“Doctor,” said she, “it is the old story: 'Servants' friends, the
master's enemies.' An old servant came here to gossip with her friend
the cook (she never could abide her while they were together, by all
accounts), and told her the whole story of his being drowned at sea.”
Dr. Philip groaned, “Cursed chatterbox!” said he. “What is to be done?
Must we break it to her now? Oh, if I could only buy a few days more!
The heart to be crushed while the body is weak! It is too cruel. Advise
me, Mrs. Briscoe. You are an experienced woman, and I think you are a
kind-hearted woman.”
“Well, sir,” said Mrs. Briscoe, “I had the name of it, when I was
younger--before Briscoe failed, and I took to nursing; which it hardens,
sir, by use, and along of the patients themselves; for sick folk are
lumps of selfishness; we see more of them than you do, sir. But this I
WILL say, 'tisn't selfishness that lies now in that room, waiting for
the blow that will bring her to death's door, I'm sore afraid; but a
sweet, gentle, thoughtful creature, as ever supped sorrow; for I don't
know how 'tis, doctor, nor why 'tis, but an angel like that has always
to sup sorrow.”
“But you do not advise me,” said the doctor, in agitation, “and
something must be done.”
“Advise you, sir; it is not for me to do that. I am sure I'm at my wits'
ends, poor thing! Well, sir, I don't see what you can do, but try and
break it to her. Better so, than let it come to her like a clap of
thunder. But I think, sir, I'd have a wet-nurse ready, before I said
much: for she is very quick--and ten to one but the first word of such a
thing turns her blood to gall. Sir, I once knew a poor woman--she was
a carpenter's wife--a-nursing her child in the afternoon--and in runs a
foolish woman, and tells her he was killed dead, off a scaffold. 'Twas
the man's sister told her. Well, sir, she was knocked stupid like, and
she sat staring, and nursing of her child, before she could take it in
rightly. The child was dead before supper-time, and the woman was not
long after. The whole family was swept away, sir, in a few hours, and
I mind the table was not cleared he had dined on, when they came to lay
them out. Well-a-day, nurses see sorrow!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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