CHAPTER XX
JANE REPORTS PROGRESS
Letter from the Honourable Jane Champion to Sir Deryck Brand.
Castle Gleneesh, N. B.
My dear Deryck: My wires and post-cards have not told you much beyondthe fact of my safe arrival. Having been here a fortnight, I think itis time I sent you a report. Only you must remember that I am a poorscribe. From infancy it has always been difficult to me to writeanything beyond that stock commencement: "I hope you are quite well;"and I approach the task of a descriptive letter with an effort which iscolossal. And yet I wish I might, for once, borrow the pen of a readywriter; because I cannot help knowing that I have been passing throughexperiences such as do not often fall to the lot of a woman.
Nurse Rosemary Gray is getting on capitally. She is making herselfindispensable to the patient, and he turns to her with a completenessof confidence which causes her heart to swell with professional pride.
Poor Jane has got no further than hearing, from his own lips, that sheis the very last person in the whole world he would wish should comenear him in his blindness. When she was suggested as a possiblevisitor, he said: "Oh, my God, NO!" and his face was one wild,horrified protest. So Jane is getting her horsewhipping, Boy,and--according to the method of a careful and thoughtful judge, whoorders thirty lashes of the "cat," in three applications of ten--so isJane's punishment laid on at intervals; not more than she can bear at atime; but enough to keep her heart continually sore, and her spirit inperpetual dread. And you, dear, clever doctor, are proved perfectlyright in your diagnosis of the sentiment of the case. He says her pitywould be the last straw on his already heavy cross; and the expressionis an apt one, her pity for him being indeed a thing of straw. The onlypity she feels is pity for herself, thus hopelessly caught in themeshes of her own mistake. But how to make him realise this, is thepuzzle.
Do you remember how the Israelites were shut in, between Migdol and thesea? I knew Migdol meant "towers," but I never understood the passage,until I stood upon that narrow wedge of desert, with the Red Sea infront and on the left; the rocky range of Gebel Attaka on the right,towering up against the sky, like the weird shapes of an impregnablefortress; the sole outlet or inlet behind, being the route they hadjust travelled from Egypt, and along which the chariots and horsemen ofPharaoh were then thundering in hot pursuit. Even so, Boy, is poor Janenow tramping her patch of desert, which narrows daily to the measure ofher despair. Migdol is HIS certainty that HER love could only be pity.The Red Sea is the confession into which she must inevitably plunge, toavoid scaling Migdol; in the chill waters of which, as she drags him inwith her, his love is bound to drown, as waves of doubt and mistrustsweep over its head,--doubts which he has lost the power of removing;mistrust which he can never hope to prove to have been false andmistaken. And behind come galloping the hosts of Pharaoh; chance,speeding on the wheels of circumstance. At any moment some accident maycompel a revelation; and instantly HE will be scaling rocky Migdol,with torn hands and bleeding feet; and she--poor Jane--floundering inthe depths of the Red Sea. O for a Moses, with divine commission, tostretch out the rod of understanding love, making a safe way through;so that together they might reach the Promised Land! Dear wise old Boy,dare you undertake the role of Moses!
But here am I writing like a page of Baedeker, and failing to report onactual facts.
As you may suppose, Jane grows haggard and thin in spite of oldMargery's porridge--which is "put on" every day after lunch, for thenext morning's breakfast, and anybody passing "gives it a stir." Didyou know that was the right way to make porridge, Deryck? I alwaysthought it was made in five minutes, as wanted. Margery says that mustbe the English stuff which profanely goes by the name. (N.B. Pleasemark the self-control with which I repeat Scotch remarks, withoutrushing into weird spelling; a senseless performance, it seems to me.For if you know already how old Margery pronounces "porridge," you canread her pronunciation into the sentence; and if you do not know it, nogrotesque spelling on my part could convey to your mind any but acaricatured version of the pretty Scotch accent with which Margerysays: "Stir the porridge, Nurse Gray." In fact, I am agreeablysurprised at the ease with which I understand the natives, and thepleasure I derive from their conversation; for, after wrestling withone or two modern novels dealing with the Highlands, I had expected tofind the language an unknown tongue. Instead of which, lo! and behold,old Margery, Maggie the housemaid, Macdonald the gardener, andMacalister the game-keeper, all speak a rather purer English than I do;far more carefully pronounced, and with every R sounded and rolled.Their idioms are more characteristic than their accent. They say"whenever" for "when," and use in their verbs several quaint variationsof tense.)
