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Page 68
She was just blossoming into womanhood and her form had that
exquisite roundness and grace which it is the particular function
of fashion to annihilate. If I held her closely, I think all
bachelors will agree that it was because this very roundness made
her heavy; if I did not put her down immediately I reached Maitland's
room, it is because, as a doctor of medicine, I have my own ideas as
to how a couch should be fixed before a patient is laid upon it.
Maitland may say what he pleases, but I know how important these
things are in sickness, and you know, quick as he is in most things,
George has moments when his head is so much in the clouds that he
doesn't know what he is doing, and moves as if he were in a dream
set to dirge music. He kept telling me to "put her on the couch!
--put her on the couch!" To this day, he fondly believes that when
I finally did release her, it was as the result of his advice, rather
than because he had at last made a suitable bed for her.
I sent Maitland for some medicine, which I knew would relax the
tension she was under and make it possible for her to sleep. When
I had administered this, Maitland and I talked the matter over and
we decided to take her at once to my house, where, with Gwen, she
could share the watchful care of my sister Alice. This we did,
though I was not without some misgivings as to Gwen's attitude in
the matter when she should recover sufficiently to know of it. I
expressed my doubts to Maitland and he replied: "Give yourself no
uneasiness on that score; Miss Darrow is too womanly to visit the
sins of a guilty father upon an unoffending daughter, and, besides,
this man,--it seems that his real name is Latour, not Cazenove,--
has a right to be judged innocent until his guilt is proved."
I found this to be sage counsel, for, when Gwen was able to
understand what I had done, she exhibited no antipathy toward the
new member of our household, but, on the contrary, became exceedingly
interested in her. I was especially glad of this, not only on
account of Miss Latour, the suspect's daughter, but also because the
one thing Gwen needed above all others was something to challenge
her interest. She had again relapsed into the old, state of passive
endurance, wherein nothing seemed to reach her consciousness. Her
actions appeared to flow more from her nerve-centres than from her
mind. She moved like an automaton. There is scarcely any condition
of which I am more fearful than this. The patient becomes wax in
one's hands. She will do anything without a murmur, or as willingly
refrain from anything. She simply is indifferent to life and all
that therein is. Is it any wonder, then, that I rejoiced to see
Gwen interest herself in poor Jeannette? It was a long time,
however, before Jeannette repaid this interest with anything more
than a dreamy, far-off gaze, that refused to focus itself upon
anything. As time wore on, however, I noticed with relief that there
was a faint expression of wonder in her look, and, as this daily
grew stronger, I knew she was beginning to realise her novel
surroundings and to ask herself if she were still dreaming. Yet she
did not speak; she seemed to fear the sound of her own voice and to
determine to solve, unaided, the mystery confronting her. I
requested that no one question her or make any attempt to induce
her to break silence, for I knew the time would come when she would
do so of her own free will. As it happened, her first words were
spoken to me, and, as my writing this recalls the event, a thrill
of pleasurable pain passes through me. You may think this foolish,
the more so, indeed, when you learn that nothing was said to warrant
such a feeling, but I must urge upon you not to let your satisfied
heart set itself up as judge in bachelor regions.
I had been mixing some medicine for her and was holding the cup to
her lips that she might drink the draught. She laid her hand upon
my wrist and gently put the cup aside, saying, as she gazed
thoughtfully at me: "Did you not bring me here?" "Yes," I replied.
She reached for the cup, and drinking its contents, sank back upon
the pillows with a half-satisfied look upon her face, as if my reply
had cleared up one mystery, but left many more to be solved.
From this day Jeannette steadily improved, and within two weeks she
and Gwen had come to a very good understanding. It was plainly
evident that Alice, too, came in for a very good share of the little
French girl's love. They did not exchange confidences to any great
degree, for, as Maitland used to say, Alice was one of those rare,
sweet women who say but little, but seem to act upon all around them
by a sort of catalysis, sweetening the atmosphere by their very
presence.
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