The Essential Somerset Maugham: 33 Books in One Edition. Уильям Сомерсет Моэм

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СКАЧАТЬ lucky you did it just at dinner time,” said Edward, with a laugh. “We’ll be able to have a snack together.”

      They sat down and began to eat. They rivalled one another in their appetites; and the doctor, liking Edward more and more, said it did him good to see a man who could eat well. But before they had reached the pudding, a message came from the nurse to say that Bertha was awake, and Dr. Ramsay regretfully left the table. Edward went on eating steadfastly. At last, with the happy sigh of the man conscious of virtue and a satisfied stomach, he lit his pipe and again settling himself in the armchair, shortly began to doze. The evening, however, was long, and he felt bored.

      “It ought to be all over by now,” he said. “I wonder if I need stay up?”

      Dr. Ramsay seemed a little worried when Edward went to him a third time.

      “I’m afraid it’s a difficult case,” he said. “It’s most unfortunate. She’s been suffering a good deal, poor thing.”

      “Well, is there anything I can do?” asked Edward.

      “No, except to keep calm and not make a fuss.”

      “Oh, I shan’t do that; you needn’t fear. I will say that for myself, I have got nerve.”

      “You’re splendid,” said Dr. Ramsay. “I tell you I like to see a man keep his head so well through a job like this.”

      “Well, what I came to ask you was—is there any good in my sitting up? Of course I’ll do it if anything can be done; but if not I may as well go to bed.”

      “Yes, I think you’d much better; I’ll call you if you’re wanted. I think you might come in and say a word or two to Bertha; it will encourage her.”

      Edward entered. Bertha was lying with staring, terrified eyes—eyes that seemed to have lately seen entirely new things, they shone glassily. Her face was whiter than ever, the blood had fled from her lips, and her cheeks were sunken: she looked as if she were dying. She greeted Edward with the faintest smile.

      “How are you, little woman?” he asked.

      His presence seemed to call her back to life, and a faint colour lit up her cheeks.

      “I’m all right,” she said, making an effort. “You mustn’t worry yourself, dear.”

      “Been having a bad time?”

      “No,” she said, bravely. “I’ve not really suffered much—there’s nothing for you to upset yourself about.”

      He went out, and she called Dr. Ramsay. “You haven’t told him what I’ve gone through, have you? I don’t want him to know.”

      “No, that’s all right. I’ve told him to go to bed.”

      “Oh, I’m glad. He can’t bear not to get his proper night’s rest.... How long d’you think it will last—already I feel as if I’d been tortured for ever, and it seems endless.”

      “Oh, it’ll soon be over now, I hope.”

      “I’m sure I’m going to die,” she whispered; “I feel that life is being gradually drawn out of me—I shouldn’t mind if it weren’t for Eddie. He’ll be so cut up.”

      “What nonsense!” said the nurse, “you all say you’re going to die.”

      Edward—dear, manly, calm, and pure-minded fellow as he was—went to bed quietly and soon was fast asleep. But his slumbers were somewhat troubled: generally he enjoyed the heavy dreamless sleep of the man who has no nerves and plenty of exercise. To-night, however, he dreamt. He dreamt not only that one cow was sick, but that all his cattle had fallen ill—the cows stood about with gloomy eyes and humpbacks, surly and dangerous, evidently with their livers totally deranged; the oxen were “blown,” and lay on their backs with legs kicking feebly in the air.

      “You must send them all to the butcher’s,” said the vet.; “there’s nothing to be done with them.”

      “Good Lord deliver us,” said Edward; “I shan’t get four bob a stone for them.”

      But his dream was disturbed by a knock at the door, and Edward awoke to find Dr. Ramsay shaking him.

      “Wake up, man—get up and dress quickly.”

      “What’s the matter?” cried Edward, jumping out of bed and seizing his clothes. “What’s the time?”

      “It’s half-past four.... I want you to go into Tercanbury for Dr. Spocref; Bertha is very bad.”

      “All right, I’ll bring him back with me.” Edward rapidly dressed himself.

      “I’ll go round and wake up the man to put the horse in.”

      “No, I’ll do that myself; it’ll take me half the time.” He methodically laced his boots.

      “Bertha is in no immediate danger. But I must have a consultation. I still hope we shall bring her through it.”

      “By Jove,” said Edward, “I didn’t know it was so bad as that.”

      “You need not get alarmed yet—the great thing is for you to keep calm and bring Spocref along as quickly as possible. It’s not hopeless yet.”

      Edward, with all his wits about him, was soon ready and with equal rapidity set to harnessing the horse; he carefully lit the lamps, as the proverb, more haste, less speed, passed through his mind. In two minutes he was on the main road, and whipped up the horse. He went with a quick, steady trot through the silent night.

      Dr. Ramsay, returning to the sick-room, thought what a splendid object was a man who could be relied upon to do anything, who never lost his head nor got excited. His admiration for Edward was growing by leaps and bounds.

      Chapter XVII

       Table of Contents

       Edward Craddock was a strong man, also unimaginative. Driving through the night to Tercanbury he did not give way to distressing thoughts, but easily kept his anxiety within proper bounds, and gave his whole attention to conducting the horse; he kept his eyes on the road in front of him, and the beast stepped out with swift, regular stride, rapidly passing the milestones. Edward rang Dr. Spocref up and gave him the note he carried. The doctor presently came down, an undersized man with a squeaky voice and a gesticulative manner. He looked upon Edward with suspicion.

      “I suppose you’re the husband?” he said, as they clattered down the street. “Would you like me to drive? I dare say you’re rather upset.”

      “No—and don’t want to be,” answered Edward, with a laugh. He looked down a little upon people who lived in towns, and never trusted a man who was less than six feet high and burly in proportion!

      “I’m rather nervous of anxious husbands who drive me at a breakneck pace in the middle of the night,” said the doctor. “The ditches have an almost irresistible attraction for them.”

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