Edwards_Ought_We_to_Visit_Her.txt topic ['13', '324', '378', '393']
and cold. . having facts
laid before them, 'tis surprising how your really clever doctors
will rind theories to account for them. truth would seem
to be that has had nearly twenty years of life,
and is to have no more *. . when it comes to this, any tech-
nical difference in names really matters slightly to the
persou most concerned.
twenty years of life. . . . lies alone ,
to humour her, having gone or promised to go into the fresh
air and, looking up at the sky and listening to the angelus,
, 429.
thinks for awhile over those bygone twenty years. , with
the prescience that comes to us with exceeding bodily weak-
ness, conies to us oftenest when prescience is no longer of much
practical use, she looks onward to the future.
she can see it : given back to his own
class in life ; brought up " as a lady f herself forgotten.
, a thousand times, no ! that. remembered
by as one who loved much, sinned much, died well,
we may say opportunely and whom he forgave, tended,
cherished, with tenderness all beyond her deserts, to the last.
upon this, her hands go to her face, the hot tears start, and,
with a pang of bitterness unutterable, realises how dear life
is, how closely, eagerly she cliDgs to the hope of life yet !
is well, in , with " perfectly happy
and at home/' 's last letter said, " and learning already to
play the trombone." is not because of the child that she
yearns for life ; she yearns for it passionately, despite this
deathly weakness that assails her because of .
child can have no second mother ; but . . . the tears
course each other down her cheeks, her wasted frame quivers !
death itself the jealousy of this poor ignorant soul can
transcend.
hushed step sounds outside ; the door opens, shuts, and
comes up to her bed; , pale, haggard, unshorn;
with eyes hollow from much watching ; all his dandyism, all his
gone.
", tears?" an instant his arms are round
her ; with such small strength as she possesses she has lifted
herself to his embrace. " this is the use you make of your
liberty, the first time you have been left alone
" know, , a f 00L bells set me thinking.
was jusu just wondering how is getting on."
" 's account was never happier in her life ; but if
you would like to have her here ? "
" , no ; we are better as we are, alone. 'm glad " after a
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little tired pause this ; speaks but few words at a time,
and those few faintly "'m glad you sent the child to
, poor old fellow 1*
" thought it was what you would have wished, . -
lotte was very good." 's glass goes to his eye, instinc-
tively, at the mention of his sister . " they
first heard of your illness, telegraphed to propose that
she should come and nurse you" ( gives a little shudder),
" and that the child should go to . settled it differ-
ently. , had already written to to take her/
" all that long ago, my dear 1 been long here
" have been here three weeks, ; but we needn't talk
about anything that is past now. past is done with."
" nearly, isn't it % past ended for me, think, when
saw the lights fade away in . took me
to the cabin, remember, and got faint, and . held
my hand ; and after that everything seems blank till woke up
here with you. good it was of you to come over to me so
quick, !"
" , , child, don't let us speak about my goodness !" is
's answer.
then there is silence.
she rallied since the fever left her, rather, there has
been no rallying of strength, will often lie for an hour
together supported by 's arms, neither of them speak-
ing. to-night she seems more restless. cheeks during
the last minute have got the colour in them again that
dreads. sort of excitement is in her eyes.
" me a little," she says to him, after a time" raise me
and hold me up, sitting. want to see how look in that glass
opposite."
obeys her with difficulty; how firmly, tenderly, to raise a
thing so wasted is not an easy task ; and she looks at her own
image long and wistfully.
though she be from all her fine proportions, her
. 431
hair cut short to her head, the carnations of her skin turned to
waxen paleness, a stranger seeing for the first time at this
moment, would say there was a pretty woman, or the wreck of
one. sweet, and original, and picturesque, makes
her still, in spite of all that she has lost.
looks at herself, then round into ' 1 face, and
laughs. poor little ghost of a laugh, yet it does him good to
hear it once more to hear a laugh of any kind from 's
lips.
" a hideous scarecrow ! , am not human."
answers, as he answers nine out of ten of her remarks, by
a kiss.
