CHAPTER XXV. "I'm afraid poor Evadne will be worn out with such constant attendance

CHAPTER XXV.

"I'm afraid poor Evadne will be worn out with such constant attendance upon Louis," said Marion some weeks after Pompey's death. "I don't see how she stands it."

"It is hardly worth her while to undertake nursing," said Isabelle coldly, "if she cannot stand such a trifle as this."

"Why, Isabelle, just think of the strain night after night! You wouldn't like it, I know. I want Mamma to get a paid nurse, but Louis won't have any one near him but Evadne."

"Of course _I_ could not stand being broken of my rest," rejoined Isabelle, "it is hard enough for me to get any under the most favorable circumstances, but probably Evadne sleeps like a log in the daytime. It is the least return she can make for having disgraced the family, to be of some use in it now."

Marion laughed incredulously. "I should never think of associating Evadne's name with disgrace," she said. "What _do_ you mean, Isabelle?"

"Mamma says this nursing fad of hers upset Papa completely. He said the Hildreth honor had better not be mentioned any more."

"Well, I don't know. It seems to me she is of a good deal more value to him now than the Hildreth honor. Dr. Russe says she is one of the best nurses he ever saw. That is a high compliment, for he is dreadfully particular. It is my opinion, Isabelle, that Louis is a good deal worse than we think him to be. Don't mention it to Mamma, for she is so nervous, but I heard Dr. Russo talking to Papa in the hall this morning, something about an inherited tendency and a derangement of the nervous system. I could not understand--he spoke so low--but Papa looked dreadfully worried after he had gone.

"Don't you think Papa looks very badly, Isabelle? And he seems so absent, as if he had something on his mind. I noticed it long before this happened."

Isabelle laughed carelessly. "What a girl you are, Marion! You are always imagining things about people. For my part I have too many worries of my own."

Upstairs Evadne was saying wistfully, "Don't you think your life should be very precious, Louis, now that two people have died?"

"Two people, Evadne? I know there was good old Pompey,--the thought of that haunts me night and day,--but who else do you mean?"

"Jesus Christ."

"Oh!"

"Do you never think about him, Louis?"

"My dear coz, I find it wiser not to think. Every other man you meet holds a different creed, and each one thinks his is the right one. Why should I set myself up as knowing better than other people? The only way is to have a sort of nebulous faith. God will not expect too much of us, if we do the best we can."

"A 'nebulous faith' will not save you, Louis," Evadne answered sadly. "God expects us to believe his word when he tells us that he has opened a way for us into the Holiest by the blood of his Son."

"That atonement theory is an uncanny doctrine."

"It is the only way by which sinners can be made 'at one' with an absolutely holy God. Jesus said 'And I if I be lifted up ... will draw all men unto me.' His humanitarianism did not win the hearts of the multitude. The very men he had fed and healed hounded him _on to his cross_."

"It is not philosophical."

"I read this morning that 'the moving energy in the world's history to-day is not a philosophy, but a cross.'"

"The God of the present is humanitarianism."

"Humanitarianism is not Christ. Paul says--'Though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor ... but have not love, it profiteth me nothing.' The love which he means is the Christ power, for no mere human love could reach the altitude of the 13th of 1st Corinthians. Real religion is not a creed, but a Christ. It seems to me the most important questions we have to answer are, what we think of Christ and what we are going to do with him.

"When Peter gave his answer--'Thou art the Christ,--the Anointed One,--the Son of the living God,--' Christ said, 'On this rock--the faith of thine--I will build my church.' Humanitarianism, pure and simple, seems to me but an attempt to imitate Christ. It is beautiful as far as it goes, but it is not my idea of following him."

"What is, Evadne?"

"When Jesus told his disciples to follow, he meant them to be with him. I do not think we can ever hope to be like Christ unless we believe him to be God and walk with him every day. If we have the spirit of Jesus in our hearts, we shall be model humanitarians, for we shall love our neighbor as ourselves."

Louis caught her hand in his. "Begin by loving me!" he cried suddenly. "I love you, dear! These long days of watching have taught me that, although I began to suspect it some time ago. It is no use saying anything," he went on hurriedly, as Evadne began to protest, "you must be my wife, for I cannot live without you!"

He drew a handsome ring, of quaint and curious workmanship which he had bought in Venice, from his finger, and before Evadne could recover from her astonishment, had thrust it upon hers. "See, you are mine, darling. Now let us seal the compact with a kiss."

"Louis, you are dreaming! This can never be!" She struggled to free her hand but he held her fingers in a grasp of steel.

"It shall be, my sweet little Puritan! Do you suppose I will ever give you up now? I tell you I love you, Evadne! Love you as I never thought I should ever love a woman. Why, you can twist me around your finger. I am like water in your hands."

"Louis, please listen!" implored Evadne, with a white, strained face. "This is utterly impossible, for--I do not love you."

"I will teach you, dear," said Louis cheerfully. "I know I have been a brute, but I will show you how gentle I can be."

"Louis!" cried Evadne desperately, "you must let me go! I will _never_ do this thing!"

She pulled vainly at the ring as she spoke. Louis' grasp never relaxed. When he spoke she was frightened at the recklessness of his tone.

"Take that ring off your finger and I go straight to the devil! You say you want to win my soul. Here is your chance. You can make of me what you will. I own there is something in your Christianity. I can't help sneering when I see Isabelle and Marion playing at it, but I have never sneered at you. Now, take your choice. Shall the devil have his own?"

His voice was quiet but she could see he was laboring under intense excitement. Evadne was in despair. What should she do? Only that morning Dr. Russe had said to her,--

"It is not the injury he sustained in the fall that worries me. He will get over that. But the shock to the nervous system has been tremendous. Humor him in everything and avoid the least excitement, as you value his life."

She leaned over him and said gently,--"Dear Louis, you are not strong enough to talk any more to-day. I will wear the ring a little while to please you, but remember, this other thing you want can never be."

He looked up at her, his face pallid with exhaustion, "Promise me," he said faintly, "that the ring shall stay on your finger until I take it off."

And Evadne promised.

“One work. Many languages. One reading experience.”