THE DOCTOR’S ORDERS
It was Wednesday morning, and the little Bermuda steamer had sailed
away on her voyage back to New York, carrying a goodly number of
passengers, and several bags of mail. From the hotel piazza many of
the guests had watched her departure, waving farewells to friends and
acquaintances on board, and now there was nothing more to be seen but a
little cloud of smoke, rapidly disappearing on the horizon.
“Well, here we are cut off from the rest of the world till the boat
comes back next week,” Nora heard the Campbells’ uncle, Mr. Allen,
remark to another gentleman, and, oddly enough, the words caused her a
scarcely understood feeling of satisfaction, even pleasure. Now that
she was sure her letter was safely on its way to New York her principal
cause for anxiety had been removed. There was nothing more that she
could do, and, after all, Bermuda was very beautiful, and people were
very kind. Even “playing a part” did not seem quite so difficult this
lovely morning.
She stood leaning against the piazza railing, watching a party of
guests start for a sail. It did not seem possible that anything
unpleasant could happen on such a morning. Ever since their return
from the beach the previous afternoon, Marjorie had been very kind and
pleasant. She had spent a wonderful evening, watching the marvelous
performances of a famous magician, and this afternoon Reggie’s father
was to take them all to visit some interesting caves. Nora had never
seen a cave, and her romantic little soul thrilled at the prospect.
If only Mr. Crawford would stop watching her so intently, and with
such a worried, puzzled look in his eyes, she felt she could really be
almost happy. But that Kathleen’s father was worried about something it
was easy to see, and Nora had a strong misgiving that his anxiety was
caused by herself.
“Hello, Kathleen!” said Reggie, sauntering up to his friend’s side.
“What are you going to do this morning?”
“Marjorie has asked me to go out with her in the donkey cart,” answered
Nora. “Don’t you love donkeys?”
“Oh, they’re not bad,” Reggie admitted, “but of course they’re not
exciting like camels. I rode a camel when I was in Egypt, and that
really was great.”
“It must have been,” agreed Nora. “I hope I shall travel a lot when I
grow up. I should like to see everything in the world, but of course I
can’t; it would cost too much.”
“What are you people talking about?” inquired Marjorie, joining the
others and slipping an arm affectionately about Nora’s waist. Marjorie
was looking unusually serious and important that morning, and her
manner to Nora was not without a touch of protecting tenderness.
“Kathleen was saying she would like to see every place in the world,”
said Reggie, laughing.
“I thought I heard Kathleen talking about something costing too much,”
said Marjorie, suspiciously.
“So I did,” said Nora, innocently. “I said of course I couldn’t travel,
because it would cost too much.”
“This is the first time I ever heard you bothering about money,” said
Marjorie. “I never knew any girl who could spend so much, and think as
little about it as you can. I didn’t think you cared about traveling
either. You always said you would rather spend the summer at Big Moose
than go abroad. I’d give anything to go to Europe, but you always told
me you were terribly bored that winter you spent in Rome.”
“Rome!” exclaimed Reggie, his eyes opening wide in astonishment; “why,
you never told me you had been to Rome. I thought you said----” Reggie
paused abruptly, warned by the agonized appeal in Nora’s eyes.
Marjorie gave a little excited gasp, and suddenly removing her arm from
Nora’s waist, hurried away without another word, and a moment later was
in earnest conversation with her aunt, who had just come out on the
piazza. Nora gazed after her hopelessly.
“Now she’ll think I’ve told another fib,” she said, with a half
suppressed sob, “and she was just beginning to act as if she liked me.”
“Well, you have, haven’t you?” said Reggie, bluntly. He had grown
suddenly serious, and was looking rather disgusted as well.
Nora was silent. To deny the charge would only lead to more questions
that she could not answer, and yet--Reggie had been so kind, and she
liked him so much. Oh, why had she forgotten about that year Kathleen
had spent abroad? It had all happened so long ago, before she had known
of the existence of her twin sister, and she had quite forgotten it
when she had told Reggie so confidently on the steamer that she had
never been on a big ship before. She stood with crimson cheeks and
downcast eyes, the picture of shame and humiliation. Reggie turned away
abruptly.
“Well, I guess I’ll go and look up Father,” he said in a tone of
would-be indifference. “Perhaps he’ll take me fishing.”
Nora opened her lips to speak, but before the words would come Reggie
had left her, and, with a horrible foreboding that she was going to
cry, she turned and hurried into the house.
She found Sarah in her room, arranging a great bowl of roses.
“Your papa brought them in,” the maid explained. “Did you ever see such
beauties?”
“They’re very pretty,” said Nora, indifferently, and Sarah, noticing
the tremor in her voice, looked at her sharply.
“What’s the matter?” she inquired. “Don’t you feel well?”
“Oh, yes, I’m very well indeed,” Nora assured her, “only--only I’m
feeling a little unhappy about something. I’ll be all right in a few
minutes.” And she went over to the window, and stood with her back to
Sarah, while two big tears rolled slowly down her cheeks. Sarah went on
arranging the roses in silence.
