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Page 81
"He's comin' to," said Emma. Her voice sounded as if she felt moved.
"Don't take on so, Miss Clemency," she said; "he ain't dead."
Again James felt the soft kisses and tears on his face, and again came
the poor little voice, "Oh, darling, please listen, please don't do so.
I will marry you. I will. I know you did just right. I read one of Uncle
Tom's books this morning, and I found out what awful suffering she might
have had hours longer. You did right. I will marry you. I will never
think of it again. Please don't look so. Are you dreadfully hurt? Oh,
when they came bringing you in I thought you were killed! There is a
great bruise on your head. Does it hurt much? You do feel better, don't
you? Oh, Emma, if Uncle Tom would only come. Can't you hear me, dear? I
will marry you. I take it all back. I will marry you! I will marry you
whenever you wish. Oh, please look at me! Please speak to me! Oh, Emma,
there is Uncle Tom. I am so glad."
And then poor, little Clemency, all unstrung and frightened, sank into
an unconscious little heap on the floor as Gordon entered. "What the
devil?" he cried out. "I saw the buggy smashed on the road, and that
mare went down the Ford Hill road like a whirlwind. What, Elliot, are
you hurt, boy? Clemency, Emma, what has happened?"
All the time Gordon was talking he was examining James, who was now able
to speak feebly. "The mare was frightened and threw me," he gasped. "I
was stunned. I am all right now. See to Clemency!"
But Clemency was already staggering weakly to her feet.
"Oh, Uncle Tom, he isn't killed, is he?" she sobbed.
"Killed, no," said Gordon, "but he will be if you don't stop crying and
making a goose of yourself, Clemency."
"We put ice on his head," sobbed Clemency. "He isn't--"
"Of course he isn't. He was only stunned. That is only a flesh wound."
"I tried to git some brandy down him, but I couldn't," said Emma.
"Give it to me," said Gordon. He poured out some brandy in a spoon, and
James swallowed it. "He will be all right now," Gordon said. "You won't
be such a beauty that the women will run after you for a few days,
Elliot, but you're all right."
"I feel all right," James said.
"It is nothing more than a little boy with a bump on his forehead," said
Gordon to Clemency. "Now, child, stop crying, and go and bathe your
eyes. Emma, is luncheon ready?"
When both women had gone Gordon, who had been applying some ointment to
James's forehead, said in a low voice, broken by emotion, "You are all
right, Elliot, but--you did have a close call."
"I suppose I did," James said, laughing feebly.
He essayed to rise, but Gordon held him down. "No, keep still," he said.
"You must not stir to-day. I will have your luncheon brought in.
Clemency will be only too happy to wait on you, hand and foot."
"Poor little girl, I must have given her an awful fright," said James.
"Well, you are not exactly the looking object to do anything else," said
Gordon laughing.
"Where is there a glass?"
"Where you won't have it. You won't be scarred. It is simply a temporary
eclipse of your beauty, and Clemency will love you all the more for it.
You need not worry. Talk about the vanity of women. I thought you were
above it, Elliot. Now lie still. If you get up you will be giddy."
James lay still, smiling. He felt very happy, and his love for Clemency
seemed like a glow of pure radiance in his heart. He lay on the office
lounge all the afternoon. He fell asleep with Clemency sitting beside
holding his hand. Gordon had gone out to finish the calls. It was six
o'clock before he drove into the yard. James had just awakened and lay
feeling a great peace and content. Clemency was smiling down at his
discolored face, as if it were the face of an angel. The windows were
open, and the distant lowing of cattle, waiting at homeward bars, the
monotone of frogs, and the songs of circling swallows came in. James
felt as if he saw in a celestial vision the whole world and life, and
that it was all blessed and good, that even the pain and sorrow
blossomed in the end into ineffable flowers of pure delight.
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