“God bless her!” said the old man fervently. “He asleep in the bed there told me she came the other day, looking like an angel of comfort in this dreary place, sir. God bless her! Tell her, sir, that the old man’s true as steel, sir; the old blade’s notched and rusty, but he’s true as steel, sir. Do you hear? tell her that old Matt’s true as steel. But these nurses, sir,” he whispered, holding by his visitor’s coat, and drawing him nearer, “they’re devils, sir, regular devils!”
“Not quite so bad as that,” said Septimus, smiling.
“Not so bad, sir? Worse, sir, worse; ever so much worse. They’d do anything. There’s no Sisters of Mercy here, sir, like they’re talking of having at some places; they’re sisters of something else—she-demons, sir, and one daren’t complain or say a word. They’d kill a poor fellow as soon as look at him, and do, too,—dozens.”
“Nonsense,” said Septimus, smiling, “don’t be too hard, Matt.”
“’Tain’t nonsense, sir,” whispered the old man eagerly. “I ain’t wandering now, though I have been sending up some queer proofs—been touched in the head, you know, and thought I was going; but it didn’t seem to matter much if I could only have been easy in my mind, for I wanted to be out of my misery. But I couldn’t be comfortable on account of the medicine and attendance, and your uncle. What business has he to get himself made head doctor here, sir, just because I came; and then to set the nurses against me to get me out of the way? He knows I’m against him, and mean you to have your rights, and he’s trying with medicine and attendance to—no, stop, that’s not it,” whispered the old man, “I’ve got wrong sorts in my case, and that’s not what I wanted to say.” And then for a few moments it was pitiable to witness the struggle going on against the wandering thoughts that oppressed him; but he seemed to get the better of his weakness, and went on again.
“There, that’s better, sir; your coming has seemed to do me good, and brightened me up. I get like that sometimes, and it seems that I’ve no power over my tongue, and it says just what it likes. Tell Miss Lucy I’m getting better, and that I want to get out of this place. I know what I’m saying now, sir, though I can’t make it quite right about that medicine and attendance that we wanted to know about; for it bothers me, and makes my head hot, and gets mixed up with the medicine and attendance here. But I shall have it right one of these days; I did nearly, once, but it got away again.”
In his anxiety now to know more, Septimus drew out paper and pencil.
“Don’t think about it now,” he said; “but keep these under your pillow, and put it down the next time you think anything.”
Old Matt smiled feebly, and drew forth his old memorandum-book, and slowly opening it, showed the worn stumpy piece of pencil inside.
“I’d thought of that, sir, and should have done so before, only I was afraid that I might put down the wrong thing—something about the nurses, you know, when they would have read it, and then, perhaps, I shouldn’t have had a chance to say any more. And ’tisn’t really, sir, it isn’t nonsense about them. You think I’m wandering, and don’t believe it; and it’s just the same with the doctors—they don’t believe it neither. There was one poor chap on the other side of the ward, down at the bottom there—he told the doctor his nurse neglected him, and drank his wine, putting in water instead, beside not giving him his medicine regular; so the old doctor called for the nurse, and—”