Chapter 36

One bright summer morning, while the dew still glistened like diamonds on grass blades and flower petals, Dexie and her father were to be seen walking quickly in the direction of the depot, and, on arriving there, were surprised to see Mr. Traverse waiting on the platform.

"What, Traverse, are you off this morning too?" said Mr. Sherwood.

"Yes, I have business in Boston; some machinery to order. And you, Miss Dexie, are you going on a journey as well?"

"Oh, no; I have come to see papa safely on board the train, and to jog his memory about a few trifles I want him to bring me home from the Hub."

"Ha, ha; a few trifles, indeed! If you expect me to bring back half the things you have mentioned, you had better come along with me, for I've forgotten them already," her father laughingly replied.

"I thought that would be the way," Dexie replied with a smile, "but you will not get off so easily as you think. Here is my book, and the list is on the last pages, so you have no excuse to forget one of the articles, papa," and she slipped the little book inside his vest-pocket.

"Glad to have your company, Traverse. How long do you stay?"

"Well, I am not particular to a day or two. I expect to be ready to return on Friday."

"And this is Monday; well, we can arrange to return together, so, Dexie, you can make your mind easy. Your old dad will have someone to look after him both ways."

"That is very nice. Take good care of him, Mr. Traverse," and she gave him her hand as he said good-bye.

Her father bent his head and kissed her, saying playfully:

"Now, don't run off with the gardener, or do any other dreadful thing while I am gone, and I will try and get your commissions filled, even to the box of chocolates."

They stepped on the cars, and with the usual ear-splitting shriek the train moved away, leaving Dexie on the platform looking after them. The two men stood at the rear door and waved a farewell, and Dexie returned home, never thinking that she had seen her father well and strong for the last time.

Mr. Sherwood had not been away from home since they had moved to Lennoxville, and Dexie planned to have a dainty repast awaiting his return, and she was in the kitchen when a telegraph messenger appeared at the door.

"A telegram for Mrs. Sherwood, and one for Miss Dexie Sherwood."

Dexie tore hers open, and her heart seemed to stop beating as she read:

"There has been an accident, and your father is hurt, but not fatally. He cannot be moved at present. Can you come at once?

"GUY TRAVERSE."

Dexie rushed up the stairs, her white face telling of trouble, and as soon as her mother saw her she asked in alarm:

"What is it, Dexie? What has happened?"

"Dear mamma, come back into the room, and I will tell you. There has been an accident, and papa is hurt. Oh, mamma, do not scream so! No, he is not killed; do not say it. Oh, hush! let me open your message. Mine is from Mr. Traverse, and he says papa is hurt and cannot be moved. Oh, mamma! do not scream so. You will terrify the children and make yourself ill."

"Oh, he is dead! My husband is killed!" she cried. "Why has this dreadful calamity come upon me?" and she wrung her hands and wept aloud.

"Oh, mamma, you _must_ stop! Listen: this is what your message says, and it is signed by a railroad official:

'There has been a collision, and your husband is injured. It is impossible to move him in his present condition, but everything possible shall be done for his comfort and relief.'"

"Oh, mamma! let us go to him at once."

"Dexie, do you want to kill me? I could not survive the journey in the present state of my nerves; and does not the message say that everything shall be done for him? What could I do more?"

Another peal of the bell, and Dexie flew down to the door, where a brass-buttoned youth presented himself.

"I am sent to say that there is a train starting for the scene of the collision in fifteen minutes. If there is anyone here going down, they will have to hurry."

Dexie rushed back to her mother's side.

"Oh, mamma, I must go to him! Can you go, too? Say quickly, mamma!"

"Oh, I shall die! I shall die!" and Mrs. Sherwood fell back on the sofa in violent hysterics.

This was answer enough, and Dexie rushed to her own room, calling loudly for Eliza.

Gussie ran up the stairs at that moment, saying wildly: "Oh, Dexie, is it true? Is papa hurt?"

