"I'm too happy to sleep."

"How absurd!"

"Oh, the shock this morning did not disturb me half so much as to see those fellows around with their devouring eyes."

"Mr. Houghton, don't you think that if we asked them, those colored people would be less loud? It must be dreadful for those who are sick, and there are so many."

"They will be brutal indeed if they don't yield to you," and he led the way to the nearest centre of disturbance.

"Oh, see! Mr. Houghton, there's our old Hannah."

He saw an old woman swaying back and forth, her lips moving spasmodically, but uttering no sound. The crowd watched her in a sort of breathless suspense. Suddenly she burst out with the hymn, "Oh, Raslin' Jacob! let me go," and the throng joined in the mighty refrain. The women swayed to and fro violently, all going together in a sort of rhythmic motion, meantime clapping their hands in an ecstasy of emotion. A man dropped to the earth "converted." He yelled rather than prayed for mercy, then suddenly swooned and became rigid as a corpse. Others, both men and women, were prostrated also; and to bring as many as possible into this helpless condition appeared to be the general object as far as any purpose was manifested.

The crowd seemed to regard poor, demented Hannah as inspired, for a s.p.a.ce was kept clear before her. When she began to sway in her weird fashion, and her face to twitch, she was the priestess and the oracle. The hymn she began was taken up first by two self-appointed exhorters, then by all.

"Oh, Hannah!" cried Ella, when her voice could be heard, "do stop and come away. You are harming the sick and the injured."

The old woman started, and on seeing the girl rushed forward, crying, "Down on you knees. Now you chance. Pray, bruders, pray, sistahs. De quakes neber stop till a white man or woman converted--converted till dere proud heads in de bery dus'"--and she sought to force Ella on her knees.

In a moment Ella was surrounded by the worshippers, whose groans, shouts, prayers and e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns created Pandemonium. The girl was terrified, but George encircled her with his arm, and thundered, "Give way. I'll brain the first man who stops us."

Awed for an instant they yielded to George's vigorous push out and away, and then returned to their former wild indulgence of religious frenzy.

For several paces after their escape he seemed to forget that his arm was still around Ella, nor did she remind him. Suddenly he removed it, saying, "Pardon me, Miss Bodine, I am that enraged with those lunatics that I'd like to give them something to howl about."

"Please be calm, Mr. Houghton," said Ella gently. "I'm not afraid now, and should not have been afraid at all. I know these people better than you do. They wouldn't have harmed us, and I fear they don't know any better.

It's only their looks, tones, and words that seem blasphemous, that are frightful. It was I who took you there and I should have known better."

"Oh, Ella!--beg pardon--Miss Bodine, what a savage a man would be if you couldn't manage him!"

"Then promise you won't go near those people any more."

"You are too brave a girl to ask that when you learn that Dr. Devoe is going to tackle them with the police if they don't quiet down by midnight."

They spoke in low tones as he again held her hand, while they picked their way among the extemporized shelters and uneasy refugees in the square. As they approached their own quarters she faltered, "I'm not very brave tonight, and I have long since learned that you are only too brave."

He paused, still retaining her hand as he said, "What a strange scene this is! How wild and unearthly those sounds now seem! How odd it all is--our homes yonder deserted and we here under the stars. It's stranger than any dream I ever had, yet if it were a dream I would not wish to wake with you--"

"Mr. Houghton, what's that, that, _that?_"

Far oft in the southeast there were sounds like faint explosions which grew rapidly louder. Instinctively he drew her nearer, and saw her face grow white even in the faint radiance of the stars.

"Oh!" she gasped shuddering as the deep roar of the coming earthquake began. Then his arm drew her close, and she hid her face on his breast.

"Ella," he said solemnly, "I love you, G.o.d knows if these words were my last I would still say I love you."

The mighty roar gradually deepened, and with it blended the cry of thousands; the earth quivered and swayed, then the thunder pa.s.sed on, accompanied by sounds like the distant crash of falling buildings.

George kissed the bowed head and whispered, "There, it's over and we are safe."

"Oh, thank G.o.d! you were with me!" she sobbed.

"May I not be with you always, Ella?"

"G.o.d grant it! Oh, George, George, I would have leaped after you into the water if they had not held me. How could I do without you now?"

