第69章
- The Rosary
- Florence Louisa Barclay
- 1085字
- 2016-03-02 16:31:20
DR.ROB TO THE RESCUE
Into the somewhat oppressive silence which followed the addressing and closing of the envelope, broke the cheery voice of Dr.Rob.
"Which is the patient to-day? The lady or the gentleman? Ah, neither, I see.Both flaunt the bloom of perfect health and make the doctor shy.It is spring without, but summer within," ran on Dr.Rob gaily, wondering why both faces were so white and perturbed, and why there was in the air a sense of hearts in torment."Flannels seem to call up boating and picnic parties; and I see you have discarded the merino, Nurse Gray, and returned to the pretty blue washables.More becoming, undoubtedly; only, don't take cold; and be sure you feed up well.In this air people must eat plenty, and you have been perceptibly losing weight lately.We don't want TOO airy-fairy dimensions.""Why do you always chaff Miss Gray about being small, Dr.Rob?"asked Garth, in a rather vexed tone."I am sure being short is in no way detrimental to her.""I will chaff her about being tall if you like," said Dr.Rob, looking at her with a wicked twinkle, as she stood in the window, drawn up to her full height, and regarding him with cold disapproval.
"I would sooner no comments of any kind were made upon her personal appearance," said Garth shortly; then added, more pleasantly: "You see, she is just a voice to me--a kind, guiding voice.At first Iused to form mental pictures of her, of a hazy kind; but now Iprefer to appropriate in all its helpfulness what I DO know, and leave unimagined what I do not.Did it ever strike you that she is the only person--bar that fellow Johnson, who belongs to a nightmare time I am quickly forgetting--I have yet had near me, in my blindness, whom I had not already seen; the only voice I have ever heard to which I could not put a face and figure? In time, of course, there will be many.At present she stands alone to me in this."Dr.Rob's observant eye had been darting about during this explanation, seeking to focus itself upon something worthy of minute examination.Suddenly he spied the foreign letter lying close beside him on the table.
"Hello!" he said."Pyramids? The Egyptian stamp? That's interesting.
Have you friends out there, Mr.Dalmain?""That letter came from Cairo," Garth replied; "but I believe Miss Champion has by now gone on to Syria." Dr.Rob attacked his moustache, and stared at the letter meditatively."Champion?" he repeated."Champion? It's an uncommon name.Is your correspondent, by any chance, the Honourable Jane?""Why, that, letter is from her," replied Garth, surprised."Do you know her?" His voice vibrated eagerly.
"Well," answered Dr.Rob, with slow deliberation, "I know her face, and I know her voice; I know her figure, and I know a pretty good deal of her character.I know her at home, and I know her abroad.
I've seen her under fire, which is more than most men of her acquaintance can claim.But there is one thing I never knew until to-day and that is her handwriting.May I examine this envelope?" He turned to the window;--yes, this audacious little Scotchman had asked the question of Nurse Rosemary.But only a broad blue back met his look of inquiry.Nurse Rosemary was studying the view.He turned back to Garth, who had evidently already made a sign of assent, and on whose face was clearly expressed an eager desire to hear more, and an extreme disinclination to ask for it.
Dr.Mackenzie took up the envelope and pondered it.
"Yes," he said, at last, "it is like her,--clear, firm, unwavering;knowing what it means to say, and saying it; going where it means to go, and getting there.Ay, lad, it's a grand woman that; and if you have the Honourable Jane for your friend, you can be doing without a few other things."A tinge of eager colour rose in Garth's thin cheeks.He had been so starved in his darkness for want of some word concerning her, from that outer light in which she moved.He had felt so hopelessly cut off from all chance of hearing of her.And all the while, if only he had known it, old Robbie could have talked of her.He had had to question Brand so cautiously, fearing to betray his secret and hers;but with Dr.Rob and Nurse Gray no such precautions were needed.He could safely guard his secret, and yet listen and speak.
"Where--when?" asked Garth.
"I will tell you where, and I will tell you when," answered Dr.Rob, "if you feel inclined for a war tale on this peaceful spring morning."Garth was aflame With eagerness."Have you a chair, doctor?" he said."And has Miss Gray a chair?""I have no chair, sir," said Dr.Rob, "because when I intend thoroughly to enjoy my own eloquence it is my custom to stand.Nurse Gray has no chair, because she is standing at the window absorbed in the view.She has apparently ceased to pay any heed to you and me.
You will very rarely find one woman take much interest in tales about another.But you lean back in your own chair, laddie, and light a cigarette.And a wonderful thing it is to see you do it, too, and better than pounding the wall.Eh? All of which we may consider we owe to the lady who disdains us and prefers the scenery.
Well, I'm not much to look at, goodness knows; and she can see you all the rest of the day.Now that's a brand worth smoking.What do you call it--'Zenith'? Ah, and 'Marcovitch.' Yes; you can't better that for drawing-room and garden purposes.It mingles with the flowers.Lean back and enjoy it, while I smell gun-powder.For Iwill tell you where I first saw the Honourable Jane.Out in South Africa, in the very thick of the Boer war.I had volunteered for the sake of the surgery experience.She was out there, nursing; but the real thing, mind you.None of your dabbling in eau-de-cologne with lace handkerchiefs, and washing handsome faces when the orderlies had washed them already; making charming conversation to men who were getting well, but fleeing in dread from the dead or the dying.