An Angel of Pity

Front matter

Hutchinson's Select Novels. Each in Crown 8vo., handsome cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. The Mighty Atom. By Marie Corelli The Banishment of Jessop Blythe. By Joseph Hatton. The Mistress of Quest. By Adeline Sergeant. The Vengeance of James Vansittart. By Mrs. J. H. Needell. The Story of an African Farm. By Olive Schreiner. The Cuckoo in the Nest. By Mrs. Oliphant. A House in Bloomsbury. By Mrs. Oliphant. A Marriage Ceremony. By Ada Cambridge. Fidelis. By Ada Cambridge The Tragedy of Ida Noble. By W. Clark Russell. The Heritage of Langdale. By Mrs. Alexander. A Second Life. By Mrs. Alexander. Sam's Sweetheart. By Helen Mathers Roger Vanbrugh's Wife. By Adeline Sergeant. The IdoI=Maker. By Adeline Sergeant. When Greek Meets Greek. By Joseph Hatton. Over Half-a-Million Copies of these Novels have been sold.

London : HUTCHINSON & CO., 34 Paternoster Row, NEW VOLUMES OF HUTCHINSON'S SELECT NOVELS. Each in crown Svo, handsome cloth gilt, 3s. 6d Gris. By B. L. FARJEON. Author of " Aaron the Jew," &c. Tins is a re-issue of the author's most successful story, of which a quarter of a million copies have been sold. The Village Blacksmith By DARLEY DALE. Author of " Lottie's Wooing," &c. The British Weekly says: — "A thoroughly healthy story, skilfully con structed and briskly told, without padding, mannerisms, or snobbishness." The National Observer says : — " If taste, style, and humour go to the making of a good novel, then ' The Village Blacksmith ' ought to rank high. All the characters are well drawn, and many of them are felicitous con ceptions. " A Stumbler in Wide Shoes. By E. SUTCLIFFE MARCH.

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Chapter I

It was a busy time at the hospital. The wards were full, and patients were hourly denied admission. Outside was Spring ; the trees replete with leaves of tender green ; the crocuses and daffodils gemming the grass ; the birds twittering as they built their nests ; and inside was pain, and dread, and hopeless despair — a strange contrast. Half the complement of nurses was assembled in a dining-hall on the basement floor, taking a hasty but substantial meal. They were all dressed alike, in the regulation costume — dark blue skirts and bodices, covered by large white aprons and bibs, and close caps that hid their hair, and had two wide strings which they pinned at the back in the French fashion. They were a set of fresh, healthy, intelligent young women, aged from five-and-twenty to five-and-thirty, mostly good-humoured, and all chattering, as the sex will do in any circumstances.

The Matron of the hospital was in attendance, not dining with the nurses, but keeping watch over them, seeing they had all they required, and ready to give them directions for the afternoon. Bn angel of pits. She was a broadly-built, substantial, jovial-looking old maid called Warren ; but she wore a wedding ring, and insisted upon being addressed as " Mrs. Warren," as she fancied that it increased her dignity and importance. The secret of the wedding-ring, which no man had placed upon her finger, was, how ever, well known to all, and the young nurses were wont to make a joke of it, even to the Matron's face. The phantom husband had got the name amongst them of "The General," and they often threatened Mrs. Warren with repeating her little weaknesses, ot her prohibitions to him, and asking for his inter ference on their behalf, at which Mrs. Warren used to laugh as heartily as themselves.

Just at present, how ever, she was compelled to maintain an appearance of great strictness, for the work at the hospital was very serious, and there was no time for jesting or frivolity. The nurses, however, ate healthily and heartily, although in another ten minutes they would again be in the presence of the tortured and the dying, who would never eat in this world again. But use is second nature, and the majority of them had over come all their first tremors and qualmishness. " More beef, please ! " said Nurse Morgan, passing her plate as she spoke ; " I'm as hungry as a hunter." " So it appears ! " remarked the woman who helped her. " And so would you be, Nurse Mason, if you had been standing in the operating theatre all the morn ing. What a man that Lesquard is, to be sure ! I couldn't take my eyes off him.

He's as cool as a cucumber! To see him perform the operation on Number Forty-five from my ward was wonderful ! He carved the man just as you would do a fowl. In went the knife as clean as could be, not the sixteenth part of an inch one way or the other, and he brought it round with a curve just as if it had been a ham. He is a marvellous surgeon, there is no doubt of that ! " " How is the man going on ? " asked another nurse. "Oh! he's dead; he died under it. I was sure he would, for he had the death sweat on him as they carried him into the theatre. It was amputation of both legs at the thigh — raihvay accident, you know ! He couldn't have got over it any way — it was com plicated with internal injuries." " Why did they operate on him then ; why couldn't they have let him die in peace ? " demanded an earnest voice.

