Уилки Коллинз - Heart and Science - A Story of the Present Time

“Is it violent madness?” Mr. Mool asked.

Mr. Null admitted that two nurses were required. “The doctors don’t look on her violence as a discouraging symptom,” he said. “They are inclined to attribute it to the strength of her constitution. I felt it my duty to place my own knowledge of the case before them. Without mentioning painful family circumstances—”

“I happen to be acquainted with the circumstances,” Mr. Mool interposed. “Are they in any way connected with this dreadful state of things?”

He put that question eagerly, as if he had some strong personal interest in hearing the reply.

Mr. Null blundered on steadily with his story. “I thought it right (with all due reserve) to mention that Mrs. Gallilee had been subjected to—I won’t trouble you with medical language—let us say, to a severe shock; involving mental disturbance as well as bodily injury, before her reason gave way.”

“And they considered that to be the cause—?”

Mr. Null asserted his dignity. “The doctors agreed with Me, that it had shaken her power of self-control.”

“You relieve me, Mr. Null—you infinitely relieve me! If our way of removing the children had done the mischief, I should never have forgiven myself.”

He blushed, and said no more. Had Mr. Null noticed the slip of the tongue into which his agitation had betrayed him? Mr. Null did certainly look as if he was going to put a question. The lawyer desperately forestalled him.

“May I ask how you came to apply to me for Mr. Gallilee’s address? Did you think of it yourself?”

Mr. Null had never had an idea of his own, from the day of his birth, downward. “A very intelligent man,” he answered, “reminded me that you were an old friend of Mr. Gallilee. In short, it was Joseph—the footman at Fairfield Gardens.”

Joseph’s good opinion was of no importance to Mr. Mool’s professional interests. He could gratify Mr. Null’s curiosity without fear of lowering himself in the estimation of a client.

“I had better, perhaps, explain that chance allusion of mine to the children,” he began. “My good friend, Mr. Gallilee, had his own reasons for removing his daughters from home for a time—reasons, I am bound to add, in which I concur. The children were to be placed under the care of their aunt, Lady Northlake. Unfortunately, her ladyship was away with my lord, cruising in their yacht. They were not able to receive Maria and Zoe at once. In the interval that elapsed—excuse my entering into particulars—our excellent friend had his own domestic reasons for arranging the—the sort of clandestine departure which did in fact take place. It was perhaps unwise on my part to consent—in short, I permitted some of the necessary clothing to be privately deposited here, and called for on the way to the station. Very unprofessional, I am aware. I did it for the best; and allowed my friendly feeling to mislead me. Can I be of any use? How is poor Miss Carmina? No better? Oh, dear! dear! Mr. Ovid will hear dreadful news, when he comes home. Can’t we prepare him for it, in any way?”

Mr. Null announced that a telegram would meet Ovid at Queenstown—with the air of a man who had removed every obstacle that could be suggested to him. The kind-hearted lawyer shook his head.

“Is there no friend who can meet him there?” Mr. Mool suggested. “I have clients depending on me—cases, in which property is concerned, and reputation is at stake—or I would gladly go myself. You, with your patients, are as little at liberty as I am. Can’t you think of some other friend?”

Mr. Null could think of nobody, and had nothing to propose. Of the three weak men, now brought into association by the influence of domestic calamity, he was the feeblest, beyond all doubt. Mr. Mool had knowledge of law, and could on occasion be incited to energy. Mr. Gallilee had warm affections, which, being stimulated, could at least assert themselves. Mr. Null, professionally and personally, was incapable of stepping beyond his own narrow limits, under any provocation whatever. He submitted to the force of events as a cabbage-leaf submits to the teeth of a rabbit.

After leaving the office, Carmina’s medical attendant had his patient to see. Since the unfortunate alarm in the house, he had begun to feel doubtful and anxious about her again.

In the sitting-room, he found Teresa and the landlady in consultation. In her own abrupt way, the nurse made him acquainted with the nature of the conference.

“We have two worries to bother us,” she said; “and the music-master is the worst of the two. There’s a notion at the hospital (set agoing, I don’t doubt, by the man himself), that I crushed his fingers on purpose. That’s a lie! With the open cupboard door between us, how could I see him, or he see me? When I gave it a push-to, I no more knew where his hand was, than you do. If I meant anything, I meant to slap his face for prying about in my room. We’ve made out a writing between us, to show to the doctors. You shall have a copy, in case you’re asked about it. Now for the other matter. You keep on telling me I shall fall ill myself, if I don’t get a person to help me with Carmina. Make your mind easy—the person has come.”

“Where is she?”

Teresa pointed to the bedroom.

“Recommended by me?” Mr. Null inquired.

“Recommended by herself. And we don’t like her. That’s the other worry.”

Mr. Null’s dignity declined to attach any importance to the “other worry.” “No nurse has any business here, without my sanction! I’ll send her away directly.”

He pushed open the baize door. A lady was sitting by Carmina’s bedside. Even in the dim light, there was no mistaking that face. Mr. Null recognised—Miss Minerva.

She rose, and bowed to him. He returned the bow stiffly. Nature’s protecting care of fools supplies them with an instinct which distrusts ability. Mr. Null never liked Miss Minerva. At the same time, he was a little afraid of her. This was not the sort of nurse who could be ordered to retire at a moment’s notice.

“I have been waiting anxiously to see you,” she said—and led the way to the farther end of the room. “Carmina terrifies me,” she added in a whisper. “I have been here for an hour. When I entered the room her face, poor dear, seemed to come to life again; she was able to express her joy at seeing me. Even the jealous old nurse noticed the change for the better. Why didn’t it last? Look at her—oh, look at her!”

The melancholy relapse that had followed the short interval of excitement was visible to anyone now.

There was the “simulated paralysis,” showing itself plainly in every part of the face. She lay still as death, looking vacantly at the foot of the bed. Mr. Null was inclined to resent the interference of a meddling woman, in the discharge of his duty. He felt Carmina’s pulse, in sulky silence. Her eyes never moved; her hand showed no consciousness of his touch. Teresa opened the door, and looked in—impatiently eager to see the intruding nurse sent away. Miss Minerva invited her to return to her place at the bedside. “I only ask to occupy it,” she said considerately, “when you want rest.” Teresa was ready with an ungracious reply, but found no opportunity of putting it into words. Miss Minerva turned quickly to Mr. Null. “I must ask you to let me say a few words more,” she continued; “I will wait for you in the next room.”

Her resolute eyes rested on him with a look which said plainly, “I mean to be heard.” He followed her into the sitting-room, and waited in sullen submission to hear what she had to say.

“I must not trouble you by entering into my own affairs,” she began. “I will only say that I have obtained an engagement much sooner than I had anticipated, and that the convenience of my employers made it necessary for me to meet them in Paris. I owed Carmina a letter; but I had reasons for not writing until I knew whether she had, or had not, left London. With that object, I called this morning at her aunt’s house. You now see me here—after what I have heard from the servants. I make no comment, and I ask for no explanations. One thing only, I must know. Teresa refers me to you. Is Carmina attended by any other medical man?”