CHAPTER XXVI.
AN EMPTY PLACE.
Nora did not feel inclined to tell, even to her brother, had he been at home, the sad story she had heard; yet she felt she must take some one into her confidence, as to what ought to be done. Mr. Alden seemed to be her only resource. So, after much thought, she went to his house on the morning after the oratorio, intending to see him alone, and tell him the whole story. But, as often happens, she found her intentions completely and unexpectedly thwarted. Mr. Alden had been called away from home, on some ministerial duty, and Mrs. Alden and Grace were nursing two sick children through what seemed to be feverish colds.
"I wish Doctor Blanchard were at home again," said Mrs. Alden, who looked much exhausted. "I should like very much to have him come to see these children!"
Nora saw how much both she and Grace needed rest, and, with her usual impulse to help, she volunteered to stay all night and relieve them as far as possible. It was just what she wanted, too, to take her mind off more painful thoughts. And if it had been more of a sacrifice than it was, she would have been more than rewarded by the gratitude with which her offer was accepted, and by the soothing influence of Grace's society and innocent childlike talk about matters completely dissociated from the things which had been oppressing her like a nightmare.
Dr. Blanchard returned next day; and, apprised by Nora's message, of the illness of the children, came, as soon as possible, to see them. But he looked very grave, as he scrutinized them with his keen professional eye. He called Nora aside, and told her that they were undoubtedly sickening with scarlet fever. Nora was startled, but immediately replied:
"Well, you know I've had that, so I'm pretty safe; and I think the best thing I can do is to stay to help to nurse them."
Dr. Blanchard felt that it was the only thing to be done, under the circumstances. It would scarcely do for Nora to return to his own house, as, even if there were no real danger of infection just then, his wife could scarcely have been persuaded of this, on the children's account.
"I knew we should have an unhealthy spring," he said, "if people wouldn't take precautions to have the sources of disease removed. It's disgraceful for men like Mr. Pomeroy to own such hovels as that in which you found Mrs. Travers. I hear there's one case of diphtheria in that region already, and there are sure to be more. If it spreads to their own houses, perhaps they'll wake up."
"Mr. Pomeroy's! Are those his houses?" asked Nora, and then she thought of his own luxurious mansion, his magnificent dinner, and the five-thousand-dollar-subscription—all in one rapid flash. Next moment, her mind was recalled to present considerations, as her brother observed, very seriously: