Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1889-10-10

''This is Sir Edward" said the nurse.

81 know" murmured, hoarsely.
Leave US" followed the dry, hard tones
Of the surgeon, and with Certainly, Sir
Edward" the nurse departed.
Then there was a silence. He looked
steadily at me, as 1 had thought he would
look, and looked away from him down
the ward and along the row Of sufferers
there.
''Elwinr' he said at last, and I glanced
wistfully toward him. 1 tried to speak,
but could not.
"You have had two hard fights for your
ife,' he said, calmly, and without a quay
er of his voice, ''but you are spared, I am
glad to say"
''Glad?' I murmured.
''Yes-yery glad.''
I could not reply. Strange, hot tears
came to my eyes, whose founts had been
sealed for years
1--WE are always glad when we succeed
in difficult case, and yours has been the
most critical case that have ever known, -
he continued in a hard, metallic way that
brought me slowly to myself. 1T is a tri-
umph of surgery to restore you to the
world
To restore me to his wifel Did he think
Of that in the midst of his success? won
dered Or was that a matter which did
not concern him in the least now; which
was not any part Of his thoughts? Yes,
he was a hard man; she had always called
him hard and unsympathetic; it had been
his profession first and his wife second,
and his wife had resented the preference,
fretted, complained and fed.
He will never miss me-" she had said;
''he will be happier without me-"
Perhaps he had been. Who could tell,
looking into that inflexible face whether
ne had suffered or not? I was not sure,
even, whether he knew me, he spoke so
calmly.
do you know who I amp" I asked, at
last, fretful and impatient
"YOu must keep cool, SIR" he said, po-
itely, but firmly; excitement is all we
have to fear in you"
"You do not answer my question, Sir
Edward"
"Why do you ask"
81 cannot say, cannot explain I re-
piled; ''but would be very glad to know"
"Will it ease your mind to know?"
81 think it will"
Eyes. knew you the moment you were
brought into the hospital. I never forget
a face" he said, quietly.
"Why did you not kill me when I was
so completely in your power?" I burst
forth. II deserved it! IL
He laid his hand upon my arm and rose
from the bedside.
There, there, that will do" he said.
''You must recollect a surgeons pride, his
fame, rests on the saving Of his patient,
not the killing of him."
''Ah! well, you may kill me presently in
a fairer way" said. 81 am at your or
ders always"
''Thank you," he said, dryly; 81 know
that. But now sleep is what you need
most"
He walked down the ward somewhat
feebly, l thought, for his four-and-forty
years, and the nurse rose and courtsied to
him as he passed, and the patients watched
him with their big, wondering eyes, a
giant among men, and as he stopped at
the far end of the room, before one who
was also his especial care, the students
gathered round him, and hung upon his
words.
ga good man, is he not, nurse?" I said
to the attendant, who had approached my
side again.
'I don't know. He is great man at all
events.
eyes"
cit is an honor to us for him to come
now" she said, ian honor to you that he
should have been so deeply interested in
you. Everybody has thought him par
ticularly interested. But then it's mira
Gle that you're alive with skull all
smashed into the brain as yours has been.
Why" she added, cheerfully, in order to
raise a smile in me, you've no business
to be alive at all. It's against the record -
mo. l have no business to be alive,'
murmured. THAT is it,"
"Ah! well, go to Sleep" she said sooth-
ingly, you'll be more cheerful in the
morning."
had got well enough to see visitors at
last, but had begged Eva not to come
yet-not to come at all. And it was for
her husbands sake rather than for hers.
[ would have spared him. | was beset by
strange, unknown fear of those two meet
ing and possibly at my bedside. 1t was
TOO horrible to contemplate.
She did not come. She took me at my
word and left me to myself And [ was
greatly relieved. The fear of seeing her
was awfully strong upon me-the woman
who had shared my life, who had sacrificed
her life for me, and to whom [ had sur
rendered my ambitions, my friends, my
honorable career-the woman who was
my whole life [ did not wish to see. !
was afraid Of any grief or excitement
which she might betray-I was more
afraid of her indifference-stil more of the
thoughts she might have of her husband,
and her wish to beg for his forgiveness,
and to tell him how bitterly she had re-
pented of the wrong that she had done
him.
She did not answer my note, and / was
glad of that. There was always in her
letters amid the kindliness of her nature,
the ring of the natural discomfort at what
she was, the wall sometimes over what she
might have been, disguise it as she might
by obscure words and phrases. I had been
always in dread in the few times that !
had been away from her, what sorrow
might be Swallowed forth in every missive
to myself In returning to her l had al
ways wondered what might have hap
pened in my absence and always, as l APP
preached our home, been, as it were, pre-
pared for something. There was a selfish
satisfaction in knowing that she would
not come, that there was no letter for me,
that I was left in peace and alone, to get
well.
The next time Sir Edward visited this
ward of the hospital to my establishment
he passed me by. He had paid some extra
attention to the patient at the remote end
of the ward-a man did not know even
by sight, but of whom | felt jealous-and
then he came slowly along, accompanied
by students and one or two surgeons from
{ fol To-. aV1d q q attended