“I suppose you and Miss Marjorie have been quarreling again,” she
observed at last. “Why two children should seem to enjoy quarreling, as
you two seem to enjoy it, is more than I can make out. I don’t believe
Miss Joy ever had a quarrel with any one in her life.”
“I don’t enjoy quarreling with people,” protested Nora, her voice
still far from steady. “I hate it; I----” Nora checked herself
abruptly, for at that moment the door opened, and Mr. Crawford entered,
accompanied by a tall thin lady, whom she had never seen before.
“Well, Kathleen darling,” began Mr. Crawford, cheerfully, “isn’t this a
pleasant surprise?”
Nora, feeling that something was evidently expected of her, came
forward, and held out her hand to the stranger, but there was no
expression of pleasure or recognition on her face.
“How do you do?” she said, politely.
The thin lady stood looking at her very intently, and Nora noticed that
she had keen brown eyes, that seemed to see right through one. After a
moment of silence, she suddenly inquired sharply--
“Who am I, Kathleen?”
At the unexpected question, Nora started back, and a look of actual
terror came into her face.
“I--I don’t know,” she faltered; “at least I mean----”
“I thought so,” said the lady, quietly. Then turning to Mr.
Crawford--who had grown very pale--she added in a low tone--
“Just what I feared from what you told me. I would consult Dr. Walker
at once; he is considered the best here.”
Nora did not hear the words; she was too frightened to think of
anything but the dreadful admission she had made. She never doubted
for a moment but that she had been found out, and stood awaiting the
torrent of reproaches which she fully expected to follow. She was
conscious of the fact that Sarah had left off arranging the roses, and
was staring at her in horrified amazement. Then Mr. Crawford spoke,
but, to Nora’s surprise, there was no anger in his voice.
“Why, Kathleen,” he said, gently, “surely you must remember Miss Beck,
who was so good to you last winter when you had bronchitis. Try and
think, darling.”
But Nora only shook her head helplessly.
“Don’t worry her, Mr. Crawford,” said Miss Beck in a warning whisper.
“Come and lie down on the sofa, Kathleen. There isn’t anything to be
frightened about; you’ll be better in a little while.”
Nora had no objection to complying with this request. It was a great
relief to close her eyes, and hide her burning face in the sofa pillow,
but why should she be told to lie down? She could not imagine, unless
this were some new mode of punishment. She lay still while the others
talked in whispers. Then the door closed, and she realized that Mr.
Crawford had left the room. A moment later, a hand was laid on her
shoulder, and she opened her eyes to find Miss Beck standing over her.
“Open your mouth, dear,” Miss Beck commanded; “I want to take your
temperature.”
“What for?” inquired Nora. She did not feel at all sure what form this
strange new punishment was going to take.
“To see if you are feverish,” Miss Beck explained.
Then all at once Nora remembered something, and the recollection
afforded her a great relief. When she had the measles the doctor had
put a little tube under her tongue, and had made the same remark about
taking her temperature. Was it possible, after all, that she had not
been found out, but that they all thought she was ill? Nora nearly
laughed out loud at the absurdness of the idea. Why in the world should
people think her ill, just because she hadn’t been able to remember
somebody she was supposed to know? But she reflected that anything
was better than having her secret discovered, so she made no further
objection, and sat patiently, with the little thermometer in her mouth,
while Miss Beck looked at her watch, and Sarah moved softly about the
room looking both shocked and worried.
In due time the thermometer was removed, and Miss Beck examined it
carefully.
“She has no fever,” Nora heard her tell Sarah, and then the two women
talked in low voices, and Nora could only catch an occasional sentence
of their conversation.
“She hasn’t been a bit natural since she left New York,” Sarah
affirmed. “She’s been much better-tempered, though, and easier to get
on with, and I didn’t think much of it except to be thankful she was
behaving so well.”
The voices dropped, and Nora could make out nothing more until Miss
Beck said--
“He says he has been worried ever since you came, but he couldn’t make
up his mind what the trouble was till this morning when a lady told him
something the child had said to her niece yesterday that seemed to show
there was something wrong with her brain. I’ve been down here with a
patient for the past month, but she left this morning on the steamer,
and I had just seen her off, when I met Mr. Crawford. You see, I’m
pretty tired, for my old lady was a trying case, so I thought I might
as well stay on here by myself for a week’s rest. Of course I couldn’t
refuse Mr. Crawford, when he asked me to take this case.”
Again the voices were lowered, but Nora had learned all that was
necessary. They thought she must be ill, because she couldn’t remember
people, and Miss Beck was a nurse. It would be dreadful to go on
pretending to be ill, and letting people worry about her. She could
not forget the pain in Mr. Crawford’s face when he had asked her if she
did not remember Miss Beck. But if she told the truth now, what might
not happen to Mummy? Perhaps if she kept on pretending to be ill, they
might go home sooner, and once in New York, she would surely be able
to find some way of getting back to the studio, and changing places
with Kathleen. Then, when Mr. Crawford found that his own Kathleen was
quite well, he would be so happy, and perhaps things might go on just
as they used to. She was too young to realize all the difficulties and
complications of such a course; her one idea was to “play her part” to
the end, and save her mother from trouble and possible disgrace.
