care of the colonel without danger. He resolved to consult her about
it at once.




CHAPTER XXI
A MODEL WIFE


Colonel Preston, returning from a trip to Boston, in which, probably,
he had been unconsciously exposed to the terrible disease referred to,
was taken sick, and his wife, wholly unsuspicious of her husband's
malady, sent for the doctor.

The latter examined his patient and, on leaving the sick-chamber,
beckoned Mrs. Preston to follow him.

"What is the matter with him, doctor?" asked Mrs. Preston. The
physician looked grave.

"I regret to say, Mrs. Preston, that he has the smallpox."

"The smallpox!" almost shrieked Mrs. Preston. "Oh! what will become of
me?"

Dr. Townley was rather disgusted to find her first thought was about
herself, not about her stricken husband.

"It's catching, isn't it, doctor?" she asked, in great agitation.

"I am sorry to say that it is, madam."

"Do you think I will take it?"

"I cannot take it upon myself to say."

"And I was in the same room with him," wailed Mrs. Preston, "and never
knew the awful danger! Oh, I wouldn't have the smallpox for this
world! If I didn't die, I should be all marked up for life."

"You haven't much beauty to spoil," thought the doctor; but this
thought he prudently kept to himself.

"I must leave the house at once. I will go to my brother's house till
he has recovered," said Mrs. Preston, in agitation.

"What!" exclaimed the doctor, in surprise, "and leave your husband
alone!"

"I can't take care of him--you must see that I can't," said Mrs.
Preston, fretfully. "I can't expose my life without doing him any
good."

"I expose myself every time I visit him," said the doctor. "I never
had the smallpox. Have you been vaccinated?"

"Yes, I believe so--I'm sure I don't know. But people sometimes take
the smallpox even after they have been vaccinated. I should be so
frightened that I could do no good."

"Then," said the doctor, gravely, "you have decided to leave your
husband?"

"Yes, doctor, I must. It is my duty--to my boy," answered Mrs.
Preston, catching at this excuse with eagerness. "I must live for him,
you know. Of course, if I could do any good, it would be different.
But what would Godfrey do if both his father and mother should die?"

She looked up into his face, hoping that he would express approval of
her intentions; but the doctor was too honest for this. In truth, he
was disgusted with the woman's selfishness, and would like to have
said so; but this politeness forbade. At any rate, he was not going to
be trapped into any approval of her selfish and cowardly
determination.

"What do you wish to be done, Mrs. Preston?" he asked. "Of course,
your husband must be taken care of."

"Hire a nurse, doctor. A nurse will do much more good than I could.
She will know just what to do. Most of them have had the smallpox. It
is really much better for my husband that it should be so. Of course,
you can pay high wages--anything she asks," added Mrs. Preston, whose
great fear made her, for once in her life, liberal.

"I suppose that will be the best thing to do. You wish me, then, to
engage a nurse?"

"Yes, doctor, if you will be so kind."

"When do you go away?"

"At once. I shall pack up my clothes immediately. On the whole, I
think I will go to the town where Godfrey is at school, and board
there for the present. I must see him, and prevent him from coming
home."

"You will go into your husband's chamber and bid him good-by?"

"No; I cannot think of it. It would only be useless exposure."

"What will he think?"

"Explain it to him, doctor. Tell him that I hope he will get well very
soon, and that I feel it my duty to go away now on Godfrey's account.
I am sure he will see that it is my duty."

"I wonder what excuse she would have if she had no son for a pretext?"
thought the doctor.

"Well," he said, "I will do as you request."

"See that he has the best of care. Get him two nurses, if you think
best. Don't spare expense."

"What extraordinary liberality in Mrs. Preston," thought the
physician.

He went back into the chamber of his patient.

"Doctor," said Colonel Preston, "you didn't tell me what was the
matter with me. Am I seriously sick?"

"I am sorry to say that you are."

"Dangerously?"

"Not necessarily. You have the smallpox."

"Have I?" said the patient, thoughtfully.

"It's an awkward thing to tell him that his wife is going to leave
him," the doctor said to himself. "However, it must be done."

"Have you told my wife, doctor?"

"I just told her."

"What does she say?"

"She is very much startled, and (now for it), thinks, under the
circumstances, she ought not to run the risk of taking care of you on
account of Godfrey."

"Perhaps she is right," said Colonel Preston, slowly.

