Christie Redfern's Troubles

by Margaret M. Robertson

That was all that passed between them. Christie slept nearly all night, but to Effie the hours passed slowly and sorrowfully away. There was never entire quiet in the ward. There was moaning now and then, and feverish tossing to and fro on one or another of those white beds. The night-nurse moved about among them, smoothing the pillow of one, holding a cup to the lips of another, soothing or chiding, as the case of each required. To Effie the scene was as painful as it was strange. She had many unhappy and some rebellious thoughts that night. But God did not forsake her. The same place of refuge that had sheltered her in former times of trouble was open to her still, and when Christie awoke in the morning it was to meet a smile as calm and bright as that she had often seen in her dreams. For a little while it seemed to her she was dreaming now.

“If I shut my eyes, will you be here when I open them again?” she asked. “Oh, Effie, I have so longed for you! You will never leave me again?”

“Never again,” was all that she had the power to answer.

That day they removed her from the public ward to the room she had at first occupied, and Effie became her nurse. They were very quiet that day. Christie was still under the influence of the strong opiate that had been given her, and worn-out with anxiety and watching, Effie slumbered beside her.

On the second day they had a visit from Gertrude, and Christie quite roused herself to rejoice with her over Effie’s coming. When the young lady declared, with delighted energy, that all Christie wanted to make her quite well again was the face of her sister smiling upon her, all three for a moment believed it. She was to have a week, or perhaps two, in which to grow a little stronger, and then she was to go home with Gertrude till she should be strong enough to go to Glengarry with Effie. No wonder she had been ill and discouraged, so long alone, or worse than alone, surrounded by so much suffering. Now she would soon be well again, Gertrude was quite sure.

And she did seem better. Relieved from the terrible pain which her diseased limb had so long caused, for a time she seemed to revive. She thought herself better. She said many times a day that she felt like a different person, and Effie began to take courage.

But she did not grow stronger. If she could only be taken out of town, where she could have better air, Effie thought she might soon be well. But to remove her in her present state of weakness was impossible. And every day that followed, the doubt forced itself with more and more strength on Effie that she would never be removed alive. The daily paroxysms of fever returned. At such times she grew restless, and sometimes, when she would wake with a start from troubled and uneasy slumbers, her mind seemed to wander. A word was enough to recall her to herself, and when she recognised her sister’s voice and opened her eyes to see her bending over her, her look of glad surprise, changing slowly into one of sweet content, was beautiful to see.

She could not talk much, or even listen for a long time to reading, but she was always quite content and at rest with Effie sitting beside her. A visit from Gertrude or Mr Sherwood was all that happened to break the monotony of those days to them. Once little Claude and his brother were brought to see her. They had not forgotten her. Claude lay down beside her, and put his little hand on her cheek, as he used to do, and told her about the sea and the broad sands where they used to play, and prattled away happily enough of the time when Christie should come home quite well again. Clement was shy, and a little afraid of her altered face, and gave all his attention to Effie. But the visit exhausted Christie, and it never was repeated. Indeed, a very little thing exhausted her now.

One day Christie awoke to find her sister watching the clouds and the autumn rain with a dark shadow resting on her face. Her first movement sent it away, but the remembrance of it lingered with Christie. After a little time, when she had been made comfortable, and Effie had seated herself with her work beside her, she said:

“Are you longing to get home, Effie?”