Wastralls: A NovelDawson Scott, C. A. (Catharine Amy)
General
Wastralls: A Novel
Dawson Scott, C. A. (Catharine Amy)
Cornwall (England : County) -- Fiction; Farm life -- Fiction; Husband and wife -- Fiction
So far, matters had gone better than Byron had dared to hope; but now
his heart sank. If Dr. Derek were to see Sabina he might realize—Byron
accredited him with miraculous powers—on what a fairy superstructure his
diagnosis was built. "Well, sir," he said, "just as you like. If you
think you ought to come, do so. I shouldn’t like for people to talk
after she were buried up and say we didn’t do what we ought to ’ave
done; but she’s dead and stiff."
"You don’t make a point of it, then?"
"I want you to zactly please yerself, sir."
"Humph!" The doctor considered. "I saw her yesterday and I’m pretty
busy. Yes, yes, it isn’t necessary." His gold nib in its cool agate
holder began to run in smooth flowing style over a sheet of partly
printed paper. "Show that to the undertaker," he said, passing the
certificate to Byron.
"Thank you, doctor, and for all the trouble you’ve took of ’er." He
placed the paper carefully in his pocketbook and prepared to go. "Seems
rather hard that after all you couldn’t pull ’er through!"
In Dr. Derek’s bosom the professional man was often at war with the
scientific. "The fact is, Byron," he said honestly, "I didn’t expect to
save her. I’ve never thought she would live so long." His experienced
glance dwelt fleetingly on the other’s face. "You look pretty seedy,
yourself. If you don’t take care we shall have you on the sick list."
"Well, sir, ’twas awful sudden, ’twas. I don’t feel to believe she’s
really gone. I’m like I’m in a dream." But, in his hidden mind, he was
wondering why the man who saw so much could not pierce to the little
more.
"Must have been a terrible shock to you. When is the funeral to be?"
"Monday, I believe, sir."
"Walking, I suppose?"
The man looked surprised. "What else would we ’av, sir?"
"No, of course, I was forgetting. Well, I’ll try to come to it. I had
the greatest possible respect for your wife as a farmer. She should
have been a man."
"’Tis great respect you’re payin’ her, sir."
The doctor smiled enigmatically. "That’s as may be," he said and,
indeed, for him to say a woman resembled a man was the reverse of
complimentary. In his experience the sterile female frequently
approximated to the male in type and habits; and he thought such
approximation a sign of degeneracy. He had been interested from a
scientific point of view in Mrs. Byron. She had led a man’s life and
she was childless. Was the latter a consequence, or had the
childlessness determined her way of life? He could find arguments in
support of both theories.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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