"Your hand is quite cold, Minnie." Minnie, indeed, was very agitated. "I owe you my life, dear Minnie, and I want to thank you for it. It almost seems to me, after what I have been told, as if my life belonged to you. Thank you, dear little Minnie--you used to like me to call you that!--thank you a thousand thousand times. I shall never be able to repay you!"
"I don't want payment, Joshua," said Minnie, when the wild beating of her heart was subdued. "It brought its own payment with it. It is, and ever will be, my sweetest remembrance. O Joshua! as the greatest unhappiness that ever could occur to me would be"--(to lose you, she was about to say, but she checked the words in time)--"to know that you would not recover, so the greatest happiness that I have ever experienced is to think that I have done you some little service."
"Little service! The greatest service, the most devoted action that woman could do to man! Perhaps--who knows?--one day I may be able to repay you in my own way." As if those words were not sufficient for her, who would have given her life for his. "Stoop down Minnie!" She inclined her head to the pillow. "Little Minnie, little Minnie!" he whispered tenderly, and he placed his lips to her cheek. "Thank you for your devotion."
It was fortunate for Minnie that it was dusk, and that her back was towards Mrs. Marvel, or the good mother would have had further cause for anxiety and uneasiness in Minnie's trembling form and flushed face. As it was, there was a long silence in the room; and Mrs. Marvel, approaching softly to the bed to see if Joshua was asleep, broke the happy reverie into which Minnie had fallen.
Solomon Fewster came to the house every day to inquire after Joshua, and went away every day with content in his face and despair in his heart. If ever a man played a double part, he played it during that time. "If he would but die!" he thought many and many a time. "If mortification would set in, or erysipelas, or something that would kill him!" And "I am truly happy to hear it," he said, many and many a time, to Mrs. Marvel, as in answer to his inquiries she told him that Joshua was improving rapidly. "I have brought a little jelly for him," which Mrs. Marvel received thankfully. At other times he would bring a chicken or some other delicacy to tempt Joshua's appetite, and would walk from the house with earnest wishes that what he left would choke the invalid. "I shall never forget Mr. Fewster's kindness," said Mrs. Marvel. "I feel quite angry with myself; for I did not give him credit for so much good feeling. But it is just in such times as these that a man shows the real goodness of his heart." And Mr. Fewster met with his reward immediately; for they were all grateful to him for his attention to Joshua. Mr. Marvel always had a hearty word for him, Minnie always a bright look, Ellen always a kind welcome now. But it was both sweet and bitter to him. "Ellen looks kindly upon me," he thought, and thought truly, "because I profess myself kind to Joshua. Will it ever be otherwise? Yes; if money can make it so, it shall be. And money can do much."
Yes, money can do much; but it cannot buy love, although it is often paid for it.
The most delicious three months of Joshua's life dated from the day on which the doctor declared him to be out of danger. He lived in an atmosphere of love. Loving hearts, loving hands, loving looks, loving thoughts, surrounded him. Is it better to have those than to be great and rich and powerful? Too modest for ambition are such blessings. Yet are they the sweetest, the holiest attributes of life. Of life, which is nothing without pleasures which cost money. Of life, which is not worth the living without fine linen and rich food. Of life, which is useless without the restless striving, the absorbing ambition, which make up the sum of human progress. Of Life, the Paradox!
Something which has fallen out of its proper place may be motioned here. When Joshua was carried into the house on that memorable Christmas night, two things that had fallen from his hands were picked up from the snow and carried in after him. On of these was his accordion, the other was a white cockatoo in a cage, which Joshua had brought home from the South Seas. Whether it was that the cockatoo was overwhelmed at finding itself in a strange land, or that it deemed it necessary to be silent in the distressing circumstances of the case, it certainly behaved itself in a most exemplary manner, and gave no indication that it possessed a tongue. The cockatoo was taken to Dan's house, which was but a very few doors from Joshua's, and two or three days afterwards Dan was startled by hearing his name called in a strange loud voice. He looked up at Ellen, and asked if she had spoken. She had just time to say "No" when her name was called in the same strange loud voice.
"Why, it's the cockatoo!" exclaimed Dan.
Sure enough, it was the cockatoo, which, now that its tongue was loosened, made as much use of it as a woman could have done. Its stock of language was not large, consisting only of a shrill "Dan!" a shrill "Dan and Jo!" a shrill "Ellen!" a shrill "Minnie!" and a softer articulation of "Bread-and-cheese and kisses! and kisses! and kisses!" winding up with a volley of kisses, which it continued until it was completely out of breath. No stronger proof of Joshua's attachment could have been received by Dan and Ellen. Dan was much affected by it.