“Are you mad?” he asked, looking full at the girl.
“No; I am sane.”
“Do you know anything whatever of nursing?”
“I don’t want to nurse—there is a professional nurse to do that. I want to stay with the child, to hold his hand, to be with him. It is unkind to leave him with strangers.”
“Miss Evershed,” said Tarbot suddenly, “I would do much for you, you know that.” The look in the doctor’s eyes became eager, and Barbara shrank towards the door.
“I would do much for you,” he continued, “but where my professional duties are concerned I have no choice. I would rather that the nurse had the entire care of Piers.”
“Oh, I cannot see any reason for this,” said Barbara, clasping her hands. “Besides,” she added eagerly, “you allow Dick Pelham to be with him.”
“Pelham is different. He has been with the boy from the first. It would be unkind to turn him out of the room, but your face would be a fresh one. The child’s condition is most serious. Any extra excitement might stop the heart which is so dangerously affected.”
“Can I not induce you to grant my request? Little Piers called out for me when I went to the door just now—he heard my voice. Is not happiness good for sick people? Is not happiness, and a little bit of their own way, quite as valuable as your most potent drugs? Oh, I believe such to be the case—I am sure I am right. Dr. Tarbot, do allow me to have my wish. It cannot possibly injure Piers for me to sit with him, and I am always quiet and never excitable. It would make him happy! Please grant my desire.”
While Barbara spoke, the eager light in her eyes, the tremulous movement of her beautiful lips, her young figure all alive with the sympathy and longing which filled her soul, brought to Tarbot a moment of mad brief temptation. His own eyes glittered. He came close to the girl.