“He had the typhoid fever,” she said, “and was raving distracted with his head. They wanted some good experienced person to take care of him, and had asked her to stay, she seemed so handy, but she couldn’t. John wouldn’t put their wedding off, she knew, and she must go, though she did pity the poor young man—he raved and took on so, asking them if anybody had seen Marian, or knew where she was buried!”
Up to this point Marian had listened, because she knew it was the same man of whom Ben had told her in the morning; but now the pulsations of her heart stopped, her head grew dizzy, her brain whirled, and she was conscious of nothing except that Ben made a hurried movement and then passed his arm around her, while he held a cup of water to her lips, sprinkling some upon her face, and saying, in a natural voice, “Don’t you want a drink? My walk made me awful dry.”
It was dark in the room, for the lamp was not yet lighted, and thus Martha did not see the side-play going on. She only knew that Ben was offering Marian some water; but Mrs. Burt understood it, and, when sure that Marian would not faint, she said:
“Where did the young man come from, and what is his name? Do you know?”
“He registered himself as F. Raymond, Franklin County, Kentucky,” returned the girl; “and that’s the bother of it. Nobody knows where to direct a letter to his friends. But how I have staid. I must go this minute,” and greatly to the relief of the family, Martha took her leave.
Scarcely had the door closed after her, when Marian was on her knees, and, with her head in Mrs. Burt’s lap, was begging of her to offer her services as nurse to Frederic Raymond!
“He must not die there alone,” she cried. “Say you will go, or my heart will burst. They know Martha for a trusty girl, and they will take you on her recommendation. Help me, Ben, to persuade her,” she continued, appealing to the young man, who had not yet spoken upon the subject.
He had been thinking of it, however, and as he could see no particular objection, he said, at last:
“May as well go, I guess. It won’t do no hurt, any how, and mebby it’ll be the means of savin’ his life. You can tell Martha how’t you s’pose he’ll pay a good price for nussin’, and she’ll think it’s the money you are after.”
This suggestion was so warmly seconded by Marian, that Mrs. Burt finally consented to seeing Martha, and asking her what she thought of the plan. Accordingly, early the next morning, she sought an interview with the young woman, inquiring, first, how the stranger was, and then, continuing—