Part 48 (2/2)
All these things, which seemed in themselves unimportant, bore directly on immediate events; for when Connie and Harris arrived at St. Thomas's Hospital and made inquiries with regard to a little, freckled girl, with an honest face and st.u.r.dy figure, the hall porter went to communicate with one of the nurses, and the nurse he communicated with turned out to be the night nurse in the very ward where Sue was lying--so suffering, so ill and sorely tried.
Now, the nurse, instead of sending word that this was not the hour for visiting patients, took the trouble to go downstairs herself and to interview Connie and her father. Connie gave a faithful description of Sue, and then the nurse admitted that there was a little girl in the hospital who was now in the children's surgical ward. She had been brought in a day or two ago, having a broken leg, owing to a street accident. She was a very patient, good child, but there was something strange about her--nothing would induce her to tell her name.
”Then what do you call her?” asked Harris.
He was still full of inward tremors, for at that moment he was thinking that of all the sweet sights on earth, that sight would be little Sue's plain face.
”Have yer no name for the pore child?” he repeated.
”Yes,” said the nurse. ”She calls herself Cinderella.”
”It's Sue! It's Sue herself father! G.o.d has led us to her--and it's Sue her very own self!”
Poor Connie, who had borne up during so many adventures, who had faced the worst steadfastly and without fear, broke down utterly now. She flung herself into her father's arms and sobbed.
”Hush, wench hus.h.!.+” said the rough man. ”I am willin' to do hall that is necessary.--Now then, nurse,” he continued, ”you see my gel--she's rather upset 'bout that pore Cinderella upstairs. But 'ave yer nothing else to say 'bout her?”
”She acts in a strange way,” said the nurse. ”The only thing that comforts her is the sound of Big Ben when he strikes the hour. And she did speak about a little cripple brother.”
”Can us see her?” asked Connie just then.
”It is certainly against the rules, but--will you stay here for a few minutes and I'll speak to the ward superintendent?”
The nurse went upstairs. She soon returned.
”Sister Elizabeth has given you permission to come up and see the child for a few minutes. This, remember, is absolutely against the ordinary rules; but her case is exceptional, and if you can give her relief of mind, so much the better.”
Then Connie and her father followed the nurse up the wide, clean stairs, and down the wide, spotless-looking corridors, until they softly entered a room where many children were lying, some asleep, some tossing from side to side with pain.
Sue's little bed was the fifth from the door, and Sue was lying on her back, listening intently, for Big Ben would soon proclaim the hour. She did not turn her head when the nurse and the two who were seeking her entered the ward; but by-and-by a voice, not Big Ben's, sounded on her ear, and Connie flung herself by her side and covered her hand with kisses.
”You don't think, Sue, do yer,” said Connie, ”that _us_ could stop seekin' yer until we found yer?”
Sue gave a startled cry.
”Connie--Connie! Oh Connie! 'ow is Giles?”
”'E wants yer more than anything in all the world.”
”Then he--he's--still alive?”
”Yus, he's still alive; but he wants yer. He thought you was in the country, gettin' pretty rooms for you and him. But oh, Sue! he's goin'
to a more beautiful country now.”
Sue didn't cry. She was about to say something, when Harris bent forward.
”G.o.d in 'eaven bless yer!” he said in a husky voice. ”G.o.d in 'eaven give back yer strength for that n.o.ble deed yer ha' done for me an' mine! But it's all at an end now, Susan--all at an end--for I myself 'ave tuk the matter in 'and, an' hall you 'as to do is to get well as fast as ever yer can for the sake o' Giles.”
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