But what a syntactical digression! Oh, Boy, the wound at my heart is sodeep and so sore that I dread the dressings, even by your delicatetouch. Where was I? Ah, the porridge gave me my loophole of escape.Well, as I was saying, Jane grows worn and thin, old Margery's porridgenotwithstanding; but Nurse Rosemary Gray is flourishing, and remains apretty, dainty little thing, with the additional charm of fluffy,fly-away floss-silk, for hair,--Dr. Rob's own unaided contribution tothe fascinating picture. By the way, I was quite unprepared to find himsuch a character. I learn much from Dr. Mackenzie, and I love Dr. Rob,excepting on those occasions when I long to pick him up by the scruffof his fawn overcoat and drop him out of the window.
On the point of Nurse Rosemary's personal appearance, I found it bestto be perfectly frank with the household. You can have no conceptionhow often awkward moments arose; as, for instance, in the library, thefirst time Garth came downstairs; when he ordered Simpson to bring thesteps for Miss Gray, and Simpson opened his lips to remark that NurseGray could reach to the top shelf on her own tiptoes with the greatestease, he having just seen her do it. Mercifully, the perfect trainingof an English man-servant saved the situation, and he merely said:"Yessir; certainly sir," and looked upon, me, standing silently by, asa person who evidently delighted in giving unnecessary trouble. Had itbeen dear old Margery with her Scotch tongue, which starts slowly, butgathers momentum as it rolls, and can never be arrested until the fullflood of her thought has been poured forth, I should have beenconstrained to pick her up bodily in my dainty arms and carry her out.
So I sent for Simpson and Margery to the dining-room that evening, whenthe master was safely out of ear-shot, and told them that, for reasonswhich I could not fully explain, a very incorrect description of myappearance had been given him. He thought me small and slim; fair andvery pretty; and it was most important, in order to avoid longexplanations and mental confusion for him, that he should not atpresent be undeceived. Simpson's expression of polite attention did notvary, and his only comment was: "Certainly, miss. Quite so." But acrossold Margery's countenance, while I was speaking, passed many shades ofopinion, which, fortunately, by the time I had finished, crystallizedinto an approving smile of acquiescence. She even added her owncommentary: "And a very good thing, too, I am thinking. For MasterGarth, poor laddie, was always so set upon having beauty about him.'Master Garthie,' I would say to him, when he had friends coming, andall his ideas in talking over the dinner concerned the cleaning up ofthe old silver, and putting out of Valentine glass and Worstered china;'Master Garthie,' I would say, feeling the occasion called for the aptquoting of Scripture, 'it appears to me your attention is givenentirely to the outside of the cup and platter, and you care nothingfor all the good things that lie within.' So it is just as well to keephim deceived, Miss Gray." And then, as Simpson coughed tactfully behindhis hand, and nudged her very obviously with his elbow, she added, as asympathetic after-thought: "For, though a homey face may indeed beredeemed by its kindly expression, you cannot very well explainexpression to the blind." So you see, Deryck, this shrewd old body, whohas known Garth from boyhood, would have entirely agreed with thedecision of three years ago.
Well, to continue my report. The voice gave us some trouble, as youforesaw, and the whole plan hung in the balance during a few awfulmoments; for,
though he easily accepted the explanation we had planned,he sent me out, and told Dr. Mackenzie my voice in his room wouldmadden him. Dr. Rob was equal to the occasion, and won the day; andGarth, having once given in, never mentioned the matter again. Only,sometimes I see him listening and remembering.
