The White Rose of MemphisFalkner, William C. (Clark)
General
The White Rose of Memphis
Falkner, William C. (Clark)
Memphis (Tenn.) -- Fiction
glance which she cast on me was ample compensation for the risk I was
taking. We could not then tell whether she was suffering much or not,
for one of her peculiar traits was never to complain of anything; but
she declared in most positive terms that the only pain she experienced
was the slight suffering caused by the wound I had made with my knife on
her wrist. After sucking the wound for an hour, I began to feel deathly
sick--a strange dizziness seized upon me--the house appeared to be
turning round with great rapidity, and a blindness fixed itself on my
eyes; I gasped for breath, and felt as if I was being smothered. My
blood seemed to be boiling hot in my veins; I sank insensible on the
floor; and when I regained consciousness I was on a clean nice bed, in a
cozy little room, with Lottie’s golden curls dangling about my face, for
she was kissing me when I came to my senses, and my face was moist with
the tears that had fallen from her dear eyes.
“‘Where am I? What has happened?’ were the questions I put to her.
“‘Hush, Eddie dear, you must not talk; you have been dangerously ill;
and oh! how I hate myself for being the cause of your illness. Why did
you not let me suffer from the poison, instead of trying to kill
yourself?’
“Then a dim recollection of what had happened began to come to me. ‘How
long have I been ill?’
“‘Five days, and oh! such long, miserable days were they, too! We
thought you were going to die, and that made us so very unhappy; but
when the doctor left here this morning he said that all danger was over;
and then I knew that God had answered my prayers; because I have prayed
constantly and fervently to Him, asking Him not to let you die. If you
had died, I should have looked upon myself as your murderer. I never
should have seen another happy day. There now, don’t talk.’ And she
placed her hand on my mouth just as I was going to ask more questions.
“I noticed that she had her hand in a sling, and was about to question
her about it when she covered my mouth with her hand. I afterward
ascertained that she had not been entirely relieved from pain, that her
wrist and arm had been very much swollen, and had caused intense
suffering, but that she had watched by my bedside day and night, never
sleeping any, except such short naps as she could take by leaning her
head on the edge of my bed. If I had loved her before this, and I assert
that I did, what do you imagine my feelings toward her were then? It
would require a more expressive term to describe them than I am able to
command.
“‘Tell me, Lottie, all that has happened; it appears like a dream.’
“‘I will, if you promise to lie still, and keep quiet.’
“I made the promise reluctantly.
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