His voice rose to a scream, and the nurse came quickly back to the bedside, just in time to prevent him rising.
The door opened gently, and Helen came in in her dressing-gown. And the terrible drone began again.
“And when we’re married, Helen and Frank shall come and stay with us, and I’ll play to them, if it gets cooler. But father mustn’t know; he mustn’t come. Karl is the loud pedal you see, and the music-stool, and I’m only the black notes. I hope they won’t play me much, as I’m all out of tune with the iron. And all those faces are there, a sea of them, and I’m all alone. If I break down father will be angry!”
He turned his head sideways on the pillow, closed his eyes, and was silent for a little. Helen, with quivering lip, was looking at that dear face, so thin and hollow, so untidy and unshaven, with unspeakable love and longing. Then the nurse left the bed and came to her. Helen did not ask if he was better.
“Can I help you in anything?” she said.
“No, dear Miss Helen, thank you. I think he will be quieter for a little now. But I should like Dr. Thaxter to be sent for at once, please. Yes, he is very ill. He is as ill as he can be. There, there, my dear!”
Helen clasped her hands together a moment, holding them out towards Martin with a dumb, beseeching gesture, as if imploring him.
“And I am so strong,” she said. “Why can’t I give him some of my strength! It is cruel.”
“Ah, if one only could do that,” said Nurse Baker. “But he is not suffering; he is quite unconscious.”
“May my father come in to see him a moment?” asked the girl.