THE BETTER MAN
In the middle of the afternoon the Harvester arose and went into the lake, ate a hearty dinner, and then took up his watch again. For two days and nights he kept his place, until he had the Girl out of danger, and where careful nursing was all that was required to insure life and health. As he sat beside her the last day, his physical endurance strained to the breaking point, she laid her hand over his, and looked long and steadily into his eyes.
"There are so many things I want to know," she said.
The Harvester's firm fingers closed over hers. "Ruth, have you ever been sorry that you trusted me?"
"Never!" said the Girl instantly.
"Then suppose you keep it up," said he. "Whatever it is that you want to know, don't use an iota of strength to talk or to think about it now. Just say to yourself, he loves me well enough to do what is right, and I know that he will. All you have to do is to be patient until you grow stronger than you ever have been in your life, and then you shall have exactly what you want, Ruth. Sleep like a baby for a week or two. Then, slowly and gradually, we will build up such a constitution for you that you shall ride, drive, row, swim, dance, play, and have all that your girlhood has missed in fun and frolic, and all that your womanhood craves in love and companionship. Happiness has come at last, Ruth.
Take it from me. Everything you crave is yours. The love you want, the home, and the life. As soon as you are strong enough, you shall know all about it. Your business is to drink stimulants and sleep now, dear."
"So tired of this bed!"
"It won't be long until you can lie on the couch and the veranda swing again."
"Glory!" said the Girl. "David, I must have been full of fever for a long time. I can't remember everything."
"Don't try, I tell you. Life is coming out right for you; that's all you need know now."
"And for you, David?"
"Whenever things are right for you, they are for me, Ruth."
"Don't you ever think of yourself?"
"Not when I am close you."
"Ah! Then I shall have to grow strong very soon and think of you."
The Harvester's smile was pathetic. He was unspeakably tired again.
"Never mind me!" he said. "Only get well."
"David, was there a little horse?"
"There certainly was and is," said the Harvester.
"You had not named him yet, but in a few days I can lead him to the window."
"Was there something said about a boat?"
"Two of them."
"Two?"
"Yes. A row boat for you, and a launch that will take you all over the lake with only the exertion of steering on your part."
"David, I want my pendant and ring. I am so tired of lying here, I want to play with them."
"Where do you keep them, Ruth?"
"In the willow teapot. I thought no one would look there."
The Harvester laughed and brought the little boxes.
He had to open them, but the Girl put on the ring and asked him if he would not help her with the pendant. He slipped the thread around her neck and clasped it. With a sigh of satisfaction she took the ornament in one hand and closed her eyes. He thought she was falling asleep, but presently she looked at him.
"You won't allow them to take it from me?"
"Indeed no! There is no reason on earth why you should not have that thread around your neck if you want it."
"I am going to sleep now. I want two things. May I have them?"
"You may," said the Harvester promptly, "provided they are not to eat."
"No," said the Girl. "I've suffered and made others trouble. I won't bother you by asking for anything more than is brought me. This is different. You are completely worn out. Your face frightens me, David, and white hairs that were not there a few days ago have come along your temples. I can see them."
"You gave me a mighty serious scare, Ruth."
"I know," said the Girl. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to. I want you to leave me to Doctor Harmon and the nurse and go sleep a week. Then I will be ready for the swing, and to hear some more about the trees and birds."
"I can keep it up if you really need me, but if you don't I am sleepy. So, if you feel safe, I think I will go."
"Oh I am safe enough," said the Girl. "It isn't that.
I'm so lonely. I've made up my mind not to grieve for mother, but I miss her so now. I feel so friendless."
"But, honey," said the Harvester, "you mustn't do that! Don't you see how all of us love you? Here is Granny shutting up her house and living here, just to be with you. The nurse will do anything you say. Here is the man you know best, and think so much of, staying in the cabin, and so happy to give you all his time, and anything else you will have, dear. And the Careys come every day, and will do their best to comfort you, and always I am here for you to fall back on."
"Yes, I'm falling right now," said the Girl. "Ialmost wish I had the fever again. No one has touched me for days. I feel as if every one was afraid of me."
The Harvester was puzzled.
"Well, Ruth, I'm doing the best I know," he said.
"What is it you want?"
"Nothing!" answered the Girl with slightly dejected inflection. "Say good-bye to me, and go sleep your week.
I'll be very good, and then you shall take me a drive up the hill when you awaken. Won't that be fine?"
"Say good-bye to me!" She felt a "little lonely!"
They all acted as if they were "afraid" of her. The Harvester indulged in a flashing mental review and arrived at a decision. He knelt beside the bed, took both slender, cool hands and covered them with kisses. Then he slid a hand under the pillow and raised the tired head.
"If I am to say good-bye, I have to do it in my own way, Ruth," he said.
Thereupon he began at the tumbled mass of hair and kissed from her forehead to her lips, kisses warm and tender.
"Now you go to sleep, and grow strong enough by the time I come back to tell me whom you love," he said, and went from the room without waiting for any reply.
