Mother Renouf arrived from the other end of the island in an incredibly
short time, borne along by Tardif as if he were a whirlwind and she a
leaf caught in its current. She was a short, squat old woman, with a
skin tanned like leather, and kindly little blue eyes, twinkling with
delight and pride. Yes, there they are, photographed somewhere in my
brain, the wrinkled, yellow, withered faces of the two old women, their
watery eyes and toothless mouths, with figures as shapeless as the
bowlders on the beach, watching beside the bed where lay the white but
tenderly beautiful face of the young girl, with her curls of glossy hair
tossed about the pillow, and her long, tremulous eyelashes making a
shadow on her rounded cheek.
Mother Renouf gave me a hearty tap on the shoulder, and chuckled as
merrily as the shortness of her breath after her rapid course would
permit. The few English phrases she knew fell far short of expressing
her triumph and exultation; but I was resolved to confer with her
affably. My patient's case was too serious for me to stand upon my
dignity.
"Mother," I said, "have you any simples to send this poor girl to sleep?
Tardif told me you had taken her sprained ankle under your charge. I
find I have nothing with me to induce sleep, and you can help us if any
one can."
"Leave her to me, my dear little doctor," she answered, a laugh gurgling
in her thick throat; "leave her to me. You have done your part with the
bones. I have no touch at all for broken limbs, though my father, good
man, could handle them with any doctor in all the islands. But I'll send
her to sleep for you, never fear."
"You will stay with us all night?" I said, coaxingly. "Suzanne is deaf,
and ears are of use in a sick-room, you know. I intended to go to
Gavey's, but I shall throw myself down here on the fern bed, and you can
call me at any moment, if there is need."
"There will be no need," she replied, in a tone of confidence. "My
little mam'zelle will be sound asleep in ten minutes after she has taken
my draught."
I went into the room with her to have a look at our patient. She had not
stirred yet, but was precisely in the position in which I placed her
after the operation was ended. There was something peculiar about this
which distressed me. I asked Mother Renouf to move her gently and bring
her face more toward me. The burning eyes opened widely as soon as she
felt the old woman's arm under her, and she looked up, with a flash of
intelligence, into my face. I stooped down to catch the whisper with
which her lips were moving.
"You told me not to stir," she murmured.
"Yes," I said; "but you are not to lie still till you are cramped and
stiff. Are you in much pain now?"
"He told me not to stir," muttered the parched lips again, "not to stir.
I must lie quite still, quite still, quite still!"
The feeble voice died away as she whispered the last words, but her lips
went on moving, as if she was repeating them to herself still. Certainly
there was mischief here. My last order, given just before her mind began
to wander, had taken possession of her brain, and retained authority
over her will. There was a pathetic obedience in her perfect immobility,
united with the shifting, restless glance of her eyes, and the ceaseless
ripple of movement about her mouth, which made me trebly anxious and
uneasy. A dominant idea had taken hold upon her which might prove
dangerous. I was glad when Mother Renouf had finished stewing her
decoction of poppy-heads, and brought the nauseous draught for the girl
to drink.
But whether the poppy-heads had lost their virtue, or our patient's
nervous condition had become too critical, too full of excitement and
disturbance, I cannot tell. It is certain that she was not sleeping in
ten minutes' or in an hour's time. Old Dame Tardif went off to her
bedroom, and Mother Renouf took her place by the girl's side. Tardif
could not be persuaded to leave the kitchen, though he appeared to be
falling asleep heavily, waking up at intervals, and starting with terror
at the least sound. For myself I scarcely slept at all, though I found
the fern bed a tolerably comfortable resting-place.
The gale that Tardif had foretold came with great violence about the
middle of the night. The wind howled up the long, narrow ravine like a
pack of wolves; mighty storms of hail and rain beat in torrents against
the windows, and the sea lifted up its voice with unmistakable energy.
Now and again a stronger gust than the others appeared to threaten to
carry off the thatched roof bodily, and leave us exposed to the tempest
with only the thick stone walls about us; and the latch of the outer
door rattled as if some one outside was striving to enter. I am not
fanciful, but just then the notion came across me that if that door
opened we should see the grim skeleton, Death, on the threshold, with
his bleached, unclad bones dripping with the storm. I laughed at the
ghastly fancy, and told it to Tardif in one of his waking intervals, but
he was so terrified and troubled by it that it grew to have some little
importance in my own eyes. So the night wore slowly away, the tall clock
in the corner ticking out the seconds and striking the hours with a
fidelity to its duty, which helped to keep me awake. Twice or thrice I
crept, with quite unnecessary caution, into the room of my patient.
No, there was no symptom of sleep there. The pulse grew more rapid, the
temples throbbed, and the fever gained ground. Mother Renouf was ready
to weep with vexation. The girl herself sobbed and shuddered at the loud
sounds of the tempest without; but yet, by a firm, supreme effort of her
will, which was exhausting her strength dangerously, she kept herself
quite still. I would have given up a year or two of my life to be able
to set her free from the bondage of my own command.