England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Wessex (England) -- Fiction
The thought was led up to by his having fancied that his wife’s
features lacked in its complete form the expression which he had been
accustomed to associate with the faces of those whose spirits have fled
for ever. The effacement of life was not so marked but that, entering
uninformed, he might have supposed her sleeping. Her complexion was
that seen in the numerous faded portraits by Sir Joshua Reynolds; it
was pallid in comparison with life, but there was visible on a close
inspection the remnant of what had once been a flush; the keeping
between the cheeks and the hollows of the face being thus preserved,
although positive colour was gone. Long orange rays of evening sun
stole in through chinks in the blind, striking on the large mirror, and
being thence reflected upon the crimson hangings and woodwork of the
heavy bedstead, so that the general tone of light was remarkably warm;
and it was probable that something might be due to this circumstance.
Still the fact impressed him as strange. Charlson had been gone more
than a quarter of an hour: could it be possible that he had left too
soon, and that his attempts to restore her had operated so sluggishly
as only now to have made themselves felt? Barnet laid his hand upon her
chest, and fancied that ever and anon a faint flutter of palpitation,
gentle as that of a butterfly’s wing, disturbed the stillness
there—ceasing for a time, then struggling to go on, then breaking down
in weakness and ceasing again.
Barnet’s mother had been an active practitioner of the healing art
among her poorer neighbours, and her inspirations had all been derived
from an octavo volume of Domestic Medicine, which at this moment was
lying, as it had lain for many years, on a shelf in Barnet’s
dressing-room. He hastily fetched it, and there read under the head
‘Drowning:’-
‘Exertions for the recovery of any person who has not been immersed for
a longer period than half-an-hour should be continued for at least four
hours, as there have been many cases in which returning life has made
itself visible even after a longer interval.
‘Should, however, a weak action of any of the organs show itself when
the case seems almost hopeless, our efforts must be redoubled; the
feeble spark in this case requires to be solicited; it will certainly
disappear under a relaxation of labour.’
Barnet looked at his watch; it was now barely two hours and a half from
the time when he had first heard of the accident. He threw aside the
book and turned quickly to reach a stimulant which had previously been
used. Pulling up the blind for more light, his eye glanced out of the
window. There he saw that red chimney still smoking cheerily, and that
roof, and through the roof that somebody. His mechanical movements
stopped, his hand remained on the blind-cord, and he seemed to become
breathless, as if he had suddenly found himself treading a high rope.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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