CHAPTER LXVIII.
Poor Thea! Her one thought and desire, after learning the bitter truth that her husband’s first wife lived to triumph over her, was to get away as far as possible from the husband with whom she had been so wildly happy, but whom to meet again would be the bitterest misery.
She made the nurse pack a hand-satchel with some changes of clothing for herself and the baby, and at day-dawn, after a night of the bitterest despair, she made her way to a railroad station, where she bought a ticket for the West, determined to hide herself forever from all who had ever known her until death put an end to her pain.
She had several hundred dollars in her little purse—for Norman kept her always generously supplied with money—and she thought that she could find work before that was gone.
So the train rushed on and on for three weary days and nights, and when she came at last to the busy, bustling town which she had chosen at hap-hazard as her destination, the girl was so ill that she staggered as she walked to the carriage with the heavy child in her arms, and could barely falter out her desire to be taken to a quiet and respectable hotel.
Thea did not know what had put the name of that town in her mind. She thought she had chosen it at hap-hazard; but in reality it was the place where Frank Hinton had settled to practice medicine, and a beneficent fate had suggested it to her mind in that dark hour when everything had seemed dazed and gloomy before her vision. If she had dreamed of Frank being there, she would never have ventured near; but it was her good angel that led her to that spot, for within a few hours after her arrival at the hotel she grew so much worse that fever and delirium set in, and the alarmed landladysent off in haste for the nearest physician, who proved to be Frank Hinton.
When Frank saw his old love—sweet Thea, whom he had never been able to banish from his heart—he was almost overcome with surprise and agitation. He stood for a few moments almost dazed as he watched the lovely, fever-flushed face and violet eyes glittering in delirium as she tossed her white arms in the air, raving wildly of her love and sorrow. Then he turned to the observant landlady, who had taken the fretful child in her arms, and said, huskily:
“This lady is an old friend of mine. I knew her in Virginia years ago. Her husband is rich and of high standing, and I can not understand why his wife is here like this. I will telegraph to him, and we must have two good nurses—one for the child and one for her, for she has brain fever.”
“A nurse for the lady, if you like, sir; but, good land! there’s a dozen idle women in this house that will like nothing better than to nurse the little darling till his pretty mamma gets well,” cried the fat, bustling landlady. She laid one of her plump hands compassionately on the shower of golden tresses floating over the pillow. “Brain fever! Oh, you don’t mean to say that you’ll cut off these pretty curls?”
“Not if I can help it,” was the answer; and poor Frank vowed to himself that he would save all that golden glory for Norman de Vere, if he could, and that he would give all his time and care to saving the life of the sweet young girl who had once been like a little sister to him.
And this is how the telegram was sent by him to Norman de Vere, and so skillfully did he attend upon Thea that in a few days she began to show a marked change for the better, regained her senses, and recognized Dr. Hinton as he lingered beside her. Then Lord Stuart and his sister arrived, and Thea was so glad at seeing all these dear friends about her again that she wept for joy, and although she declared that she wanted to die, her strong constitution triumphed over her, and she began to convalesce very fast.