" What right had Mr. Lesquard to torture a dying man, just to show off his skill ? Oh ! he is hard — he is cruel ; I hate him ! " It was Nurse Gordon who spoke, and with so much energy that all eyes were turned upon her, and the Matron considered it time that she should interfere. " Come ! come ! come ! " she exclaimed quickly, " I can't have any remarks of that kind made here ! The visiting surgeons of the hospital know their own business best, and the nurses have nothing to do but to obey their orders. By the way, Nurse Gordon, you must really do something about that dog of yours. The porter has been in to complain that he is lying on the doorstep again this morning, and that he flies at anyone who attempts to remove him. It cannot be allowed, you know ! If any of the doctors — Mr. Lesquard, for example — were to hear of it, they would order it to be killed.

You must have it properly chained up." The colour had risen into Nurse Gordon's face as she listened to the Matron's words, and she left her seat hurriedly. " Oh ! my poor old Bran ! When will he learn reason ? I will take him back to his home at once, Mrs. Warren, if I have your permission." " But you mustn't go without your dinner ! " " Oh ! never mind my dinner, I have had enough ! Bran is of much more consequence than that ! " " Nonsense ! a rubbishing dog ! I can't have my nurses fasting. You'll want a bed in the ward your self next. And how long will it take you to drag the brute home ? " " Not more than ten minutes. I will take a cab. I shall be back before my dinner time is up." " Well ! it's out of rule, you know, and if you are not back to time you may get me into a scrape. How ever, for this once, I'll let you go.

But it seems a lot of trouble to take about a mere dog. Why don't you have him killed at once, or sell him if he is of any value ? " Nurse Gordon's hazel eyes opened to their widest extent. "Sell Bran! Have him killed! Why, Mrs. Warren, he has been my faithful friend for the last seven years. Dear old Bran killed ! I would sooner kill myself!" " Well, my dear, I'll have your plate of dinner kept for you, and you must eat it when you come in again. You're none too strong for your work as it is. By aniangel of pfts. 1 1 the way, one word before you go — how is Number Twenty-two getting on ? " " Sinking fast, Mrs. Warren. I could hardly leave her to get my dinner, she clings to me so. But she cannot last over the night, I am certain of that ! " " Then I must wire to Mr. Lesquard at once." "To Mr. Lesquard," repeated Nurse Gordon quickly.

" But what has Mr. Lesquard to do with it? He cannot operate on poor Ellen Withers. Her case is one of hysterical catalepsy. He can do her no possible good, and she is so afraid of him." " His orders were, Nurse Gordon, that he was to be communicated with when any change for the worse took place in her." The Matron went to her desk as she spoke, and writing a message on a telegram form, delivered it to Nurse Gordon. " Give that in at the office as you pass by," she said ; and the young woman, having assumed her outdoor attire, hastened on her way. Having delivered the telegram to the secretary, she went out at the front door, where a large Aire dale terrier lay crouched on one corner of the step, his faithful brown eyes watching eagerly for every one who came out or entered the hospital. As he caught sight of Nurse Gordon he gave a short bark of joy, and, rushing to meet her, leapt upon her with every demonstration of delight.

" Oh, my dear, dear old boy ! " she exclaimed almost as joyfully, " why are you so naughty as to come here after me, when I have told you so often that it is of no use? You must be good, dear Bran, and learn to stay quietly at home. How I wish I an angel of pftp. 12 could keep you always with me, my dear old dog ! But it is impossible, my Bran— quite, quite im possible ! " She was kneeling on the flags as she spoke, and the terrier was licking her face and her hands in an ecstasy of affection. The hall porter regarded them with a smile of amusement. " I hope you're going to take him away, Nurse, for I'm afraid he'll come to harm some day if you don't. Doctor Marshall have mentioned it more than once to me, and so have Mr. Lesquard. Indeed, Mr. Lesquard he did say this morning that if the dog came again, I was to kill him, poor brute !

You see he frightens the out-patients, for he growls if they touch him, and I'm half afraid he may fly at one of the gentlemen some day. But I don't want to see him harmed, poor fellow, he seems so faithful." "No, no! they shall not do it!" replied Nurse Gordon. " I am going to take him home, and he must be chained up. Come, Bran," she continued, as she hailed a passing cab and got into it, the dog leaping after her, " we must go back to Mrs. Leeson's at once." She put her hand up to the trap and gave the driver an address in one of the little streets oft' the King's Road, Chelsea, and they drove away, Bran nestling his rough head against her knees in perfect content. As she reached her destination, Nurse Gordon, with the dog at her heels, rushed into a sitting-room, where a young woman was seated at needlework.

