I went straight up to the side-ward in the hospital where Thorold lay,
the hall-porter, in his glass-box, having nodded me within. At the door
of the ward I met the sister, in her blue gown.
"I am so glad you have come, Mr. Ashton!" she exclaimed. "He wants so
much to see you, and I fear he has not long to live."
The dark-eyed woman, with the medal on her breast, seemed genuinely
distressed. Thorold, for some reason, had always attracted women. I
think it was his sympathetic nature that drew women to him.
I waited in the corridor. Suddenly Vera came out, a handkerchief
saturated with antiseptic before her mouth, to avoid infection.
Her face was pale and drawn, her eyes red from weeping. On seeing me,
she began to sob bitterly; then she buried her face in her hands.
I did my best to comfort her, though it was a hard task. At last she
spoke--"Go in to him--go in to him now, dear," she exclaimed
broken-heartedly. "He wants you alone--quite alone."
The invalid was quite conscious when I entered, a handkerchief similar
to Vera's having been given me by a nurse. He was propped up with
pillows into almost a sitting posture. The other bed in the side-ward
was unoccupied, for it was being used for isolation. After what I had
been told, I was surprised at his appearance, for he struck me as
looking better than when I had last seen him. A faint smile of welcome
flickered upon his lips as he recognised me. Then he grew serious.
Without speaking, he indicated a chair beside the bed. I drew it near,
and seated myself.
"We are quite alone?" he whispered, looking slowly about the room.
"Nobody is listening--eh? Nobody can hear us?"
"Nobody," I answered quickly. A lump rose in my throat. It was
dreadful to see him like that. Yet, even then, I could hardly realise I
was so soon to lose my valued and dearest friend, who had been such a
striking figure in the hunting-field.
He put out his thin hand--oh, how his arm had shrunk in those few
days!--and let it rest on mine. It felt damp and cold. It chilled me.
The moisture of death seemed already to be upon it.
"Listen, Dick, my boy," he said very feebly. "I have much to tell you,
and--and very little time to tell it in. But you are going to marry
Vera, so it--so it's only right that you should know. Ah, yes, I can
trust you," he said, guessing the words I had been about to utter. "I
know--oh, yes, I know that what I say to _you_ won't make any difference
to our long friendship. But even if it should," he said, grimly, "it
wouldn't matter--now we are so very soon to part."