Her maid, half dead with fatigue, slept in a chair, and young Mrs.
Malcourt aroused her and sent her off to bed. Then she roamed through
the rooms, striving to occupy her mind with the negative details of the
furnishing; but it was all drearily harmless, unaccented anywhere by
personal taste, merely the unmeaning harmony executed by a famous New
York decorator, at Portlaw's request--a faultless monotony from garret
to basement.
There was a desk in one room; ink in the well, notepaper bearing the
name of Portlaw's camp. She looked at it and passed on to her bedroom.
But after she had unlaced and, hair unbound, stood staring vacantly
about her, she remembered the desk; and drawing on her silken
chamber-robe, went into the writing-room.
At intervals, during her writing, she would rise and gaze from the
window across the darkness where in the sick-room a faint, steady glow
remained; and she could see the white curtains in his room stirring like
ghosts in the soft night wind and the shadow of the nurse on wall and
ceiling.
"Dear, dear dad and mother," she wrote; "Mr. Portlaw was so
anxious for Louis to begin his duties that we decided to come at
once, particularly as we both were somewhat worried over the
serious illness of Mr. Hamil.
"He is very, very ill, poor fellow. The sudden change from the
South brought on pneumonia. I know that you both and Gray and
Cecile and Jessie will feel as sorry as I do. His aunt, Miss
Palliser, is here. To-night I was permitted to see him. Only his
eyes were visible and they were wide open. It is very dreadful,
very painful, and has cast a gloom over our gaiety.
"To-night Dr. Lansdale said that he would pull him through. I am
afraid he said it to encourage Miss Palliser.
"This is a beautiful place--" She dropped her pen with a shudder,
closed her eyes, groped for it again, and forced herself to
continue--"Mr. Portlaw is very kind. The superintendent's house
is large and comfortable. Louis begins his duties to-morrow.
Everything promises to be most interesting and enjoyable--" She
laid her head in her arms, remaining so, motionless until
somewhere on the floor below a clock struck midnight."
At last she managed to go on:
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