Part 7 (2/2)
”Dogs ask so little for their love. Oh, I didn't come here without a struggle. And I knew you would speak like this. But I have been abroad so long, and on the voyage home I got worse, and women--women of your sort who had taken no notice of me, suddenly grew kind. I said to myself, 'Bella, it looks bad for you when ladies forget how common you are,' and then the thought struck me, London meant you! As a patient I might come to your house and be let in. You are clever and you are great; if I had any self-respect I could not ask you; but I have not, you know; I never had any and'--and--I am--frightened! It keeps me awake at nights, the fear. I--I am not going to--die?”
”I have said I will do what I can for you.”
”You will sound me?”
”Loosen your dress.”
As he bent over her she raised her hand as if to smoothe his hair, and the colour came into her face, but she did not touch him.
Her fingers, from which she had drawn her gloves, were laden with rings--rings which he had not given her. His breath came a little faster as he stooped over her neck.
”Don't be scared to tell me the truth,” she said; ”I guess I'm pretty bad. You need not take the trouble to lie about it.”
He examined her thoroughly and replaced the stethoscope before he spoke.
”Your lungs are not right. They used to be.”
”Oh,” she replied bitterly, ”I used to be. I have come too late--is that what you mean?”
”I mean that you must exercise great care and avoid excitement. Don't brood--don't worry yourself by misgivings, which will only do you harm. Go away from England when the summer is over; go where the sun s.h.i.+nes and the air is mild. Lead a life of ease and indolence. I can say no more.”
”And then?”
”And then I see no reason why you should not live for years to come.”
Bella flung her hands out with a sort of despair.
”Your prescription is impossible,” she said dully.
”Impossible?”
”I have only just come over from the States. I have an engagement at the Empire for six months. I have got to stay.”
”You will be very unwise. The laws of health demand that you should cancel any such contract.”
”Beggars can't be choosers. I must sing to live. It is my trade now.”
He sighed. ”You do not look as if you were in pecuniary difficulties.”
”Well, I make money easily enough, but it melts like ice cream; everything is so beastly dear.”
”Are you not with--him?”
”Him? Oh no; he left me years ago. I am alone--very much alone. It seems sometimes as if I had spent the best part of my life alone. I am so dull I--I wonder why I dread to die. There! I can follow your advice so far as this; I'll take the greatest care of myself--in London. I am glad I came to you, though it does not seem to have delighted you much. I suppose if--if I had run straight and stayed with you, I might have been quite well, eh?”
”That is difficult to say. Bella, have you--it is a foolish question, but--have you ever regretted?”
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