He was not surprised to hear it, but it gave him a pang, nevertheless.

"She wants me to engage a nurse for you."

"Yes, that will be necessary."

There was a pause.

"When is she going?" he asked, a little later.

"As soon as possible. She is going to board near the school where
Godfrey is placed."

"Shall I see her?"

"She thinks it best not to risk coming into the chamber, lest she
should carry the infection to Godfrey."

"I suppose that is only prudent," returned the sick man, but in his
heart he wished that his wife had shown less prudence, and a little
more feeling for him.

"Have you thought of any nurse?" he asked.

"I have thought of the widow Burke."

"She might not dare to come."

"She has had the disease. I know this from a few slight marks still
left on her face. Of course, you would be willing to pay a liberal
price?"

"Any price," said Colonel Preston, energetically. "It is a service
which, I assure you, I shall not soon forget."

"I must see her at once, for your wife will leave directly."

"Pray, do so," said Colonel Preston. "Tell my wife," he said, after a
pause, "that I hope soon to have recovered, so that it may be safe for
her to come back."

There was a subdued bitterness in his voice, which the doctor
detected, and did not wonder at. He gave the message, as requested.

"I am sure I hope so, Dr. Townley," said Mrs. Preston. "I shall be
tortured with anxiety. I hope you will write me daily how my poor
husband is getting along?"

"Perhaps the paper might carry the infection," said the doctor,
testing the real extent of her solicitude.

"I didn't think of that," answered Mrs. Preston, hastily. "On the
whole, you needn't write, then. It might communicate the disease to
Godfrey."

"She finds Godfrey very useful," the doctor thought.

"I will bear my anxiety as I can," she continued. "Have you thought of
anyone for a nurse?"

"I have thought of Mrs. Burke."

"She is poor, and will come if you offer her a good price. Try to get
her."

"I think she will come. I must go at once, for your husband needs
immediate attention."

"Get her to come at once, Dr. Townley! Oh, do! My husband may want
something, and I can't go into the room. My duty to my dear, only son
will not permit me. I hope Mr. Preston understands my motives in going
away?"

"I presume he does," said the doctor, rather equivocally.

"Tell him how great a sacrifice it is for me to leave his bedside. It
is a terrible trial for me, but my duty to my son makes it
imperative."

The doctor bowed.

He drove at once to the humble dwelling of Mrs. Burke.

His errand was briefly explained.

"Can you come?" he asked. "I am authorized to offer you ten dollars a
week for the time you spend there."

"I would come in a minute, doctor, but what shall I do with Mary?"

"She shall stay at my house. I will gladly take charge of her."

"You are very kind, doctor. I wouldn't want to expose her, but I don't
mind myself. I don't think I am in danger, for I've had the smallpox
already."

"Can you be ready in five minutes? Tell Mary to pack up her things,
and go to my house at once. We'll take good care of her."

In less than an hour Mrs. Burke was installed at the bedside of the
sick man as his nurse. As she entered the house, Mrs. Preston left it,
bound for the railway depot.

"I'm so glad you're here," she said, greeting the widow Burke with
unwonted cordiality. "I am sure you will take the best care of my
husband. I have told the doctor to pay you whatever you ask."

"I'll do my best, Mrs. Preston, but not for the money," answered Mrs.
Burke. "Your husband shall get well, if good care can cure him."

"I've no doubt of it; but the carriage is here, and I must go. Tell my
husband how sorry I am to leave him."

So Mrs. Preston went away, leaving a stranger to fulfill her own
duties at the bedside of her husband.

Thus it happened that, when Andy came home, he found his mother
already gone, and his sister on the point of starting for the doctor's
house. His idea had already been carried out.




CHAPTER XXII
COLONEL PRESTON'S RECOVERY


Four weeks afterward, we will introduce the reader into the bedchamber
of Colonel Preston. His sickness has been severe. At times recovery
was doubtful, but Mrs. Burke has proved a careful and devoted nurse,
intelligent and faithful enough to carry out the directions of the
physician.

"How do you feel this morning, Colonel Preston?" asked the doctor, who
had just entered the chamber.

"Better, doctor. I feel quite an appetite."

"You are looking better--decidedly better. The disease has spent its
force, and retreated from the field."

"It is to you that the credit belongs, Dr. Townley."

"Only in part. The greater share belongs to your faithful nurse, Mrs.
Burke."

