Phoebe Deane (27 page)

Nathaniel's face grew suddenly conscious, and a warm glow of indignation rolled over it. He set down his carpetbag and came close to the fence to listen.

"Why, w'd you b'lieve it, thet feller found she liked to go to th' post-office fer a walk, and he jest follered her every time, an' when she quit goin' he hunted up other ways to trouble her. They tell a tale 'bout th' horse runnin' away an' her bein' out in a big storm the night she was took sick, but I b'lieve in my soul he's f th' bottom of it, an' I'd like to see him get his come-uppance right now."

" Miranda, do you happen to know—I don't suppose you ever heard Miss Deane speak of receiving a letter from me."

Miranda's alert eyes were on his face.

" Long 'bout when ? " she demanded, keenly.

" Why last December, I think it was. I wrote her a note and I never received any reply. I wondered if it might have got lost, or whether she did not like my writing it, as I am almost a stranger."

" No, sir-ree, she never got that letter! I know fer sure, 'cause I happened to speak to her 'bout hearin' Hiram Green askin' pertick'ler fer her mail in the post-office one day; and I found out he gets the Deanes' mail quite often an' carries it out to 'em; an' I tole her I thought she wouldn't like him meddlin' with her mail, an' she jest laughed an' said he couldn't do her any harm thet way, cause she never got a letter in her life 'cept one her mother wrote her 'fore she died. Thet was only a little while back, 'bout a month 'er so, 'way after January, fer the snow was most gone the day I tol' her. She can't uv got your letter no how. I'd be willin' to bet a good fat doughnut that the rascally Hiram Green knows what come o' thet letter. My, but I'd like to prove it on him! "

" Oh, Miranda, he would scarcely dare to tamper with another person's mail. He's a well-informed man, and must know that's a crime. He could be put into prison for that. It must have got lost if you are sure she never received it."

" Could he ? " said Miranda, eagerly; " could he be put in prison? My! but I'd like to help get him lodged there fer a spell 'til he learned a little bit o' politeness toward th' angels that walks the earth in mortal form. Dast! Hiram Green dast? He's got cheek enough to dast ennythin'. You don't know him. He wouldn't think any one would find out! But say, I'll tell you what you ken do. You jest write that letter over again, if you ken rem'mber 'bout what you wanted to say b'fore, an' I'll agree to git it to her first hand this time."

Nathaniel's face was alight with the eagerness of a boy. Somehow Miranda's childish proposal was pleasant to him. Her homely, honest face beamed at him expectantly, and he replied with earnestness:

" I'll do it, Miranda, I'll do it this very day, and trust it to your kindness to get it to her safely. Thank you for suggesting it."

Then suddenly a cloud came over the freckled face, and the gray eyes filled with tears again.

" But I mightin't ever git it to 'er, after all, yeh know. They say she's jest hangin' 'tween life 'n death to-day, an' t'night's the crisis."

A cloud seemed suddenly to have passed before the sun again, a chill almost imperceptible came in the air. What was that icy something gripping Nathaniel's heart? Why did all the forces of life and nature seem to hang upon the well-being of this young girl ? He caught his breath.

" We must pray for her, Miranda, you and I," he said, gravely; "she once promised to pray for me."

" Did she ? " said Miranda, looking up with solemn awe through her tears. " I'm real glad you tole me that. I'll try, but I ain't much on things like that. I could wallup Hiram Green a grea' deal better'n I could pray; but I s'pose that wouldn't do no good, so I'll do my best at the prayin'. Ef it's kind of botched up mebbe yours'll make up fer it. But say you better write that letter right off. I've heard tell there's things like thet'll help when crisises comes. I'm goin' t' make it a pint t' git up there t'night, spite o' that ole Mis' Deane, an' ef I see a chance I'll give it to her. I kind of think it might please her to have a letter t'git well fer."

" I'll do it, Miranda, I'll do it at once, and bring it around to you before dark. But you must be careful not to trouble her with it till she is able. You know it might make her worse to be bothered with any excitement like a letter from a stranger."

" I'll use my bes' jedgment," said Miranda, with happy pride. " I ain't runnin' no resks, so you needn't worry."

