CHAPTER IX.
It was the next Saturday before Glenn went again to see Esther. Mr. Campbell entertained him on the verandah. He sat some time, expecting every minute to see Esther come bounding out. Her grandfather looked so worn when he came that Glenn felt it a sort of imposition to allow him to talk long. Although their topic was of deep interest, his shriveled features seemed to smooth out as Glenn told him how rapidly Esther had advanced that summer.
“It is remarkable,” he said, “how she can take a piece and master it by herself. What she most needs is encouragement; some one to keep her interested and stimulated.”
“I had hoped to let her have lessons under the professor at the University this year. It had been my calculation a long time until she was taken sick with fever.” The haggard look came back to his face. “The doctor fears it will go into typhoid.”
“You don’t mean that Esther is sick now?” Glenn stammered.
“She took to her bed the same evening she came back from the falls and hasn’t been up since.”
“I didn’t know a word of it. I should have been over if I had known. I should have come at once to see if I could do anything to help either of you.”
Glenn’s steady mouth trembled. A tumult of memories crowded upon him. He thought of the Indian Well, where their lives first came together. Suppose she had breathed in the germs that day when she tried to protect him.
“Let me stay and help you nurse her, Mr. Campbell, you look tired and need rest. I am so strong and I have no ties to call me away.”
“You are very kind;” the rest was left unspoken, for a hand was laid on his arm. Mr. Campbell made his expression excuse his absence as he turned and followed the negro girl.