But there was no spoken answer out of the shadow at the edge of the lantern light. Perhaps there was the faint sound, like a gasp, almost as if a terrible truth that was for an instant forgotten had been recalled again; and perhaps the administering hands halted in their work for one part of an instant. But at once they continued to ply about him, so strong and capable, and yet so ineffably gentle. It couldn’t be Lenore, of course. No wonder,—Lenore had suffered grievously from the events of the past night. In his half-delirium it occurred to him that it might be his mother. There had been times in the past, when his mother had come to his bedside in this same way, with this same gentleness, during his boyhood sicknesses. But he couldn’t remain awake to think about it. His wet, clinging clothes had been removed, and blankets, already warmed, were being wrapped about him. He fell into deep, restful sleep.
But it ended all too soon. A great hand shook him, snatching him into a sitting position, and a great, bearded face, unspeakably terrible in the weird, yellow light of the lantern, showed close to his own. “Up and out,” he was shouting. “It’ll be light enough to work by the time you have breakfast. Out before I boot you out.”
He meant what he said. Already his cruel boot was drawn back. Ned’s conscious world returned to him in one mighty sweep, like a cruel, white light bursting upon tired eyes. The full dreadfulness of his lot, forgotten in his hours of sleep, was recalled more vividly than ever. It wasn’t just a dream, to be dispersed on wakening. Even yesterday’s blessed murk of unreality, dimming everything and dulling all his perceptions, was gone now that he was refreshed by sleep. His brain worked clear, and he saw all things as they were. And the black wall of hopelessness seemed unbroken.
Yet instantly he remembered Lenore. At least he must continue to try to shelter her—even to make conditions easy as possible for Bess. His love for the former was the one happiness of his past life that he had left; and he didn’t forget his obligation to the latter. Bess was already up, building up the fire at Doomsdorf’s command, but Lenore, with whom she had slept, still lay sobbing on her cot.
Ned pulled on his clothes, scarcely wondering at the fact that they were hanging, miraculously dry, back of the stove; and immediately hurried to Lenore’s side. He forgot his own aching muscles in distress for her; and his arms went about her, drawing her face to his own.
“Oh, my girl, you mustn’t cry,” he told her, with a world of compassion in his tone. “I’ll take care of you. Don’t you know I will——?”
But with tragic face Lenore drew back from his arms. “How can you take care of me?” she asked with immeasurable bitterness. “Can you stand against that brute——?”
“Hush——!”
“Of course you can’t. You’re even afraid to speak his name.”
“Oh, my dear! Don’t draw away.” The man’s voice was pleading. “I was just afraid he’d take some awful punishment from you. Of course I’m helpless now——”