Page:The Yellow Book - 04.djvu/85

Rh he would have the doctor back at once; he had a thousand questions to put. Rushing up the stairs he rapped at the door of the sick room, softly and feverishly. When the nurse presented herself he burst out impetuously. He must come in; he would see his wife; he was persistently held in ignorance of her condition, and he demanded admittance as a right. The nurse stood aside and beckoned him forward without a word. Her face was set harder than ever; she looked worn and weary.

Farrell entered softly, and with furtive fears.

"You may stay if you will be still," said the nurse. Farrell looked at her inquiringly, beseechingly. "No," she added, "you will not disturb her. She has been put to sleep. She suffered a good deal. It is a bad case."

"Will she live?" whispered Farrell.

The nurse shook her head. "She will not suffer much more. She will sleep. But the doctor will come in the morning. We have done everything."

Farrell shuddered, and drew near the bed. The lamp burned low upon the dressing-table, and the chamber was in a soft twilight. He could not see her face, but her dark hair was scattered over the white pillows. A slow slight breathing filled the room. The window rattled with a passing noise. Farrell sat down upon a chair beyond the bed, and the nurse resumed her place by the fire, warming her hands. Outside, the traffic passed with low and distant rumbling.

At the sound the nurse stole stealthily to the door and opened it.

"It is your dinner," she whispered, turning to Farrell.

He shook his head. "I will stay here," said he in a monotone.

"You had better go," she urged. "You will want it. You can