“Nurse will rise at four and bring you a nice cup of tea. Are you sure
you will not weary, being alone for two hours?” and Mrs. Marsden, in
charming outdoor dress, blew eau-de-Cologne about the room. “Don't you
love scent?”
“Where are you going?” asked Marsden, following her with fond eyes. “You
told me yesterday, but I forget; this illness has made me stupider than
ever, I think. Wasn't it some charity?”
“It's the new society every one is so interested in, 'The Working Wives'
Culture Union.' What is wanted is happy homes for the working men,”
quoting freely from an eloquent woman orator, “and the women must be
elevated; so the East End is to be divided into districts, and two young
women will be allotted to each. Are you listening?”
“Yes, dear; but it rests me to lie with my eyes closed. Tell me all
about your society. What are the young ladies to do?”
“Oh, they're to visit the wives in the afternoon and read books to them:
solid books, you know, about wages and... all kinds of things working
men like. Then in the evening the wives will be able to talk with
their husbands on equal terms, and the men will not want to go to the
public-houses. Isn't it a capital idea?”
A sad little smile touched Marsden's lips for an instant “And where do
you meet to-day? It's a long way for you to go to Whitechapel.”
“Didn't I tell you? The Marchioness of Gloucester Is giving a Drawing
Room at her town house, and Lady Helen wrote an urgent note, Insisting
that I should come, even though it were only for an hour, as her mother
depended on my advice so much.
“Of course I know that's just a way of putting it; but I have taken lots
of trouble about founding the Union, so I think it would hardly do for
me to be absent You're feeling much better, too, to-day, aren't you,
Thomas?”
“Yes, much better; the pain has almost ceased; perhaps it will be quite
gone when you return. Can you spare just ten minutes to sit beside me?
There is something I have been wanting to say, and perhaps this is my
only chance. When I am well again I may... be afraid.”
Mrs. Marsden sat down wondering, and her husband waited a minute.
“One understands many things that puzzled him before, when he lies in
quietness for weeks and takes an after look. I suspected it at times
before, but I was a coward and put the thought away. It seemed curious
that no one came to spend an hour with me, as men do with friends; and I
noticed that they appeared to avoid me. I thought it was fancy, and that
I had grown self-conscious.
“Everything is quite plain now, and I... am not hurt, dear, and I don't
blame any person; that would be very wrong. People might have been far
more impatient with me, and might have made my life miserable.
“God gave me a dull mind and a slow tongue; it took me a long time to
grasp anything, and no one cared about the subjects that interested me.
Beatrice... I wish now you had told me how I bored our friends; it would
have been a kindness; but never mind that now; you did not like to give
me pain.
“What troubles me most is that all these years you should have been
tied to a very tiresome fellow,” and Marsden made some poor attempt at
a smile. “Had I thought of what was before you, I would never have asked
you to marry me.
“Don't cry, dear; I did not wish to hurt you. I wanted to ask your
pardon for... all that martyrdom, and... to thank you for... being my
wife; and there's something else.
“You see when I get well and am not lying in bed here, maybe I could not
tell you, so let me explain everything now, and then we need not speak
about such things again.
“Perhaps you thought me too economical, but I was saving for a purpose.
Your portion has not brought quite so much as it did, and I wished
to make it up to you, and now you can have your six hundred a year as
before; if this illness had gone against me, you would have been quite
comfortable--in money, I mean, dear.
“No, I insist on your going to Lady Gloucester's; the change will do
you good, and I'll lie here digesting the Reformation, you know,” and he
smiled, better this time, quite creditably, in fact “Will you give me a
kiss, just to keep till we meet again?”
When the nurse came down at four to take charge, she was horrified to
find her patient alone, and in the death agony, but conscious and able
to speak.
“Don't ring... nor send for my wife... I sent... her away knowing the
end was near... made her go, in fact... against her will.”
The nurse gave him brandy, and he became stronger for a minute.
“She has had a great deal to bear with me, and I... did not wish her to
see death. My manner has been always so wearisome... I hoped that...
nobody would be here. You are very kind, nurse; no more, if you please.
“Would it trouble you... to hold my hand, nurse? It's a little lonely...
I am not afraid... a wayfaring man though a fool... not err therein...”
He was not nearly so tedious with his dying as he had been with his
living; very shortly afterwards Thomas Marsden had done with statistics
for ever.