Her Weight in Gold | Page 9

to consult with the Essex physician, bringing with them a couple
of trained nurses. They said her heart was good.
After the consultation, the General and Eddie sat alone in the library,
woebegone and disconsolate.
"They think they can pull her through," said the former vaguely.
"Curse 'em," grated Eddie; "they've GOT to do it. If there is the least
prospect of her dying, General, I must insist that the wedding day be
moved forward. I'll--I'll marry her to-day. By Jove, it might go a long

way toward reducing her temperature."
"Impossible! We shall stick to the original agreement." "Confound you,
I believe you are hoping she'll die before the eleventh of November. It
would be just like you, General Gamble."
"I'm not hoping for anything of the sort, sir," thundered the other. "But,
if it SHOULD happen--" He did not finish the sentence, but there was a
green light in his eyes.
Eddie was silent for many minutes.
"And if she SHOULD die, where do I come in, or get off, or whatever
is the proper thing to say in the circumstances? It wouldn't be fair to me,
General Gamble. You know it wouldn't. It would be a damned outrage.
Here am I, a devoted lover, eager to make her happy--to MAKE HER
LAST MOMENTS happy ones, mind you, and you sit there and deny
her the consolation of--"
"All's fair in love, my boy," said the General blandly.
"Rats!"
"Martha wasn't strong enough to stand the excitement. It was like a
sudden and frightful change in the weather. Her constitution couldn't
fight it off." "Constitution? Good Lord!"
"We ought to make allowances, my boy."
"I am in no position to make allowances. Are these doctors any good?"
"The best in New York City."
"And the nurses? Everything depends on good nursing."
"They are real Canadians."
"General, up to the time I was eleven years old I said my prayers every
night. I'm going to begin again to-night," said Eddie solemnly, as he

passed his hand across his brow.
The days went by with monotonous similarity. Bright or dark, wet or
dry, they looked the same to Eddie Ten Eyck. At first he had been
permitted to visit her once or twice a day, staying for a few minutes on
each occasion. After a while the visits were stopped by the doctor's
order. But still he haunted the Gamble mansion. He waylaid the doctor;
he bribed or coerced the nurses; he watched the sick-room door with
the eye of a hungry dog; he partook inordinately of the General's
liquors. Martha was delirious, that much he was able to gather by
persistent inquiry. She seemed obsessed with the idea that she and
Eddie were to keep house in Heaven, with two cherubs and a
hypodermic syringe.
Mrs. Gamble was deeply touched and not a little surprised by the
devotion of her daughter's fiance. She turned to him in these hours of
despair and gave to him a large share of her pity and consolation. She
asked him to pray for Martha. He said he had been praying for some
one else nearly all his life, but henceforth would put in a word for
Martha.
The wedding day was near at hand when an unexpected and alarming
complication set in. The doctors were hurriedly gathered in
consultation. There was a crisis. One of the nurses confided to Mr. Ten
Eyck that there was no hope, but the other declared that if the patient
survived the eighth of November she would "be out of the woods." The
eighth was three days off. Those three days were spent by Eddie in a
state of fearful suspense. He implored Providence and Fate to stand by
him until after the eleventh. He went so far as to add a couple of days to
include the thirteenth, not being superstitious. The night of the eighth
was a memorable one. No one in the Gamble house went to bed. The
ninth came and then the doctors appeared with glad tidings. The crisis
was past and there was every chance in the world for the patient to
recover, unless of course, some unforeseen complication intervened.
Eddie staggered out to the stables and performed a dance of joy.
"What's her temperature?" he demanded of one of the grooms, absently

repeating a question he had asked five thousand times during the past
few weeks. "I beg your pardon, Smith." Then he hurried back to the
house. Meeting one of the doctors he gripped him by the arm.
"Is she sure to live, doc--doctor?"
"Forever," said the doctor, meaning to comfort him.
"No!" gasped Eddie.
"Let me congratulate you, Mr. Ten Eyck. She is quite rational now and
--pardon me if I repeat a sick-room secret--she declares that there shall
be no postponement of