Athalia, abashed, but still cherishing the dear insult of having been tempted, took what little part Eldress allowed her in the care of the sick man; but in the six or seven weeks of his illness Brother Nathan and the Eldress were his devoted nurses, and by-and-by a genuine friendship grew up between them.
Old Eldress Hannah's shrewd good-humor was as wholesome as a sound winter apple, and Nathan had a gayety Lewis had never suspected.
The old man grew very confidential in those days of Lewis's convalescence; he showed his simple heart with a generosity that made the sick man's lip tighten once or twice and his eyes blur;--Lewis came to know all about Sister Lydia; indeed, he knew more than the old man knew himself. When the invalid grew stronger, Nathan wrestled with him over the Prophecies, and Lewis studied them and the other foundation-stones of the Shaker faith with a constantly increasing anxiety. "Because," he said, with a nervous blink, "if you ARE right--" But he left the sentence unfinished.
Once he said, with a feeble passion--for he was still very weak--"I tell you, Nathan, it isn't human!" and then added, under his breath, "but God knows whether that's not in its fa-vor."
When he was quite well again he was plainly preoccupied.
He pored over the Prophecies with a concentration that made him blind even to Athalia's tired looks. Once, when some one said in his presence, "Sister 'Thalia is working too hard," he blinked at her in an absent way before the old, anxious attention awoke in his eyes.
Athalia tossed her head and said, "Brother Lewis has his own affairs to think of, I guess!"
And he said, eagerly: "Yes, 'Thalia; I have been thinking--Some day I'll tell you. But not yet."
"Oh, I haven't time to pry into other people's thoughts," she said, acidly. And, indeed, just then her time was very full.
She was enormously useful to the community that second winter; her young power and strength shone out against the growing weariness of the old sisters. "Athalia's capable,"
Eldress Hannah said, and the other sisters said "Yee," and smiled at one another.
"She IS useful," Sister Jane declared; "do you know, she got through the churning before nine? I'd 'a' been at it until eleven!"
"Athalia is like one of those candles that have a streak of soft wax in 'em," Eldress Hannah murmured; "but she's useful, as you say, Jane."
In January, when the Eldress fell ill, Athalia was especially useful.
She nursed her with a passion of faithfulness that made the other sisters remonstrate.
"You'll wear yourself out, Athalia; you haven't had your clothes off for three days and nights!"
"The Lord has upheld me, and His right hand has sustained me,"
Athalia quoted, with an uplifted look.
"Yee," old Jane assented, "but He likes sense, Athalia, and there ain't any reason why two of us shouldn't take turns settin' up with her tonight."
"This is my service," Athalia said, smiling joyously.
Eldress Hannah, lying with closed eyes, said, suddenly:
"Athalia, don't be foolish and conceited. You go right along to your bed; Jane and Mary'll look after me."
It took Athalia a perceptible minute to get herself in hand sufficiently to say, meekly, "Yee, Eldress." When she had shut the door behind her with perhaps something more than Shaker emphasis, the Eldress opened her eyes and smiled at old Jane.
"She's smart," she said.
"Yee," said Sister Jane; and there was a little chuckle.
The sick woman closed her eyes again and sighed.
"What a nurse Lydia was!" she said; and added, suddenly:
"How is Nathan getting along with Lewis? There isn't much more time, I guess," she ended, mildly; "she won't last it out another summer."
"She's done better than I expected to stay till now," Jane said; and the Eldress nodded.
But it was, perhaps, a natural result of Athalia's abounding energy that toward the end of that second winter in the Shaker village she should grow irritable. The spring work was very heavy that year.
Brother William was too feeble to do even the light, pottering tasks that had been allotted to him, and his vague babblings about the spirits ceased altogether. In April old Jane died, and that put extra burdens on Athalia's capable shoulders.
"But I notice I don't get anything extra for my work, not even thanks!" she told Lewis, sharply, and forgot to call him "Brother."
She had walked down Lonely Lake Road and stopped at his gate.
She looked thinner; her forget-me-not eyes were clouded, and there was an impatient line about her lips, instead of the faint, ecstatic smile which was part of her early experience.
"Yes, there's lots of work to be done," he agreed, "but when people do it together--"
"What do you think?"--she interrupted him, her lip drooping a little in a half-contemptuous smile--"they've heard again from that Sister Lydia who ran away! You know who I mean?--Brother Nathan is always talking about her.
They think she'll come back. _I_ should say good riddance!
Though of course if it's genuine repentance I'll be glad.
Only I don't think it is."
"How pleased Nathan will be!" Lewis said.
"Oh, he's pleased; he's rather too pleased for a Shaker, it strikes me."
Lewis frowned. "There is joy in the presence of the angels," he reminded her, gravely.
"Angels!" she said, with a laugh; "I don't believe so much in the angels as I did before I knew so much about them.
I understand that when this 'angel' comes back I am to give up my room to her, if you please, because it used to be hers.
Oh, I'm of no importance now--Lewis," she broke off, suddenly, "who has our house this year?"
"Davis; he wants to re-lease it in May."
"He just takes it by the year, doesn't he?" she asked.
He nodded. "Wants a five-years' lease next time."
"Well, don't give it to him!" she said; and added, frowning:
"You ought to go back yourself, you know. It's foolish for you to be here. Why, it's almost two years!"
"Time flies," he said, smiling.
She laughed and sighed. "Yes--I mean yee--indeed, it does!
I was just thinking, Lewis, we've been married ten years!"
