“Miss Heatherford,” he said very gently, “it is my painful duty to tell you that there is absolutely no help for your father. We are all agreed that materia medica has been exhausted in his case, and it is only a question of time when he will entirely lose his mind and become utterly helpless. The specialists advised me not to tell you the worst, but I had given you my word that I would not keep anything back from you, therefore I could not feel justified in deceiving you.”
Mollie listened to this cruel ultimatum like one petrified and feeling as if she also were losing her mind. Then the strong curb which she had put upon herself suddenly gave way and she burst forth in wildly rebellious tones:
“I do not believe it! It cannot be true! I will not believe it! Oh, God is good—surely He will not leave me utterly desolate! Doctor Partridge, there must be help somewhere—is there not some one else to whom we can appeal? I cannot live without my father!”
The physician was almost sorry that he had not listened to the advice of his colleagues and kept the blighting truth from her. But she had been so calm and self-possessed through all that he had overestimated her strength. Still she had insisted upon being told and he had pledged himself to withhold nothing, and he believed he was doing his duty. He was a kind-hearted and conscientious man, and had been almost an enthusiast in his profession, but there had been times when he was sorely perplexed—when he was led to doubt the virtue of drugs and the conflicting and inefficient methods of his profession, and these seasons of doubt he found becoming more and more frequent as disease and experiences like the present were multiplied.
Doctor Partridge spent a long time with the sorely afflicted girl, trying to comfort and quiet her and advising her regarding the future care of her father. He told her that the most that could be done now would be to make him physically comfortable, and in order to do this she must have some strong, reliable woman come to relieve her of household cares and assist in the nursing. He said he knew of just the right person—a faithful negress, who had had large experience in sickness, was an excellent cook and who would be glad of a comfortable home and small wages.
Mollie wondered vaguely where the money was coming from to defray all these extra expenses, but she did not demur; she told the doctor to send the woman at once, and when she came, the following day, the weary and sorrowful girl found her a tower of strength, not only in the care of her father, but to her aching heart as well.
“Don’t yo’ take on so, honey,” said the sympathetic creature, when Mollie, with a wild burst of grief, told her of her father’s hopeless case. “De doctors don’t know eberyt’ing, spite of der pertenshuns; yo’ jest trust de Lord, honey, an’ He’ll brung it out all right.”
“Oh, where is God, Eliza?” cried Mollie helplessly, while sobs shook her slight form like a reed.
“I ’spects He am ebrywhere, honey,” returned the woman, with humble faith, and then she brought her young mistress a steaming cup of tea, which she made her drink, firmly believing it a panacea for an aching heart as well as an empty stomach.
But Mollie was no weakling. When the first fierce rebellion was over she began to consider the situation in a practical way. What was to be done for the future? How was her helpless charge, to say nothing about herself, to be provided for? Nearly all of the money which both she and her father had saved had been swallowed up by the physicians and other expenses of his illness, and some provision must now be made for their daily needs.