The Independence of Claire
Page 26
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.
EASIER TO DIE.
When Janet had taken her departure Claire looked at the clock and foundthat it was time to start for the hospital. She went out of thestation, and, passing a shop for flowers and fruit went in, spent tenshillings in the filling of a reed basket, and, leaving the shop, seatedherself in one of the taxis which were standing in readiness outside thegreat porch. Such carelessness of money was a natural reversion tohabit, which came as a consequence of her absorbed mind.
The great hospital looked bare and grim, the smell of iodoform was morerepellent than ever, after the sweet scents of the country. Claire knewher way by this time, and ascended by lift to the women's ward, whereSophie lay. Beside almost every bed one or two visitors were seated,but Sophie was alone. Down the length of the ward Claire caught aglimpse of a recumbent form, and felt a pang at the thought of the manyvisiting days when her friend had remained alone. With no relations intown, her brother's family too pressed for means to afford expeditionsfrom the country, Sophie had no hope of seeing a familiar face, and hervery attitude bespoke dejection.
Claire walked softly to the further side of the bed, and dangled thebasket before the half-covered face, whereupon Sophie pushed back theclothes and sat up, her eyes lighting with joy.
"_Claire_! You! Oh, you dearly beloved, I thought you were still away!Oh, I am glad--I am glad! I was so dreadfully blue!"
She looked it. Even in the eagerness of welcome her face looked whiteand drawn, and the pretty pink jacket, Claire's own gift, seemed toaccentuate her pallor. The hands with which she fondled the flowerswere surely thinner than they had been ten days before.
"My dear, what munificence! Have you come into a fortune? And fruitunderneath! I shall be able to treat the whole ward! When did you comeback? Have you had a good time? Are you going on to the farm? It _is_good of you to come again. It's--it's hard being alone when you see theother patients with their own people. The nurses are dears, but theyare so rushed, poor things, they haven't time to stay and talk. And oh,Claire, the days! They're so wearily _long_!"
Claire murmured tender exclamations of understanding and pity. A painedconviction that Sophie was no better made her shrink from putting theobvious question; but Sophie did not wait to be asked.
"Oh, Claire," she cried desperately, "it's so hard to be patient and tokeep on hoping, when there's no encouragement to hope! I'm not onescrap better after all that has been tried, and I've discovered thatthey did not expect me to be better; the best they seem to hope for isthat I may not grow worse! It's like running at the pitch of one'sspeed, and succeeding only in keeping in the same place. And there areother arthritics in this ward!" She shuddered. "When I think that Imay become like _them_! It would be much easier to die."
"I think it would often seem easier," Claire agreed sadly, her thoughtsturning to Cecil, whose trouble at the moment seemed as heavy as the onebefore her. "But we can't be deserters, Sophie. We must stick to ourposts, and play the game. When these troubles come, we just _have_ tobear them. There's no hiding, or running away. There's only one choiceopen to us--whether we bear it badly or well."
But Sophie's endurance was broken by weeks of suffering, and her brightspirit was momentarily under an eclipse.
"Everybody doesn't have to bear them! Things are so horribly uneven,"she cried grudgingly. "Look at your friend Miss Willoughby, with thatangel of a mother, and heaps of money, and health, and strength, and abeautiful home, and able to have anything she wants, as soon as shewants it. What does _she_ know of trouble?"
Claire thought of Janet's face, as it had faced her across the table inthe refreshment room, but it was not for her to betray another's secret,so she was silent, and Sophie lifted a spray of pink roses, and heldthem against her face, saying wistfully--
"You're a good little soul, Claire, and it's because you are good that Iwant to know what your opinion is about all this trouble and misery.What good can it possibly do me to have my life ruined by this illness?Don't tell me that it will not be ruined. It must be, in a materialsense, and I'm not all spiritual yet; there's a lot of material in mynature, and I live in a material world, and I want to be able to enjoyall the dear, sweet, natural, human joys which come as a right toordinary human beings. I want to _walk_! Oh, my dear, I look out ofthese windows sometimes and see all the thousands and thousands ofpeople passing by, and I wonder if a single one out of all the crowdever thinks of being thankful that he can _move_! I didn't myself, butnow--when I hobble along--"
She broke off, shaking back her head as though to defy the rising tears,then lay back against the pillows, looking at Claire, and sayingurgently--"Go on! Tell me what you think!"
"I think," Claire answered slowly, "that we are bound to grow! The mereact of death is not going to lift us at once to our full height. Ourtraining must go on after we leave this sphere; but, Sophie dear, someof us have an extra hard training here, and if we bear it in the rightway, surely, surely when we move up, it must be into a higher class thanif things had been all smooth and easy. There must be less to learn,less to conquer, more to enjoy. You and I are school-mistresses andought to realise the difficulties of mastering difficult tasks. Don'tlook upon this illness as cheating you out of a pleasant holiday, dear--look upon it as special training for an honours exam.!"
Sophie smiled, her old twinkling smile, and stroked Claire's hand withthe spray of roses.
"I knew you'd say something nice! I knew you'd put it in a quaint,refreshing way. I shall remember that, when I am alone, and feelcourage oozing out of every pore. Two o'clock in the morning is aparticularly cheery time when you are racked with pain! Claire, I askedthe doctor to tell me honestly whether there was any chance of my evertaking up the old work again, and he said, honestly, he feared there wasnone."
"But Mrs Willoughby--"
"I asked that, too. He says he quite hopes to get me well enough to goto Egypt in October or November, and that I should certainly be muchbetter there. It would be the best thing that could happen if it cameoff! But--"
Claire held up a protesting hand.
"No ifs! No buts! Do your part, and get better, and leave the rest toProvidence and--Mrs Willoughby! It's her mission in life to helpgirls, and she'll help _you_, too, or know the reason why. The trulysensible thing would be for you to begin to prepare your clothes. Whatabout starting a fascinating blouse at once? Your hands are quite ableto sew, and if you once got to work with chiffon and lace the time wouldfly! You might write for patterns to-night. You would enjoy looking atpatterns."
When Claire took her departure half an hour later, she left behind avery different Sophie from the wan dejected-looking creature whom shehad found on her arrival.
Hers was a happy nature, easily cheered, responsive to comfort, andClaire had a happy conviction that whatever physical handicaps might bein store, her spirit would rise valiantly to the rescue. A winter inEgypt was practically assured, since Mrs Willoughby had privatelyinformed Claire that if nothing better offered, she would send Sophie ather own expense to help in the household of her niece--an officer'swife, who would be thankful for assistance, though she could not affordto pay the passage out. What was to happen in the future no one couldtell, and there was no profit in asking the question. The next step wasclear, and the rest must be left to faith, but with a chilling of theblood Claire asked herself what became of the disabled working women whohad no influential friends to help in such a crisis; the women who fellout of the ranks to die by the roadside homeless, penniless, _alone_?