"Andre Norton - The Opal-Eyed Fan" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

there came a sudden change for the better in his condition. She watched the wharf and the incoming boat.
Her fingers nervously pleating the edge of her apron. What should she do?
Life in New York had never been this complicated. It had revolved with slow and undisturbed
dignity (if a little dully at times) about Uncle Augustin's routine, so regularly kept that Persis could chart her
employ-ment for hours ahead. Then she had been bored. Now she wished herself back in that snug safety
where there were no storms, either human or natural, and all the rest which seemed about to beset this
house.
Finally she arose and went to her uncle's chamber, tapping softly. The door opened and she faced
Shubal who looked even more worried and shrunken. His fin-ger was at his lips, already urging silence as
she squeezed through the small space he did not quite dare bar. He hissed at her in a half whisper:
"He's asleep, Miss Persis. But I don't like the look of him at all, no I don't." He shook his gray head.
"I wish that our Dr. Lawson could see him. He knows the master, all about what ails him—"
“I am told that the doctor here is very good."
Shubal shrugged. "That is as may be, Miss. But he ain't knowed the master for years, like Dr.
Lawson. And the master—he's worse than he'll let on. Seems like he called on all his strength to make this
here trip and now that's giving out on him—fast. He won't take no more food. Just tells me not to bother
him when I bring it. But how can he keep up his strength when he won't eat?"
There was a querulous note in Shubal's voice. He twisted the fingers of one vein-ridged hand in the
other. During the years he had been with Uncle Au-gustin, his master had been the true center of his life.
"When he awakes, Shubal, let me talk with him. I know you are doing all that you can, but maybe
he might listen a little to me." Persis was not sure of that, but she had to answer the pleading in the old
man's eyes.
"Miss Persis, I think—" Shubal's quavering voice broke and his eyes dropped. Once more Persis
felt that stab of fear. She knew very well what Shubal feared. It lay like a cloud over her mind also. And
Uncle Augus-tin had never meant as much to her as he did to Shubal.
"We must keep from such thinking," she said gent-ly, "we must just hope. After all, wasn't he much
worse right after the first attack, Shubal? And then he surprised even Dr. Lawson when he made such a
good recovery."
"He was in his own home then, Miss Persis—and—" Shubal's thin old voice cracked as he went to
the foot of the bed.
Persis stood by the door. Her first fear was blossoming into a panic she fought against. She would have
to, for she would be the one to make decisions now, take the responsibility. And she shrank from that. Going back to
her own chamber she sat once more in the chair by the wide window. The wind blew steadily and cleanly from the sea,
cooling her flushed face. There she sat and tried to think of the future.
Uncle Augustin must now believe that he would never reach the Bahamas. He was a man who never before
had discussed any such affairs with her, who had shut her out from this family secret. He had told her because he
believed she would now be the one to carry on.
And here she had no Mr. Hogue to depend upon. None save herself. Shubal, Molly—they would look to her,
not she to them. She felt very young and fright-ened. But she was not stupid. A long buried core of stubbornness
arose in her to give resolution. There were men of law in Key West, and she could ask that one of honesty and
integrity be named to aid her.
The thought of going back to New York crossed her mind, fleetingly—to be discarded at once. What would
face her there but broken fortunes, a future so dark it had driven Uncle Augustin to make this trip, and he was not a
man to be frightened by shadows. So if there was this estate waiting in the Bahamas, then it would be up to her to
claim it.
Persis drew a deep breath. She did not like what she thought might lie ahead, and she longed for someone to
depend upon for advice. But if that was the way the future was going to be, she must be prepared to face it.
Decisions could be made, but the means of carrying such out was another matter. She had no idea what funds
Uncle Augustin could control now. There was this matter of the wrecker's fee for example—
Persis looked around the room. She did not even have as much right here as she would in an inn