CHAPTER XIX

THE BITTERNESS OF DEATH

The doctor took the squire’s arm and led him away from the door before he answered:

“She is doing as well as possible under the circumstances. All depends now on absolute quiet. It was for that reason I summoned a trained nurse and forbid any of the family to approach her.”

“But what is the nature of her illness, doctor?”

“She has received a severe mental shock.”

“Of what nature?”

“I do not know.”

“Will—will she—recover?”

“With great care, I hope so.”

“Can I go in—very quietly—and look upon her?”

“Not if you speak to her. Not if you waken her.”

“I will neither speak to her nor waken her. You shall see how noiseless I can be.”

“I am not going back to her room. I have all my patients to see yet, but I will call again in the afternoon. Dr. Hollis will remain a little longer. And the nurse, Mrs. Winder, can be relied on. If you enter the room, Mr. Force, let me entreat you to make no sound,” said Dr. Bolton, bowing, and passing the squire on his way downstairs.

Mr. Force softly turned the handle of the lock, which had been oiled, and entered the room.

On the bed, covered with a white counterpane up to her chin, lay the form of his fair wife, still and white as death. On one side of her sat the nurse; on the other side stood the doctor.

Mr. Force raised his finger in token that he did not mean to speak, nor expect to be spoken to, and so he approached the bed on tiptoe, and gazed upon the marble features, colorless except for the dark rings around the eyes and lips.

As the husband gazed a spasm of anguish convulsed his features. He turned his eyes from the face of his wife to that of the young doctor who stood over her.

Dr. Hollis smiled and placed his finger on his lips.

Abel Force understood both signs, and felt a little hope steal into his heart. He stood for some time longer gazing upon the beloved face, and then, at another sign from the doctor, he turned to steal noiselessly from the room.

As he went from the bedside toward the door his eyes fell on a large packet of paper, with a note tied on the top of it. And as he passed he took it up, thinking that it might be something that required to be sent to the post office.

After leaving the room and closing the door softly behind him, he looked at the superscription of the packet. And it was this:

“To my dear husband, Abel Force. To be opened by him alone.”

The packet was sealed and tied with a cord, under which was slipped a letter, directed simply to Abel Force, Esq.

When Mr. Force had looked at this packet he showed neither surprise at its existence or impatience to read it. Without breaking the seal, he slipped it into his pocket, and went quietly down to the parlor in search of his troubled young people.

He found them all seated as if they had been at a funeral.

Odalite and Le occupied one of the small sofas. Old Capt. Grandiere sat in a large armchair, with his little niece, Rosemary, on his knees, her head on his shoulder and her arms around his neck. She had sobbed herself into exhaustion, and therefore into quietness, and was listening calmly to the consolation the old skipper was trying to give her, and which was something like this:

“I tell you, my pet, he may be as stubborn as a mule, and hold his tongue until he loses the use of it, but I know that, not two months since, he was taken prisoner off my ship, along with me and all the crew, and so far from being the pirate’s mate, he was the pirate’s prisoner. I’ll tell my own story, and it will clear Roland as sure as it will hang Silver.”

This, in every form and variety of language, was the oft-repeated consolation that the old skipper was offering to his little niece, and not without effect.

Elva and Wynnette were seated with the earl, who was talking to them in a low voice, and evidently trying to keep up their spirits.

As soon as the squire entered the room his daughters all hurried to meet him, with anxious looks.

“My dears,” he said, “the doctors speak hopefully of your mother’s condition. Let us be patient and trust in Providence; and for the present, my children, you must control your feelings and keep away from her room.”

But this did not satisfy the daughters of Elfrida Force. They plied their father with questions:

“What is the matter with mamma?”

“Did the doctors tell you what ails her?”

“When will she get well?”

“How soon may we see her?”

And so forth, and so forth.

Mr. Force answered these questions as well as he was able, but not at all satisfactorily.

The old skipper broke in upon their talk.