"Yes, Gussie, and I am going to him. Run to mamma; I cannot delay a moment. Here, Eliza," as the frightened domestic appeared, "put those things into this travelling-bag while I tell you what you are to do. Papa is hurt, and I have barely time to catch the train. You must run for Mrs. Jarvis as soon as I am done with you, and tell her to come and stay with mamma; then hurry along for the doctor--he will give mamma something to quiet her. Tell Mrs. Jarvis I leave everything in her care till I return, and say that she must fix up the back parlor all ready for papa, in case he can be brought home. She will know what to do. Now, I must go. I am sure I can trust you to do your best, Eliza, till I get back. I do not know when that will be."

She arrived at the depot hot and breathless, but in time to take her place among the number who, with white, sad faces and tear-dimmed eyes, were on their way to claim the forms of loved ones, or to comfort and relieve those whose lives had been spared them. The first tears she shed were those that fell when she recognized Edith Wolcott and her brother among the passengers.

"Dexie, you here, and alone!" was Edith's greeting, and the answer was a flood of relief-giving tears.

"Papa is hurt," she sobbed, as Edith inquired why she was on the train.

"I am so sorry; but perhaps it is not as bad as you fear. We expected Aunt Eunice would arrive by that train. We do not know that she really was a passenger, but I could not rest at home till I knew the truth!" Edith exclaimed. "Mr. Traverse was to have returned to-day," she added. "Did you hear if he was hurt?"

Dexie did not know, but thought not, as he had sent her the message concerning her father.

They relapsed into silence, except when someone would voice the sentiments in the heart of each and say, with a sigh, "How slowly the train moves along!" Yet they were travelling very rapidly, and in due time they arrived at the scene of the wreck.

Such a spectacle Dexie had never seen. Cars were piled upon one another in a confused mass, and she wondered how anyone had escaped alive from the broken timbers that had formed the cars.

She seemed to know instinctively which way to turn in search of her father, but she had only made a few steps when she met Mr. Traverse looking for her.

"Do not be alarmed, Miss Dexie; I am not so bad as I look," he said, reassuringly, as Dexie started at the sight of his bandaged head and splintered arm. "I have an ugly scalp wound, and that makes the bandages necessary, and my broken arm is nothing. Now, be brave," he said, as they stopped before the door of the house where her father had been taken. "He has been suffering great pain and looks badly, and he will not be able to see you unless you are calm. The doctor is with him now. I will go and see if you can come in."

"Do not keep me waiting, Mr. Traverse. I will be quiet. Indeed, you can trust me," and she lifted a white face, full of entreaty, to his gaze.

"My brave little girl!" was Guy's inward comment. "It is just as well that she came alone, for no one else in the family has self-control enough to bear this."

In a few minutes Guy returned and conducted her to her father's side, and she bent over him and kissed his white face tenderly.

"Dear papa, I have come to stay with you. What can I do to help you?" and she laid her hand in his. "Mamma feels too badly to come just now, dear papa."

The quiet manner in which she removed her hat and cloak and then returned to the bedside to await the doctor's orders impressed the latter favorably, and with a few words of instruction to Mr. Traverse he departed to see his other waiting charges.

They were sad and anxious days that followed, for it was feared that Mr. Sherwood might not, after all, survive the shock; but Dexie never lost heart, and was rewarded, after many days, by hearing the welcome news that her father could safely be moved to his home.

Traverse had proved himself a helpful and faithful friend, and more than one broken-hearted person blessed him for his ready help and sympathy, for the accident had been attended with much loss of life and had spread mourning into many homes.

Dexie had written twice daily to her mother; but having once mentioned the fact that the few houses in the vicinity of the accident were filled with maimed and wounded who were too ill to be sent to their homes, Mrs. Sherwood considered it impossible for her to witness the sight, and Dexie advised her to stay at home. She was well aware that the distressing sights and sounds which were to be witnessed hourly in every house would have such an effect on her mother that her presence would be more hurtful than beneficial to her father in his present condition.