"I shall not soon forget my obligations to her," said the sick man,
significantly.

"Now, Colonel Preston," said Mrs. Burke, "you are making too much of
what little I have done."

"That is impossible, Mrs. Burke. It is to your good nursing and the
doctor's skill that I owe my life, and I hardly know to which the
most."

"To the doctor, sir. I only followed out his directions."

"At the expense of your own health. You show the effects of your
long-continued care."

"It won't take long to pick up," said Mrs. Burke, cheerfully.

"Is the danger of contagion over, doctor?" asked the patient.

"Quite so."

"Then, would it not be well to write to Mrs. Preston? Not that I mean
to give up my good nurse just yet; that is, if she is willing to
stay."

"I will stay as long as you need me, sir."

"That is well; but Mrs. Preston may wish to return, now that there's
no further danger."

"I will write to her at once."

"Thank you."

The following letter was dispatched to Mrs. Preston:


"MRS. PRESTON:--
"Dear Madam: It gives me great pleasure to inform you that
your husband is so far recovered that there is no danger now
of infection. You can return with safety, and he will,
doubtless, be glad to see you. He has been very ill,
indeed--in danger of his life; but, thanks to the devotion of
Mrs. Burke, who has proved an admirable nurse, he is now on
the high road to recovery. Yours respectfully,
"John Townley."


"I think that will bring her," said the doctor.

But he reckoned without his host.

The next day he received the following letter, on scented paper:


"MY DEAR DOCTOR TOWNLEY: You cannot think how rejoiced I am
to receive the tidings of my husband's convalescence. I have
been so tortured with anxiety during the last four weeks! You
cannot think how wretchedly anxious I have been. I could not
have endured to stay away from his bedside but that my duty
imperatively required it. I have lost flesh, and my anxiety
has worn upon me. Now, how gladly will I resume my place at
the bedside of my husband, restored by your skill. I am glad
the nurse has proved faithful. It was a good chance for her,
for she shall be liberally paid, and no doubt the money will
be welcome. But don't you think it might be more prudent for
me to defer my return until next week? It will be safer, I
think, and I owe it to my boy to be very careful. You know,
the contagion may still exist. It is hard for me to remain
longer away, when I would fain fly to the bedside of Mr.
Preston, but I feel that it is best. Say to him, with my
love, that he may expect me next week. Accept my thanks for
your attention to him. I shall never forget it; and believe
me to be, my dear doctor, your obliged
"Lucinda Preston."


Dr. Townley threw down this letter with deep disgust.

"Was ever any woman more disgustingly selfish?" he exclaimed. "Her
husband might have died, so far as she was concerned."

Of course, he had to show this letter to Colonel Preston.

The latter read it, with grave face, and the doctor thought he heard a
sigh.

"My wife is very prudent," he said, with a touch of bitterness in his
voice.

"She will be here next week," said the doctor, having nothing else to
answer.

"I think she will run no risk then," said the sick man, cynically.

But Mrs. Preston did not return in a week. It was a full week and a
half before she arrived at her own house.

The doctor was just coming out of the front door.

"How is my husband?" she asked.

"Not far from well. He is still weak, of course."

"And are you sure," she said, anxiously, "that there is no danger of
infection?"

"Not the slightest, madam," said Dr. Townley, coldly.

"I am so glad I can see him once more. You cannot imagine," she
exclaimed, clasping her hands, "how much I have suffered in my
suspense!"

The doctor remained cool and unmoved. He didn't feel that he could
respond fittingly, being absolutely incredulous.

Mrs. Preston saw it, and was nettled. She knew that she was a
hypocrite, but did not like to have the doctor, by his silence, imply
his own conviction of it.

"Mine has been a hard position," she continued.

"Your husband has not had an easy time," said the doctor,
significantly.

"But he has had good care--Mrs. Burke was a good nurse?"

"Admirable."

"She must be paid well."

"I offered her ten dollars a week."

"Humph!" said Mrs. Preston, doubtfully, in whose eyes five dollars
would have been liberal compensation. "It has been a good chance for
her."

"It is far from adequate," said the doctor, disgusted. "Money cannot
pay for such service as hers, not to speak of the risk she ran, for
cases have been known of persons being twice attacked by the disease."

"You don't think my husband will have a relapse?" asked Mrs. Preston,
with fresh alarm.

"Not if he has the same care for a short time longer."

