“‘Lure her back,’” said Eldress Hannah, with a snort. “Poor boy! It’s good riddance for him.”
But Eldress Hannah stayed, and Brother Nathan joined her, and for many days the little community was shaken with real anxiety, for they had all come to love the solitary, waiting husband. Athalia, abashed, but still cherishing the dear insult of having been tempted, took what little part Eldress allowed her in the care of the sick man; but in the six or seven weeks of his illness Brother Nathan and the Eldress were his devoted nurses, and by-and-by a genuine friendship grew up between them. Old Eldress Hannah’s shrewd good-humor was as wholesome as a sound winter apple, and Nathan had a gayety Lewis had never suspected. The old man grew very confidential in those days of Lewis’s convalescence; he showed his simple heart with a generosity that made the sick man’s lip tighten once or twice and his eyes blur;—Lewis came to know all about Sister Lydia; indeed, he knew more than the old man knew himself. When the invalid grew stronger, Nathan wrestled with him over the Prophecies, and Lewis studied them and the other foundation-stones of the Shaker faith with a constantly increasing anxiety. “Because,” he said, with a nervous blink, “if you ARE right—” But he left the sentence unfinished. Once he said, with a feeble passion—for he was still very weak—“I tell you, Nathan, it isn’t human!” and then added, under his breath, “but God knows whether that’s not in its fa-vor.”
When he was quite well again he was plainly preoccupied. He pored over the Prophecies with a concentration that made him blind even to Athalia’s tired looks. Once, when some one said in his presence, “Sister ‘Thalia is working too hard,” he blinked at her in an absent way before the old, anxious attention awoke in his eyes.
Athalia tossed her head and said, “Brother Lewis has his own affairs to think of, I guess!”
And he said, eagerly: “Yes, ‘Thalia; I have been thinking—Some day I’ll tell you. But not yet.”
“Oh, I haven’t time to pry into other people’s thoughts,” she said, acidly. And, indeed, just then her time was very full. She was enormously useful to the community that second winter; her young power and strength shone out against the growing weariness of the old sisters. “Athalia’s capable,” Eldress Hannah said, and the other sisters said “Yee,” and smiled at one another.
“She IS useful,” Sister Jane declared; “do you know, she got through the churning before nine? I’d ‘a’ been at it until eleven!”
“Athalia is like one of those candles that have a streak of soft wax in ‘em,” Eldress Hannah murmured; “but she’s useful, as you say, Jane.”
In January, when the Eldress fell ill, Athalia was especially useful. She nursed her with a passion of faithfulness that made the other sisters remonstrate.
“You’ll wear yourself out, Athalia; you haven’t had your clothes off for three days and nights!”