DOI article:
Watson, H. B. Marriott: The house of shame
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.21805#0076
The House of Shame
72
mind. He pulled out a chair before the fire and sat down,
meditating more quietly.
An hour later he was disturbed from his reflections by the
passage of feet along the hall. His ears took in the sound with
a fret of new anxiety ; it portended fresh horrors to him. But
in a little he realised from the voices without that the nurse had
arrived, and a feeling of relief pervaded him. The footsteps
passed upstairs. He sat passive within the arms of his chair and
listened. A fresh hope of succour lay in those feet. The doctor
and the nurse and the maid were doing what was vital ; in their
attentions was the promise of rescue. It was as if he himself
took no part in the tragedy 5 he sat as a spectator in the Stalls,
and viewed the action only with the concern of an interested
visitor. He hlled another tumbler with spirit.
The alcohol fired his blood, and raised him superior to the petty
worry of his nerves. He drank and stared in the embers and con-
sidered. Letty was ill in a manner not uncommon ; even though
it threatened the sacrifice of one life the malady was not inevitably
mortal. He had been bidden to discharge his fears, and brandy
had discharged them for him. He turned to fill his glass again ;
the fumes were in his head, but at that moment the recollection
of his last excess flashed suddenly upon him, and, with an inarticu-
late scream of rage, he dashed the bottle to the floor, and ground
the glass under his feet. Rising irresolutely he made his way up-
stairs, and paused before Letty’s door. At his knock the nurse
came out and greeted him—a stränge tall woman with hard
eyes.
“ My wife,” he asked—“ is Mrs. Farrell better ? ”
She pushed him gently away. a I think so,” she said ; “ we shall
see. The worst is over, perhaps. You understand. Hush, she is
sleeping now at last.” He lingered still, and she made a gesture
to
72
mind. He pulled out a chair before the fire and sat down,
meditating more quietly.
An hour later he was disturbed from his reflections by the
passage of feet along the hall. His ears took in the sound with
a fret of new anxiety ; it portended fresh horrors to him. But
in a little he realised from the voices without that the nurse had
arrived, and a feeling of relief pervaded him. The footsteps
passed upstairs. He sat passive within the arms of his chair and
listened. A fresh hope of succour lay in those feet. The doctor
and the nurse and the maid were doing what was vital ; in their
attentions was the promise of rescue. It was as if he himself
took no part in the tragedy 5 he sat as a spectator in the Stalls,
and viewed the action only with the concern of an interested
visitor. He hlled another tumbler with spirit.
The alcohol fired his blood, and raised him superior to the petty
worry of his nerves. He drank and stared in the embers and con-
sidered. Letty was ill in a manner not uncommon ; even though
it threatened the sacrifice of one life the malady was not inevitably
mortal. He had been bidden to discharge his fears, and brandy
had discharged them for him. He turned to fill his glass again ;
the fumes were in his head, but at that moment the recollection
of his last excess flashed suddenly upon him, and, with an inarticu-
late scream of rage, he dashed the bottle to the floor, and ground
the glass under his feet. Rising irresolutely he made his way up-
stairs, and paused before Letty’s door. At his knock the nurse
came out and greeted him—a stränge tall woman with hard
eyes.
“ My wife,” he asked—“ is Mrs. Farrell better ? ”
She pushed him gently away. a I think so,” she said ; “ we shall
see. The worst is over, perhaps. You understand. Hush, she is
sleeping now at last.” He lingered still, and she made a gesture
to