Page:Once a Week Volume V.djvu/709

 702 says there is no doubt rest and care will restore her.”

“Of course they will,” said Keefe; “nature only requires rest.”

Denis looked at them with a bitter pang, as he thought of Coral, lying voiceless, senseless, motionless, as if waiting for the coffin and the shroud.

“It is easy for them to talk so,” thought he; “it is not much to them whether she lives or dies; they have all earth’s joys in each other. I must see her again,” he said aloud. “I only ask to look at her for one minute, but I must see her again.”

“Come then,” said Helen, and smothering his agitation as best he might, Denis accompanied her. Silently and softly they approached the bed, where she lay wasted, wan, pale as ashes, without apparent breath or sign of life. Her beautiful hair lay tangled and lustreless on her pillow; her eyelids were pressed heavily over her large orbs, from which no ray now shone; her lips were white and fixed: it was hard to believe that the spirit had not fled for ever from that moveless and rigid form. How changed she was from the bright being of light, and joy, and sunshine who, six months before, had woke the forest echoes with her glad voice, and chased the flying shadows with her dancing feet. But saddest change of all was the expression of intense woe stamped on every feature, on her brow contracted by suffering, on her discoloured lids, and round her closely compressed lips.

“Is it Coral?” whispered Denis, at last, “Keefe, is it Coral?”

“Don’t fret, so, dear Denis,” said Keefe, almost too much moved himself to speak, “she will soon be well.”

“Never! never!” cried Denis, passionately, “death is in her face.”

Unable to control his feelings, he rushed from the room. Keefe followed him, and caught hold of him as he was leaving the house.

“Where are you going, Denis? You must not go away; she will get well, I tell you. Mrs. Wendell knows. Helen was once worse than she is. Stay with us, Denis.”

“I cannot hear it,” sobbed Denis; “let me go, Keefe, I must go I’ll try and bear it, but it is hard. Let me go now, I’ll come back in a little while,” and he hurried away to indulge his grief without witness or interruption.

For two days Coral continued in the same state, tenderly and anxiously watched over by Helen and Mrs. Wendell. Sometimes Denis came and gazed at her for two or three minutes, and then hastened away, unable to control his distress.

On the third day her life revived, she moved restlessly, her eyelids unclosed, a dreamy consciousness awoke in her eyes, which gradually grew clearer; she looked eagerly round, till meeting Helen’s glance of tender solicitude, a spasm convulsed her features, she closed her eyes, as if to shut out a hateful object, and turned away her face.

Rejoiced at these signs of returning animation, and ignorant of the sharp pang the sight of her had sent through the unhappy girl’s heart, Helen flew to give her such nourishment as her weak state required, and tenderly tried to persuade her to take it; but in vain. Coral seemed to have relapsed into her former state of insensibility, and neither Helen nor Mrs. Wendell could rouse her again to consciousness. But soon after, when Mrs. Wendell left the room, and Helen sat silently watching her patient, Coral raised herself on her elbow and looked about her. For a moment she did not discover Helen, who sat in a low chair, and in shadow; but when her eyes again encountered the beautiful face so sympathisingly regarding her, she shuddered, and, like i the Hebrew king, turned her face to the wall, as if she wished for ever to shut out “the day and blessed sunlight.” Already, however, Helen was at her side, and f kneeling by the bed, she tried, by the tenderest accents, the most caressing words, to win her to speak, or at least to take the strengthening drink she had prepared for her, but she could elicit neither word nor glance, nor motion from the pale, impassive figure over which she so anxiously bent.

Then a sudden thought seemed to strike Helen, and calling Mrs. Wendell to take her place, she went in search of Keefe, who she knew was not far from the house. On seeing her Keefe came to meet her.

“Is anything the matter? he asked.

“No, she is better, she is sensible. But dear Keefe, you must come to her, she will not take the nourishment on which her life depends from Mrs. Wendell or me; she cannot hear to have me near her.”

“Why not?” asked Keefe, surprised.

“She thinks it is I who have divided her from you. Oh! Keefe, I pity her from my heart.”

“I know you do, Helen,” said Keefe.

“But will you come to her now? She will do whatever you wish.”

“Well, I will try,” and he walked back with Helen to the house.

Calling out Mrs. Wendell, Helen made Keefe go into Coral’s room alone.

At the first sound of his step Coral started, half-raised herself, and looked at him with a piercing look. He drew near, and took her hand. She trembled violently, but she did not withdraw it.

“Do you know me, Coral?”

“Yes.”

“Who am I!”I?” [sic]

“Keefe,” said she softly, as if it was sweet to her again to speak his name.

“Dear Coral, you have been very ill.”

“Ill, have I?” she exclaimed, with a sudden flash of light from her eyes. “Did I dream then? Did I rave? Where am I? And who is she that was here just now?”

“She is my wife, Coral; she loves you for my sake, and you must love her for mine.”

The light in Coral’s eyes went out, she set her teeth hard, turned away her head, and tried to draw her hand from Keefe, but he held it fast.

“It will be time enough to talk more of these things when you are well, Coral. You must make haste to get well.”