"He shall have it. She must stay. Of course her duties are lighter
now, and six dollars a week for the remainder of the time will be
enough--don't you think so?"

"No, I don't," said the doctor, bluntly; "and, moreover, I am quite
sure your husband will not consent to reducing the wages of one whose
faithful care has saved his life."

"Oh, well, you know best," said Mrs. Preston, slowly. "I am quite
willing that she should be well paid."

Mrs. Preston went upstairs, and entered her husband's chamber.

"Oh, my dear husband!" she exclaimed, theatrically, hurrying across
the room, with affected emotion. "I am so glad to find you so much
better!"

"I am glad to see you back, Lucinda," said Colonel Preston; but he
spoke coldly, and without the slightest affectation of sentimental
joy. "I have passed through a good deal since you left me."

"And so have I!" exclaimed his wife. "Oh, how my heart has been rent
with anxiety, as I thought of you lying sick, while duty kept me from
your side."

"Is Godfrey well?" asked her husband, taking no notice of her last
speech.

"Yes, poor boy! He sends his love, and is so anxious to see you."

"Let him come next Friday afternoon," said the sick man, who doubted
this statement, yet wanted to believe it true.

"He shall. I will write to him at once."

So Mrs. Preston resumed her place in the house; but from that time
there was a something she could not understand in her husband's
manner. He was graver than formerly, and sometimes she saw him
watching her intently, and, after a little, turn away, with a sigh.

He had found her out in all her intense selfishness and want of
feeling, and he could never again regard her as formerly, even though
she tried hard at times, by a show of affection, to cover up her
heartless neglect.




CHAPTER XXIII
MRS. BURKE HAS GOOD FORTUNE


Mrs. Burke remained a week longer to nurse Colonel Preston. At the end
of this time Mr. Preston thought he was well enough to dispense with a
nurse, and accordingly she prepared to take leave.

"I shall always remember your kind service, Mrs. Burke," said the
colonel, warmly.

"It was only my duty, sir," said the widow, modestly.

"Not all would have done their duty so faithfully."

"I am glad to see you well again," said the widow.

"Not more than I am to get well, I assure you," said he. "Whenever you
are in any trouble, come to me."

With these words, he placed in her hands an envelope, which, as she
understood, contained the compensation for her services. She thanked
him, and took her departure.

Mrs. Preston was curious to know how much her husband paid the nurse,
and asked the question.

"A hundred dollars," he replied.

"A hundred dollars!" she repeated, in a tone which implied
disapproval. "I thought she agreed to come for ten dollars a week."

"So she did."

"She has not been here ten weeks; only about six."

"That is true, but she has richly earned all I gave her."

"Ten dollars a week I consider very handsome remuneration to one in
her position in life," said Mrs. Preston, pointedly.

"Lucinda, but for her attention I probably should not have lived
through this sickness. Do you think a hundred dollars so much to pay
for your husband's life?"

"You exaggerate the value of her services," said his wife.

"Dr. Townley says the same thing that I do."

"You are both infatuated with that woman," said Mrs. Preston,
impatiently.

"We only do her justice."

"Oh, well, have it your own way. But I should have only paid her what
I agreed to. It is a great windfall for her."

"She deserves it."

Mrs. Preston said no more at this time, for she found her husband too
"infatuated," as she termed it, to agree with her. She did, however,
open the subject to Godfrey when he came home, and he adopted her view
of the case.

"She and her low son are trying to get all they can out of father," he
said. "It's just like them."

"I wish I could make your father see it," said Mrs. Preston, "but he
seems prepossessed in her favor."

"If he can give a hundred dollars to her, he can give me a little
extra money; I'm going to ask him."

So he did the same evening.

"Will you give me ten dollars, father?" he asked.

"What for?"

"Oh, for various things. I need it."

"I give you an allowance of three dollars a week."

"I have a good many expenses."

"That will meet all your reasonable expenses. I was far from having as
much money as that when I was of your age."

"I don't see why you won't give me the money," said Godfrey,
discontentedly.

"I don't think you need it."

"You are generous enough to others."

"To whom do you refer?"

"You give plenty of money to that Irish boy and his mother."

"They have both rendered me great services. The boy saved me from
being robbed. The mother, in all probability, saved me from falling a
victim to smallpox. But that has nothing to do with your affairs. It
is scarcely proper for a boy like you to criticise his father's way of
disposing of his money."