"Ted, if anything should happen--I said, sweetheart, _if_ anything
should happen, I want you to make me a promise."
"Yes," I said.
"Promise me that you will always take care of the baby. Don't let any
one else take her away. She is to stay with you--and it is you, and only
you, who can make her happy."
"I promise," I whispered, burying my head in her lap.
"And now, Ted dearest, we are to go on just as before until we see the
doctor next week. I'm going up to dress for dinner. Will you telephone
for the horses to be brought round in the morning? Not before ten."
"Very well, dear."
She waved her hand gaily at me from the door, sending me a smile and
blowing a kiss with the tips of her fingers.
* * * * *
A week later we reported at the doctor's sanctum. He greeted us
cordially, and I could not decide from his manner what answer he had for
us. Carefully and methodically he sounded Helen. It made me shiver to
see the quiet remorseless way his stethoscope travelled over her
beautiful bare shoulders and breast. I cursed my ignorance that told me
nothing of what result he was reaching.
"There," he said at last, "I don't think we need to be alarmed. Put on
your dress, little girl, and wait downstairs for your husband, will you?
I want just a word with him about what he is to do for you."
Helen obediently dressed and went. The doctor followed her to the door,
saw her downstairs, and returned to me. I sat frozen in my chair.
"Ted," he said, examining some instrument on his desk, "there were
tubercular bacilli in her sputum."
I continued to sit in silence. The room was growing hazy, and I could
not struggle to any words.
"We've got the case in an early stage--so early, in fact, that I don't
even yet say the diagnosis is final. With open-air treatment, she should
be well again in a year. But you'll have to be careful with her. You
must leave England in September."
"Leave England," I said mechanically, my tongue sticking to my throat,
making it difficult to speak. "Where are we to go?"
"Up the Nile--Assuam is a good place--or out to the desert; say your own
Southern California."
"Egypt or California?" I echoed, like a ventriloquist's puppet.
"Meanwhile, live in the open all you can--but no violent exercise. Don't
let her ride or play tennis. A little gentle walking; nothing more."
I got to my feet. "Doctor, I want to know the truth. What chance have
we?"
"Why, the best of chances. The will to win, that will do it, Ted. Keep
your nerve and don't let her be frightened. Cures are often made, at
this stage." He added: "I'm going to have more analyses made. It's still
possible we are wrong."
"Are you certain we can fight it off?"
"Absolutely certain, if you follow instructions. Will that satisfy you?"
"I don't want to be satisfied. I want the truth."
The doctor walked up and down the room for a moment or two.
"Ted," he said slowly, turning to me, "I'm a doctor, not a prophet.
Cures are possible with modern treatment. I can't say more. She is
young, has lived a good, clean life, and has a good physique. Everything
possible is in her favour. Don't leave her too long downstairs, or she
may worry."