Read CHAPTER VIII - GERALD OBEYS ORDERS of Only an Incident, free online book, by Grace Denio Litchfield, on ReadCentral.com.

In an incredibly short time Denham brought back not only Dr. Dennis, whom he had caught just setting out for a stolen game of whist with Mr. Upjohn, during the absence of that gentleman’s wife at prayer-meeting, but also Soeur Angelique, whose mere presence in a sick-room was more than half the cure. And then he sat in the dark, disordered room below, impatiently enough, anxiously waiting for news from Phebe. The time seemed to him interminable before at last the door opened, and Gerald entered, bearing a lamp. The vivid light, flung so full upon her, showed traces of passionate weeping; and her white dress all scorched and burned and hopelessly ruined, with the rich lace hanging in shreds from the sleeves, made her a startling contrast indeed to the usually calm, self-possessed, perfectly-dressed Gerald Vernor.

Denham sprang forward to take the heavy lamp from her. “How is she, please?”

Gerald started. “What, you here?”

“Did you think I could leave till I knew?”

“Oh, of course not, I had forgotten you. I was only thinking of Phebe.”

“But how is she?”

“Better. She is burned about the shoulders and a little on the arms, but not seriously, and nothing that will disfigure. It is so fortunate. The doctor is still with her, but she is much easier now, and there is nothing to fear.”

“Ah, what a relief! It seemed as if I should never hear. She is really in no danger then?”

“None.”

“Thank God! As you came in you looked so distressed I feared

“When it was all over and there was nothing to cry about, I cried,” interrupted Gerald. “Women are always fools. I’ll except Mrs. Whittridge, however. She has been the greatest comfort to Phebe.”

“It is Soeur Angélique’s characteristic privilege always to be a comfort, I believe,” answered Denham, recovering his light-heartedness in a flash. “Might I inquire if you have any especial object with this lamp? Shall I do any thing particularly with it?”

“Let it down, please anywhere. I remembered the room was dark, and ran down to put it to rights before Mrs. Lane should comeback. Her orderly soul would have a spasm if she came upon it suddenly like this.”

“It was well I had no light,” said Denham, looking around him. “It would have frightened even me. Shan’t I call some one?”

“It’s the ridiculous fashion of the house to suppose it never needs servants at this hour. There’s not one within reach.”

“You must let me help you then. Is this the table-cover?”

“Thanks. I am afraid the fire has done for it, but we can’t help that. Pull it a little farther to your side, please. Farther still. That’s too far. So. That’s right. Now the lamp here. Now the books. Cover up the holes with them.”

“Ah, Miss Lydia’s pet cup! and her little favorite statuette!”

“Hideous things! I’m glad they’re smashed.”

“Will you equally enjoy imparting to her the fact of their loss?”

“Somebody else may do that. I had my share telling her about Phebe.”

“I suppose she was terribly shocked, poor old soul. I don’t wonder.”

“She had an instant attack of hysterics, and I did wonder,” rejoined Gerald, tartly. “But as I told you, women are always fools, and nervous women the worst ones, I haven’t any patience with them. I was vexed enough with her for keeping me from Phebe. I don’t believe she was ever hurried so out of an attack before.”

“I’m afraid there’s need of a broom or something here, Miss Vernor. This vase is in a thousand pieces.”

Gerald seized the hearth-brush and was on her knees by him in a moment.
“The lamp, please, Mr. Halloway. Set it on the floor an instant.”

Denham moved it as desired, and stood looking down at her as she began deftly brushing up the scattered bits.

“Miss Vernor!” he suddenly exclaimed in a shocked voice. The bright light, falling broadly across her hands, showed two great angry-red blotches just above one of the delicate wrists. He stooped and laid masterful hold of the long handle of the brush.

“Well?” she said, stopping perforce and looking up in surprise. “What is it?”

“Your arm you are burned, badly burned.”

Gerald made a little sound of contempt for all reply.

“It should be dressed at once. How it must pain you!”

Gerald looked at her arm reflectively. “I haven’t had time to feel,” she said, vainly trying to pull her sleeve over it. “It will make an ugly scar, won’t it? I shall have to abandon elbow sleeves. Now please let go the brush.”

“Miss Vernor, why should you be so cruel to yourself? Do go up to the doctor at once!”

“And take him away from Phebe? I will not. It won’t hurt any more now than it has done already. I must ask you to let me have the brush, Mr. Halloway. I am losing time.”

Halloway relinquished it without speaking, and went quietly out of the room, and Gerald unconcernedly resumed her work, scarcely pausing to wonder where he had gone or what he intended. He returned just as she had finished, and lifting the lamp back to the table, called to her: “Will you come here, please?”

“What in the world have you there?” she inquired, coming up to him in sheer curiosity.

“Soap. I found the way to the kitchen, you see. I had to bring the water in this tin thing. I didn’t know where to look for a cup.”

“Pray what is it for?”

“For you. Soap is good for burns. Will you let me take your hand, please?”

Gerald put the wounded member behind her. “Thank you. I neither require nor desire assistance.”

“Pardon me, you do require it, and if you refuse to see the doctor

“Is that any reason why I should resort to you and kitchen soap?”

“I grant it is a very homely remedy, Miss Vernor, but it is an excellent one and the only one I know.”

“I daresay. It is one more than I know of.”

“You will not try it?”

“No.”

“Perhaps you are afraid of the pain attending the dressing?”

It was a masterly stroke. Gerald gave him one look of intense scorn, almost of anger, and immediately reached out her hand. “I am afraid of nothing not even of your lack of skill.”

Denham took her hand without further ceremony, and holding it firmly, pushed back the hanging lace from her arm and began rubbing the soap over the burns, without so much as a word of pity for the pain he knew he was giving her. She winced involuntarily at the first touch, but set her teeth tightly lest she should cry out. It hurt her cruelly. “I was not aware before that the custody of souls extended to that of the temples they inhabit,” she said, when she could command herself sufficiently to assume a supreme indifference of tone. “You believe in purely household remedies, I see.”

“I believe always in doing what I can with what means I have. One moment more, please. I am not quite through.”

Gerald held out her hand again. “Perhaps you had better try sandstone on it this time, or a little burning oil.”

Halloway did not answer, but hastily tearing his handkerchief into strips, bound the arm as closely as he could. “There,” he said, surveying the bandages critically, and inwardly well pleased with his success; “at least that will do till you can see the doctor.”

“Are you sure you are quite through now?” asked Gerald, in mock submission. “You don’t think it necessary to put the arm in a splint, or to fasten weights to it, or to amputate the first joint of the thumb?”

“I am sorry to say that is all I know how to do for you, Miss Vernor.”

“Then I will go back to Miss Lydia. By the way, would you recommend soap also for hysterics?”

“Applied with a close bandage over the mouth? Certainly, it will be both effectual and immediate.”

“Thank you. Good-night.”

“Will you not shake hands with me?”

Gerald turned as she was moving off and held out her hand, more as a queen might have extended it in motion of dismissal than as friend to friend. Denham took it between both his. “Before you go, I want to thank you in the name of all Miss Phebe’s friends,” he said, earnestly. “You have saved her life to-night, and at the risk of your own.”

“The table-cloth was her savior, not I,” returned Gerald, lightly, but with a softened voice. “And anyway, is it not quite thanks enough only to know that Phebe is safe? Now good-night in earnest.”