" Mary," she exclaimed, " I have brought my naughty boy home again, but it is for the last time. The hospital authorities will not allow him to sit on the doorstep, growling at everybody who enters ; and if it occurs again I am afraid they will order him to be destroyed. Cannot you chain him up ? " " I can, of course, Rose," replied Mary Leeson, as she embraced her friend ; " but he frets most terribly at restraint. The fact is, you have spoilt him. He is utterly miserable without you. And with all my sick animals to look after I cannot give Bran my un divided attention. Have you no man friend who would keep him for you ? How would Mr. Arundel do?" " I will think about it," replied Rose, "and let you know. To-morrow will be Sunday, when I shall have a few hours to myself. If possible, I will call for Bran and take him for a walk.

Meanwhile, pray keep him closely chained up. I cannot stay now, but I will think over what you suggest with regard to George Arundel, and let you know. One of my patients, Ellen Withers, is dying fast. She cannot bear me out of her sight. I must hasten back to her. Good-bye." And, with a kiss to her dog, she ran away again. As she re-entered the nurses' dining-room at the hospital, she found the same batch of young women still busy over their dinner. " You have been quick," exclaimed the Matron cheerily. " And now, here's your beef and pudding, and you must eat it all, or I shall keep you here till you do ! " " Oh, Mrs. Warren," replied Nurse Gordon, whose clear complexion was tinged with a lovely delicate pink from the exertion she had gone through, " I will do my best; but you mustn't insist upon my con suming such a liberal supply.

And I am in such a hurry, too, to get back to Number Twenty-two ! " " You seem to take an unusual interest in that young woman," remarked Mrs. Warren. "Not more than in my other patients, only she clings to me more. I knew her in former times. . . . She was my dressmaker when — when — before I be came a nurse, you know. And she is dying a very sad death. She is in constant convulsions, and she screams so dreadfully when they are coming on that I am sure she must feel pain, though the doctors say not." " I'd like Mr. Lesquard to hear you doubting his verdict," said Nurse Morgan. " Yes, yes, of course the doctors know best," chimed in the Matron politically. " If they say she is in no pain, she isn't." Nurse Gordon made no comment on their remarks. She had finished her meal, and pushing her plate away, she rose from her seat, and, with a nod of fare well to Mrs. Warren, returned to her ward.

There she found Number Twenty-two feverishly expecting her. She was a woman of about forty, who had broken down from overwork, and developed a nervous disorder which was difficult to diagnose. Sometimes she would lie for hours in a comatose condition ; at others she would commence to slap her hands one over the other, and nothing would calm her. The movements grew quicker and quicker, until the legs began to join in the process. Finally, she would rise into a sitting position, uttering loud cries, during which the foam would pour from her mouth. The repetition of these attacks had weakened the patient to such a degree that Nurse Gordon's practised eye saw that it was impossible she could last for many hours longer. She had several other patients to attend to, but none in so deplorable a condition, and all her spare moments she spent beside the bed of Ellen Withers, not only because she had known the sick woman in former days, but that she never seemed contented unless the nurse were by her side.

For some reason, inexplicable to herself, Nurse Gordon almost prayed that Number Twenty-two might die before the doctors found it convenient to visit her again, such a dread had she of what they might see fit to try upon her — a dread which the dying woman fully shared. " Miss Rose, Miss Rose ! " she kept on gasping between her fits of shaking and kicking — addressing her nurse by the name she had been used to call her in other days — " don't let no one come near me but you. Let me die in peace ! The doctors do some thing to me — I am sure they do — and it hurts me and frightens me. Lock the door, Miss Rose ; don't let them come into the room ! " " Indeed, Ellen, you are mistaken," replied her nurse. " The doctors have done nothing but try to make you well." " They can't make me well — I'm going fast — you know it, Miss Rose, and I am so very tired I shall be glad to go."

" I know you are tired, my poor girl, and it will be a happy change for you. Think of it, Ellen — the green fields of Heaven instead of these dull wards of pain, spangled with lovely flowers, with sweet-scented an angel of pitv?. breezes blowing over them, and all your friends waiting to welcome you — your father and mother, Ellen, and your favourite sister, Jessie, whose loss made you so unhappy — " " Ah ! it's coming, it's coming again," cried the unfortunate woman, as her hands commenced to beat the air, and her eyes to work in her head. Nurse Gordon took the poor twitching head and held it on her bosom, and tried to keep the hands and limbs from jerking, until the patient was ex hausted, and lay back with closed eyes and quivering lips. " People say," she whispered, after a long pause, " that there's no pain nor feeling in fits.