" wouldn't find it easy to pin rc3es among my beauteous
locks now. should have to take, like . ,
to tin-tacks and glue."
" have!" , the agony of hearing that conditional
tense from lips we love ! 's heart sinks down again to
zero.
" don't pay me any compliments. are not like my
poor little good , . . . did her
best to cheer me this morning. ' had a cousin, ,"'
though she were dying, must be an actress still : the voice
that speaks is . 's " 4 cousin, , had the rheu-
matic fever as bad as you, and lived years after, and never got
the use of her limbs, and weak-like in her intellick.' -
bald, if recover, hope shan't be 'weak-like in my in-
tellickr"
" 't jest, don't jest ; can't bear to hear it."
lays her tenderly down upon her pillow, rests hisface by hers,
and soon feels tears that are not her own upon her cheek.
... have never depicted in any favour-
able light. have shown him to be weak, selfish, indolent ; a
gambler ; not too exemplary a husband not up to the mark, it
may be, if judged only by the world's code of honour.
even in this man there must be good.
432
cannot, surely, be all scam, all froth, inasmuch as he can love
and suffer yet !
make no mistake as to his position. not think that
holds to his heart, sorrows over her as a man
without hope, "not knowing." knows all knows
the whole story of 's meditated sin against him, painted, in
colours black as night, by herself. the wild dayB
and nights of her fever, her delirious ramblings (scarce a sen-
tence of which but contained his name and 's) told
him much. her first return to reason, with the first
coherent words she uttered, he knew all. is strong in her
as love ; looking with her wan eyes into his eyes, both were
poured forth to him together. his answer was to take
her closer than before to his breast, and forgive her.
altogether what a man of stoic principles would have done, thus
placed. , we have long known, has no
principles worth speaking of. all events he forgave her.
with this crowning weakness of his weak unballasted life
, for one, am not disposed to quarrel
" ," says she, softly, after awhile. " 's just one
thing want to talk to you about. should like to have it out
to-night."
" to-night, ; to-morrow you will be stronger.
know what the doctors say about your being excited towards
evening."
" know. * is apt to get excited towards evening,'
say you solemnly. ' take the greatest care madame does
not get excited towards evening,' answer the doctors more
solemnly still. , what 'm going to talk about won't
excite me a bit. " holding his hand between both
her own, and looking at him, fixedly " don't want to
diei*
's glass goes to his eye. "'s deuced
little in this world for any one to want to live for," he remarks,
drearily.
. 433
" was sure certain that my death wouldn't be for the
best ... of course it would set you free . . . and then
if ever she gets free, as dare say people like that can,
and "
" are yoa talking of, my poor child !" says , as
falters falters, but holds his hand tighter and tighter
between her own. " ' ever she gets free ! ' do you
mean by 'she'?"
" mean ," cries with a gasp. " that
've had courage to say it, shall be better. , some
day when when all this is over, and when . is got
rid of, you will marry her ! "
" . were got rid of, w says , speaking
more in his natural voice than he has spoken for days, " and if
had a hundred thousand pounds, and might marry
her next moment, would not marry her ! would rather
break stones on the road than spend my life with ."
" yet "
" , let us have no more * and yets/ 't we agreed
that the past is done with 1 are to go back to the old vaga-
bond days, , you and mean to sell : mean
that , and everything belonging to , shall
be as though they had never been."
a moment she is silent. a light, that makes her
look almost like the she once was, trembles over
all her worn white face.
" old vagabond days you and me alone, again ? -
bald, never mind the doctors ! can't die. don't think 'm a
coward. long as could hold your hand, 'd go anywhere,
in this world or the next. . . wouldn't be death !
not alone. . . , my dear, put your arms round me close.
me, and shall live. me, , me alone in the
whole world, and shall cheat the doctors yet !"
434
she kept her word, ; she lives. men of
science found another many-syllabled word for the cause
of her miraculous recovery. think, myself, the four letters
. 0. . . spell it in simple . , vagabond,
" unvisited" lives, and is a supremely happy woman at
this hour !