The Chain of Destiny - Bram Stoker (the little red hen read aloud .TXT) 📗
- Author: Bram Stoker
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to my head. But Mrs. Trevor’s arm supported me, and after a
time the faintness passed away, and my memory was completely
restored. I started violently from the arm that held me up, and
called out:
“Is she all right? I heard her say, ‘saved.’ Is she all right?”
“Hush, dear boy, hush—she is all right. Do not excite yourself.”
“Are you deceiving me?” I inquired. “Tell me all—I can bear
it. Is she well or no?”
“She has been very ill, but she is now getting strong and well,
thank God.”
I began to cry, half from weakness and half from joy, and Mrs.
Trevor seeing this, and knowing with the sweet instinct of womanhood
that I would rather be alone, quickly left the room, after making a
sign to the nurse, who sank again to her old place behind the
bed-curtain.
I thought for long; and all the time from my first coming to
Scarp to the moment of unconsciousness after I sprung through the
window came back to me as in a dream. Gradually the room became
darker and darker, and my thoughts began to give semblance to the
objects around me, till at length the visible world passed away
from my wearied eyes, and in my dreams I continued to think of all
that had been. I have a hazy recollection of taking some food and
then relapsing into sleep; but remember no more distinctly until I
woke fully in the morning and found Mrs. Trevor again in the room.
She came over to my bedside, and sitting down said gaily—
“Ah, Frank, you look bright and strong this morning, dear boy.
You will soon be well now I trust.”
Her cool deft fingers settled my pillow and brushed back the
hair from my forehead. I took her hand and kissed it, and the doing
so made me very happy. By-and-by I asked her how was Miss Fothering.
“Better, much better this morning. She has been asking after
you ever since she has been able; and to-day when I told her how
much better you were she brightened up at once.”
I felt a flush painfully strong rushing over my face as she
spoke, but she went on—
“She has asked me to let her see you as soon as both of you are
able. She wants to thank you for your conduct on that awful night.
But there, I won’t tell any more tales—let her tell you what she
likes herself.”
“To thank me—me—for what? For having brought her to the verge
of madness or perhaps death through my silly fears and imagination.
Oh, Mrs. Trevor, I know that you never mock anyone—but to me that
sounds like mockery.”
She leaned over me as she sat on my bedside and said, oh, so
sweetly, yet so firmly that a sense of the truth of her words came
at once upon me—
“If I had a son I would wish him to think as you have thought,
and to act as you have acted. I would pray for it night and day and
if he suffered as you have done, I would lean over him as I lean
over you now and feel glad, as I feel now, that he had thought and
acted as a true-hearted man should think and act. I would rejoice
that God had given me such a son; and if he should die—as I feared
at first that you should—I would be a prouder and happier woman
kneeling by his dead body than I would in clasping a different son,
living, in my arms.
Oh, how my weak fluttering heart did beat as she spoke. With
pity for her blighted maternal instincts, with gladness that a
true-hearted woman had approved of my conduct toward a woman whom
I loved, and with joy for the deep love for myself. There was no
mistaking the honesty of her words—her face was perfectly radiant
as she spoke them.
I put up my arms—it took all my strength to do it—round her
neck, and whispered softly in her ear one word, “mother.”
She did not expect it, for it seemed to startle her; but her
arms tightened around me convulsively. I could feel a perfect rain
of tears falling on my upturned face as I looked into her eyes,
full of love and long-sought joy. As I looked I felt stronger and
better; my sympathy for her joy did much to restore my strength.
For some little time she was silent, and then she spoke as if
to herself—“God has given me a son at last. I thank thee, O Father;
forgive me if I have at any time repined. The son I prayed for
might have been different from what I would wish. Thou doest best
in all things.”
For some time after this she stayed quite silent, still
supporting me in her arms. I felt inexpressibly happy. There
was an atmosphere of love around me, for which I had longed all
my life. The love of a mother, for which I had pined since my
orphan childhood, I had got at last, and the love of a woman to
become far dearer to me than a mother I felt was close at hand.
At length I began to feel tired, and Mrs. Trevor laid me back
on my pillow. It pleased me inexpressibly to observe her kind
motherly manner with me now. The ice between us had at last been
broken, we had declared our mutual love, and the white-haired
woman was as happy in the declaration as the young man.
The next day I felt a shade stronger, and a similar improvement
was manifested on the next. Mrs. Trevor always attended me herself,
and her good reports of Miss Fothering’s progress helped to cheer
me not a little. And so the days wore on, and many passed away
before I was allowed to rise from bed.