They should try 'em — oh, they should try 'em. Miss Rose, dear, how soon will it be over ? " " Very soon, I should think now, Ellen, for your pulse grows weaker after each attack. But you are not frightened, are you, dear ? Remember Who is waiting to bless and receive you on the other side. ' Though I walk through thc valley of the shadow of Death I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me, Thy rod and staff comfort me.' " " But will He accept me, do you think, Miss Rose? — will He forgive everything ? I have been so impatient sometimes." " I am sure He will forgive and forget everything Ellen. We have no idea how good and merciful He is ! And this long trying illness which you have borne so patiently, poor little woman ! Do you think that He will not accept that as a child's sub mission at your hands ?

" an angel of pity. 17 " You always used to love Him, Miss Rose, in the old days. I wish I could love Him as well." " You cannot help it, if you will only remember how much He loves you. You have no need to speak, Ellen. Only think a prayer as you lie there, and He will hear it and take you to Himself." " Ah ! " exclaimed the patient faintly, " here come the doctors." Nurse Gordon glanced up. A string of medical men was approaching the bedside of Number Twenty-two. Doctors Marshall and Shelton, Mr. Quinton Lesquard, the great operator, and two young students attached to the hospital, who were pupils of his. As they drew near, Ellen Withers' features were convulsed with secret terror. " Well, Nurse ! " said Mr. Lesquard pleasantly, as he came within speaking distance, "and how is your patient going on ?

" " Her pulse is as low as it can be, sir ! " replied Nurse Gordon. " I do not think it possible that she can stand many more attacks. She has had seven teen since the morning." " Ah ! " he ejaculated, taking a seat at the foot of the bed, whilst his two pupils stood behind him. " You will observe, gentlemen, that this is a very singular and interesting case of hysterical catalepsy. The patient is a single woman of forty, and these fits or convulsions have been going on now for some time. Apparently they proceed from perfectly natural causes ; but they can undoubtedly be pro duced by artificial means, and the using of such means in intricate diseases is the only method by which we can judge scientifically of the ulterior cause B of the complaint. Raise the patient's head, Nurse — higher than that, please ! '' " But, sir, she is just going," remonstrated Nurse Gordon; " her breath is cold and fluttering!

It would be cruel to disturb her ! " "Will you kindly do as you are told and leave the event to me ? " responded the surgeon sternly. The nurse lifted the dying woman's head as tenderly as she could, whispering meanwhile a few words of encouragement in her ear, but she was too far gone to notice them. " This patient, you will observe, gentlemen," con tinued Lesquard, " is, or appears to be, in extremis; but an inducement of the convulsions she has suffered from will be followed by immediate sensibility ! " At the same moment he passed his hand beneath the bedclothes at the foot of the bed, and Number Twenty-two, giving a loud shriek of pain, twisted herself out of her nurse's arms, and sitting bolt upright in the bed, threw her body about in the most violent manner, foaming at the mouth, while blood spirted from her nose and eyes and ears, and stained the coverlet of the bed.

Mr. Lesquard sat immovable at the foot, smiling furtively at the dying creature's anguish, whilst the other doctors and the two students bent forward eagerly to watch the effects of his experiment. " You perceive, gentlemen," said Lesquard quietly, " that I am right." " What have you done to her?" exclaimed Nurse Gordon indignantly, and quite forgetting for the moment who and where she was. " You are tortur ing her last moments. Oh, it is cruel, inhuman. She was dying peacefully and painlessly, and now, see her horrible contortions." " Hush ! hush ! " exclaimed Doctor Marshall, "you are forgetting yourself, Nurse. Remember, all you have to do is to obey." At that juncture Number Twenty-two gave another scream and another bound, which nearly sent her off the narrow bed. " Save me ! save me !

" she cried, clinging with dying tenacity to her nurse. " He is killing me, Miss Rose. It is murder — murder." " It is murder," repeated Nurse Gordon, as she gathered the dying woman in her arms, " and they shall not touch you again. You stabbed her foot with that lancet, Mr. Lesquard," she continued, with flashing eyes, as she pointed to the instrument in his hand, " and it is an infamy. Is this the purpose for which the hospital was instituted — to torture poor dying creatures with operations and experiments in order that your scientific principles may be demon strated for the benefit of your pupils? Shame upon you ! your practice should be made public to the nation who supports this institution for the relief, not the torture of, its poor." " Hush ! hush ! hush ! " exclaimed Doctor Mar shall, " you are beside yourself, Nurse.

