Part 22 (1/2)
They talked together for a while without interruption, until Dr. Rob remarked: ”I suppose I will have to be going.”
Then Garth said: ”I wish to speak to you alone, doctor, for a few minutes.”
”I will wait for you downstairs, Dr. Mackenzie,” said Jane, and was moving towards the door, when an imperious gesture from Dr. Rob stopped her, and she turned silently to the fireplace. She could not see any need now for this subterfuge, and it annoyed her. But the freckled little Napoleon of the moors was not a man to be lightly disobeyed. He walked to the door, opened and closed it; then returned to the bedside, drew up a chair, and sat down.
”Now, Mr. Dalmain,” he said.
Garth sat up and turned towards him eagerly.
Then, for the first time, Jane saw his face.
”Doctor,” he said, ”tell me about this nurse. Describe her to me.”
The tension in tone and att.i.tude was extreme. His hands were clasped in front of him, as if imploring sight through the eyes of another. His thin white face, worn with suffering, looked so eager and yet so blank.
”Describe her to me, doctor,” he said; ”this Nurse Rosemary Gray, as you call her.”
”But it is not a pet name of mine, my dear sir,” said Dr. Rob deliberately. ”It is the young lady's own name, and a pretty one, too.
'Rosemary for remembrance.' Is not that Shakespeare?”
”Describe her to me,” insisted Garth, for the third time.
Dr. Mackenzie glanced at Jane. But she had turned her back, to hide the tears which were streaming down her cheeks. Oh, Garth! Oh, beautiful Garth of the s.h.i.+ning eyes!
Dr. Rob drew Deryck's letter from his pocket and studied it.
”Well,” he said slowly, ”she is a pretty, dainty little thing; just the sort of elegant young woman you would like to have about you, could you see her.”
”Dark or fair?” asked Garth.
The doctor glanced at what he could see of Jane's cheek, and at the brown hands holding on to the mantelpiece.
”Fair,” said Dr. Rob, without a moment's hesitation.
Jane started and glanced round. Why should this little man be lying on his own account?
”Hair?” queried the strained voice from the bed.
”Well,” said Dr. Rob deliberately, ”it is mostly tucked away under a modest little cap; but, were it not for that wise restraint, I should say it might be that kind of fluffy, fly-away floss-silk, which puts the finis.h.i.+ng touch to a dainty, pretty woman.”
Garth lay back, panting, and pressed his hands over his sightless face.
”Doctor,” he said, ”I know I have given you heaps of trouble, and to-day you must think me a fool. But if you do not wish me to go mad in my blindness, send that girl away. Do not let her enter my room again.”
”Now, Mr. Dalmain,” said Dr. Mackenzie patiently; ”let us consider this thing. We may take it you have nothing against this young lady excepting a chance resemblance in her voice to that of a friend of yours now far away. Was not this other lady a pleasant person?”
Garth laughed suddenly, bitterly; a laugh like a hard, sob. ”Oh, yes,”
he said, ”she was quite a pleasant person.”
”'Rosemary for remembrance,'” quoted Dr. Rob. ”Then why should not Nurse Rosemary call up a pleasant remembrance? Also it seems to me to be a kind, sweet, womanly voice, which is something to be thankful for nowadays, when so many women talk, fit to scare the crows; cackle, cackle, cackle--like stones rattling in a tin canister.”