The Essential G. B. Shaw: Celebrated Plays, Novels, Personal Letters, Essays & Articles. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW

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СКАЧАТЬ a moment Trefusis felt a vagabond impulse to resume the language of Smilash and fable to the man of hampers of turkey and plum-pudding in the van. But he repressed it, got into a hansom, and was driven to his father-in-law’s house in Belsize Avenue, studying in a gloomily critical mood the anxiety that surged upon him and made his heart beat like a boy’s as he drew near his destination. There were two carriages at the door when he alighted. The reticent expression of the coachmen sent a tremor through him.

      The door opened before he rang. “If you please, sir,” said the maid in a low voice, “will you step into the library; and the doctor will see you immediately.”

      On the first landing of the staircase two gentlemen were speaking to Mr. Jansenius, who hastily moved out of sight, not before a glimpse of his air of grief and discomfiture had given Trefusis a strange twinge, succeeded by a sensation of having been twenty years a widower. He smiled unconcernedly as he followed the girl into the library, and asked her how she did. She murmured some reply and hurried away, thinking that the poor young man would alter his tone presently.

      He was joined at once by a gray whiskered gentleman, scrupulously dressed and mannered. Trefusis introduced himself, and the physician looked at him with some interest. Then he said:

      “You have arrived too late, Mr. Trefusis. All is over, I am sorry to say.”

      “Was the long railway journey she took in this cold weather the cause of her death?”

      Some bitter words that the physician had heard upstairs made him aware that this was a delicate question. But he said quietly: “The proximate cause, doubtless. The proximate cause.”

      “She received some unwelcome and quite unlooked-for intelligence before she started. Had that anything to do with her death, do you think?”

      “It may have produced an unfavorable effect,” said the physician, growing restive and taking up his gloves. “The habit of referring such events to such causes is carried too far, as a rule.”

      “No doubt. I am curious because the event is novel in my experience. I suppose it is a commonplace in yours. Pardon me. The loss of a lady so young and so favorably circumstanced is not a commonplace either in my experience or in my opinion.” The physician held up his head as he spoke, in protest against any assumption that his sympathies had been blunted by his profession.

      “Did she suffer?”

      “For some hours, yes. We were able to do a little to alleviate her pain — poor thing!” He almost forgot Trefusis as he added the apostrophe.

      “Hours of pain! Can you conceive any good purpose that those hours may have served?”

      The physician shook his head, leaving it doubtful whether he meant to reply in the negative or to deplore considerations of that nature. He also made a movement to depart, being uneasy in conversation with Trefusis, who would, he felt sure, presently ask questions or make remarks with which he could hardly deal without committing himself in some direction. His conscience was not quite at rest. Henrietta’s pain had not, he thought, served any good purpose; but he did not want to say so, lest he should acquire a reputation for impiety and lose his practice. He believed that the general practitioner who attended the family, and had called him in when the case grew serious, had treated Henrietta unskilfully, but professional etiquette bound him so strongly that, sooner than betray his colleague’s inefficiency, he would have allowed him to decimate London.

      “One word more,” said Trefusis. “Did she know that she was dying?”

      “No. I considered it best that she should not be informed of her danger. She passed away without any apprehension.”

      “Then one can think of it with equanimity. She dreaded death, poor child. The wonder is that there was not enough folly in the household to prevail against your good sense.”

      The physician bowed and took his leave, esteeming himself somewhat fortunate in escaping without being reproached for his humanity in having allowed Henrietta to die unawares.

      A moment later the general practitioner entered. Trefusis, having accompanied the consulting physician to the door, detected the family doctor in the act of pulling a long face just outside it. Restraining a desire to seize him by the throat, he seated himself on the edge of the table and said cheerfully:

      “Well, doctor, how has the world used you since we last met?”

      The doctor was taken aback, but the solemn disposition of his features did not relax as he almost intoned: “Has Sir Francis told you the sad news, Mr. Trefusis?”

      “Yes. Frightful, isn’t it? Lord bless me, we’re here to-day and gone tomorrow.”

      “True, very true!”

      “Sir Francis has a high opinion of you.”

      The doctor looked a little foolish. “Everything was done that could be done, Mr. Trefusis; but Mrs. Jansenius was very anxious that no stone should be left unturned. She was good enough to say that her sole reason for wishing me to call in Sir Francis was that you should have no cause to complain.”

      “Indeed!”

      “An excellent mother! A sad event for her! Ah, yes, yes! Dear me! A very sad event!”

      “Most disagreeable. Such a cold day too. Pleasanter to be in heaven than here in such weather, possibly.”

      “Ah!” said the doctor, as if much sound comfort lay in that. “I hope so; I hope so; I do not doubt it. Sir Francis did not permit us to tell her, and I, of course, deferred to him. Perhaps it was for the best.”

      “You would have told her, then, if Sir Francis had not objected?”

      “Well, there are, you see, considerations which we must not ignore in our profession. Death is a serious thing, as I am sure I need not remind you, Mr. Trefusis. We have sometimes higher duties than indulgence to the natural feelings of our patients.”

      “Quite so. The possibility of eternal bliss and the probability of eternal torment are consolations not to be lightly withheld from a dying girl, eh? However, what’s past cannot be mended. I have much to be thankful for, after all. I am a young man, and shall not cut a bad figure as a widower. And now tell me, doctor, am I not in very bad repute upstairs?”

      “Mr. Trefusis! Sir! I cannot meddle in family matters. I understand my duties and never over step them.” The doctor, shocked at last, spoke as loftily as he could.

      “Then I will go and see Mr. Jansenius,” said Trefusis, getting off the table.

      “Stay, sir! One moment. I have not finished. Mrs. Jansenius has asked me to ask — I was about to say that I am not speaking now as the medical adviser of this family; but although an old friend — and — ahem! Mrs. Jansenius has asked me to ask — to request you to excuse Mr. Jansenius, as he is prostrated by grief, and is, as I can — as a medical man — assure you, unable to see anyone. She will speak to you herself as soon as she feels able to do so — at some time this evening. Meanwhile, of course, any orders you may give — you must be fatigued by your journey, and I always recommend people not to fast too long; it produces an acute form of indigestion — any orders you may wish to give will, of course, be attended to at once.”

      “I think,” said Trefusis, after a moment’s reflection, “I will order СКАЧАТЬ