Detective and mystery stories; English fiction -- 19th century
My name is Jane Ellis. I am a sick-nurse, and live in Goodge Street,
Tottenham Court Road. In about the end of July, 1856, I was engaged as
night nurse to Madame R**. Perhaps she did not exactly require one. She
was ill, but she could help herself. At times she was very ill. It was
much more comfortable for her, and she could afford it. Baron R** never
seemed to spare anything for her. She was generally worst at night. The
worst attacks used to come on about every fortnight. It was generally
on a Saturday. I took turn and turn about with Mrs. Jackson. She took
the day work, and I took the night. I used to come at ten o'clock, and
leave at breakfast time. During that time I was never out of the room.
It was the Baron's particular desire. When I first came he made it a
condition that I should never leave the room, and never go to sleep.
He was the most particular gentleman I ever nursed for. I have nothing
whatever to say against him. Quite the contrary. He was always civil
and pleasant spoken, and behaved most handsome, as a gentleman should
do. He was uncommon fond of the lady. She didn't seem to care much
about him. She was ill, poor soul, and could not care about any body.
She seemed quite frightened like. When the Baron came into the room she
used to follow him about with her eyes, as if she was afraid of him.
I never heard him say an unkind word. Other times she would lie quite
quiet, and not speak a word for hours. She seemed afraid of everybody.
If I moved about the room, I could see her eyes following me about and
watching me everywhere. I think it was part of her complaint. The Baron
was most attentive. I never saw such an attentive husband. He used to
lie in the next room. It opened into the bedroom, and he always had
the door wide open. He was a wonderfully light sleeper. If either of
us spoke a word, he would be in the room directly, to ask what was the
matter. I couldn't even move across the room but what he would hear it.
He was a wonderful man. He seemed to live almost without sleep. I think
it must have been the meat did it. He used to eat enormous quantities
of meat. I never saw a man eat so much. When I first came he used to
joke with me about it. Madame R** was not so bad then, and we used to
talk sometimes. He told me it was because he was a mesmeriser. I don't
believe in mesmerism. I told him so. He didn't say anything; he only
laughed. One night he offered to send me to sleep. That was when I had
been there about a week. I said he might try if he could. He looked
hard at me, ever so long, and made some odd motions with his hands. I
did go to sleep. I don't believe it was mesmerism. Of course not. I
think it was looking at his eyes. I told him so. He asked if he should
do it again. He did it once more. That was the night after. I went to
sleep then almost directly. Of course I knew it was not mesmerism, but
I couldn't help it. He did not talk about it any more. He only said
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