Mildred Keith - Complete 7 Book Collection. Finley Martha
the previous night; but on going in she found Mr. Lord by the bedside.
He turned, showing a face full of sympathy and concern, and held out his hand.
"This is kind," she said, putting hers into it.
"My poor child!" he responded feelingly, raising the hand to his lips in his absent way, "my heart aches for you. And there are many others in like affliction; many others! all round the country people are sick, dying; many of them simply for lack of suitable nourishment."
The tears rolled down his manly cheeks as he spoke, and the sight of them did not lower him in the girl's esteem.
"And what can I do?" he went on. "I know nothing of cooking; I can only carry them crackers to sustain their poor bodies, and try to feed their souls with the bread of life. I feel for them all; but for you—O, Mildred, dear girl, what can I do to help and comfort you in this extremity?"
"We have need of nurses. Mother—"
But with that word she broke into uncontrollable weeping; suppressed, for fear of disturbing her father, who had fallen into a doze—but shaking her whole frame with its violence.
It distressed her listener. He made a step toward her, a gesture as if he would fold her in his arms, but drew hastily back, blushing and confused as the door opened and Dr. Grange came in.
Chapter Twenty-Fifth
"All love is sweet,
Given or returned. Common as light is love,
And its familiar voice wearies not ever."
—Shelley.
"Ah, good morning, my dear child! Good morning, sir," the doctor said in an undertone, giving his hand to Mildred and the minister in turn. Then with an anxious glance at the bed "How is he? sleeping now, I see. How did he rest through the night?"
"Not very well, and—"
"Your mother? where is she? not down too?" with almost a groan, as he read the truth in the young girl's face.
Mildred led him to her. She lay on the lounge still, with closed eyes and face of deathly pallor, her cheek resting against the dark curls of Rupert, who had thrown himself on the floor by her side, and laid his head on the same pillow, while he held one of her hands, caressing it tenderly.
His cheeks were burning, his eyes sparkling with fever.
The doctor glanced from one to the other. "Ought to be in bed; both of you. Go my boy, at once; you are not fit to be here."
"I can't, sir, indeed; I'm needed to take care of the others."
"You will help most by giving up at once," said the doctor; "otherwise you will make yourself so sick as to need a great deal of attention."
"Yes, go, my dear boy," whispered Mrs. Keith.
"I will, since you bid me, darling mother," he answered, pressing his hot lips to her cheek, then tottering from the room.
She looked after him with sad, pitying eyes, "So sick, and your mother not able to nurse you! Mildred, my poor dear child, how are you to stand it?" she sighed, turning them upon her daughter's face as she bent over her.
"Try not to be troubled and anxious, my dear madam," said the doctor, "the more quiet and free from care you can keep your mind, the better for you. Trust the Lord that all will come out right."
"I will; he is all my hope and trust for myself and for my dear ones," she answered, with almost her accustomed cheerfulness. "Things look very dark but 'behold, the Lord's hand is not shortened that it cannot save; neither his ear heavy that it cannot hear.'"
"And he has sent us some help already," observed Mildred; "from a most unexpected quarter."
Damaris came in at that moment from the kitchen, saluted the doctor in her usual formal way, and turning to Mrs. Keith, remarked,
"I hope you're not going to be very sick; but you'd ought to go to bed for to-day, anyhow. Don't you say so, doctor?"
"I do most emphatically," answered the physician, who had seated himself at the table and was busied in measuring out medicines; "and I'm very glad, Miss Damaris, to see you here."
"It appeared to be my duty to come," she said, looking not ill-pleased; "I'm no great nurse, but I can do housework and cook for sick or well; and them things is as necessary as the nursing."
"Certainly," said Dr. Grange, and went on to give directions to her concerning the proper food for his patients, and to Mildred in regard to the administering of medicines and other remedies.
He made his round among them, pronounced Zillah much better, Mr. Keith slightly so. He was silent as to the little boys, and Mildred's heart was full of anguish as she perceived from his countenance, or thought she did, that their recovery was still very doubtful.
Mr. Lord had remained at Mr. Keith's bedside while the doctor and Mildred were absent from the room, and was still there when they returned. He looked perplexed and ill at ease.
"I have no skill in nursing," he said; "never have had any experience; am in fact a very unsuitable person for the task; being very absent minded, as you both know. But if I can be of any service, I—Miss Mildred, I can sit here and hand anything he asks for, call you if he needs your assistance, and give the medicines, if you will be good enough to remind me when it is time to do so."
The offer was gladly accepted and the new nurse entered upon his duties immediately.
Yet even with these new and unexpected helps it was clearly impossible for the weary girl to give proper attention to five very sick persons, and two who were barely convalescent. Her heart was overwhelmed; the burden heavier than she could bear.
But blessed be God, the God of Israel, his people need not bear their griefs and anxieties alone; he bids them not.
"Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee." "Call upon me in the day of trouble; I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me."
These and other like great and precious promises were brought home with power and sweetness to Mildred's mind in this time of deep distress and anguish, and kept her from sinking beneath the load.
"O Lord of hosts, blessed is the man that trusteth in thee." "For thou, Lord, wilt bless the righteous; with favor wilt thou compass him as with a shield."
There seemed no earthly friend left to come to Mildred's aid; she could think of none. Claudina Chetwood and Lucilla Grange were both themselves lying upon sick beds; so were all her lady acquaintances in Pleasant Plains except such as, like herself, had their hands more than full with the care of the sick in their own families; and Aunt Wealthy was so far, far away that before a message could reach her, they might all be in their graves.
How long it seemed since she went away! how long since the beginning of this dreadful sickly season that had, as it were, shut her (Mildred) away from all pleasant social intercourse with her young companions into her own little world of trial and trouble!
It was a comfort that some one was attending to domestic affairs, some one sitting with her sick father and Rupert, who now shared his bed; but ah, she could not more than half attend to the pressing needs of the others.
The day was intensely hot, scarce a breath of air stirring though every door and window stood wide open. The little boys feverish and restless, wanted to be fanned every moment, and called almost incessantly for "cold fresh water."
The others craved it, too; and it could be had only from the spring at the foot of the steep river bank. And ice being an unknown luxury in Pleasant Plains at that period, it could not be kept cool for any length of time.
She did not feel at liberty to call upon either Miss Drybread or Mr. Lord for this service, and as the one judged it unnecessary that