The confessions of a well-meaning womanMcKenna, Stephen
General
The confessions of a well-meaning woman
McKenna, Stephen
English fiction -- 20th century; Upper class -- England -- Fiction; Women -- England -- Fiction
At first I was _touched_...
"Dear Arthur," I said, "I am not doing this for my amusement."
"Oh, of course not!," he answered. "All the same, I wish it could be
avoided. And, if it can't be avoided, I wish you'd kept more quiet
about it. I don't know what you said to Spenworth and Brackenbury,
but they're making the deuce's own tale of it."
I begged him to enlighten me.
"Well," said Arthur, "Spenworth says that you pretended to be at
death's door in order to force him to make a settlement on Will and
that he might have consented if he hadn't happened to know that you'd
said the same thing to Brackenbury five minutes before. About being
the head of the family and all that sort of thing. You know, Ann, it
_does_ make us look just a little bit ridiculous."
You assure me you have seen neither Brackenbury nor Ruth? I just
wondered who was privileged to hear this "deuce's own tale" ... I can
hardly ask you to believe it; but I do assure you that this is the
solemn truth; those two men were seeking to convince themselves that
I was _pretending_ to be ill in order to work on their susceptible
emotions! They seem to have had the good taste to keep their little
joke for home consumption, but you may be sure they made merry with
Ruth and Kathleen about me... _Too_ merry, perhaps; I can only think
it was conscience that made Ruth offer to pay for the operation. Or
perhaps it was curiosity... I wonder what their feelings would have
been if anything _had_ gone amiss...
No, I am thankful to say there was no hitch of any kind. The
anæsthetic was administered, I heard that hammer, hammer, hammer--and
then voices _very_ far away. It was all over! That was the
preliminary examination. Then I was subjected to that too wonderful
X-ray light and saw myself as a black skeleton with a misty-grey
covering of flesh, one's wedding-ring standing out like a black bar
round one's finger. _Too_ marvellous. I do _believe_ in this
science...
But not so marvellous as what followed. Dr. Richardson congratulated
me, and I had to beg for enlightenment.
"It will not be necessary," he said, "to operate after all. The
symptoms are exactly as you described them, but a little treatment,
principally massage..."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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