"All those downstairs." She shuddered violently.
"Oh, no! Mrs. Hoyt and Willie are almost well. Try to go to sleep again, Clara."
Several minutes glided by; the eyes closed, and, clasping Beulah"s fingers tightly, she asked again:
"Have I had any physician?"
"Yes. I thought it would do no harm to have Dr. Asbury see you,"
answered Beulah carelessly. She saw an expression of disappointment pa.s.s sadly over the girl"s countenance; and, thinking it might be as well to satisfy her at once, she continued, as if speaking on indifferent topics:
"Dr. Hartwell came home since you were taken sick, and called to see you two or three times."
A faint glow tinged the sallow cheek, and while a tremor crept over her lips she said almost inaudibly:
"When will he come again?"
"Before long, I dare say. Indeed, there is his step now. Dr. Asbury is with him."
She had not time to say more, for they came in immediately, and, with a species of pity she noted the smile of pleasure which curved Clara"s mouth as her guardian bent down and spoke to her. While he took her thin hand and fixed his eyes on her face, Dr. Asbury looked over his shoulder, and said bluntly:
"Hurrah for you! All right again, as I thought you would be! Does your head ache at all this morning? Feel like eating half a dozen partridges?"
"She is not deaf," said Dr. Hartwell rather shortly.
"I am not so sure of that; she has been to all my questions lately.
I must see about Carter, below. Beulah, child, you look the worse for your apprenticeship to our profession."
"So do you, sir," said she, smiling as her eyes wandered over his grim visage.
"You may well say that, child. I s.n.a.t.c.hed about two hours" sleep this morning, and when I woke I felt very much like Coleridge"s unlucky sailor:
""I moved, and could not feel my limbs; I was so light--almost, I thought that I had died in sleep, And was a blessed ghost.""
He hurried away to another part of the house, and Beulah went into her own apartment to arrange her hair, which she felt must need attention sadly.
Looking into the gla.s.s she could not forbear smiling at the face which looked back at her, it was so thin and ghastly; even the lips were colorless and the large eyes sunken. She unbound her hair, and had only shaken it fully out, when a knock at her door called her from the gla.s.s. She tossed her hair all back, and it hung like an inky veil almost to the floor, as she opened the door and confronted her guardian.
"Here is some medicine which must be mixed in a tumbler of water. I want a tablespoonful given every hour, unless Clara is asleep. Keep everything quiet."
"Is that all?" said Beulah coolly.
"That is all." He walked off, and she brushed and twisted up her hair, wondering how long he meant to keep up that freezing manner.
It accorded very well with his treatment before his departure for the North, and she sighed as she recalled the brief hour of cordiality which followed his return. She began to perceive that this was the way they were to meet in future; she had displeased him, and he intended that she should feel it. Tears gathered in her eyes, but she drove them scornfully back, and exclaimed indignantly:
"He wants to rule me with a rod of iron, because I am indebted to him for an education and support for several years. As I hope for a peaceful rest hereafter, I will repay him every cent he has expended for music, drawing, and clothing! I will economize until every picayune is returned."
The purse had not been touched, and, hastily counting the contents to see that all the bills were there, she relocked the drawer and returned to the sickroom with anything but a calm face. Clara seemed to be asleep, and, picking up a book, Beulah began to read. A sickroom is always monotonous and dreary, and long confinement had rendered Beulah restless and uncomfortable. Her limbs ached--so did her head, and continued loss of sleep made her nervous to an unusual degree. She longed to open her melodeon and play; this would have quieted her, but of course was not to be thought of, with four invalids in the house and death on almost every square in the city.
She was no longer unhappy about Clara, for there was little doubt that, with care, she would soon be well, and thus drearily the hours wore on. Finally Clara evinced a disposition to talk. Her nurse discouraged it, with exceedingly brief replies; intimating that she would improve her condition by going to sleep. Toward evening Clara seemed much refreshed by a long nap, and took some food which had been prepared for her.
"The sickness is abating, is it not, Beulah?"
"Yes, very perceptibly; but more from lack of fresh victims than anything else. I hope we shall have a white frost soon."
"It has been very horrible! I shudder when I think of it," said Clara.
"Then don"t think of it," answered her companion.
"Oh, how can I help it? I did not expect to live through it. I was sure I should die when that chill came on. You have saved me, dear Beulah!" Tears glistened in her soft eyes.
"No; G.o.d saved you."
"Through your instrumentality," replied Clara, raising her friend"s hand to her lips.
"Don"t talk any more; the doctor expressly enjoined quiet for you."
"I am glad to owe my recovery to him also. How n.o.ble and good he is- -how superior to everybody else!" murmured the sick girl.
Beulah"s lips became singularly compact, but she offered no comment.
She walked up and down the room, although so worn out that she could scarcely keep herself erect. When the doctor came she escaped un.o.bserved to her room, hastily put on her bonnet, and ran down the steps for a short walk. It was perfect Elysium to get out once more under the pure sky and breathe the air, as it swept over the bay, cool, sweet, and invigorating. The streets were still quiet, but hea.r.s.es and carts, filled with coffins, no longer greeted her on every side, and she walked for several squares. The sun went down, and, too weary to extend her ramble, she slowly retraced her steps.
The buggy no longer stood at the door, and, after seeing Mrs. Hoyt and trying to chat pleasantly, she crept back to Clara.
"Where have you been?" asked the latter.
"To get a breath of fresh air and see the sun set."
"Dr. Hartwell asked for you. I did not know what had become of you."
"How do you feel to-night?" said Beulah, laying her hand softly on Clara"s forehead.
"Better, but very weak. You have no idea how feeble I am. Beulah, I want to know whether--"
"You were told to keep quiet, so don"t ask any questions, for I will not answer one."
"You are not to sit up to-night; the doctor said I would not require it."
"Let the doctor go back to the North and theorize in his medical conventions! I shall sleep here by your bed, on this couch. If you feel worse, call me. Now, good-night; and don"t open your lips again." She drew the couch close to the bed, and, shading the lamp, threw her weary frame down to rest; ere long she slept. The pestilential storm had spent its fury. Daily the number of deaths diminished; gradually the pall of silence and desolation which had hung over the city vanished. The streets resumed their usual busy aspect, and the hum of life went forward once more. At length fugitive families ventured home again; and though bands of c.r.a.pe, grim badges of bereavement, met the eye on all sides, all rejoiced that Death had removed his court--that his hideous carnival was over. Clara regained her strength very slowly; and when well enough to quit her room, walked with the slow, uncertain step of feebleness. On the last day of October she entered Beulah"s apartment, and languidly approached the table, where the latter was engaged in drawing.
"Always at work! Beulah, you give yourself no rest. Day and night you are constantly busy."
Apparently this remark fell on deaf ears; for, without replying, Beulah lifted her drawing, looked at it intently, turned it round once or twice, and then resumed her crayon.
"What a hideous countenance! Who is it?" continued Clara.
"Mors."
"She is horrible! Where did you ever see anything like it?"
"During the height of the epidemic I fell asleep for a few seconds, and dreamed that Mors was sweeping down, with extended arms, to s.n.a.t.c.h you. By the clock I had not slept quite two minutes, yet the countenance of Mors was indelibly stamped on my memory, and now I am transferring it to paper. You are mistaken; it is terrible, but not hideous!" Beulah laid aside her pencil, and, leaning her elbows on the table, sat, with her face in her hands, gazing upon the drawing.