Dexie was very anxious to know if everything was in readiness for her father's arrival, and Mr. Traverse relieved her anxiety by offering to go to the house with the family doctor and make everything sure, and then return and accompany them home.

It was with a feeling of shame that she gave her last message to him as he was about to leave her.

"Will you be kind enough to tell Dr. Brown how necessary it will be for papa to come home to a quiet house; and if mamma is not able to bear the sight of his arrival, will he see that she is not at home just at the time? He will understand and can manage it, I am sure."

Traverse looked at her in surprise.

"Mamma is apt to be hysterical, and papa will be too tired with the journey to bear any unusual excitement. I dread the time of his arrival at the house more than I do the rest of the journey; but it must be managed quietly, somehow. It would take so little to set him back when he is so weak."

"It shall be managed quietly, Miss Dexie, so do not be anxious; I will see that your father has every chance," and he turned away, wondering at the care and tact that could see and overrule the want of thought in others, when age and experience should have given others the self-control that was so wonderful to see in a girl of her years.

Mr. Sherwood bore the journey much better than they expected, and they carried him to the room which, by Dexie's forethought, had been provided with everything that could add to his comfort. The house was quiet and still, and a good hour's rest fortified him for the visit that his wife must soon make to his room.

Mrs. Sherwood had been persuaded into taking a drive with the doctor's wife about the time the train was expected, and she had been kept away long enough for Mr. Sherwood to rally from the fatigue of the journey. Gussie, with the rest of the family, had witnessed his arrival from an upper window, and wept sorely at seeing her father carried into the house on a bed, remembering how well and strong he had walked out of it a few short weeks before.

When Mrs. Sherwood arrived, and found that her husband had been brought home in her absence, she felt very much hurt, and she entered the room subdued and quiet; but when she beheld the change that had taken place in her strong, robust husband since she had last seen him, nothing but the doctor's presence prevented her from throwing herself across the bed. She dropped to her knees by the bedside, with a wail of despair, and Gussie's sobs were added to the moans that came from the lips of the kneeling wife. Dexie bent over her sister, saying firmly:

"You must either control yourself or leave the room. Can't you see how it distresses papa?"

Guy Traverse led the sobbing girl out of the room at last, and his kind words of comfort did much to help Gussie overcome her violent grief. He was fast recovering from his own wounds, and he made himself very useful in spite of his one-armed condition--for he still wore his broken arm in a sling. Dexie was not blind to the excellent traits of character he had displayed during the trying weeks past, but when she endeavored to express her thanks he stopped her with a word.

Weeks passed, and Mr. Sherwood's progress was so slow as to damp all hopes as to his ultimate recovery.

"I must know the truth," he said one morning, when the doctor made his usual visit; "it is no kindness to keep me in ignorance of my true condition. If I am not likely to rise from this bed a well man, then it is time I settled my business; so tell me what you think, Dr. Brown."

But it is not easy to get a doctor's opinion, and at last it was decided to send for the famous Dr. Jacobs, and have a consultation.

"Well, have the consultation as soon as possible, for this uncertainty is harder to bear than the knowledge of a speedy death," said Mr. Sherwood.

Oh, the agony of that hour, when Dexie waited, with the rest of the family, the verdict of the assembled doctors. As she knelt by her bed, her face buried in the pillows, she felt as if the worst could not be much harder to bear than this dreadful suspense. She dreaded the sound that would summon her to her father's bedside, yet, when it came, she rose to obey with a firm step, though the white face, from which her eyes shone almost black in their intensity, was proof of the anxiety that filled her heart.

"My dear little girl," and her father pressed the hand she laid in his, "it is not so bad as we feared, after all. Dr. Brown, will you go and tell my wife? Dexie, do you think you will get tired waiting on me if I have to lie here a few more months?"