With a new interest in his face Nathaniel grasped his carpet-bag and hurried to his uncle's house. He found Janet ready with a joyful welcome, but he showed more anxiety to get to his room than to talk with her.

" I suppose it was dusty on the road to-day," she conceded, unwillingly, "but hurry back. I've a great deal to ask you, and to tell; and I want you all to myself before your friend comes."

But once in his room he forgot dust and sat down immediately to the great mahogany desk where paper and pens were just as he had left them when he went away. Janet had to call twice before he made his appearance, for he was deep in writing a letter.

" My dear Miss Deane," he wrote. " They tell me you are lying very ill and I feel as if I must write a few words to tell you how anxious and sad I am about you. I want you to know that I am praying that you may get well.

" I wrote you sometime ago asking if you were willing to correspond with me, but I have reason now to think you never received my letter, so I have ventured to write again. I know it may be sometime before you are able even to read this, but I am sending it by a trusty messenger and I am sure you will let me know my answer when you are better. It will be a great source of pleasure and profit to me if you will write to me sometimes.

"Yours faithfully,

" Nathaniel Graham."

He folded and addressed it, sealing it with his crest, and then Janet called for the second time:

" Yes, Janet, I'm coming now, really. I had to write a letter. I am sorry, but it couldn't wait."

" Oh, how poky! Always business, business! " cried Janet. " It is well your friend is coming to-night for it is plain to be seen we shall have no good of you. How is it that you have grown old and grave so soon, Nathaniel? I thought you would stay a boy a long time."

" Just wait until I send my letter, Janet, and I will be as young as you please for two whole days."

" Let Caesar take it for you, then. There is no need for you to go."

"I would rather take it myself, cousin," he said, and she knew by his look that he would have his way.

" Well, then, I will go with you," she pouted, and taking her sunshade from the hall table unfurled its rosy whiteness.

He was somewhat dismayed at this, but making the best of it smiled good-humoredly and together they went out into the summer street and walked beneath the long arch of maples newly dressed in green.

"But this is not the way to the post-office," she cried, when they had walked some distance.

" But this is the way for my letter," he said, pleasantly. " Now, Janet, what have you to ask me so insistently ? "

" About this Martin friend of yours. Is he nice ? That is, will I like him? It isn't enough that you like him, for you like some very stupid people sometimes. I want to know if I will like him."

" And how should I be able to tell that, Janet ? Of one thing I am sure, he will have to like you," and he surveyed his handsome cousin admiringly. " That's a very pretty sunshade you have. May I carry it for you ? "

" Well, after that pleasant speech perhaps you may," she said, surrendering it. " About this young man, is it really true, Nathaniel, that he is a minister, and that he is to preach for Dr. MacFarlane while the doctor goes to visit his daughter? Father thought you had arranged for that. You see it is very important that I like him, because if I don't I simply cannot go to church and hear him preach. In fact I'm not sure but I shall stay away anyway. I should be so afraid he'd break down if I liked him, and if I didn't I should want to laugh. It will be so funny to see a minister at home every day, and know all his faults and his little peculiarities, and then see him get up and try to preach. I'm sure I should laugh."

" I am sure you would dare do nothing of the kind when Martin preaches."

" Oh, is he then so terribly grave and solemn ? I shall not like him in the least."

" Wait until he comes, Janet. The evening coach will soon be in."

They had reached the Spafford house now, and Nathaniel's anxiety about delivering his letter was relieved by seeing Miranda hurry out to the flower-bed again with a manner as if the demand for fresh flowers had suddenly become greater than the supply. She was quite close to the fence as they came up, but she remained unconscious of their presence until Nathaniel spoke.

" Is that you, Miss Miranda ? " he said, lifting his hat as though he had not seen her before that afternoon. " Will you kindly deliver this letter for me ? "

He handed her the letter directly from his pocket, and Janet could not see the address. Miranda took it serenely.

