Repenting at Leisure

Observer, Volume XVI, Issue 947, 20 February 1897, Page 14

Repenting at Leisure

OR, THE LOVE THAT FAILED.

\ffS = s^ggF mm *^l| he matron was alone 2l^H ;|IP-v when I responded sliiii B lPlilil* 'Nurse Benton,' (|ij§ii!| i^^*S sa> i3 she > ' yoa are ' iiffiraPvwA^ J)V£^ wanted in Mclbourne to night. A $W&' Yi^St! Hi know nim > i PrefcS3*i^&ft [Jffiffip? The name percep"%<a2fe^*jL j*j|feili»? tibly deepened the colour in my cheeks. v ''"" «I ha 7e nursed under him,' I replied, evasively. I had, indeed, nursed under Dr. Hope when he was attached to an infirmary, but I withheld the rest of the truth — that I was engaged to be married to Gilbert as soon as he had established a practice in Melbourne. 'Dr Hope,' continued the matron, ' asks specially for you, nurse. It is a serious case of typhoid, and, according to the telegram, no expense is to be spared to get you on the spot tonight. I find there is a train in twenty minutes. Good-bye, nurse. You will report progress as usual.' It was the doctor rather than the patient who held my thoughts while the express whirled on to Melbourne. The doctor and another man — for the one inevitably incited memories of the other. And whereas the former was good to dwell upon, the latter was a bitter cup which couli not hastily be swallowed like a nauseous draught and palliated by the ensuing sweet. I had been engaged to Gilbert for eight months, yet I had never informed him that I had already been married — that 1 was a widow ! I admit my folly — moral cowardice, call it. But Gilbert was of a vehement, impetuous disposition in private life; so unlike his professional composure. And be loved me so passionately that there had been moments when I feared him even more than I loved ' ' Rose,' said he that night he confessed his passion, ' I love you with an intensity words cannot convey. My soul worships you, every nerve and pulse in my body adores you. I would sell my soul for you, sweet. If any one came between us, I would kill him! If I thought that you were withholding a tithe of your power to love from me, if I thought that any man had clasped you to his bosom and laid bare his heart to you as I am doing now, Rose 1 I— l should kill you.!' That was the moment for enlightenment. I should have confessed how I had been dupsd into a girlish marriage by a scoundrel who only wanted my fortune, and who nonchalantly admitted the accusation when, ten minutes after the marriage ceremony, I had exchanged the money he coveted for my freedom, thrown my wedding ring at his feet and left him forever. But I quailed before Gilbert's passionate words, eyes, embraces. My courage was unequal to the confession. I delayed it for a calmer moment. It was unfulfilled yet. But I made a steadfast resolve : I would inform Gilbert that I had been a wife for ten minutes and a widow for nearly ten years. Gilbert was on the platform, and the sight of his tall, manly figure and honest, lovelit eyes temporarily lulled my fears. We entered a cab and his tongue outran the horse. 'I've. a heap to tell you, darling, and the shortest of time in which to say it.' 'Who is your patient, Gilbert?' ' A good spirit sent for my special succour and preservation, little one. He is a stroke of good luck familiar to most doctors who have struggled into a practice without cash. He wears various guises, and he's anything that helps to build up a doctor's practice from a basis of brain and poverty.' ' But who is he ?' ' A man well under forty. He came to me this morning, foaming at the mouth and reeling like a drunken dog, and urged me to take him in and nurse him. The poor beggar — though he has heaps of cash — is just arrived from the West, and as they wouldn't have him at a hotel he was fearful of being sent to a hospital to die.' ' Will he die ?' ' I hope not. For his sake alone, I hope not. He is afraid to die. His entreaties were piteous.' ' " Take me in and nurse me, doctor," he implored. " Get me well and I'll pay you anything you ask. Only don't let me die, doctor. For mercy's sake pull me through. I can't die yet — I dare not. I'm not ready." ' But there, the rest of his story was told in confidence. This is the main point