"Oh, papa!" She could not restrain the tears that sprang to her eyes, so she laid her head on the pillow beside him until she could lift a quiet face.

"Don't fret, Dexie, dear!" and he fondly stroked the head so near him.

"I am likely to live for months, and you are such a capital little nurse that it will not be such a hardship to spend the rest of my life on my back."

Yes, that was the verdict. Mr. Sherwood could never hope to walk again or be a well man; but he would probably live for some time, his splendid constitution being in his favor.

This was hard news for the family; but they had feared the worst, and so felt thankful for the extended time that might intervene before the end would come.

Mrs. Sherwood engaged the assistance of Mrs. Jarvis, an excellent nurse, to attend on her husband; and as Dexie shared the nursing and relieved Mrs. Jarvis, Mrs. Sherwood considered she had done her duty well and faithfully. She did not feel strong enough to do very much of the laborious part of nursing, but she was willing to make her appearance in the sick-room when the patient was at his best. She had been present once when her husband had been seized with a paroxysm of pain, and was so terrified and overcome that she felt more than willing to leave her husband to the care of those who were "so hard-hearted that they could witness such suffering," and still be able to administer the necessary relief.

As the weeks passed by and Mr. Sherwood grew no worse, it seemed impossible to think that the "grim messenger" was really lurking in the shadow, for he bore his illness with such patience and cheerfulness that only those who were constantly about him realized how he really suffered.

Mr. Traverse was always a welcome visitor, for Mr. Sherwood could never forget that awful moment when death stared them both in the face, and how Traverse had kept the flying timbers from crashing into his pinioned body, receiving on his own head and arm the blows he might have escaped.

Dexie had listened with averted face and tear-dimmed eyes to the story as it fell from her father's lips, and she found it hard to meet her hero without betraying something of the feeling which his noble conduct had awakened in her heart.

His frequent visits were both a joy and a pain to her, though why she felt glad to hear his step, yet dreaded to meet his glance, she could not have explained.

Gussie was able now to meet Mr. Traverse without that feeling of mortification which she experienced after she had read his love-letter before her guests. His manner to her was as kind and respectful as ever, and she hoped he had almost forgotten the circumstance. How often that thoughtless act had been regretted no one knew but herself. There was no chance of adding his name to her list of admirers, for he kept her at a distance, even when his manner was most kind. She often wondered if his _city girl_, as she styled her, had yet relented, or if he had given up all hope of winning her. How he must have cared for her to write such a letter!

If she had learned the true facts of the case, and found out that the letter was really Dexie's, as she at first supposed, she would have put aside the fact that her conduct was none the less reprehensible, and would have used all her arts to win him to her side. As it was, she was more willing to sit by her father's side during the time Mr. Traverse was present than at any other time during the day.

One evening when Mr. Traverse was sitting by Mr. Sherwood's bedside, Gussie also being in the room, one of those sudden attacks that always came on without a moment's warning seized upon Mr. Sherwood, and Mr. Traverse was so alarmed that for a moment he lost his presence of mind; but Gussie's shrill screams, as she rushed out of the room, aroused him. Something should be done for the sufferer, he knew not what, and reaching for the bell-cord that hung over the head of the bed he gave it a hasty pull, and as he did so Dexie was beside him.

She took in the situation at a glance, her rapid movements relieving Mr. Traverse from the fear and apprehension that had seized him, and the means of relief were soon at hand.

"Raise his head on your arm a moment," she said, coming quickly to the bedside. "Not quite so much; there. I must get this into his mouth somehow. Thank you. Now, lay him down very carefully." A practical knowledge of what was required made her movements swift, though quiet, and she worked about him with a firm, steady hand. She was able to witness her father's agony and still keep her wits about her; but this was positive proof to her mother that Dexie had "no feelings."

Mr. Sherwood was soon able to look the thanks he could not express, and Dexie took a fan that lay near at hand and began, with a gentle motion, to fan her father's flushed face. Guy noticed for the first time that the tears were flowing down her cheeks, though she gave no sign of her distress, nor made any movement to wipe them away lest that act should betray them.