One day Mrs. Trevor came into the room in a state of suppressed
delight. By this time I had been allowed to sit up a little while
each day, and was beginning to get strong, or rather less weak, for
I was still very helpless.
“Frank, the doctor says that you may be moved into another room
to-morrow for a change, and that you may see Di.”
As may be supposed I was anxious to see Miss Fothering. Whilst
I had been able to think during my illness, I had thought about
her all day long, and sometimes all night long. I had been in love
with her even before that fatal night. My heart told me that secret
whilst I was waiting to hear the clock strike, and saw all my
folly about the dream; but now I not only loved the woman but I
almost worshipped my own bright ideal which was merged in her. The
constant series of kind messages that passed between us tended
not a little to increase my attachment, and now I eagerly looked
forward to a meeting with her face to face.
I awoke earlier than usual next morning, and grew rather
feverish as the time for our interview approached. However, I
soon cooled down upon a vague threat being held out, that if
I did not become more composed I must defer my visit.
The expected time at length arrived, and I was wheeled in my
chair into Mrs. Trevor’s boudoir. As I entered the door I looked
eagerly round and saw, seated in another chair near one of the
windows, a girl, who, turning her head round languidly, disclosed
the features of Miss Fothering. She was very pale and ethereal
looking, and seemed extremely delicate; but in my opinion this
only heightened her natural beauty. As she caught sight of me a
beautiful blush rushed over her poor, pale face, and even tinged
her alabaster forehead. This passed quickly, and she became calm
again, and paler than before. My chair was wheeled over to her,
and Mrs. Trevor said, as she bent over and kissed her, after
soothing the pillow in her chair—
“Di, my love, I have brought Frank to see you. You may talk
together for a little while; but, mind, the doctor’s orders are
very strict, and if either of you excite yourselves about anything
I must forbid you to meet again until you are both much stronger.”
She said the last words as she was leaving the room.
I felt red and pale, hot and cold by turns. I looked at Miss
Fothering and faltered. However, in a moment or two I summoned
up courage to address her.
“Miss Fothering, I hope you forgive me for the pain and danger I
caused you by that foolish fear of mine. I assure you that nothing
I ever did”—
Here she interrupted me.
“Mr. Stanford, I beg you will not talk like that. I must thank
you for the care you thought me worthy of. I will not say how
proud I feel of it, and for the generous courage and wisdom you
displayed in rescuing me from the terror of that awful scene.”
She grew pale, even paler than she had been before, as she spoke
the last words, and trembled all over. I feared for her, and said as
cheerfully as I could:
“Don’t be alarmed. Do calm yourself. That is all over now and
past. Don’t let its horror disturb you ever again.”
My speaking, although it calmed her somewhat, was not
sufficient to banish her fear, and, seeing that she was really
excited, I called to Mrs. Trevor, who came in from the next
room and talked to us for a little while. She gradually did away
with Miss Fothering’s fear by her pleasant cheery conversation.
She, poor girl, had received a sad shock, and the thought that I
had been the cause of it gave me great anguish. After a little
quiet chat, however, I grew more cheerful, but presently feeling
faintish, was wheeled back to my own room and put to bed.
For many long days I continued very weak, and hardly made
any advance. I saw Miss Fothering every day, and each day I
loved her more and more. She got stronger as the days advanced,
and after a few weeks was comparatively in good health, but
still I continued weak. Her illness had been merely the result
of the fright she had sustained on that unhappy night; but
mine was the nervous prostration consequent on the long period
of anxiety between the dream and its seeming fulfilment, united
with the physical weakness resulting from my wounds caused by
jumping through the window. During all this time of weakness
Mrs. Trevor was, indeed, a mother to me. She watched me day
and night, and as far as a woman could, made my life a dream of
happiness. But the crowning glory of that time was the thought
that sometimes forced itself upon me—that Diana cared for me.
She continued to remain at Scarp by Mrs. Trevor’s request, as
her father had gone to the Continent for the winter, and with my
adopted mother she shared the attendance on me. Day after day
her care for my every want grew greater, till I came to fancy her
like a guardian angel keeping watch over me. With the peculiar
delicate sense that accompanies extreme physical prostration I
could see that the growth of her pity kept pace with the growth
of her strength. My love kept pace with both. I often wondered
if it could be sympathy and not pity that so forestalled my wants
and wishes; or if it could be love that answered in her heart when
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