That is the pathos of little things. Yes, you dear soul, weep a little over the forgotten orange, and let Helen weep a little because she said Leg’s joke was cheap. And then let us think of the bigger things—the love and the loving-kindness that have been ours, that bright, boyish spirit that made mirth in the home. Even now let us try to thank God for what has been. You know what Legs was to us—a sort of son, a sort of brother.
All that afternoon we sat there, hearing London rumble distantly around us, and little stirrings and creakings came from different parts of the room. Now the blind flapped, now a curtain sighed, or, as often happens in spring-time, a board of the flooring gave a little sharp rap, some infinitesimal particle of sap still lingering in it, perhaps, and hearing the heralds of spring blowing their horns outside. Only from the bed there came no sound at all: he was still sunk deep in that sleep which the doctor hoped would join and be one with death. If he woke at all, there was a chance that he would suffer blinding, excruciating pain. On the other hand, he might come to himself, just at the last moment of all, when pain would be already passed.
The doctor was saying this in the hushed whisper with which we speak in the chamber of death, though there may be no real reason why we should not speak openly, when I heard a little stir from the bed, and, looking round, I saw that Leg’s eyes were open, and that he was moving them this way and that, as if in search of something. Helen had seen, too, and next moment she was by him. He recognized her, for there was welcome in his eyes, and then, turning his head a little, he saw me. The doctor meantime had moved to the head of the bed and looked at Leg’s face very intently. Then he made a little sign to me that I should come up to the bed, and he himself went and stood by the window, looking out.
And I understood.
Then Legs spoke in his ordinary voice.
‘Wasn’t it bad luck?’ he said. My bicycle skidded, and the omnibus——
‘What is happening to me?’ he asked quickly. ‘Is it——’
Helen laid her hand on his head.
‘Yes, my darling,’ she said. ‘But you are not afraid, are you?’
For a moment the pupils of his eyes contracted; then they grew quite normal again.