"Let me do that much, Dexie?" was the low, whispered words, as he took the fan from Dexie's fingers.

He drew a chair softly to the bedside, and kept up the gentle motion until Guy felt assured that the sufferer was asleep.

Dexie was kneeling by the bedside, intently watching her father's face through her tears, and she started when Guy laid his hand across her clasped palms, and whispered, "Come away, Dexie; he is sleeping."

She rose at his bidding, and he drew her to the window.

"This has been very hard on you, Dexie, and you have borne it bravely," he whispered softly, holding her trembling hands in his own. "Do not try to hide the tears from me. Am I not your friend?"

The touch of his hand and the tenderness of his voice touched a chord in Dexie's heart and sent a thrill through every nerve, and she raised her eyes to his for one brief moment; but in that short time she read a story that might have filled a volume, and no one could now say of her that "her heart had not yet awakened," for she knew the truth at last.

The appearance of Mrs. Jarvis at this moment was a welcome relief to Dexie, and giving a hasty account of her father's late attack she hurried from the room. She felt she must get away from everyone and face this new thing that had come upon her.

As she passed into the hall she found Guy Traverse waiting for her.

"May I ask for a few minutes, Miss Dexie?" he asked, in a low voice. "I have something I would like to say to you to-night."

"Please excuse me to-night, Mr. Traverse," she replied, without lifting her eyes. "I do not feel able to see anyone just now."

"Some other time, Dexie, then. Good-night," and he held her hand one moment in his, and turned to leave the house.

He did not seem particularly pleased to find Gussie waiting at the parlor door for him; but he intended to pass on and go home.

"Oh! Mr. Traverse you are not going home so soon, surely!" she cried. "I wanted your opinion of a new book that was sent to me to-day. Is papa not better?" seeing the altered expression on his face.

"Yes, he is better now, I believe, but you must excuse me to-night, Miss Sherwood; your book must wait for some future time. Good evening," and the door closed softly behind him.

As Guy turned the corner of the house, intending to take a short cut to his hotel through the back garden, there issued from an open window such music as Guy had never heard before--so soft, so sad, yet so exquisitely sweet that he stopped for a moment to listen. He had often listened to Dexie's playing; but he never had heard her play a piece like that, and he drew nearer the window.

He could see her through the thin curtain that hid him from view; and as he stood and watched her, he wondered what it was that had the power to call up such an expression to her face. But as he looked the music suddenly ceased, and Dexie's face was buried in her hands, and he could hear the sobs that shook her frame. He longed to speak to her, yet dared not. He knew he had no right even to witness her emotion, and he turned silently and sadly away. Could he have been mistaken, after all? That one brief moment when Dexie had looked into his eyes he felt sure of her love, and his heart had throbbed with joy; and but for that interruption he might even now be holding her against his breast, while he poured into her ears the story of his love.

But her tears and grief seemed a denial of his hopes. Had thoughts of her absent lover given her that glorified look on which he had based his hopes?

If Guy Traverse had been permitted to read a part of the letter which Dexie penned that evening before retiring, he would not have waited so long before testing the value of his hopes, for he would have guessed the meaning of the words sent to "the lover over the sea."

"I have thought several times lately that you are not so open and frank with me as you used to be. Are you keeping something from me, Lancy? I wonder if you have found out the truth of the words I said to you in Halifax. Do not forget that it was to be 'honor bright' between us. I am beginning to hope that my surmises are correct, but I know it is hardly fair to force a confession from you that I shrink from making myself. It may be true that 'open confession is good for the soul,' but I find it is particularly mortifying to the body.