"Come, my brave little wife, come with me to my father and rea.s.sure him."

"George," cried Mr. Houghton.

"We are here," he answered, drawing aside the screen.

"We?"

"Yes, Ella and I. That last shock has rather hastened matters."

"Ella, my dear child! Truly G.o.d is bringing good out of evil;" and he took the girl into his arms. Then he added, "You'll forgive me and be my own dear daughter?"

"Yes, Mr. Houghton. You'll find I am rich in love if nothing else."

"Ah! Ella dear, the world seems going to pieces, and my wealth with it, but love only grows more real and more precious."

"My father's calling me;" and kissing him a hasty good-by she vanished.

Miss Ainsley again ran shrieking out, calling upon Clancy, but Dr. Devoe met her and drew her away from his muttering, half-conscious patient. When she became sufficiently quiet he told her that Clancy was dangerously ill, and that nothing must be said or done to excite him. This seemed to her only another proof of general disaster, and, in almost abject tones, she begged, "Oh, doctor, make me sleep till--my father will surely come to-morrow, and then I can get away."

Her entreaty was so loud that even Mara could not help hearing her. The physician rather contemptuously thought that it would be better for all if she were quiet, and gave the anodyne. So far from feeling sympathy for Clancy she was almost vindictive toward him for having failed her.

Fear, uncontrolled, becomes one of the most debasing of the emotions. It can lead to panic even among soldiers with arms in their hands; sailors will trample on women and children in their blind rush for the boats; men will even deny their convictions, their faith, and cringe to brutal power; crimes the most vile are committed from fear, and fear had virtually obliterated womanhood in Miss Ainsley's soul. She was in a mood to accept any conditions for the a.s.surance of safety, and she gave not a thought to any one or anything that offered no help. With the roar of the earthquake still in her ears, and in the dark midnight she knew there was no help, no way of escape, and so with the impulse of the shipwrecked who break into the spirit room she besought the opiate which could at least bring oblivion. Her eyes, which could be so beautiful, had the wild, hunted look of an animal, and her form, usually grace itself, writhed into distortions. Her demoralization under the long-continued terror was complete, and all were glad when she became unconscious and could be hidden from sight. As Aun' Sheba made her way to her own household she grunted, "A lun'tic out ob a 'sylem wouldn' mar'y dat gal if he seed wot I seed."

CHAPTER XLVIII

GOOD BROUGHT OUT OF EVIL

There were brave spirits and Heaven-sustained souls in the little camp which falls under our immediate observation; and outward calm was soon restored, yet it was long before any one could sleep again. Although she had trembled like a leaf, Mara had not left her watch by Mrs. Hunter, nor had Aun' Sheba till some moments after the shock. Then Mrs. Bodine joined the girl with soothing and rea.s.suring words. She did not tell Mara, however, of Clancy's illness, feeling that no additional burden should be imposed until it was necessary. Mr. and Mrs. Willoughby sat together by the fire; so also did Ella, with her head upon her father's breast, as she told of the great joy which robbed the night of so much of its terror. Old Tobe, with Sam and Jube, crouched on the opposite side of the low, flickering blaze, which lighted up in odd effect the white wool and wrinkled visage of the aged negro. In some respects he and Mr. Houghton were alike. The scenes they were pa.s.sing through toned down their fiery domineering spirits into resignation and fort.i.tude.

George was restless, strong and inspired rather than awed by the recent events. He knew that Ella's eyes followed him as he came and went from his father's bedside, waited on Clancy, and made himself useful in other ways.

A man would be craven indeed who could not be brave under such circ.u.mstances.

Beyond his camp, scenes impossible to describe were taking place. White clergymen were going from group to group, and from shelter to shelter, speaking words of cheer and hope. Physicians were busy among those who needed physical aid; husbands soothing wives, and parents their sobbing children.

On the edge of the square near the street the groans and cries of a woman began to draw the restless people who always run to any point of disturbance.

"George," shouted Dr. Devoe. The young man responded promptly. "Keep this crowd away--the vulgar wretches!"

A woman of refinement and wealth, who with her husband had clung to their adjacent home until the last shock occurred, was in the throes of childbirth.