"God bless you!" said Andrew as he handed her a gourd of water to reviveher. "You are as faithful as Hero. You are another Heloise. You are asbrave as the Maid of Orleans. I will never say that women are unfaithfulagain. God bless you, my daughter! You have given me faith in your sex.I have been a lonely man; a boughless, leafless trunk, shaken by thewinter winds. But _you_ are my niece. _You_ know how to be faithful. Iam proud of you! Henceforth I call you my daughter. If you _were_ mydaughter, you would be to me all that Margaret Roper was to Sir ThomasMore." And the shaggy man of egotistic and pedantic speech, but ofwomanly sensibilities, was weeping.
The reviving Julia begged to know how August was.
"Ah, constant heart! And he is constant as you are. Noble fellow! I willnot deceive you. The doctors think that he will not live more thantwenty-four hours. But he is only dying to see you, now. Your coming mayrevive him. We sent for you this morning by Jonas, hoping you mightescape and come in some way. But Jonas could not get his message toyou. Some angel must have brought you. It is an augury of good."
The hopefulness of Andrew sprang out of his faith in an ideal, rightoutcome. Julia could not conceal from herself the fact that his opinionhad no ground. But in such a strait as hers, she could not help clingingeven to this support.
Andrew was a little perplexed. How to take Julia up-stairs? Mrs. Wehleand Wilhelmina and the doctor went in regularly, not by the rope-ladder,but by a more secure wooden one which he had planted against the outsideof the house. But Andrew had suddenly conceived so exalted an opinion ofhis niece's virtues that he was unwilling to lead her into the upperstory in that fashion. His imagination had invested her with all theglories of all the heroines, from Penelope to Beatrice, and fromBeatrice to Scott's Rebecca. At last a sudden impulse seized him.
"My dear daughter, they say that genius is to madness close allied. WhenI built this house I was in a state bordering on insanity, I suppose. Ipleased my whims--my whims were my only company--I pleased my whims inbuilding an American castle. These whims begin to seem childish to menow. I put in a secret stairway. No human foot but my own has evertrodden it. August, whom I love more than any other, and who is one ofthe few admitted to my library, has always ascended by the rope-ladder.But you are my niece; I would you were my daughter. I will signalize myreverence for you by showing up the stairway the woman who knows how tolove and be faithful, the feet that would be worthy of golden steps if Ihad them. Come."
Spite of her grief and anxiety, Julia was impressed and oppressed withthe reverence shown her by her uncle. She had a veneration almostsuperstitious for the Philosopher's learning. She was not accustomed toeven respectful treatment, and to be worshiped in this awful way by sucha man was something almost as painful as it was pleasant.
The entrance to the stairway, if that could be called a stairway whichwas as difficult of ascent as a ladder, was through a closet by the sideof the donjon chimney, and the logs had been so arranged without andwithin that the space occupied by the narrow and zigzag stairs was notapparent. Up these stairs he took Julia, leaving her in a closet above.As this closet was situated alongside the chimney, it opened, of course,into the small corner room which I have before described, and in whichAugust was now lying. Andrew descended the stairs and entered the upperstory again by the outside ladder. He thought best to prepare August forthe coming of Julia, lest joy should destroy a life that was sofar wasted.