“You are indeed a good Samaritan; God will bless you for it!” murmured Cora, as she sank upon her comfortable bed, while Isa gently beat up the pillow to support the aching head of her guest. Never had a blessing from any other lips gone so warm to the heart of Isa; it was a blessing wrung, as it were, from an enemy; it was as the encouraging word heard by Gideon on the night when he stood in the camp of the foe.
THE ARRIVAL OF MISS MADDEN
Gaspar had sent from the hamlet a messenger for a doctor. He came before noon, and pronounced that Miss Madden had not been injured by her removal, and that with care she was likely to do well. He prescribed absolute quietness, and forbade her speaking much on any subject, especially such as might excite her. But it was easier for the doctor to give the order than it was for Isa to enforce it. Her patient little merited the name. Cora was eager to speak on business; and Isa could scarcely soothe her into silence by entreating that she would wait a few days, and that then she might have an interview with Mr. Gritton himself.
Gaspar had made the unusual effort of walking over to the steward’s cottage, to speak to Mr. Holdich about a nurse to assist his sister. Rebekah at once volunteered to go herself, if her husband’s consent were obtained, and to Isa’s great relief appeared at the Lodge just as the doctor quitted it. Not only were her experience and willing help a great comfort to the young lady, but the presence of a gentle, pious woman, sympathizing and kind, was a real pleasure to Isa. Much cheerful converse they had together in the boudoir, with the door open between it and the room in which Cora lay sleeping. Rebekah had many a pleasant anecdote to relate to an attentive hearer, of Edith and of one dearer than Edith. Never had Isa listened to tale of romance with half the interest with which she did now to the account of the difficulties which had to be overcome, and the efforts to be made by the vicar of Axe, to introduce a knowledge of vital religion into that remote and benighted part of his parish which surrounded Castle Lestrange.
The tidings of Cora’s illness and its nature was not long in reaching the little country town of Axe. Mrs. Green stood at the door of her shop on the Monday morning, exchanging gossip with her neighbour the baker.
“If ever there was a parson like ours!” she observed. “Always at work, Sundays and week-days; and as anxious about his folk as if they were all his children. He was here again, not an hour ago, to look after that little thief upstairs; but I chanced to say to him, ‘I s’pose you’ve heard, sir, as Miss Madden’s lying sick of small-pox at Wildwaste Lodge?’ and he looked as if he’d heard sudden of the death of his father, and repeated, ‘Small-pox—Wildwaste Lodge!’ as if the words was a knell.”
“I dare say Mr. Eardley’s sorry for the poor lady; she was his parishioner some years ago when the Maddens lived at the Castle.”
“He must have taken an uncommon interest in her,” said Mrs. Green with a smile, “for he forgot all about what he’d come for, and was off for the Lodge like a shot. He’s not one to be afeard of infection; he sat up all night with poor Bramley, when he was a-dying of the fever. Maybe he thinks that if Miss Madden’s in a bad way, she might like to have a word with a parson.”
“She was one of the worldly and gay,” observed the baker, shaking his head. “I don’t believe that she and Mr. Eardley had ever much to say to one another; but she’s the sister of his friend Mr. Arthur, and the vicar may care for her for his sake.”