"But I have been talking to you through the piano to-night, Lancy, and I must set down in writing a little of what is in my mind, for I have to confess to you, Lancy, that I can no longer _honestly_ keep the ring that has stood 'for a sign between me and thee.' Now, do not mistake me, dear Lancy. I have heard no word of love from any man's lips since I left you, but for all that I have met someone that will always stand between you and me, and I really have little to tell you, only that under the conditions I cannot keep the ring any longer. Will you release me from any promise I may have given you, and tell me truly if you are not pleased that I asked for the release? You must not think that I have ceased to care for you, for there are times, when I am at the piano, that I would give all I ever possessed to have you beside me, and I have missed you more than I can tell. I see now that more than one kind of love can find room in the heart at one and the same time. Now, Lancy, if I have made a mistake in thinking that you may have had the same experience as myself, and this confession of mine grieves you, I will keep my promise still, _if you wish it_. I shall look anxiously for your answer."

But if Guy Traverse had no knowledge of this letter he was present when Gussie held out the answer across the table, with the words:

"Here is an extra heavy letter from over the sea, Dexie, and that bold handwriting tells the identity of the writer at a glance, so there is no use to deny that it is from Lancy Gurney."

Guy saw no hope for him in the flushed face, and Dexie hurried from the room as soon as she had grasped the letter from Gussie's hand.

But Guy Traverse had no need to be so cast down, if he had only known it, for the letter said:

"I begin to fear that you are gifted with second-sight, and it is with shame I confess that I have not kept 'honor bright' with you. I was afraid you would not understand if I began to explain the matter, but your own confession has made it easier. I can hardly tell you what has happened, Dexie--it has all come about so suddenly that I hardly realize it myself; but I was thrown from a vicious horse while visiting at a country-seat, and was taken up insensible, and when I opened my eyes I found a sweet heart bending over me; but believe me, Dexie, I did not know it was so until her own lips confessed it, and she has become very dear to me since. But I have been in misery when I thought how you would despise me, and I feared your scorn. I shall always care for you, Dexie, as you care for me, and I am glad to know that the music still holds us together. I have a request to make, and if you will grant it I shall know that the admission in this letter has not wounded you. Do not send back the ring, but keep it and wear it occasionally. I have had a counterpart made of the little charm which I enclose in this, and I shall always keep it in memory of the happy hours we have spent together."

Dexie read this letter over a good many times before she laid it away under lock and key; but when she did so she took from its hiding-place the ring she had not looked at for months, and slipped it upon her finger.

"Yes, I will keep it and wear it, now that it means only friendship; of course he does not wish to have it back. I am so glad he has found someone else. He will never forget me, I am sure--I know that by my own feelings for him; but if he had kept me to my promise I--" but she finished the sentence in the innermost recesses of her heart.

Dexie's reply gave Lancy a feeling of relief. He must explain to his parents the change in his feelings, and he feared they would consider that he had wronged Dexie Sherwood; but her letters would prove the contrary, for did she not say:

"Your ring is on my finger as I write, and I never wore it with more willingness and pleasure than I do now, when it tells only of freedom and friendship. I have had those words engraved on the inside of the ring. Will you do the same with the token of friendship which you say you possess? I was sorry to hear you had taken the trouble to get one made after the same pattern, and I have a little scold all ready for you. Do not hide from your ladylove till after your marriage the little romance 'between me and thee.' Believe me, it will sound much better if told beforehand. I am pleased to hear that your prospects are so bright, but you did not tell me half enough about your pretty English lassie, or in what direction her talents lie, but I can well believe that I am far in the shade so far as music goes. I cannot tell you what you ask, Lancy, for my love has not been asked for in words; but I am very happy, and if my future holds nothing brighter than my present life, it will be well worth living, for the only shadow is the thought of poor papa's sufferings. And now, dear Lancy, good-bye. This is my last letter to you, but if we ever meet again I think you will find that I am the same old Dexie."

The letter had such a kind, honest ring to it that it quite relieved Lancy's mind, and he wondered what Dexie would say if she knew that his ladylove was only a passable singer, and had no talent for music at all. Truly, he had fallen in love with his opposite.