The Jewel of Seven Stars by Bram Stoker (books to read in your 20s TXT) 📕

were alone Miss Trelawny came over to me, and taking both my

hands in hers, said:

 

“I hope you won’t remember what i said. I did not mean it, and I was

distraught.” I did not make reply; but I held her hands and kissed

them. There are different ways of kissing a lady’s hands. This way was

intended as homage and respect; and it was accepted as such in the

high-bred, dignified way which marked Miss Trelawny’s bearing and every

movement. I went over to the sofa and looked down at the senseless man.

The dawn had come much nearer in the last few minutes, and there was

something of the clearness of day in the light. As I looked at the

stern, cold, set face, now as white as a marble monument in the pale

grey light, i could not but feel that there was some deep mystery beyond

all that had happened within the last twenty-six hours. Those beetling

brows screened some massive purpose; that high, broad forehead held some

finished train of reasoning, which the broad chin and massive jaw would

help to carry into effect. As I looked and wondered, there began to

steal over me again that phase of wandering thought which had last night

heralded the approach of sleep. I resisted it, and held myself sternly

to the present. This was easier to do when Miss Trelawny came close to

me, and, leaning her forehead against my shoulder, began to cry

silently. Then all the manhood in me woke, and to present purpose. It

was of little use trying to speak; words were inadequate to thought. But

we understood each other; she did not draw away when I put arm

protectingly over her shoulder as I used to do with my little sister

long ago when in her childish trouble she would come to her big brother

to be comforted. That very act or attitude of protection made me more

resolute in my purpose, and seemed to clear my brain of idle, dreamy

wandering in thought. With an instinct of greater protection, however,

I took away my arm as I heard the Doctor’s footstep outside the door.

 

When Doctor Winchester came in he looked intently at the patient before

speaking. His brows were set, and his mouth was a thin, hard line.

Presently he said:

 

“There is much in common between the sleep of your Father and Nurse

Kennedy. Whatever influence has brought it about has probably worked the

same way in both cases. In Kennedy’s case the coma is less marked. I

cannot but feel, however, that with her we may be able to do more and

more quickly than with this patient, as our hands are not tied. I have

placed her in a draught; and already she shows some signs, though very

faint ones, of ordinary unconsciousness. The rigidity of her limbs is

less, and her skin seems more sensitive—or perhaps I should say less

insensitive—to pain.”

 

“How is it, then,” I asked, “that Mr. Trelawny is still in this state of

insensibility; and yet, so far as we know, his body has not had such

rigidity at all?”

 

“That I cannot answer. The problem is one which we may solve in a few

hours; or it may need a few days. But it will be a useful lesson in

diagnosis to us all; and perhaps to many and many others after us, who

knows!” he added, with the genuine fire of an enthusiast.

 

As the morning wore on, he flitted perpetually between the two rooms,

watching anxiously over both patients. He made Mrs. Grant remain with

the Nurse, but either Miss Trelawny or I, generally both of us, remained

with the wounded man. We each managed, however, to get bathed and

dressed; the Doctor and Mrs. Grant remained with Mr. Trelawny whilst we

had breakfast.

 

Sergeant Daw went off to report at Scotland Yard the progress of the

night; and then to the local station to arrange for the coming of his

comrade, Wright, as fixed with Superintendent Dolan. When he returned I

could not but think that he had been hauled over the coals for shooting

in a sick-room; or perhaps for shooting at all without certain and

proper cause. His remark to me enlightened me in the matter:

 

“A good character is worth something, sir, in spite of what some of them

say. See! I’ve still got leave to carry my revolver.”

 

That day was a long and anxious one. Toward nightfall Nurse Kennedy so

far improved that the rigidity of her limbs entirely disappeared. She

still breathed quietly and regularly; but the fixed expression of her

face, though it was a calm enough expression, gave place to fallen

eyelids and the negative look of sleep. Doctor Winchester had, towards

evening, brought two more nurses, one of whom was to remain with Nurse

Kennedy and the other to share in the watching with Miss Trelawny, who

had insisted on remaining up herself. She had, in order to prepare for

the duty, slept for several hours in the afternoon. We had all taken

counsel together, and had arranged thus for the watching in Mr.

Trelawny’s room. Mrs. Grant was to remain beside the patient till

twelve, when Miss Trelawny would relieve her. The new nurse was to sit

in Miss Trelawny’s room, and to visit the sick chamber each quarter of

an hour. The Doctor would remain till twelve; when I was to relieve

him. One or other of the detectives was to remain within hail of the

room all night; and to pay periodical visits to see that all was well.

Thus, the watchers would be watched; and the possibility of such events

as last night, when the watchers were both overcome, would be avoided.

 

When the sun set, a strange and grave anxiety fell on all of us; and in

our separate ways we prepared for the vigil. Doctor Winchester had

evidently been thinking of my respirator, for he told me he would go out

and get one. Indeed, he took to the idea so kindly that I persuaded

Miss Trelawny also to have one which she could put on when her time for

watching came.

 

And so the night drew on.