Stephen woke from unconsciousness to incredible sensations of nausea and weakness and pain. In his mind two convictions alternated; the first that he was an enormous body which no room could contain; the second that he had no body whatever, that all flesh had been removed from his bones by some terrible process. Gradually all the indefinable pain and terror concentrated in his left side.
As consciousness quickened he realized that he was not at home, but in a strange bed in a strange room, and that a strange woman in a white dress sat beside him. Slowly he accounted for his presence in this place, confusing, however, in spite of the pain, his right hand with his left. It was his right hand, he believed, which he had hurt. He tried for a long time to lift it and succeeded at last in bringing it with a feeble jerk within his area of vision. It was still there and he could see no change in it. He gave a long sigh and recognized Miss Knowlton's blue eyes looking at him from a white face. After gazing at her steadfastly he brought out a few foolish words.
"Your—mouth—is—twisted."
Miss Knowlton's mouth was twisted. She yearned to be of heroic service and at the same time she desperately hoped for the return of Dr. Salter. She had sat often by the bedsides of reviving women who had to be told that no living joy had come from hours of purgatory; and it was after many experiences of this sort that she had become an attendant in a doctor's office. She waited for Stephen's return to consciousness with even more frightful apprehensions.
Another hour passed and she was still sitting in the same place, when the first numbing suspicion of the truth dawned upon Stephen. If his hand was there and sound, why this agony in his other shoulder? He turned his unpillowed head slowly and looked down, but the covers hid his body. He tried to lift his left hand as he had lifted his right, but he could not move it. It was doubtless tightly bandaged; it was necessary in such cases to be thorough and Salter and his assistants cut deep. He closed his eyes to shut out thought.
But thought was not to be permanently shut out. With a sudden impulse he reached across his body, but he reached vaguely and met only Miss Knowlton's strong grasp.
"I'd try to lie perfectly still," she advised earnestly.
He left his hand in hers. It was comfortable to feel a human touch and it suited a cunning plan to pretend to yield. Her mouth twisted again, but he made no comment upon it. He closed his eyes and after a while withdrew his hand gently and slipped it back under the covers. Miss Knowlton had an eagle eye and he must move with caution. He smiled feebly—she furthered his scheme by drawing up the covers to his neck. He moved his hand little by little, and touched with the tips of his fingers after long and exhausting effort his left shoulder.
His first emotion was, incongruously, one of amusement.
"They've taken it off," he said aloud as though his circumvention of watchfulness was the only important fact.