Bohemianism -- Fiction; London (England) -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Married people -- England -- Fiction
Gabrielle was a great help to the doctors, and prompt and reliable in
her movements--a nurse of the first order. She watched with a calm,
clear vision the work of the bistoury on the little throat, and knew
exactly when to hand the implements necessary, as the work proceeded,
and earned the compliment of the surgeon thereupon; but it was not
merely her nurse's intelligence that was at work, it was her love for
the child she ached to save.
The preparation being completed, the surgeon with a hand at once deft
and rapid, introduced the tube into the trachea. Eva opened her eyes
almost immediately. A flush of living colour returned to her face, and
she breathed freely again. The tube was then bandaged into place, and a
long silk hankerchief tied firmly round the throat. Soon the child's
face lost its aspect of deathly struggle, and put on a smiling look of
profound relief and happy peace. Her countenance lit up with a seraphic
light; it was as though the child's soul had just been wafted back to
its dwelling-place from a visit to paradise.
When all was done, Dora was fetched and shown the success of the
operation.
"Then she is saved!" she cried, clasping her hands and lifting to heaven
a glance of thanksgiving.
"Not yet," said the doctor; "there remains the morbid action to cure;
but there is hope, every hope. Only you must watch the child with
extreme attention; she must not be left for a moment. She must not be
allowed to move for some time. If the tube got displaced, or if the
heart, which is very feeble, should receive the least shock, everything
would be over in a moment. But," added he, "I confide your child to this
lady's care," indicating Gabrielle; "I have seldom met with a nurse so
gifted. Rely in all security upon her; I have given her my instructions,
and she knows to the full the importance of them."
The surgeon bowed to Dora, and departed.
Dora returned to the bedside on tiptoe, and, placing her finger on her
lips, made signs to Eva that she was to keep perfectly quiet; then,
throwing her a kiss and a smile of a guardian angel, she sat down beside
the child. Her face betrayed no sign of weakness, expressed neither
grief nor despair; it was scarcely sad. She had the look of a man who
throws himself into the sea, to try and save some beloved friend in
deadly peril of drowning.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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