Part 5 (1/2)
Suppose that old hag has gone off and left me alone in the house with that--that dead man. I'll be bound she's quite capable of doing it--old wretch! I shall starve to death! Nannie! Nannie!”
But all the strength had gone out of her voice--it was not strange that those m.u.f.fled tones remained unheeded--a fact of which she herself was conscious. At last, wholly exhausted, she lay and thought hard things of every one. She was genuinely hungry. She told herself that if some one did not come soon and bring her food something would have to be done, though she had not the faintest notion what. Self-help was out of the question; she was as powerless to move as if she had been riveted to the bed.
She was rapidly reaching a despairing stage when Nannie entered with a tray in her hand, quite calmly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world that she should come just then and not before. Isabel broke into angry expostulation.
”Why have you kept me waiting. Why didn't you come before? You must have heard me long ago--you're not stone deaf. I've screamed myself hoa.r.s.e.”
Nannie placed the tray upon a table. Then, with the most matter-of-fact air, putting her arms about the angry woman, she raised her to a sitting posture, arranging the pillows so that they formed a prop for her back. Divided between indignation and bewilderment, Isabel submitted in silence; she was so helpless, the old woman's manner was so masterful, that to expostulate seemed vain. The tray was put beside her on the coverlet, Nannie observing--
”When you've eaten your fill I'll come and take a look at that foot of yours”.
”It's ever so much worse. I've been in agony--and am still. I believe I've broken a bone.”
”Not you; it's no but a sprain.”
”It's more than a sprain--much more, I'm convinced of it.
Where's Dr. Twelves? He ought to attend to it at once. He said he would come and see me. Why hasn't he been?”
”He's been and gone hours ago.”
”Been and gone! Why didn't you let me know that he was here?”
”What for should I let you know?”
”You knew that I wished to see him.”
”You never said it; and, anyway, he never said that he was wis.h.i.+ng to see you.”
”You're taking advantage of me! You think I'm at your mercy, and that you can do as you like with me because I can't move! You're a wicked old woman!”
”Am I? Then I'm reckoning that age is the only difference there is between us.”
Burning words flamed to Isabel's lips, but she had enough prudence and self-control not to allow them to go any farther.
She was at the other's mercy, and she knew it. The only way to obtain from her some slight consideration was to endeavour to appease, not anger her. Instead of giving her anger vent, she put to her a question, the one she had put the night before.
”Is my husband dead?”
She received what was practically the same answer.
”Didn't I tell you that for that you must ask Dr. Twelves, since he's knowing when folks are dead better than me?”
Without affording Isabel another opportunity to speak Nannie left the room.
If the new Mrs. Grahame could have got out of bed there would have been some lively doings. It is not impossible that Nannie would have found that she had met her match. When that lady was really roused, and had a fair chance to show it, she was a difficult person to deal with. But she was, literally, held by the leg; as incapable of doing what she would have liked to have done as if she had been an infant in arms.
When, after an interval of no long duration, the ancient servitor returned, Isabel did treat her to what she meant to be a taste of her claws. For all the effect she produced she might have saved herself the trouble. The Scotchwoman evinced a serene indifference to anything she might say or do, which influenced her more than she would have cared to own. Then the pain she endured was exquisite. Nannie's ministrations were deft enough.
She set about her task like one who understood well what she had to do, and was capable of doing it. She removed the bandages, bathed the injured foot, applied hot poultices; so far as Isabel was able to judge, did all that could be done. But the most delicate touches could not prevent her suffering agony. By the time the other had finished her anger was forgotten. All she desired was rest--peace--to be left alone.