The majority of them, I fear, would show only the tangled, seamy side of human nature, and God knows there is little need for us to point that out to each other, though so many nowadays seem to think it the only work worth doing. A few of them were sweet, but I think they were the saddest; and over one or two a man might laugh, but it would not be a pleasant laugh.
"I never enter the door of a house to which I have been summoned,"she said to me one evening, "without wondering, as I step over the threshold, what the story is going to be. I always feel inside a sick-room as if I were behind the scenes of life. The people come and go about you, and you listen to them talking and laughing, and you look into your patient's eyes, and you just know that it's all a play."The incident that Jephson's remark had reminded me of, she told me one afternoon, as I sat propped up by the fire, trying to drink a glass of port wine, and feeling somewhat depressed at discovering Idid not like it.
"One of my first cases," she said, "was a surgical operation. I was very young at the time, and I made rather an awkward mistake--Idon't mean a professional mistake--but a mistake nevertheless that Iought to have had more sense than to make.
"My patient was a good-looking, pleasant-spoken gentleman. The wife was a pretty, dark little woman, but I never liked her from the first; she was one of those perfectly proper, frigid women, who always give me the idea that they were born in a church, and have never got over the chill. However, she seemed very fond of him, and he of her; and they talked very prettily to each other--too prettily for it to be quite genuine, I should have said, if I'd known as much of the world then as I do now.
"The operation was a difficult and dangerous one. When I came on duty in the evening I found him, as I expected, highly delirious. Ikept him as quiet as I could, but towards nine o'clock, as the delirium only increased, I began to get anxious. I bent down close to him and listened to his ravings. Over and over again I heard the name 'Louise.' Why wouldn't 'Louise' come to him? It was so unkind of her--they had dug a great pit, and were pushing him down into it--oh! why didn't she come and save him? He should be saved if she would only come and take his hand.
"His cries became so pitiful that I could bear them no longer. His wife had gone to attend a prayer-meeting, but the church was only in the next street. Fortunately, the day-nurse had not left the house:
I called her in to watch him for a minute, and, slipping on my bonnet, ran across. I told my errand to one of the vergers and he took me to her. She was kneeling, but I could not wait. I pushed open the pew door, and, bending down, whispered to her, 'Please come over at once; your husband is more delirious than I quite care about, and you may be able to calm him.'
"She whispered back, without raising her head, 'I'll be over in a little while. The meeting won't last much longer.'
"Her answer surprised and nettled me. 'You'll be acting more like a Christian woman by coming home with me,' I said sharply, 'than by stopping here. He keeps calling for you, and I can't get him to sleep.'
"She raised her head from her hands: 'Calling for me?' she asked, with a slightly incredulous accent.
"'Yes,' I replied, 'it has been his one cry for the last hour:
Where's Louise, why doesn't Louise come to him.'
"Her face was in shadow, but as she turned it away, and the faint light from one of the turned-down gas-jets fell across it, I fancied I saw a smile upon it, and I disliked her more than ever.
"'I'll come back with you,' she said, rising and putting her books away, and we left the church together.
"She asked me many questions on the way: Did patients, when they were delirious, know the people about them? Did they remember actual facts, or was their talk mere incoherent rambling? Could one guide their thoughts in any way?
"The moment we were inside the door, she flung off her bonnet and cloak, and came upstairs quickly and softly.
"She walked to the bedside, and stood looking down at him, but he was quite unconscious of her presence, and continued muttering. Isuggested that she should speak to him, but she said she was sure it would be useless, and drawing a chair back into the shadow, sat down beside him.
"Seeing she was no good to him, I tried to persuade her to go to bed, but she said she would rather stop, and I, being little more than a girl then, and without much authority, let her. All night long he tossed and raved, the one name on his lips being ever Louise--Louise--and all night long that woman sat there in the shadow, never moving, never speaking, with a set smile on her lips that made me long to take her by the shoulders and shake her.
"At one time he imagined himself back in his courting days, and pleaded, 'Say you love me, Louise. I know you do. I can read it in your eyes. What's the use of our pretending? We KNOW each other.
Put your white arms about me. Let me feel your breath upon my neck.
Ah! I knew it, my darling, my love!'
"The whole house was deadly still, and I could hear every word of his troubled ravings. I almost felt as if I had no right to be there, listening to them, but my duty held me. Later on, he fancied himself planning a holiday with her, so I concluded. 'I shall start on Monday evening,' he was saying, and you can join me in Dublin at Jackson's Hotel on the Wednesday, and we'll go straight on.'
"His voice grew a little faint, and his wife moved forward on her chair, and bent her head closer to his lips.
"'No, no,' he continued, after a pause, 'there's no danger whatever.
It's a lonely little place, right in the heart of the Galway Mountains--O'Mullen's Half-way House they call it--five miles from Ballynahinch. We shan't meet a soul there. We'll have three weeks of heaven all to ourselves, my goddess, my Mrs. Maddox from Boston--don't forget the name.'
"He laughed in his delirium; and the woman, sitting by his side, laughed also; and then the truth flashed across me.