A Knight of the Nineteenth CenturyRoe, Edward Payson
General
A Knight of the Nineteenth Century
Roe, Edward Payson
Fiction
"I'm considerably worse than they average down here. But as I was
telling you, Mrs. Poland was a New England woman, and to humor her her
husband employed such white servants as could be got in the city, and
poor trash they were most of the time. When the fever appeared they left
instantly. Poland bought the old colored people who are there with the
place, and gave them their freedom, and only they have stood by them.
What they would have done last night if you had not come, God only
knows. Poor Amy, poor Amy!" sighed the old doctor tempestuously; "she's
the prettiest and pluckiest little girl in the city. She's half
frightened out of her wits, I can see that, and yet nothing but force
could get her away. For my nephew's sake and her own I tried hard to
induce her to go, but she stands her ground like a soldier. What is best
now I hardly know. Mrs. Poland is so utterly prostrated that it might
cost her life to move her. Besides, they have all been so terribly
exposed to the disease that they might be taken with it on the journey,
and to have them go wandering off the Lord knows where at this chaotic
time looks to me about as bad as staying where they are, and I can look
after them. But we'll see, we'll see." And in like manner the sorely
troubled old gentleman talked rapidly on, till they reached the
undertaker's, seemingly finding a relief in thus unburdening his heart
to one of whose sympathy he felt sure, and who might thus be led to feel
a deeper interest in the objects of his charge.
Even at that time of general disaster Haldane's abundant funds enabled
him to secure prompt attention. It was decided that Mr. Poland's remains
should be placed in a receiving vault until such time as they could be
removed to the family burying-ground in another city, and before the day
closed everything had been attended to in the manner which refined
Christian feeling would dictate.
Before parting with Haldane, Doctor Orton had given him careful
directions what to do in case he recognized symptoms of the fever in any
of the family or himself. "Keep Amy and Bertha with their mother all you
can," he said; "anything to rouse the poor woman from that stony despair
into which she seems to have fallen."
The long day at length came to an end. Haldane of necessity had been
much away, and he welcomed the cool and quiet evening; and yet he knew
that with the shadow of night, though so grateful after the glare and
heat to which he had been subjected, the fatal pestilence approached the
nearer, as if to strike a deadlier blow. As the pioneer forefathers of
the city had shut their doors and windows at nightfall, lest their
savage and lurking foes should send a fatal arrow from some dusky
covert, so now again, with the close of the day, all doors and windows
must be shut against a more subtle and remorseless enemy, whose viewless
shafts sped with a surer aim in darkness.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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