But would she be able to go on pretending to be ill? That was the
question. She knew very little about illness, and had no very clear
idea how a person who was supposed to require the services of a trained
nurse ought to act.
“I suppose Father had to play he was ill sometimes when he was acting,”
she reflected. “There was that play Mummy read me where he had to die
in a garret. I suppose I must lie still, and keep my eyes shut most of
the time, and talk in a very low voice, and only speak when people ask
me questions. Oh, I do wonder what they think is the matter with me.”
Nora’s reflections were interrupted by the return of Mr. Crawford,
accompanied this time by a stout gentleman, who seemed to know Miss
Beck, and whom she addressed as Dr. Walker. Dr. Walker--who appeared
to be rather a pompous person--began at once putting Sarah through a
cross-examination, as to everything her charge had said or done since
leaving New York. They spoke in whispers, but Nora--who was eagerly
listening to catch every word--was able to understand a good deal of
what they said.
“She hadn’t seemed real well for two or three weeks,” Sarah explained.
“She was nervous and fretful, and two or three times I found her
crying, but she wouldn’t tell me what the matter was. The housekeeper
sent for the doctor, but he didn’t seem to think it was anything worse
than spring fever. He said a change would do her good, and I thought
she would be all right when she got down here. But it was only after we
were on the boat that----”
Here the doctor gave a warning cough, and glanced significantly at the
little motionless figure on the sofa. Sarah dropped her voice, and Nora
heard no more until Dr. Walker came over to her side, and took her hand.
“Not feeling quite up to the mark this morning, eh?” he remarked
cheerfully. “Got a pretty bad headache, haven’t you?”
“No,” said Nora, truthfully; “I haven’t any headache at all.”
The doctor smiled indulgently, and shook his head.
“Well, now that’s very nice, isn’t it?” he said, but his voice did not
sound as if he were altogether satisfied. “All we need, I think, is a
good long rest, and we shall be as well as ever again. You are going
to be so happy with kind Miss Beck to take care of you, that you won’t
mind lying still for a few days.”
Nora sat up. This was rather more than she had bargained for.
“I think you are mistaken about my being ill,” she said, politely; “I
am perfectly well, I really am.”
“There, there, that’s all right, my dear, we know all about it. Just
lie down again, and don’t worry your little brain about anything.” And
Nora was forced gently back among the sofa cushions.
“But you don’t know all about it; that’s just the trouble,” protested
Nora. “I can’t explain--at least I’d much rather not--but I don’t want
people to be unhappy about me, and think I am ill when I’m not.”
“My dear little girl, you will really have to stop talking, or we shall
be obliged to scold you.” The doctor still spoke playfully, but there
was decision in his tone as well, and Nora dared not disobey him. She
noticed that both Miss Beck and Sarah were looking very grave, and that
Mr. Crawford was pale and troubled. It was dreadful to see Kathleen’s
daddy so unhappy, and suddenly Nora made a desperate resolution.
“I’m going to tell the truth,” she said, sitting up again, in spite of
the doctor’s efforts to keep her quiet. “You all think I’m Kathleen
Crawford, but----”
Nora got no farther, for the doctor laid a firm hand on her lips.
“Not another word, my little girl,” he said. “Everything is quite all
right, and we understand, but we cannot let you talk just now.”
There was no use in trying to explain. No one would listen to her.
Perhaps they would not believe her now, even if she told the whole
story. They thought she was very ill; probably delirious. She had read
in books of people who were delirious and talked nonsense for days and
nights at a time. With a sob, Nora buried her face in the sofa cushions.
An hour later Nora was in bed; the room had been darkened, and Miss
Beck, in her nurse’s uniform, was installed at the bedside. Nora had
not been even allowed to undress herself. Miss Beck and Sarah had
undressed her just as though she were a baby. As soon as she was in bed
Miss Beck had brought her some medicine in a glass. It did not taste
very good, but after she had swallowed it things did not seem quite so
dreadful as they had before, for she grew drowsy and indifferent, and
scarcely noticed when the doctor came back, and held another whispered
conversation with Miss Beck and Sarah. She only woke up to a passing
interest in things when her temperature was being taken, and when she
heard the doctor say--
“She must be kept absolutely quiet for the next few days. It is a clear
case of nervous breakdown, accompanied by asphasia. It has probably
been caused by over-study.”
Nora wanted to tell him that she had not studied very hard, and that
she was quite sure her nerves were not “broken down,” but she felt too
sleepy to talk, and soon dropped off into a heavy, dreamless sleep,
from which she did not wake till late in the afternoon.