oh, I thank Thee, my God!--I thank Thee for this mercy! Oh,what a joy it is to feel that I can give this child back to her mother!"

  Dorothy remained by the bedside. Her head was bowed on her hands.Someone touched her on her shoulder--she looked up, and met the keeneyes of Dr. Staunton. He was looking dreadfully pale and tired himself.

  "See," said Dorothy, rising and pointing to the child, "she is notfeverish now, she sleeps sweetly."

  "She will recover," said the doctor. "Thank the Almighty!"

  "I believe she will certainly recover," replied Dorothy.

  "It is your doing, nurse."

  "With God's blessing," she answered, bowing her head.

  The doctor asked her one or two more questions.

  "Now, the thing is, to keep up her strength," said Dorothy inconclusion. "She must have every imaginable form of nourishment. Butthat can be done, for I mean to undertake the management of her foodmyself. Please, Dr. Staunton, will you tell Mrs. Harvey the good newsthat her child is out of danger?"

  "Yes," said the doctor; "but ought not that to be your own reward?"

  "No, no; I don't want to go near her. I wish you to do all in your powerto keep her from the room. I believe that when she knows that her childis really on the mend she will be guided by your wishes and those of herhusband. I have a kind of feeling,--I may be wrong, of course,--but Ihave a kind of feeling that God will stay His hand in this matter, andthat the plague will not spread. Now, the thing is to think of themother. I suppose you will attend to her when her baby is born?"

  "She has asked me to do so."

  "Then, don't you think," said Dorothy, after a pause forreflection,--"don't you think you might leave little Freda to me? I amwilling to be shut up in this part of the house with the child and oneof the maids, a girl called Rhoda, who has been most helpful to meduring the last twenty-four hours. If you are wanted, doctor, you are onthe spot; but, unless there is occasion, don't you think it would bebest for you not to come into this room?"

  "It would be certainly the safest course as regards the mother," pursuedthe doctor in a thoughtful tone. "You are a wonderful woman, nurse. I'llgo and consult the Squire."