The Yellow Flag: A Novel. Volume 2 (of 3)Yates, Edmund
General
The Yellow Flag: A Novel. Volume 2 (of 3)
Yates, Edmund
Fiction
Alice still slept peacefully; her breathing was quiet and regular,
and her unruffled brow and motionless lips proved that she was not
disturbed by haunting dreams. Pauline bent over the slumbering figure,
took up the arm that lay outside the coverlet, and softly felt its
pulse, bent her ear towards the sleeper's mouth to listen to her
respiration, and then, stealing back to her place as noiselessly as
she had approached, threw herself into her chair, and indulged in the
luxury of a long but silent yawn.
'There,' she said to herself, rubbing her eyes, and resuming her usual
comfortable attitude, 'I was right in not denying myself the pleasure
of that slumber which I found coming over me, for I am thoroughly
refreshed, and equal to very much more than I was before. What a day
it has been, my faith! And how wonderfully everything has gone exactly
as I could have wished it! This woman sleeping straight on, steadily
and tranquil, and without a break; the servants accepting me in the
position which I took up so promptly, without a murmur, and only too
glad to find the responsibility transferred from themselves to some one
else. Responsibility? That reminds me of that sly doctor--how do they
call him?--Broadbent! It was right of me to send for him; it might have
seemed suspicious had I not done so; and as I knew so well that he had
been perforce admitted into the mystery of Claxton-Calverley, and as
I had learned from the servants here that he was always most friendly
and kind to this poor doll, I knew that I could explain to him what I
had done, and leave it to him to put the people here at their ease.
He was out, though, this sly rogue--out, and not expected back until
the evening, so they said, though five minutes afterwards I saw a man,
who must have been he--black-clothed, grave, the very semblance of an
apothecary--come out of the side-door of his garden, and hurry down the
path where I stood when I first saw the child. Ah, ha! he has no longer
any desire to visit Rose Cottage, this medico so respectable; he fears
lest his name should be compromised. I could not help laughing as I saw
him creep down the path.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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