British -- India -- Fiction; India -- History -- British occupation, 1765-1947 -- Fiction
“And that is my fault. But I never knew how it hurt till now, Georgie,
or I couldn’t have done it, and now that I do know, it’s too late. I
know now how you feel about Dick, because of what I feel about _him_.
I can’t bear any one else to do a single thing for him, and if he
became conscious again while I was away, I should be ready to kill Dr
Tighe. Isn’t it strange that to-day I would give anything to hear him
say the things that made me so angry a little while ago, and that I
have said things in his ear to-night that would have made him
perfectly happy then, and now he can’t even hear them? Oh, Georgie, if
he should never hear them--if he should die without recovering his
senses!”
“We can only hope--and pray,” said Georgia gently.
“I know, but you must pray--I can’t. You have always been kind to him,
at any rate; I haven’t. I don’t deserve that he should get well, I
know--but I do want him so much. When I think that he has been wasting
his love upon me all this time, while I was too proud to take it, I
feel it would serve me right if I never had the chance of telling him
how glad and thankful I am to have it. But I do love him, Georgie,
indeed I do.”
“I know you do, Mab,” said Georgia, still passing her hand softly over
Mabel’s hair. She would not allow a word of reproach to cross her
lips, but in her heart there was a little tumult of wifely
indignation. Mabel was so much engrossed with Fitz Anstruther as not
even to remember that her brother had taken his life in his hand and
gone straight into the enemy’s camp. “But it is only natural. Perhaps
I should do the same in her place,” thought Georgia, and continued the
pleasant restful movement. Before very long Mabel was asleep, and she
was still crouched upon the floor, leaning against Georgia, when Dr
Tighe came to say that she might take her second turn of watching in
the sick-room. She awoke with a start, while he was talking to Georgia
in an excited whisper.
“Yes, Mrs North, I’m certain there’s something up. Two or three
distinct _jirgahs_ seem to be going on in the enemy’s lines, and
though they began to make preparations for fighting two hours ago,
they don’t get any forrarder. And we are almost certain that there’s a
movement of some kind in progress at the back of Gun Hill. There may
be artillery there, taking up a position, or possibly the whole relief
column is preparing to occupy the heights. If it’s anything of the
sort, it’s all due to that marvellous husband of yours, whom I’d make
Viceroy this very hour if I had my way.”
“And he would be excessively unhappy at Government House, and the
cause of extreme misery to every one else,” laughed Georgia; but
Mabel, who had been listening to their talk half asleep, sprang up.
“Oh, Doctor, is there any change? Is he awake?”
“No change whatever, I’m sorry to say. Have your breakfast before you
come across, and then I’ll leave you in charge while I go my morning
rounds in the hospital.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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