The Missing BrideSouthworth, Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte
General
The Missing Bride
Southworth, Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte
Fiction
An hour, two hours, passed, and then the door opened again, and Edith
caught a glimpse of the surgeon, with his shirt sleeves pushed above his
elbows, and a pair of bloody hands. It was Solomon who opened the door
to ask for a basin of water, towels and soap, for the doctor to wash.
Edith furnished these also.
Half an hour passed, and the door opened a third time, and the doctor
himself came out, fresh and smiling. His countenance and his manner were
in every respect encouraging.
"Come into the drawing-room a moment, if you please, Miss Edith, I want
to speak with you."
Edith desired nothing more earnestly just at that moment.
"Well, doctor--your patient?" she inquired, anxiously.
"Will do very well! Will do very well! That is, if he be properly
attended to, and that is what I wished to speak to you about, Miss
Edith. I have seen you near sick-beds before this, my dear, and know
that I can better trust you than any one to whom I could at present
apply. I intend to install you as his nurse, my dear. When a life
depends upon your care, you will waive any scruples you might otherwise
feel, Miss Edith, I am sure! You will have your old maid, Jenny, to
assist you, and Solomon at hand, in case of an emergency. But I intend
to delegate my authority, and leave my directions with you."
"Yes, doctor, I will do my very best for your patient."
"I am sure of that. I am sure of that."
Edith watched by his cot through all the night, fanning him softly,
keeping his chest covered from the air, giving him his medicine at the
proper intervals, and putting drink to his lips when he needed it. But
never trusted her eyelids to close for a moment. Jenny shared her vigil
by nodding in an easy chair; and Solomon Weismann, a young medical
student, by sleeping soundly on the wooden settee in the hall. So passed
the night. After midnight, to Edith's great relief, his fever began to
abate, and he sank into a sweet sleep. In the morning Solomon roused
himself, and came in and relieved Edith's watch, and attended to the
wants of the patient, while she went to her room to bathe her face and
weary eyes.
But instead of growing better the patient grew worse, and for days life
was despaired of. The most skillful medical treatment, and the most
careful nursing scarcely saved his life. And even after the imminent
danger was over, it was weeks before he was able to be lifted from the
bed to the sofa.
In the meantime, Throg, who was also treated by the doctor, recovered.
He took quite an affectionate leave of the young ensign, and with an
appearance of great friendliness and honesty, promised to interest
himself at headquarters in behalf of the young officer. This somehow
filled Edith with a vague distrust, and dark foreboding, for which she
could neither account, nor excuse herself, nor yet shake off. Thorg had
been exchanged, and he joined his regiment after its return from
Washington City, and before it sailed from the shores of America.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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