She looked at me, frightened—the poor child.
I explained to her that this moaning was no additional cause of alarm, rather the contrary; that her father might lie in his present state for hours—days.
“And can you do nothing for him?”
If I could—at any cost which mortal man could pay!
Motioning her to the furthest corner of the room, I there, as is my habit, when the friends of the patient seem capable of listening and comprehending, gave her my opinion about the course of treatment I intended to adopt, and my reasons for the same. In this case, of all others, I wished not to leave the relatives in the dark, lest they might afterwards blame me for doing nothing; when, in truth, to do nothing was the only chance. I told her my belief that it would be safest to maintain perfect silence and repose, and leave benignant Nature to work in her own mysterious way—Nature, whom the longer one lives, the more one trusts in as the only true physician.
“Therefore,” I said, “will you understand that however little I do, I am acting as I believe to be best? Will you trust me?”
She looked up searchingly, and then said, “Yes.” After a few moments she asked me how long I could stay? if I were obliged to return to the camp immediately?
I told her “No; I did not intend to return till morning.”
“Ah, that is well! Shall I order a room to be prepared for you?”
“Thank you, but I prefer sitting up.”