|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 49
"No, he is not going to die. He shall not die!" Gordon replied with
passionate emphasis. Then he added, in response to James's wondering,
half-frightened look, "I have been there all the morning. I have just
come home. I have left everything for him. I don't dare get a nurse. I
am afraid. He may talk a good deal. Georgie K. is with him now. I can
trust him, but I can't trust a nurse. I am going back after luncheon,
and you may go with me. I would like you to see him."
"Does he seem to be very ill?" James asked timidly.
"Not from the--the--wound," replied Gordon, "but I am afraid of
something else."
"What?"
"Erysipelas. I am afraid of that setting in. In fact, I am not
altogether sure that it has not. He is an erysipelas subject. He has
told me of two severe attacks which he has had. When he fell he got an
abrasion of the cheek. That looks worse than the--the--wound. I should
like you to see him. You have seen erysipelas cases, of course, in your
hospital practice."
"Oh, yes."
"There is the bell for luncheon. We will go directly afterward."
James wondered within himself at the feverish haste with which Gordon
swallowed his luncheon, frequently looking at his watch. He was actually
showing more anxiety over this man who had hounded him, of whom he had
lived in dread, than James had seen him show over any patient since he
had been with him. It seemed to him inconsistent. Mrs. Ewing did not
come down to luncheon; Clemency said that she was not feeling as well as
usual but Gordon did not seem much disturbed even by that. He gave
Clemency some powders, with instructions how to administer them to the
sick woman before he left, but he did not show concern, and did not go
upstairs to see her. Clemency herself looked pale and anxious.
She found a chance to whisper to James before he went. "Is that man very
much hurt?" she said close to his ear.
"Hush, dear. I am afraid so."
"Uncle Tom seems terribly worried. I have never seen him so worried even
over mother, and he doesn't seem worried about her now. Oh, James, she
is suffering frightfully, I know." Clemency gave a little sob. Then
Gordon's voice was heard calling imperiously, "Elliot, come along!"
James kissed the poor little face tenderly, and whispered that she must
not worry, that probably the powders would relieve her mother, and then
that she herself had better lie down and try to get a little sleep, and
hurried out.
Gordon was seated in the buggy, waiting for him. "I don't want to lose
any time," he said brusquely as James got in beside him. "Even a few
minutes sometimes work awful changes in a case like this. If he is no
worse I will leave you with him, and make a call on Mrs. Wells. I
haven't seen her to-day, and yesterday it looked like pneumonia, then
there is that child with diphtheria at the Atwaters'. I ought to go
there myself, but if he is worse you will have to go, and to a few
others, and I must stay with him."
Gordon drove furiously. Heads appeared at windows; people on the street
turned faces of wonder and alarm after him. It was soon noised about
Alton that there had been a terrible accident, that somebody was at the
point of death, but of that Gordon and James knew nothing.
When they arrived at the hotel, Gordon, after he had tied his horse,
took his medicine-case, and, followed by James, entered, and went
directly upstairs to a large room at the back of the hotel. This room
was somewhat isolated in position, having a corridor on one side and
linen closets on another, it being a corner apartment with two outer
walls. Gordon opened the door softly and entered with James behind him.
The bed stood between the two west windows. It was a northwest room. The
afternoon sun had not yet reached it. It was furnished after the usual
fashion of country hotel bedrooms. It was clean and sparse, and the
furniture had the air of having a past, of having witnessed almost
everything which occurs to humanity. It seemed battered and stained,
though not with wear, but with humanity. The old-fashioned black walnut
bedstead in which the sick man lay seemed to have a thousand voices of
experiences. A great piece was broken off one corner of the footboard.
The wound in the wood looked sinister. Directly opposite the bed stood
the black walnut bureau, with its swung glass. The glass was cracked
diagonally, and reflected the bed and its occupant with an air of
experience. Gordon went directly to his patient. Beside him sat Georgie
K. He looked at the two doctors and shook his head gravely. His great
blond face was unshaven and paled with watching. Nobody spoke a word.
All three looked at the man in the bed, who lay either asleep, or
feigning sleep, or in a stupor. Gordon felt for his pulse softly, with
keen eyes upon his face. This face was unspeakably ghastly. The throat
was swathed in bandages. There was one tiny spot of red on the white of
the linen. The man's eyes were rolled upward. Around an abrasion on the
cheek, which glistened oily with some unguent which had been applied to
it, was a circle of painful red clearly defined from the pallor of the
rest of the cheek.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|