DOI article:
Watson, H. B. Marriott: The house of shame
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.21805#0079
By H. B. Marriott Watson 75
he would have the doctor back at once ; he had a thousand ques-
tions to put. Rushing up the stairs he rapped at the door of the
sick room, softly and feverishly. When the nurse presented her-
seif he hurst out impetuously. He must come in 5 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
he would have the doctor back at once ; he had a thousand ques-
tions to put. Rushing up the stairs he rapped at the door of the
sick room, softly and feverishly. When the nurse presented her-
seif he hurst out impetuously. He must come in 5 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