“Force! I wish to the Lord you would order these girls down to breakfast! Here it is ten o’clock and not one of us has had a mouthful.”

“My dears, is that true?” demanded their father.

“Oh, we could not touch any food so long as we felt so anxious about dear mamma!” answered Odalite, for the whole party.

“Come down at once! Le, give Odalite your arm! Grandiere, take care of Rosemary! Enderby, look after Wynnette! Come, my little Elva, under my own wing,” said the squire.

And so the party of eight went down to the public breakfast room, but in truth no one but the earl, the old skipper, and the young lieutenant made any pretense of eating. The husband and daughters of Elfrida Force could not feed while the life of the wife and mother was in jeopardy. But they drank some strong coffee, which served to support their strength.

After breakfast the young girls returned to the drawing room under the escort of the earl and the old captain; but Le remained by the side of Abel Force, who walked toward the office of the hotel.

“The occupant of the little room adjoining our own has left this morning, and I wish to engage the apartment before any one else takes it; for, Le, if the doctors will not allow me to remain in the same apartment with my suffering wife, I must, at least, be in the next one, if possible,” said Mr. Force, as he went up to the counter.

The room was secured, and the two men turned to go upstairs together.

“Uncle,” said Le, “Odalite will not give me any answer! Will not fix a day for our marriage until her mother recovers.”

“Odalite is right, Le! How can she think of marriage, or of anything but her mother at this crisis?” solemnly inquired Abel Force.

“Oh, uncle, we have been so often disappointed, so often put off! It does seem as if fate were against us!”

“Don’t be selfish, Le! Think, my dear boy, what anxiety we are all suffering just now!”

“I know it, uncle! I know it, and I share it! But how could our marriage affect the present circumstances? It could not increase the danger of my aunt, nor could it heighten our anxiety,” pleaded the youth.

“My dear Le, your passion blinds you to the fact that your marriage at this time would be deeply indecorous! Say no more about it, dear lad, until our beloved sufferer is out of danger.”

Le sighed profoundly, but did not answer.

“Le,” said the squire, in a low voice, to change the subject, “have you told old Grandiere why it is that Roland will not give evidence against the pirate captain, even to save himself?”

“Yes; I have told him that Roland has been persuaded by Silver, that he, Silver, is his, Roland’s, father.

“He said that he didn’t believe one word of it. He said that when the villain was down in Maryland he must have heard the story of the young man having been saved in his infancy from the wreck of the _Carrier Pigeon_, without a mark on person or clothing to point to his parentage, and taken advantage of the circumstance to claim Roland as his son, and get him in his power.”

“I think Grandiere was right,” said Abel Force.

When they reentered the parlor they found all their party present, idle and silent, because, in fact, they could settle themselves to neither occupation nor conversation while their minds were so full of anxiety.

Le went and sat down beside Odalite.

Mr. Force lingered a few moments in the room to bid his troubled daughters to trust in Providence and hope for the best. Then, telling them he was going up to sit in the room he had engaged adjoining their mother’s, and that he might be found there if wanted, he left the parlor and went upstairs.

First he stopped at the door of the side room and tapped lightly.

The nurse came to answer the summons.

“How is she?” he whispered.

The nurse came out and softly closed the door behind her before answering:

“She is sleeping quietly, and must not be disturbed on any account.”

“Thank you. That will do. I am going to sit in the next room. If I should be wanted, come to me there.”

“Yes, sir,” said the woman, returning noiselessly to the sick chamber, and closing the door behind her.

As Mr. Force turned away, his eyes fell upon the form of Rosemary Hedge moving silently as a spirit along the corridor.

He went to her and whispered:

“What is it, my dear?”

“Nothing. I am only going to our room to put on my hat. Uncle Grandiere is going to take me to see dear Roland,” replied the girl.

“Ah, that is right. God bless you, my dear!” said the squire, as Rosemary passed on to the large, double-bedded room in the same corridor which was occupied by the four girls.