Several
times the nurse tried gently to arouse her, but save for a puzzled,
half-frightened, half-defiant look in the wide-open eyes, there was no
response, though she took her medicine obediently. But when Miss Farwell
after bathing the girl's face, and brushing and braiding her hair,
dressed her in a clean, white gown, the frightened defiant look gave
place to one of wondering gratitude, and a little later she seemed to
sleep.
She was still sleeping when Miss Farwell, who was standing by the window
watching a group of negro children playing ball in the square, saw a man
approaching the group from the direction of the village. The young
woman's face flushed as she recognized the unmistakable figure of the
minister.
Then an angry light shone in the gray eyes, and she drew back with a low
exclamation. As in evident answer to his question, a half dozen hands
were pointed toward the window where she stood. Watching, she saw him
coming toward the building.
His purpose was clear. What should she do? Her first angry impulse was
to refuse to admit him. What right had he to attempt to see her after her
so positive dismissal? Then she thought--perhaps he was coming to see the
sick girl. What right had she to refuse to admit him, when it could in no
way harm her patient? The room, after all, was the home of the young
woman on the bed--the nurse was only there in her professional capacity.
Miss Farwell began to feel that she was playing a part in a mighty drama;
that the cue had been given for the entrance of another actor.
Pages:
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150