CHAPTER XXIII. THE WOUNDED HAND AND ARM.
The moment the boy and girl, Maureen and Dominic, found themselves alone, to Maureen's surprise, Dominic lagged back and said a word to Dinah. She raised her delicate arched brows in pain and astonishment, then nodded her head and walked quickly to Felicity with Henrietta.
"Where are you going, Dominic?" said Maureen.
"That horrid scald and burn must be attended to," said the boy. "I am going to take you immediately to Dr. Halsted to have them both dressed."
"They do smart a little," said Maureen, "but the worst pain is over. Oh, Dom, dearest, don't let us make a fuss now. I am so anxious to get back to Felicity."
"But I am not anxious to take you back," said Dominic. "Come along, little mate, come along. This is Dr. Halsted's house."
Maureen really did feel sick and faint. The doctor by great good luck happened to be at home. He immediately dressed the wounded hand and arm and inquired how the accident could have occurred.
"It was my clumsiness," said Maureen. "I don't know how it happened, but I must have caught my foot in the tablecloth. Oh, what's the matter? Oh, Dominic, don't look at me like that!"
"May my cousin lie on your sofa for a few minutes," said Dom, "and I will explain matters to you."
"Ah yes, that is really nice," said Maureen in a grateful tone. "But be quick, Dom, be quick. I feel that I am wanted back at Felicity."
The doctor and the lad left the room; the girl closed her tired eyes gratefully.
"The wound is very trivial," said Dr. Halsted, when he got Dominic into another room, "but I should have thought——"
"You wonder how it happened," interrupted Dominic. "Well, forgive me, I'll tell you. We're Irish folks, sir, and Maureen is about the most precious thing my father and I possess. I brought her here by Mrs. Faithful's request, and you know what she has done for that horrid girl, Daisy Mostyn."
"As my patient, I cannot call her a horrid girl," said the doctor with his grave smile, "but your cousin, as far as I can see, has saved her life. I have just returned from Felicity, and the news with regard to Daisy Mostyn is of the very best."
"There is another girl at the school," said Dominic, "sister to Daisy. That little angel, Maureen, after wearing herself out trying to save the life of one sister, did her best for the other. The other is not ill, except indeed in soul, so she need not come under your professional sympathies, Dr. Halsted. My cousin, Maureen, suggested that she and I should take Henrietta to the hotel where I am staying and give her tea there just by way of a change. You may well suppose that I felt rather sick, for I honestly detest Henrietta Mostyn. However, my good sir, she was all agog to come. She was not a bit anxious about her sister. She had been put by Mrs. Faithful under the care of a nice gentle Quakeress named Dinah."
"I know her well," said the doctor; "she is an admirable person."
"Well," continued Dominic, "luckily, as it happened, Dinah insisted on coming with us. Henrietta was in her usual uproarious spirits—most horridly unsuitable. Upon my word, sir, I felt half sick. Then, what do you think? In the middle of the entertainment she jumped up and contrived, without dear little Maureen noticing it, to sweep a part of the tablecloth round Maureen's feet and legs. I was watching and saw the whole thing and would have prevented Maureen getting up until I disentangled the cloth, but she was too quick for me. There was a little brass urn on the table with a spirit-lamp, and the moment Maureen rose, everything tumbled off—the china and such like were smashed, and she, in her efforts to put out the spirit lamp, was badly burnt and scalded. Now, do you think, sir, that Felicity is a fit place for my cousin?"
"Hmm!" said the doctor. "She is badly wanted there. Upon my word, that is an ugly story you have told me, Mr.——"
"My name is Dominic O'Brien," said the lad.
"Well, you had better talk to her, young sir. Felicity is a curious place, and curious characters are found there from time to time. These characters belong, not to the insane, but to the uncontrolled of the earth. As a rule, and I have attended at the school for many years, my dear friend, Mrs. Faithful, has, by her admirable system, managed to reclaim these naughty girls, and they have left Felicity with their characters altered, and their chance of doing good work in the world assured."
"Thank you," said Dominic. He shook hands with the doctor, who, finding out where he was staying, invited him to come in and have a chat with him that evening. This the boy gratefully accepted. He then whistled for Maureen, who came to him looking very pale, but much as usual.
"Lean on me, acushla machree," said the young lad.
They went in the direction of the school together.
