Part 25 (2/2)
Nurse Rosemary dropped her pen. ”Oh, Mr. Dalmain,” she said, ”let her come.”
Garth turned upon her a face of blank surprise.
”I do not wish it,” he said, in a tone of absolute finality.
”But think how hard it must be for any one to want so much to be near a--a friend in trouble, and to be kept away.”
”It is only her wonderful kindness of heart makes her offer to come, Miss Gray. She is a friend and comrade of long ago. It would greatly sadden her to see me thus.”
”It does not seem so to her,” pleaded Nurse Rosemary. ”Ah, cannot you read between the lines? Or does it take a woman's heart to understand a woman's letter? Did I read it badly? May I read it over again?”
A look of real annoyance gathered upon Garth's face. He spoke with quiet sternness, a frown bending his straight black brows.
”You read it quite well,” he said, ”but you do not do well to discuss it. I must feel able to dictate my letters to my secretary, without having to explain them.”
”I beg your pardon, sir,” said Nurse Rosemary humbly. ”I was wrong.”
Garth stretched his hand across the table, and left it there a moment; though no responsive hand was placed within it.
”Never mind,” he said, with his winning smile, ”my kind little mentor and guide. You can direct me in most things, but not in this. Now let us conclude. Where were we? Ah--'to suggest coming to see me.' Did you put `It is most kind' or `It is more than kind?'”
”'More than kind,'” said Nurse Rosemary, brokenly.
”Right, for it is indeed more than kind. Only she and I can possibly know how much more. Now let us go on ... But I am receiving no visitors, and do not desire any until I have so mastered my new circ.u.mstances that the handicap connected with them shall neither be painful nor very noticeable to other people. During the summer I shall be learning step by step to live this new life, in complete seclusion at Gleneesh. I feel sure my friends will respect my wish in this matter. I have with me one who most perfectly and patiently is helping--Ah, wait!” cried Garth suddenly. ”I will not say that. She might think--she might misunderstand. Had you begun to write it? No?
What was the last word? 'Matter?' Ah yes. That is right. Full stop after 'matter.' Now let me think.”
Garth dropped his face into his hands, and sat for a long time absorbed in thought.
Nurse Rosemary waited. Her right hand held the pen poised over the paper. Her left was pressed against her breast. Her eyes rested on that dark bowed head, with a look of unutterable yearning and of pa.s.sionate tenderness. At last Garth lifted his face. ”Yours very sincerely, Garth Dalmain;” he said. And, silently, Nurse Rosemary wrote it.
CHAPTER XXII
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 I used to form mental pictures of her, of a hazy kind; but now I prefer 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.”
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