"Major Perdue turned to me, his eyes wet. 'Do you know why he doesn't want her to see him?' I could only give an affirmative nod. 'Do you know, Fanny?' She could only say, 'Yes, yes!' between her sobs. 'It is for her sake alone; we all see that,' declared Major Perdue. 'Now, then,' he went on, touching me on the arm, 'I want you to see how hard a hard man can be. Show me where the poor child is.'
"I led him to the parlour door. He stood aside for me to enter first, but I shook my head and leaned against the door for support. 'This is Miss Gaither?' he said, as he entered alone. 'My name is Perdue—Tomlin Perdue. We are very sorry, but no one is permitted to see Pulaski, except those who are nursing him.' 'That is what I am here for,' she said, 'and no one has a better right. I am to be his wife; we are to be married next month.' 'It is not a matter of right, Miss Gaither. Are you prepared to sustain a very severe shock?' 'Why, what—what is the trouble?' 'Can you not conceive a reason why you should not see him now—at this time, and for many days to come?' 'I cannot,' she replied haughtily. 'That, Miss Gaither, is precisely the reason why you are not to see him now,' said Major Perdue. His tone was at once humble and tender. 'I don't understand you at all,' she exclaimed almost violently. 'I tell you I will see him; I'll beat upon the wall; I'll lie across the door, and compel you to open it. Oh, why am I treated so and by his friends!' She flung herself upon a sofa, weeping wildly; and there I found her, when, a moment later, I entered the room in response to a gesture from Major Perdue.
"Whether she glanced up and saw me, or whether she divined my presence, I could never guess," Gabriel's grandmother went on, "but without raising her face, she began to speak to me. 'This is your house, Miss Lucy,' she said—she always called me Miss Lucy—'and why can't I, his future wife, go in and speak to Pulaski; or, at the very least, hold his hand, and help you and Fanny minister to his wants?' I made her no answer, for I could not trust myself to speak; I simply sat on the edge of the sofa by her, and stroked her hair, trying in this mute way to demonstrate my sympathy. She seemed to take some comfort from this, and finally put her request in a different shape. Would I permit her to sit in a chair near the door of the room in which Pulaski lay, until such time as she could see him? 'I will give you no trouble whatever,' she said. 'I am determined to see him,' she declared; 'he is mine, and I am his.' I gave a cordial assent to this proposition, carried a comfortable chair and placed it near the door, and there she stationed herself.
"I went into the room where the others were, and was surprised to see Fanny Tomlin looking so cheerful. Even Major Perdue appeared to be relieved. Fanny asked me a question with her eyes, and I answered it aloud. 'She is sitting by the door, and says she will remain there until she can see Pulaski.' He beat his hand against the headboard of the bed, his mental agony was so great, and kept murmuring to himself. Major Perdue turned his back on his friend's writhings, and went to the window. Presently he returned to the bedside, his watch in his hand. 'Pulaski,' he said, 'if she's there fifteen minutes from now, I shall invite her in.' Pulaski Tomlin made no reply, and we continued our ministrations in perfect silence.
"A few minutes later, I had occasion to go into my own room for a strip of linen, and to my utter amazement, the chair I had placed for Margaret Gaither was empty. Had she gone for a drink of water, or for a book? I went from room to room, calling her name, but she had gone; and I have never laid eyes on her from that day to this. She went away to Malvern on a visit, and while there eloped with a Louisiana man named Bridalbin, whose reputation was none too savoury, and we never heard of her again. Even her Aunt Polly lost all trace of her."
"What did Mr. Tomlin say when you told him she was gone?" Nan inquired.
"We never told him. I think he understood that she was gone almost as soon as she went, for his spiritual faculties are very keen. I remember on one occasion, and that not so very long ago, when he refused to retire at night, because he had a feeling that he would be called for; and his intuitions were correct. He was summoned to the bedside of one of his friends in the country, and, as he went along, he carried your father with him. Margaret Gaither, such as she was, was the sum and the substance of his first and last romance. He suffered, but his suffering has made him strong.
"Yes," Mrs. Lumsden went on, "it has made him strong and great in the highest sense. Do you know why he is called Neighbour Tomlin? It is because he loves his neighbours as he loves himself. There is no sacrifice that he will not make for them. The poorest and meanest person in the world, black or white, can knock at Neighbour Tomlin's door any hour of the day or night, and obtain food, money or advice, as the case may be. If his wife or his children are ill, Neighbour Tomlin will get out of bed and go in the cold and rain, and give them the necessary attention. To me, there never was a more beautiful countenance in the world than Neighbour Tomlin's poor scarred face. But for that misfortune we should probably never have known what manner of man he is. The Providence that urged Margaret Gaither to fly from this house was arranging for the succour of many hundreds of unfortunates, and Pulaski Tomlin was its instrument."
"If I had been Margaret Gaither," said Nan, clenching her hands together, "I never would have left that door. Never! They couldn't have dragged me away. I've never been in love, I hope, but I have feelings that tell me what it is, and I never would have gone away."
"Well, we must not judge others," said Gabriel's grandmother gently. "Poor Margaret acted according to her nature. She was vain, and lacked stability, but I really believe that Providence had a hand in the whole matter."