"What in the world were you talking to Dr. Halsted about?" she asked.
"I was telling him how you got that burn."
"But, darling Dom, that was through my awkwardness. I can't imagine how I twisted the table-cloth round my feet."
"You didn't twist it round, aroon, bless your dear little heart. It was the act of that fiery one. I watched her when she was pretending to kiss you. She did it very quickly and cleverly, and I was just about to prevent your rising when you were too quick for me. Oh, dear little Maureen, I can't leave you at Felicity, I can't."
Maureen's clear brown eyes were raised to her cousin's face, "But indeed and truly you can, Dominic, for my work is at Felicity, and even you, and even Uncle Pat, shall not, must not keep me back from my work."
"It's hopeless," said the lad, "quite hopeless. Oh, Maureen darling, even you cannot do the impossible."
"But I can, and I will," was the reply. "I mean that I shall stay at Felicity for the present. I am glad you have explained to me about poor Henrietta. I pity her so much."
"She doesn't deserve a scrap of pity," said the boy.
"Now, Dom, you are not going to put on that horrible cloak of hatred. Oh, Dom, it is so fearful! Once, once I wore it tightly round me for some days, and I shall never forget it—never! Oh, the agony that was in my breast! Of course, Dom, you know the old, old story of the Wind and the Sun. There was a traveller, who was mounting up into the high hills and the wind and the sun had a great quarrel about him and they swore a sort of oath that they'd tear his cloak from him. 'I'll do it,' said the Wind. 'You won't succeed,' replied the Sun; and the traveller, knowing nothing about this, walked up, his cloak around him. Then the Wind came out in a mighty, mighty rage, rushed at him, and tore him and did all that Wind and Tempest could to get rid of his cloak. But the harder the Wind blew and the sharper it stung, the closer did the traveller fold his cloak round him. Then the Sun came out in a great golden beam, and said, 'You have had fair play, Wind, and I haven't interfered. Now, give me a chance.' So the Wind very sulkily died down, and the Sun poured his hot rays over the traveller, and lo, and behold! the traveller first loosened his cloak, and then cast it off and left it behind him on the mountain path. It was the awful Cloak of Hatred. And, Dom, dear Dom, that was what happened to me until the beautiful Sun of God's Love made me cast my cloak of hatred away; and never again, Dominic, will it come back."
"Well, at any rate," said Dom, "you can't prevent my staying at the Rose and Honeysuckle for a day or so longer."
"Oh no, I should quite love to have you."
As the children approached the house, they saw to their surprise Mrs. Faithful and Nurse Annie standing on the doorstep. They both of them looked distracted.
"Oh, Maureen, where have you been?" said Mrs. Faithful; "that poor little Daisy is worse than ever. Neither of the nurses can manage her in the very least. She is crying out for the angel—the white angel. Oh, my dear, dear child, how bad you look! Has anything happened? But I can't wait to hear now. Dinah returned some time ago with Henrietta, and Henrietta looked terribly cross. But run to your room at once, my darling, and get into a clean white frock. Nurse Annie will help you, and then you can go to poor Daisy. We have sent for the doctor, but you are the best doctor of all."
"I won't be a minute—I'll fly," said Maureen.
She dashed up to her room, and with Nurse Annie's aid very soon looked fresh and neat and tidy. Her long soft brown hair fell over her shoulders.
"I am sorry that you have to go back to her," said Nurse Annie, "for you look just fit to drop, but you are the only one who can manage her. Those two poor nurses are in despair. When she woke and found you were not seated by her bedside, she began to cry out for you in the most piteous way. 'I want the White Angel,' she said. You could not be found—you were out—and her temperature, which had gone down so marvellously, has gone up again higher than ever. Oh, I say, Miss Maureen, how have you hurt your hand and arm?"
"My hand and arm were scalded through an accident," said Maureen. "They hurt a little, but nothing to signify. I am quite ready to go to her now."
"Bless you, sweet child, but that dear little hand ought to be in a sling."
"No, no," said Maureen, "she wouldn't like that. It only smarts a trifle."
A minute or two later Maureen was seated by the sick girl's bed. There was a curious, but very perceptible, change in Daisy. She had looked ill in the morning, but now there was a wild excitement about her, and those cheeks, generally so pale, were rosy red with the fire of fever.
