“There’s jus’ this one hope,” Dr. Bennett repeated, “but I don’t know if you’d be willin’ to take that chance.”
“I don’t give a damn what it is!” Ewing shouted in his anxiety. “I’ll take it! What is it, Doc? I don’t care what it costs! What is it?” He quivered as with a chill in his excitement—the excitement of the drowning man who sees a possible rescuer as he is about to go down for the third time. Mrs. Ewing had stopped crying—she seemed as though she had forgotten to breathe. They both waited eagerly for the older man to speak. At last he did. He paused after each word.
“Th’only—man—I know—near enough—to op’rate—in time—is—a—nigger-doctor—here—named—Harper!”
“Oh, my God!” groaned Ewing as he sank to his knees beside the bed and buried his face in his hands. “A nigger—seein’ my Mary—operatin’ on her—Good God! I’d rather see her dead than have a nigger put his hands on her! No! No! No!” He fairly screamed the last in his fury.
“I didn’t think you’d do it,” said Dr. Bennett miserably. “I jus’ felt I oughter tell you. He’s jus’ out of school—studied in one of the bes’ schools up No’th—and in France. He might save Mary—but I can’t blame you none for not havin’ him.”
While he was speaking, Ewing jumped to his feet and paced up and down the room like a caged and wounded tiger. On the one hand was the life of his daughter—on the other his inherent, acquired, environmental prejudice. None but those who know intimately the depth and passion of that prejudice as it flourishes in the South can know what torture what a hell—what agony Ewing was going through. Prejudice under almost any circumstances is hard enough to bear—in Ewing’s case his very soul was tormented at such an unheard-of thing as a Negro operating on his daughter.
“Roy!”
He turned abruptly at the sound of his wife’s voice, having forgotten for the time everything—wife, surroundings, all—as he struggled with the problem he faced.
“Roy!” Her voice was weak because of the ordeal through which she was passing. She ran to him, seizing his arm and looking up at him pleadingly.
“Roy! I can’t see our Mary die! I can’t let her die!”