Conduct of life -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Physicians -- Fiction
At first the resumption of routine after years of indolence was irksome
and exhausting. The six o'clock rising, the active duties commencing
while she still felt tired, the absence of anything like privacy,
excepting in the two hours allotted to each nurse for leisure--all
these things fretted her. Even the relief that she derived from her
escape into the open air was alloyed by the knowledge that outdoor
exercise during one of the hours was compulsory. Then, too, it was
inevitable that a costume worn once more should recall the emotions
with which she had laid aside her last; inevitable that she should ask
herself what the years had done for her since last she stood within a
hospital and bade it farewell with the belief she was never to enter
one again. The failure of the interval was accentuated. Her heart had
contracted when, directed to the strange apartment above the wards,
she beheld the print dress provided for her use lying limp on a chair.
An unutterable forlornness filled her soul as, proceeding to put it
on, she surveyed her reflection in the narrow glass. Yet she grew
accustomed to the change, and the more easily for its being a revival.
The speed with which the sense of novelty wore off indeed astonished
her. Primarily dismaying, and a continuous burden upon which she
condoled with herself every day, it was, next, as if she had lost it
one night in her sleep. She had forgotten it until the lightness with
which she was fulfilling the work struck her with swift surprise.
Little by little a certain enjoyment was even felt. She contemplated
some impending task with interest. She took her walk with zest in lieu
of relief. She returned to the doors exhilarated instead of depressed.
The bohemian, the lady-companion, had become a sick-nurse anew, and
because the primary groove of life is the one which cuts the deepest
lines, her existence rolled along the recovered rut with smoothness.
The scenes between which it lay were not beautiful, but they were
familiar; the view it commanded was monotonous, but she no longer
sought to travel.
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