" Yes, sir," she said, scrutinizing the address at a safe angle from Janet's vision, "I'll deliver it safe an' sure. Afternoon, Mis' Janet. Like a bunch o' pink columbine to stick in yer frock? Jes' matches them posies on the muslin delaine." And she snapped off a fine whirl of delicate pink columbine. Janet accepted it graciously and the two turned back home again.

" Now I can't see why Caesar couldn't have done that," grumbled Janet. " He's just as trustworthy as that funny red-haired girl."

"You would not have got your columbine," smiled Nathaniel, " and I'm sure it was just what you needed to complete the picture."

" Now for that pretty speech I'll say no more about it," granted Mistress Janet, well pleased.

And so they walked along the shaded street, where the sunlight was beginning to lie in long slant rays on the pavement and play strange yellow fancies with the smart new leaves of the maples. Nathaniel talked as he knew his cousin liked to have him do, and all the time she never knew that his heart had gone with the letter he had given to Miranda. Perhaps it was her interest in the stranger who was coming that kept her from missing something. Perhaps it was his light-hearted manner, so free from the perplexing problems that had filled his face with gravity on his recent visits. Perhaps it was just Janet's own happy heart, glad with the gladness of life and the summer weather, and the holiday guests.

Yet underneath Nathaniel's gay manner there ran two thoughts side by side—one, the fact that Miranda had said Phoebe had repulsed Hiram Green; the other, that she was lying at death's door; and all the time his strong heart was going out in a wild, hopeful pleading that her young life might yet be spared to joy. He felt that this mute pleading was her due, for had she not lifted her clear eyes and said, " Oh, I will," when he had asked her to pray for him ? He must return it in full measure.

The evening coach was late, but it rolled in at last, bringing the eagerly-watched-for guest, bronzed from his months in the South. The dinner was served around a joyous board, the Judge beaming his pleasure upon the little company. The evening was prolonged far beyond the usual retiring hour, while laughter and talk floated on around him, and all the time Nathaniel was conscious of that other house but two miles away, where life and death were battling for a victim.

He went upstairs with Martin for another talk after the house was quiet, but at last they separated; and Nathaniel was free to sit by the window in his dark room looking out into the night now grown brilliant with the late rising moon, and keep tryst with one who was hovering on the brink of the other world.

CHAPTER XXI

" I'M a notion to go up an' stay there t'night! " announced Miranda, as she cleared off the tea things. " This's the crisis, an' they might need me fer sumthin'. Any how I'm a 'goin' ef you don't mind."

"Will they let you in?" asked Marcia.

" I shan't ask 'em," said Miranda, loftily. " There's more ways 'n one o' gettin' in, an' ef I make up my mind to git there you'll see I'll do it."

Marcia laughed.

" I suppose you will, Miranda. Well, go on. You may be needed. Poor Phoebe! I wish there was something I could do for her."

" Wai, thur is," said Miranda, with unexpected vim. " I've took a contrac' thet I don't seem to make much headway on. I'd like to hev you take a little try at it, an' see ef you can't do better. I 'greed t' pray fer Phcebe Deane, but t' save my life I can't think uv any more ways uv sayin' it thun jest to ast, an' after I've done it oncet it don't seem quite p'lite to keep at it, z' if I didn't b'lieve 'twas heard. The minister preached awhile back 'bout the 'fectual fervent prayer uv a righteous man 'vailin' much, but he didn't say nothin' T)out a red-headed woman. I reckon I ain't much good at prayin', fer I'm all wore out with it, but ef you'd jest spell me a while, an' lemme go see ef thur ain't sumpthin' to do, I think it would be a sight more 'availin' than fer me to set still an' jest pray; 'sides, ef you ain't better 'n most any righteous man I ever see, I'll miss my guess."

Thus the responsibility was divided, and Marcia with a smile upon her lips and a tear in her eye went away to pray, while Miranda tied on her bonnet, tucked the letter safely in her pocket after examining its seals and address most minutely, and went her way into the night.

She did not go to the front door, but stole around to the wood-shed where with the help of a milking-stool which stood there she mounted to the low roof. Strong of limb and courageous she found the climb nothing. She crept softly along the roof till she reached Phoebe's window, and crouched to listen. The window was open but a little way, though the night was warm and dry.