The House of Defence v. 2Benson, E. F. (Edward Frederic)
Science
The House of Defence v. 2
Benson, E. F. (Edward Frederic)
Christian Science -- Fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Spiritual healing -- Fiction
"Maud, just this once," he said--"do let me have it this once. It shall
be the last time. You see, the treatment will soon put me right now."
"Why do you want my leave?" said she.
"I don't know. It would make me more comfortable; I should enjoy it
more."
"Well, I propose a slightly different plan," she said. "I promise you
that I will go and get it for you myself at twelve o'clock to-night if
you still really want it. Hold on for six hours--five hours--and then,
if you ask me, I will take down the forged prescription myself. Only in
the interval you must do your best--your best, mind, not to think about
it. And you must go to bed at eleven. That's not much to ask, is it?"
He weighed this in his mind, and soon decided, for there was something
rapturous in the waiting, provided he knew he would soon get it.
"Yes, of course I'll wait," he said, "though I can't guess what your
point is. You really promise it me at twelve? And you won't tell
Cochrane?" he added, with a little spurt of glee, thinking that for some
inexplicable reason Maud was going to help him.
"Oh no, I won't tell him; you probably will. Now, if the sleepiness of
the sleigh-drive has gone off, I will read to you. It will help to pass
the hours till twelve."
It had required all Maud's faith to get through with this, but she had
understood and agreed with what Mr. Cochrane had said before he left. He
wanted, above all things, that Thurso should make an effort of
abstention, though it was only for a few hours, of his own accord, and
believed that at present he could hardly do so unless he was bribed, so
to speak. He had, in fact, suggested this plan.
"And if he wants it at twelve?" she asked.
"Keep your promise. But he won't. He can't."
* * * * *
All this Thurso thought over as he lay in bed next morning watching his
valet put out his clothes. He had gone to bed, as he had promised,
before eleven, hugging to himself the thought that midnight was coming
closer every minute. And then he had simply fallen asleep, and when he
woke the pale winter sunlight was flooding the room.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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