little one. We'v6 got to drag that poor beggar out of the jaws of death. We mast I Do you hear, darling?' We'll fight death with science and ski Jl— you and I together. And we'll win 1 It means life to a man unready to die, and it means a practice for me— yes, that is what he has ' promised me — a well-established practice for me, and then, sweet one, then— oh! then you'll come to me, won't you ?' What joyful possibilities were evoked in the course of that cab ride I ' I have made every concession to Dame Propriety, little one,' laughed Gilbert as we drove up to his house. ' I have engaged a housekeeper and a woman to do the work. Until to day 1/ have been my own servant, you know.' The housekeeper took me to my room; A hasty wash to refresh me and I was ready for the sick room. Gilbert met me on the stairs. 'I've jußt looked in,' he said. 'There's no change since 1 left him, but he has not seen the worst of it yet. It'll be a tough job for us.' 'I feel quite prepared, Gilbert,' I answered. I followed him into the sick room. A dull, glowless fire burned in the grate and a night light low down at the foot of the bed flung strange, heavy shadows up to the ceiling. ' We've no gas turned on yet,' explained Gilbert, « and the room was hastily prepared. We'll brighten things up a bit tomorrow.' I took a professional inventory of the room, then I walked round to the side of the bed. The movements of my Bkirtß had fluttered the night light, and for a time the dark shadows floated across the face of our unconscious patient. He was breathing heavily, and ever and again he. moved spasmodically, emitting audible groans. The- fever was not dangerously high ; as Gilbert had said, the worst was yet to come. I put my hand on his brow and the coolness seemed to comfort him. Then I noticed that the light had ceased to flatter, and withdrawing my hand, I stooped over him to scrutinise his features. One glance and I drew back sharply, a dnmb cry upon my lips. Sammoning my courage, I bent forward again. Then the cry found voice : * My husband !' I reeled. 'Gilbert!' I wailed. 'Gilbert! Have pity !' ' Rose, what folly is this V ' That man! your patient !' I cried, helplessly. 'Heis my husband !' • Your ' He broke off at the word and stared at me mutely— crushed. An awful silence prevailed. We were in a room adjoining the sick cham ber; I could he ar my husband tossing in his bed and moaning deliriously throngh the rising fever. For minutes I stood and listened — minutes that were the weary length of rain-flooded days. I was not thinking. My mind wag blank, dumb, paralyzed. I only realised that in the next room lay my husband' whom I had long thought dead, and that the sun had been suddenly eclipsed, leaving the world in a faulty darkness which had no ending through all the years to be. Then of a sudden a shiver ran down my spine. My tongue loosened. In an instant I was on my knees. ' Gilbert ! Hear me ! Don't censure me unheard. I was young when it all happened. I had no father, mother, brother, or sister to advise or warn me. But I had money to curse me. That man came to me in my loneliness and swore that he loved me. I believed him. I could not return his love, but I was grateful for his sympathy, and I thought the rest would come. We were married one lovely morning. Oh, the irony of the sunshine ! As we left the church arm in arm, a note was slipped into my hand by a strange woman. I opened it. What I read fired my blood to "womanhood—l was a child no longer. If that letter spoke truth, I had married a hound, not a man— a hound' who had hunted for money. We. returned to the house. Leaving my friend, I took my husband apart and showed him the letter. He laughed mockingly. We were married ; I was in his power. No need for further deception. I was-cool with the coolness of desperation. I made him an offer. We struck a bargain. I gave him all my money on condition that he never spoke to me again. I flung the ring he had just put upon my finger at his feet and left him. I have never seen him since until to-night. Lone, long ago I heard that he was killed in a tornado. I-,, employed an agent to make inquiries,,, and he confirmed the rumour. I was at liberty. I met you— and loved you. Heaven knows how I loved

you, Gilbert ! Don t look at me like that V Have mercy! I should have told you at first- but— l was afraid, Gilbert - !', 'Rose!' . It. was the despairing cry of a hunted bea«tatbay. . He snatched me from the floor and clasped me in his, arms, covering me with the caresses of madnesa; And I made no effort to restrain him. Thought had flown from me again. I was in Gilbert's power. Iwas insanely happy. Presently— l don't know how long after— a sentence crept into my memory : ' I love you so dearly, Roae, that if any one came between us I should kill him !' They were Gilbert's words, uttered in the first declaration of passionate love. Again and again they flitted through my mind. I dwelt upon them, lying there in Gilbert's arms until at last I smiled — a hideous smile, full of hideous meaning. 4 Gilbert,' I whispered—' Gilbert, he may die!' . Then I was in Gilbert's arms no longer. He thrust me away from him and I staggered across the floor. 4 What do you mean?' he hissed. 'Do you know what yon say ?' I laughed again. Be merciful and allow that I was not quite Bane. ' Oh, I forgot that if he dies you will not get your practice !' I cried. My husband recovered. I Btayed on and nursed him, despite Dr. Hope's contrary advice. It was a tough struggle, but science and skill— as the doctor had prophesied— won the battle. And day by day as I sat by the bedside and watched the doctor's haggard, grey face and dark, sunken eyes, by my torture was I chastened for my momentary, hideous lapse into evil suggestion. At last, one morning, the doctor said to me: 'Nurse, the struggle is over. Your husband will live. Any hour he may regain consciousness.' ' Then it is time for me to go, doctor,' I replied. ' I shall return to the institute at once.' ' And your hußband ? Is he to be kept in ignorance of your share in his recovery ?' 'Indeed, yes.' * You will not withdraw or even ameliorate the conditions under which you and your husband parted ten years ago ?' ' No.' ' Then it is my duty to tell you this : When your husband came to me he was afraid to die before he obtained forgiveness from the wife whose treatment by him had been so dastardly and cowardly. They are his own words. If you really object to your husband searching for you and beseechiDg your forgiveness, I would suggest that yoa should write a few words and leave them with me. I will explain.' ' Thank you, doctor.' I wrote the few words. Inasmuch as I was conaciou3 that my husband was not the only person in the world in need of forgiveness, I freely forgave him. Then I bade the doctor good-by. That waa several years ago. I have .never, privately or professionally, met either my husband or the doctor since. It ia as well.