Your be haviour will have to be reported." " Let it be reported then," replied the nurse ; " but tell the authorities at the same time what induced me to speak as I have done. This poor woman is my friend. In the name of humanity I demand that she shall be allowed to breathe her last in peace. If not, you may dismiss me from the hospital ; but I will Un angel of pits. 20 not hold my tongue about it, I promise you that ! " And she bent down and kissed the clammy fore head of the fainting Ellen. " You will certainly be dismissed from the hospital," growled Mr. Lesquard ; " I never received such an insult in my life before." " Perhaps we had better leave them now," suggested one of the others ; " the patient is all but gone, and we will inquire into the reason of this outrage to morrow." " That woman must be dismissed," urged Lesquard ; "I shall demand it!"

" All right, my dear sir," said Marshall. " Of course, if you demand it, it shall be done." And then the five men rose, and proceeded into another ward. "Who is that young woman?" demanded Mr. Lesquard sullenly, as they descended the stone stair case together. " She has a sharp tongue in her head which she would find it to her advantage to control." " And a dangerous tongue, too, if I mistake not, if she chooses to use it," replied Doctor Marshall. " I wish myself that any other of our nurses had been in attendance on this case. Nurse Gordon is the daughter of the late General Gordon of the Cairngorm Highlanders — who distinguished himself in the Zulu War, you know — and has taken up nursing, more as an amusement, I fancy, than a necessity. She is rather a remarkable young woman, Lesquard.

Took her B.A. at Girton, and studied in Edinburgh, passing with high honours. Many young women in her position would be attempting to practise on their own account, but she prefers nursing. I wish you would try and conciliate her a bit. I would rather have Nurse Gordon as a friend than an enemy." "Enemy! pooh!" replied the other. "Why! what harm could a woman " — contemptuously — " do to a man like me? " " There is no saying. Little matters like this per colate through society sometimes, until a man gets a bad name for them, Heaven only knows how. You may remember the case of Atherton last year. He got mulcted for heavy damages just through a woman's tongue. This exposition of your's was a valuable one, no doubt ; but it had been better de monstrated more in private in my opinion. But a little friendly explanation would serve to place the matter in a totally different light before Nurse Gordon, and especially if you deigned to afford it her yourself.

Undoubtedly, you shocked her sense of propriety very much." Mr. Lesquard shrugged his shoulders expressively. " Women have no business in the profession at all ! As nurses, they are useful enough ; but for nurses we don't require these very highly-educated young ladies. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing. However, I will think over your suggestion, Marshall, though I cannot say I relish having to excuse or explain my conduct to a woman, who, had she remained in her proper position, would have been satisfied that a man of my experience could do no wrong. But — since you seem to think it desirable that Miss Gordon should be appeased — I will do my best to appease her." He smiled furtively as he said the words, for it was not often that his arguments or persuasions failed of Un angel of pits. 22 their effect, especially with women.

As a surgeon, he was at the head of his profession, and received incredible sums of money sometimes for performing very simple operations, which a less celebrated man could have done quite as well as himself, simply because his practice had been so extensive, and his sang-froid was so great, that his skilful knife was never known to fail to produce the effect which he intended it to do. If a patient died under Mr. Lesquard's scalpel, it was universally acknowledged that no one could have saved his life. But he never did fail. He never undertook an operation where he was not sure of success. He reserved his failures — that is, his experiments — for the pauper patients in the hospitals, who would sink into their nameless graves without an outcry against the mistakes which he might discover too late to remedy — not for the wealthy and the patricians, whose deaths might form the subject of inquiry and blame.

But added to being very skilful and very popular, Quinton Lesquard was a handsome, well-made man, with the most charming manners possible, when he chose to exert them. In society, where such common vulgar subjects as deaths and operations are naturally avoided, he was a general favourite. His figure was slight and tall ; his hair dark ; his eyes of a cold steel blue ; his hands long, thin, white, and slender — just what a surgeon's hands should be ; the only feature in his face which, had it not been concealed beneath a silky moustache, would have betrayed his disposition being a thin-lipped mouth, surrounded by a square and heavy jaw. But he possessed a singu larly attractive voice, low, sweet, and when he was addressing his paying patients, almost oily ; and his smile, when he desired to please, concealed all other defects.