Mad: A Story of Dust and AshesFenn, George Manville
General
Mad: A Story of Dust and Ashes
Fenn, George Manville
Fiction
On still, with a light swinging motion and an easy tread, the porters
bore their load, and in the minute or two the removal occupied old Matt
thought of the last time he had made that journey, and his sensations
then: how that he had looked upon it all as a dream, and felt that he
should soon wake up to find himself in bed. But the old man's musings
ceased as he was borne into the theatre, save for an instant when the
thought flashed across his mind, Suppose he died without seeing the
entry? and this troubled him for a few moments; but directly after he
was gazing up with anxious eye at the tier upon tier of benches, some
crowded, some nearly empty, and looking from face to face; but there
seemed not one that sympathised with him, as, after a glance when he was
first borne in, a quiet light, chatty conversation was carried on in an
undertone. Then there was almost perfect silence, and the old man felt
himself to be the centre upon which every eye was fixed. His heart told
him now that in the low-murmured buzz of conversation that rose,
students who had again and again stood at his bedside were discussing
his case, and that if the operation were unsuccessful or unskilfully
performed, they would merely say that the patient did not rally, and
then go home or to their studies, regardless of the little gap left in
the ranks of life; while Septimus Hardon would probably never succeed in
his endeavours to recover his lost position.
Then he half-smiled as he thought of the importance with which he rated
himself, and looked eagerly round. Close by he could see the earnest,
study-lined faces of several older men, many of them grey-haired and
thoughtful-eyed--men of eminence in their profession, but strongly
imbued with the belief of the man of wisdom, that we are ever but
learners. Then he looked straight above, even at the skylight, where he
could see that the sun illumined the thick ground-glass; and now once
more, in a quiet musing vein, he set to wondering how it would be after
the operation.
Plenty of faces round, but mostly cool, calm, and matter-of-fact. Here
were the hospital dressers and assistants, standing by the table--a
curious-looking table in the centre of an open space; and a hasty glance
showed him sponges, and water, and cloths, and lint, and mahogany cases,
that at another time, if some other sufferer were to have been operated
upon, would have caused him to shudder. But all that was past now, and
he merely looked earnestly round till his gaze rested upon a stout
grey-haired, keen-eyed man, whose black clothes and white neck-tie were
spotless, and who now advanced to the table with a quiet business-like
aspect, as he bowed somewhat stiffly to the assembled surgeons and
students, and then spoke a few cheering words to the patient as he felt
his pulse.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account