Mildred Keith - Complete 7 Book Collection. Finley Martha
should be brought frequently and the other was too absent-minded to think of offering to bring it, and she could not leave her charges to go herself, even if her strength had been equal to the effort in addition to all the other demands upon it, she could but endure the pain of seeing the loved ones suffer from thirst.
"Water, water, cold water, Milly," sobbed little Don.
"This is cold water, dear," she said holding a cup to his lips.
"No, 'tisn't right cold," he fretted, pushing it away; "it doesn't taste good. Oh, send somebody to bring cold, cold water!"
She set down the cup and burst into tears.
Absorbed in her grief and distress, she did not hear the gate gently opened and shut again, or a step coming up the path, across the porch, through the hall and into the room where she sat weeping such bitter tears as she had never wept before.
But it was a cautious tread; as of one who feared to disturb the sick, as was the fact. With that fear before his eyes Wallace Ormsby had taken thought even to come in slippered feet.
He should have paused at the room door till invited to enter, but forgot everything else at sight of Mildred's distress, and never stopped till he was close at her side.
"O, Mildred, dear Mildred, what is it? what can I do to help and comfort you?" he said in tones tremulous with love and pity, as he bent over her and took her hand in his.
She started with surprise, but the hand was not withdrawn, and the lips and eyes smiled faintly through the rain of tears as she looked up into his noble face and read there ardent affection and deep sympathy in her sorrow.
"Surely you will let me help you in this dreadful time when there's no more proper person to do it?" he said with earnest entreaty. "Why should we care for conventionalities now? You are weak and worn out, in sore need of assistance; I am well and strong, able and more than willing to give it. Say, may I not stay here by your side and help with this nursing?"
"Water, cold water!" sobbed Don, "oh, go get cold water for me and Cyril."
"Yes, Wallace, Mr. Ormsby," Mildred said, the tears coursing down her cheeks, "I cannot sacrifice them to conventionalities, and so gladly accept your kind offer of help."
"Oh, don't talk! go get water, quick!" fretted Don, "I can't wait, Milly, what makes you so naughty to me?"
Wallace seized a pitcher standing near, and hastened to the spring. He was no stranger to the premises and knew the way.
For the next fortnight he had what he considered the blessed privilege of sharing Mildred's burdens, griefs and cares; watching with her over each of those dear ones as they passed through the crisis of the disease, and the first stages of the after convalescence; for they all recovered; a fact which the parents and older children recognized with deep heart-felt gratitude to Him to whom "belong the issues from death."
Nor did they forget the thanks due their earthly helpers and friends. The minister held a warmer place than before in the hearts of these parishioners, and Damaris Drybread received a substantial reward for her services; which, as she was dependent upon her own exertions for a livelihood, was not declined.
That fearful sickly season passed away; but not soon to be forgotten by the survivors, and comparative health and prosperity again dawned upon the town and surrounding country.
The Keiths returned to their old busy cheerful life, and Wallace Ormsby, beloved by the whole family, seemed as one of them. Years of ordinary social intercourse could not have brought him into so close an intimacy with them, and especially with Mildred, as those two weeks in which they two shared the toils, the cares and anxieties of those who watch by beds of sickness that may end in death.
They had learned to know each other's faults and weaknesses, strong points and virtues, and with the knowledge their mutual esteem and admiration had but increased; they had been warm friends before, now they were—not plighted lovers, Ormsby had not spoken yet—but
"To his eye
There was but one beloved face on earth,
And that was shining on him."
Mildred at Roselands
"A sweet attractive kinde of grace,
A full assurance given by lookes.
Continuall comfort in a face
The lineaments of Gospell bookes."
—Mathew Roydon
NOTE.
My story may seem to end somewhat abruptly; but is to be continued in a future volume. The date of this tale is about four years earlier than that of Elsie Dinsmore—the first of the Elsie Series—and any one who cares to know more of the little heiress of Viamede, will find the narrative of her life carried on in those books.
M. F.