But Nurse Rosemary Gray has beautiful hours when poor anxious, yearningJane is shut out. For her patient turns to her, and depends on her, andtalks to her, and tries to reach her mind, and shows her his, and is awonderful person to live with and know. Jane, marching about in thecold, outside, and hearing them talk, realises how little sheunderstood the beautiful gift which was laid at her feet; how littleshe had grasped the nature and mind of the man whom she dismissed as "amere boy." Nurse Rosemary, sitting beside him during long sweet hoursof companionship, is learning it; and Jane, ramping up and down hernarrowing strip of desert, tastes the sirocco of despair.
And now I come to the point of my letter, and, though I am a woman, Iwill not put it in a postscript.
Deryck, can you come up soon, to pay him a visit, and to talk to me? Idon't think I can bear it, unaided, much longer; and he would so enjoyhaving you, and showing you how he had got on, and all the things hehad already learned to do. Also you might put in a word for Jane; or atall events, get at his mind on the subject. Oh, Boy, if you COULD spareforty-eight hours! And a breath of the moors would be good for you.Also I have a little private plan, which depends largely for itsfulfilment on your coming. Oh, Boy--come!
Yours, needing you,
Jeanette.
From Sir Deryck Brand to Nurse Rosemary Gray, Castle Gleneesh, N. B.
Wimpole Street.
My dear Jeanette: Certainly I will come. I will leave Euston on Fridayevening. I can spend the whole of Saturday and most of Sunday atGleneesh, but must be home in time for Monday's work.
I will do my best, only, alas! I am not Moses, and do not possess hiswonder-working rod. Moreover, latest investigations have proved thatthe Israelites could not have crossed at the place you mention, butfurther north at the Bitter Lakes; a mere matter of detail, in no wayaffecting the extreme appositeness of your illustration, rather, addingto it; for I fear there are bitter waters ahead of you, my poor girl.
Still I am hopeful, nay, more than hopeful,--confident. Often of late,in connection with you, I have thought of the promise about all thingsworking together for good. Any one can make GOOD things work togetherfor good: but only the Heavenly Father can bring good out of evil; and,taking all our mistakes and failings and foolishnesses, cause them towork to our most perfect well-being. The more intricate and involvedthis problem of human existence becomes, the greater the need to takeas our own clear rule of life: "Trust in the Lord with all thine heart;and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledgeHim, and He shall direct thy paths." Ancient marching orders, andsimple; but true, and therefore eternal.
I am glad Nurse Rosemary is proving so efficient, but I hope we may nothave to face yet another complication in our problem. Suppose ourpatient falls in love with dainty little Nurse Rosemary, where willJane be then? I fear the desert would have to open its mouth andswallow her up. We must avert such a catastrophe. Could not Rosemary beinduced to drop an occasional H, or to confess herself as rather "gone"on Simpson?
Oh, my poor old girl! I could not jest thus, were I not coming shortlyto your aid.
How maddening it is! And you so priceless! But most men are eitherfools or blind, and one is both. Trust me to prove it to him,--to myown satisfaction and his,--if I get the chance.
Yours always devotedly,
Deryck Brand.
From Sir Deryck Brand to Dr. Robert Mackenzie.
Dear Mackenzie: Do you consider it to be advisable that I shouldshortly pay a visit to our patient at Gleneesh and give an opinion onhis progress?
I find I can make it possible to come north this week-end.
I hope you are satisfied with the nurse I sent up.
Yours very faithfully,
Deryck Brand.
From Dr. Robert Mackenzie to Sir Deryck Brand.
Dear Sir Deryck: Every possible need of the patient's is being met bythe capable lady you sent to be his nurse. I am no longer needed. Norare you--for the patient. But I deem it exceedingly advisable that youshould shortly pay a visit to the nurse, who is losing more flesh thana lady of her proportions can well afford.
Some secret care, besides the natural anxiety of having theresponsibility of this case, is wearing her out. She may confide inyou. She cannot quite bring herself to trust in
Your humble servant,
Robert Mackenzie.
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