“No. We talked about it once, but he fought shy; he didn’t think the security enough. If he thought so then, it would be worse than useless now.”
“Mr. Girard?”
“There’s no use telling things to him, he hasn’t any money.” Justin turned a dim eye on her. “I tell you, Lois, I haven’t left a stone unturned so far, that I could get at. If we could only sell the island! Girard’s looking it up for me; there may be a chance of that. There are lots of chances to be thought out. I don’t even know how we keep running, but we do. Harker’s a trump! If I can hold up my end, we’ll be all right.”
“Then go to bed now,” said Lois, with a quick dread that gave her courage. “And you must have something to eat first—and to drink, too. Come, Justin! Do as I say.” Her voice had a new firmness in it which he unconsciously obeyed. She crept to her bed at last, aching in every limb, but with her baby pressed close to her, her one darling comfort, the source from which she drew a new love as the child drew its life from her. It was the first time in all her married life that she had borne the burden of her husband’s care, a burden from which she must seek no solace from him. Yet the thought of him was in itself solace—her faith in him so strong that she simply knew he must succeed. A king of men! If only he did not look so badly!
She bent all her energies, these next days, to keeping him well fed, and ordering everything minutely for his comfort when he came home, aided and abetted by Dosia. The two women worked as with one thought between them, as women can work, for the well-being of one they love, with fond and minute care. Every detail, from the time he went away in the morning, stooping slightly under the weight of something mysterious and unseen, was ordered with reference to his homecoming at night—the husband and father on whose strength all this helpless little family hung for their own sustenance. The children were shown him at their best, and whisked away the moment they got troublesome.
Lois dressed herself in the colors he had liked. The cloth was laid immaculately for dinner, although the maid had gone and had not been replaced, and dainty dishes for him were concocted with delicate care—the more care, that every penny had to be counted; when Justin took out that lean pocket-book to give her money, Lois winced. If he seemed to relish anything he ate, she and Dosia looked at each other with covert triumph.
Everything that was done for him had to be done covertly, it was found; he disliked any manifestation of undue attention to his wants. Sometimes he was terribly irritable and unjust, and at others almost heartbreakingly gentle and mild. Lois had persuaded him to have the doctor, who told him seriously that he must stay home and rest—a futile prescription which he treated with scorn. Rest! He knew very well that it was not rest that he needed, but money—money, money, the elixir of life! He looked drawn and haggard and old, despite his nervous energy, but a sufficient quantity of that magic metal would smooth out those premature wrinkles, and round out those hollow checks, and give a cheerful brightness to his eye, and take ten years from his age.
Both women came to know the days when the prospects for selling the island looked well or ill, with those telegrams of Girard’s. Lois poured out her heart about him to Dosia, her minute anxieties and fears.
William came around several times to see Dosia—his visit almost invariably followed by one from Mrs. Snow, to see if her William were there. For the rest, there were few callers.
It was near the end of this week when Justin came home, as Lois could see at once, revived and encouraged, though still abstracted. He had an invitation to take a ride in the doctor’s motor, the doctor being a man who, when the hazard of dangerous cases had been extreme, absented himself for a couple of hours, in which, under a breathless and unholy speed of motoring, he reversed the pressure on his nerves, and came to the renewed sanity of a wind-swept brain when every idea had been rushed out of it.