"Oh, Hannah, I know it; but it is killing me!"
These words were surprised from the poor girl; for the very next instant her waxen cheeks, brow, neck, and very ears kindled up into fiery blushes, and hiding her face in her hands she sank down in her chair overwhelmed.
Hannah watched, and then went to her, and began to caress her, saying:
"Nora, Nora, dear; Nora, love; Nora, my own darling, look up!"
"Don"t speak to me; I am glad he does not come; never mention his name to me again, Hannah," said the stricken girl, in a low, peremptory whisper.
Hannah felt that this order must be obeyed, and so she went back to her loom and worked on in silence.
After a few minutes Nora arose and resumed her spinning, and for some time the wheel whirled briskly and merrily around. But towards the middle of the day it began to turn slowly and still more slowly.
At length it stopped entirely, and the spinner said:
"Hannah, I feel very tired; would you mind if I should lay down a little while?"
"No, certainly not, my darling. Are you poorly, Nora?"
"No, I am quite well, only tired," replied the girl, as she threw herself upon the bed.
Perhaps Hannah had made a fatal mistake in saying to her sister, "He will never come again," and so depriving her of the last frail plank of hope, and letting her sink in the waves of despair. Perhaps, after all, suspense is not the worst of all things to bear; for in suspense there is hope, and in hope, life! Certain it is that a prop seemed withdrawn from Nora, and from this day she rapidly sunk. She would not take to her bed. Every morning she would insist upon rising and dressing, though daily the effort was more difficult. Every day she would go to her wheel and spin slowly and feebly, until by fatigue she was obliged to stop and throw herself upon the bed. To all Hannah"s anxious questions she answered:
"I am very well! indeed there is nothing ails me; only I am so tired!"
One day about this time Reuben Gray called to see Hannah. Reuben was one of the most discreet of lovers, never venturing to visit his beloved more than once in each month.
"Look at Nora!" said Hannah, in a heart-broken tone, as she pointed to her sister, who was sitting at her wheel, not spinning, but gazing from the window down the narrow footpath, and apparently lost in mournful reverie.
"I"ll go and fetch a medical man," said Reuben, and he left the hut for that purpose.
But distances from house to house in that spa.r.s.ely settled neighborhood were great, and doctors were few and could not be had the moment they were called for. So it was not until the next day that Doctor Potts, the round-bodied little medical attendant of the neighborhood, made his appearance at the hut.
He was welcomed by Hannah, who introduced him to her sister.
Nora received his visit with a great deal of nervous irritability, declaring that nothing at all ailed her, only that she was tired.
"Tired," repeated the doctor, as he felt her pulse and watched her countenance. "Yes, tired of living! a serious fatigue this, Hannah. Her malady is more on the mind than the body! You must try to rouse her, take her into company, keep her amused. If you were able to travel, I should recommend change of scene; but of course that is out of the question. However, give her this, according to the directions. I will call in again to see her in a few days." And so saying, the doctor left a bottle of medicine and took his departure.
That day the doctor had to make a professional visit of inspection to the negro quarters at Brudenell Hall; so he mounted his fat little white cob and trotted down the hill in the direction of the valley.
When he arrived at Brudenell Hall he was met by Mrs. Brudenell, who said to him:
"Dr. Potts, I wish before you leave, you would see my son. I am seriously anxious about his health. He objected to my sending for you; but now that you are here on a visit to the quarters, perhaps his objections may give way."
"Very well, madam; but since he does not wish to be attended, perhaps he had better not know that my visit is to him; I will just make you a call as usual."
"Join us at lunch, doctor, and you can observe him at your leisure."
"Thank you, madam. What seems the matter with Mr. Brudenell?"
"A general failure without any particular disease. If it were not that I know better, I would say that something lay heavily upon his mind."
"Humph! a second case of that kind to-day! Well, madam, I will join you at two o"clock," said the doctor, as he trotted off towards the negro quarters.
Punctually at the hour the doctor presented himself at the luncheon table of Mrs. Brudenell. There were present Mrs. Brudenell, her two daughters, her son, and a tall, dark, distinguished looking man, whom the lady named as Colonel Mervin.
The conversation, enlivened by a bottle of fine champagne, flowed briskly and cheerfully around the table. But through all the doctor watched Herman Brudenell. He was indeed changed. He looked ill, yet he ate, drank, laughed, and talked with the best there. But when his eye met that of the doctor fixed upon him, it flashed with a threatening glance that seemed to repel scrutiny.
The doctor, to turn the attention of the lady from her son, said:
"I was at the hut on the hill to-day. One of those poor girls, the youngest, Nora, I think they call her, is in a bad way. She seems to me to be sinking into a decline." As he said this he happened to glance at Herman Brudenell. That gentleman"s eyes were fixed upon his with a gaze of wild alarm, but they sank as soon as noticed.
"Poor creatures! that cla.s.s of people scarcely ever get enough to eat or drink, and thus so many of them die of decline brought on from insufficiency of nourishment. I will send a bag of flour up to the hut to-morrow," said Mrs. Brudenell complacently.
Soon after they all arose from the table.
The little doctor offered his arm to Mrs. Brudenell, and as they walked to the drawing-room he found an opportunity of saying to her:
"It is, I think, as you surmised. There is something on his mind. Try to find out what it is. That is my advice. It is of no use to tease him with medical attendance."
When they reached the drawing room they found the boy with the mail bag waiting for his mistress. She quickly unlocked and distributed its contents.
"Letters for everybody except myself! But here is a late copy of the "London Times" with which I can amuse myself while you look over your epistles, ladies and gentlemen," said Mrs. Brudenell, as she settled herself to the perusal of her paper. She skipped the leader, read the court circular, and was deep in the column of casualties, when she suddenly cried out:
"Good Heaven, Herman! what a catastrophe!"
"What is it, mother?"
"A collision on the London and Brighton Railway, and ever so many killed or wounded, and--Gracious goodness!"
"What, mother?"
"Among those instantly killed are the Marquis and Marchioness of Brambleton and the Countess of Hurstmonceux!"
"No!" cried the young man, rushing across the room, s.n.a.t.c.hing the paper from his mother"s hand, and with starting eyes fixed upon the paragraph that she hastily pointed out, seeming to devour the words.
A few days after this Nora Worth sat propped up in an easy-chair by the open window that commanded the view of the Forest Valley and of the opposite hill crowned with the splendid mansion of Brudenell Hall.
But Nora was not looking upon this view; at least except upon a very small part of it--namely, the little narrow footpath that led down her own hill and was lost in the shade of the valley. The doctor"s prescriptions had done Nora no good; how should they? Could he, more than others, "minister to a mind diseased"? In a word, she had now grown so weak that the spinning was entirely set aside, and she pa.s.sed her days propped up in the easy-chair beside the window, through which she could watch that little path, which was now indeed so disused, so neglected and gra.s.s grown, as to be almost obliterated.
Suddenly, while Nora"s eyes were fixed abstractedly upon this path, she uttered a great cry and started to her feet.
Hannah stopped the clatter of her shuttle to see what was the matter.
Nora was leaning from the window, gazing breathlessly down the path.
"What is it, Nora, my dear? Don"t lean so far out; you will fall! What is it?"