University of Virginia Library

36. CHAPTER XXXVI.
OUR STORY IS ENDED.

This great happening will bring the end to our
story.

A telegraphic message was at once sent to a friend
of Mrs. Peters, to be conveyed to the widow.

Almost as soon as Prouty had borne Brade's body in,
came Mrs. Ryan, agonized with grief and fear, and insisted
upon being “let go in to the child.” Mrs. Wadham,
who during that dreadful time had planted herself
in the house, and was anywhere at any moment, to be
of use, was at that moment within sight and hearing,
and tried to take charge of her and prevent her intrusion
upon Dr. Evans and his helpers.

“Bring me to the Rector! — Mr. Warren!” cried
the other, almost frenzied.

“But Mr. Warren's in the water himself, or drowned,
by this time,” answered Mrs. Wadham, solemnly.

The sad procession with Peters's body struck all
dumb; but Rector Warren, who followed, weak and
shivering, called Mrs. Wadham, and begged her to tell
the doctor that “Mrs. Ryan had a right to be in the
room, if any one.”

Mr. Parmenter, who had come up with him, asked
“whether that would be entirely wise,” but did not
press his objection; and Mrs. Wadham undertook the

charge, following close upon the bearers. Philip Rainor,
who, with a strange pertinacity, tried to force himself
in, Mr. Parmenter effectually kept out.

“Nobody has any right here but my helpers,” said Dr.
Evans when the message was delivered to him: “we
cannot be hindered.”

“Try me, only! Try me!” Mrs. Ryan said, with
hands clasped, and was let in.

There was one short outburst; but she only threw
herself on her knees against the wall, without hindering
the work which, under quick orders of Dr. Evans,
went on. Then she found herself a place among the
workers, and was most ready.

How skill and hopefulness and untiring effort were
used to set in motion again in these young bodies the
many-working powers of life before they should be
once for ever set fast in stillness, we need not tell.
Before fairly recovering himself, Mr. Hamersley sent an
urgent request to be allowed to help, but was enjoined
to keep his bed. Mr. Bruce was there at work.

Slowly and painfully, but like true life, the life came
back to Brade, and instantly Mrs. Ryan, who had
already not failed to give tender help to those who
were working upon the other body, left him entirely
for the other. But here all warm chafing, all gentle
forcing in and out of the life-feeding air, all scourging
of the water-soaked soles and palms of feet and hands,
showed only that the life which Peters had without
fear risked was lost out of this world for ever.

Brade was taken away in warm blankets to a bed
elsewhere; and the faithful, loving work upon the body
of his true-hearted friend went on untired far into the
night through six or seven long, slow hours. The last

who left it were Mrs. Ryan and the Tutor. But all had
long been done: life was not to come back, and it was
left for dead. As these two were folding carefully
the clothes which had been stripped off Peters, there
fell out a small plate of silver, on which was rude,
boyish engraving. Mr. Bruce read it aloud: —

“`B. R. C. — Rosicrucians. — Inst. Oct. 8, 18—, by
me, A. P.'”

“Poor fellow! So he was the whole of that `secret
society'!” he said.

“The poor, dear child, indeed!” said Mrs. Ryan,
kissing his forehead.

Meantime the hours and bells went on, and the
Rector made a point of having all in their places at
tea; but the house was still, as if no boys were in it but
two, — the half-living and the dead, — save for the noise
of doors, as many neighbors came and went, or of
voices, as when Mrs. Wadham asked, and perhaps asked
again, a question of some one passing the room in
which she sat. She had sent often to her own house
for whatever she thought might be of service, and kept
Eldridge waiting at call. She explained that “she had
scarcely seen Mrs. Warren; but that wasn't strange.
— That Mrs. Ryan's the mother of him, — that's plain
enough!” she said.

“I hope it's something as creditable as that,” said
Mr. Parmenter.

The boys were cheered by knowing that Brade was
saved, and some of them reasoned that Peters had
been less time in the water. Among the guests in the
sitting-room more was known, and the evening as
gloomy. Mrs. Wadham meant to spend the night;
Mr. Parmenter, and Dr. Farwell and Mr. Don, who

were his guests, stayed late. All talked in lowered
voices of the sad things which had made the afternoon
so long as seemingly to sunder them by many a day
from its own forenoon. Late in the evening Mr. Manson
came, having made an arrangement with the Rector
of the School to watch with Antony Brade.

“The mystery about him seems to be clearing off,”
said Mr. Parmenter.

“What's a mystery for, if it ain't to be cleared up?”
asked Mrs. Wadham.

“I take it,” said Dr. Farwell, his elbows resting on his
chair, and his hands spread open, “that mysteries may
sometimes baffle investigation or elude investigation.
On the other hand, there are times” —

“This seems to have been a very harmless mystery,”
said Mr. Manson.

“If it proves altogether harmless to the character of
the School,” said Mr. Parmenter, gravely.

“Exactly, sir! I hope it'll prove so,” said Mr. Don.

“I don't see how the character of the School is concerned.
He's an orphan, and Mrs. Ryan's his aunt.
That's all. She's an Irishwoman, and made a secret
of it.”

“It may not be quite so harmless,” said Mr. Parmenter.

“Possibly not, sir,” said Mr. Don.

“People sometimes have reasons,” said Mrs. Wadham,
with quiet authority.

“You shall judge for yourselves. Mr. Warren has
known her for years, and knows all about her. Brade,
her brother, looked high for his ancestors, among
`Macs' or `O's.' But then he made his living and a good
deal of money, with job-wagons or some such business.

Just then the family, every one, died off by fever,
except this boy; and his aunt brought him up, and, in
due time, put him here under Mr. Warren, and kept
the relationship to herself.”

There was a silence, which Mrs. Wadham broke by
saying, —

“I should think that was a very likely explanation:
yes.”

“It might explain some things about the boy,” said
Mr. Parmenter. “Well, I suppose when arrangements
are made, we'd better go.”

“Mr. Stout will sit up with poor Peters; but he's
willing to let Rainor stay with him,” said Mr. Manson.

“Why, I've told that Rainor we didn't want him
round here,” Mr. Parmenter said hastily.

“Now,” said Mr. Manson, “he's not so bad: you
didn't give yourself a chance to hear what he came
for. He came to say he put those things on the
arch.”

“That shows some degree of grace, now,” said Dr.
Farwell.