But the doctor’s face looked graver and graver as the days wore on. He sat up half the night with us, performing the combined duties of nurse and physician.
One morning, as he came in looking weary and jaded after but four hours’ rest, he sat down by Mildred’s bed, with a face that in spite of his habitual professional attempt at gayety could not conceal the gravest concern.
He felt her pulse and motioned furtively to aunt Madison, who stood with brimming eyes studying his every motion. Mildred glanced up and read the meaning of his look. She said nothing for a moment; then with an effort to keep her voice steady she said, quietly, “Doctor, be honest with me: shall I live?”
“My dear, I”—and the doctor coughed and turned away his head; “I—we”—he glanced at Mr. Everett, who with eyes that were blazing like coals in their sockets had half risen on his elbow and seemed devouring every word,—“my dear, I hope so.”
“Yes, I understand,” replied Mildred calmly, after a searching look at the physician’s half-averted face, “I understand, and I am not afraid; but it is necessary that some things be done, and done quickly.”
She lay a few moments quietly thinking. No one stirred or spoke, and the silence was broken only by aunt Madison’s half-stifled sobs, as she turned away to hide her emotion. Presently Mildred looked up.
“Is there a lawyer in the village?” she asked. “I want to change my—that is, I want to attend to a few little matters of business that must not be left undone.”
“No,” replied Mr. Everett huskily; “there was one who did a little business, but he died a month ago.”
Mildred said nothing for a few minutes, then looking up, with a pale face and lips drawn tense, she said, “Auntie, I must be married to-day.”
We all gave an involuntary cry. Mr. Everett drew his hand over his eyes. Dr. Ellsworth and aunt Madison exchanged looks of amazement as if to say, “Is the girl beside herself?” I alone understood what it all meant.