"Ah," she said with a sigh of intense relief. "White Angel, you have come back."
"Yes, little Daisy."
"Hold my hand. Soothe me. Let me rest against you."
Maureen immediately put her uninjured hand in Daisy's.
"I want both your darling hands; one isn't enough."
"The other—hurts a little, Daisy, and I—I'm afraid I cannot give it to you."
"Oh, but I must have it," said Daisy, and she gave a fierce grab.
Maureen restrained a scream of pain, then, stifling all emotion by means of a heroism worthy of her nature, she laid both the wounded and the whole hand on Daisy's.
"I'm not going to die, am I?" asked Daisy.
"Not if I can keep you alive, dear, but—Daisy, it is very beautiful in Heaven."
"You live there, don't you?"
"In spirit, yes," replied Maureen.
"Talk about it," said Daisy. "Keep on talking. Do they let naughty girls in?"
"Yes, undoubtedly; those who repent."
"But I—I have been shocking bad," replied Daisy, "and even now there is a girl whom I hate—hate—hate!"
"I know the girl you mean," said Maureen. "Once I hated her myself."
"Did you really! I didn't think angels could hate."
"Well, I hated her."
"Poor thing! It must have been awful when you hated her."
"It was very had for me. I don't hate her or anybody now. The other thing is so much nicer."
"What other thing, White Angel?"
"Why, of course, Love—beautiful, golden Love. Suppose you and I begin to try that glorious thing."
"I'm very weak," said Daisy, "and hot, hot, oh, so hot. Do you think, White Angel, they would let me in at the Golden Gates, if I cease to hate her, the monster they call Maureen?"
"I think so. I'll ask the good Lord about it. You are too weak to pray. Lean on me."
"Oh, I will—I will! It's easy to love you, White Angel. Promise me one thing, please. You won't leave me any more forever! You won't let me go to sleep and then slip away."
"If I do go away, I'll come back very soon. But I'm going to stay with you now."
The whole weight of Daisy's little wasted body was flung across Maureen's wounded hand and arm. Maureen was suffering such tortures that she wondered she didn't faint, but her very pain kept her from this.
Dr. Halsted in a great hurry entered the room. Daisy screamed when she saw him.
"Go away! Go away! I've got a White Angel curing me. Get out of this, you old horror. Oh, hurrah, hurrah! Wherever is Henny? Not that I care. I have got the White Angel; she's worth ten thousand Hennies. Wasn't it fun when I dropped all the laudanum into the mash, and the horse had such beautiful eyes. He gobbled and gobbled and I—I stirred and stirred. I don't seem to remember much else. I think I'm drowsy. Don't you touch me, you horror. The White Angel is my doctor. She is telling me about a place called Heaven."
"My dear child," said Dr. Halsted. He did not address the sick girl, but Maureen. "She is lying on your wounded arm! Let me arrange you more comfortably."
"Don't touch her. I'll kill you if you do!" shrieked Daisy, and then she went off into a dead faint.
During that faint the doctor and the nurses were able to release Maureen from her torments, but she absolutely refused to leave Daisy's side.
"I have promised to stay with her," said Maureen. "When she comes to again, she will want me. Oh, Dr. Halsted, is she very ill?"
"Yes, child, this is a most serious and unlooked-for relapse. I will put you at this side of her, so that she can lean against the hand and arm that are not injured. Nurses, a word with you both."
All during that night, that long and yet short night, Maureen retained her seat by Daisy's bedside, but although the poor girl quickly got over her swoon, she did not recover consciousness.
She mumbled and muttered and tossed and talked of White Angels and of her own special White Angel, whom she loved as she had never loved anyone before.
The doctor stayed in the house all night, and so, for that matter, did Dominic, and the nurses supported Maureen with food and necessary stimulants.
As the morning broke, and the first rays of a golden day streamed in at one of the windows, Daisy opened her eyes wide and looked steadfastly and long at Maureen.
"Why—why," she said. "Stoop close to me. You are not an angel. I know you now. You are Maureen, and I love you. I love-you-better-than-anyone-else-in-the-whole-world."
With these words, uttered under great difficulty, and with long pauses between, the queer little spirit of Daisy Mostyn seemed to pass into a world where even she could be properly trained.
"Stoop close to me.... You are Maureen, and I love
you."—Page 288.