CHAPTER XXIX.
A FRIEND INDEED.
The loquacious maid who had been pouring out her story without a single period, now paused for breath, and Berry stared at her with wide, wondering brown eyes.
The name of the sick American, as rendered by the maid, caught her instant attention.
“Bonny Hair, or Bonny Air—something like that,” said the maid, and how like it sounded the name of Bonair.
A quick suspicion stirred Berry’s mind into agitation.
“Why, it might be Charley’s own dear father lying there ill, and deserted by the stupid, fearsome fisher folk, helpless, for all of his millions, to secure a nurse!”
Her brown eyes flashed, and she rose up hastily.
“Hannah, I’m an American, too, and I’m going up there to nurse the old man. I cannot let my fellow countryman die for lack of a friend.”
“But, oh, my dear mistress, it’s that terrible smallpox. You wouldn’t dare! You would catch it and die.”
“No, Hannah, I’m immune. I had the disease years ago, way back in my old New Jersey home, and am not even pitted, you see, save two deep scars where it does not show. So I shall go, and at once, leaving you to care for the home till I return.”
With Berry to make up her mind was to act. She dressed herself simply and comfortably, and packed a suit case with necessary clothing, after which she went to a drug store and made some purchases. After leaving a letter for Charley, she hired the nearest conveyance to take her to the inn where she meant to take up the part of a good Samaritan.
The driver was so frightened when he saw the yellow flag waving from the gate of the inn that he refused to go within a square of the house, and she paid him and walked the rest of the way, with her luggage and her bundles.
How lonely and deserted looked the weather-beaten old inn with the doors tight shut and the curtains down, as if death already brooded over the house.
Berry pulled the knocker several times, loudly, before she had any response, and then the valet, unkempt and unshorn, himself answered the door and gazed in surprise at the beautiful girl standing expectant with her luggage at her feet.
He bowed, then stammered:
“Oh, miss, you had better go right away. Didn’t you see that yellow flag at the gate? There’s a case of smallpox in the house, and no travelers are taken in now.”
“Where is the landlord?” she asked, and the man answered furiously:
“The cowardly rascal ran away, with his servants, and left me alone here with my sick master; and although the fellow promised to send me a nurse or doctor, or both, not a hair have I seen of either yet, and here I am with Senator Bonair on my hands, ill as he can be, and I daren’t leave him to hunt for any one to help me; and even if I went they would shun me like a wild beast, fearing the contagion. It’s a burning shame, so it is; but I’ll not run away like a coward, though, belike, I’ll be taking the disease myself and dying of it, too.”
His mouth flew wide open as Berry said calmly:
“I am the nurse for Senator Bonair, and I shall vaccinate you at once—what is your name?”
“John Tousey, please, miss.”
“Very well, John; take my luggage to a comfortable room, please. And the next thing will be to vaccinate you so that if you should contract the disease you will only have it in a light form. I came prepared for this,” and making him bare his arm she took a lancet, scratching a small spot on it, with outward nerve and inward quaking, feeling, when the blood was drawn, that queer sickness that presages fainting. Overcoming the weakness with a strong effort of will, she duly used her vaccine point, much to the man’s relief, for his countenance brightened, and he exclaimed:
“Bless you, miss! I’m so glad you came, and I hope this will save me from that awful scourge. I began to think the old landlord lied, when he said that he’d send us the nurse and doctor.”
“I was told at the drug store that the doctor was ill himself, so there was none to come but me,” the nurse replied, adding:
“But I know how to treat the case very well myself, as the disease ran through my own family once, and there’s more in the nursing than the medicine, so lead me to your master and we’ll see what is to be done.”
With joyful alacrity, the man preceded her to the darkened room where lay her millionaire father-in-law in the terrible plight of a smallpox patient at the worst stage, without benefit of doctor or skillful nurse.
Berenice took hold of everything with an ease that fairly charmed John Tousey, evolving comfort out of chaos, and soon making the sick man more comfortable in every way.
The larder was well filled, so that, although isolated from their kind, they were in no danger of starving. Berry took up her burden with a cheerful heart, thinking:
“Although Senator Bonair may despise me for being a poor cottage girl, it is well for him now that I am skilled in homely accomplishments, that I may minister the better to his needs.”
She wondered, as she went busily about her work, when Charley would return and what he would think of the task she had undertaken. He would be disappointed at finding her gone, but he could not blame her, could not think she was in the wrong.
She had written to him sweetly:
“I have isolated myself from you for a time, my dearest love, but when I tell you why I am sure you will be glad for me to do this act of kindness.
“I heard that a man who must surely, from his name, be your own father, was up at the inn, very low with smallpox, and that every one but his valet had deserted the poor man, and he was likely to die without doctor or nurse, so I thought it was my plain duty to come and nurse him.
“There is no danger for me, you know, because I have had the disease, and I also know how to treat it, so do not worry over me, but go and get vaccinated as soon as you can and try and get some good doctor to come and see the patient.
“Dearest, try to rest easy. You can hear from me every day this way. I will wave a white flag from the window every day at noon. That will mean all is going on right. Be patient, I will do all I can for the dad you love so well.
“BERENICE.”