The Secret Places of the Heart [82]
and saying "I am afraid, my dear Hardy, that you are very ill indeed. Much more so than I thought you were at first." Sir Richmond's raised eyebrows conveyed that he accepted this fact. "I think Lady Hardy ought to be sent for." Sir Richmond shook his head with unexpected vigour. "Don't want her about," he said, and after a pause, "Don't want anybody about." "But if anything happens-?" "Send then." An expression of obstinate calm overspread Sir Richmond's face. He seemed to regard the matter as settled. He closed his eyes. For a time Dr. Martineau desisted. He went to the window and turned to look again at the impassive figure on the bed. Did Sir Richmond fully understand? He made a step towards his patient and hesitated. Then he brought a chair and sat down at the bedside. Sir Richmond opened his eyes and regarded him with a slight frown. "A case of pneumonia," said the doctor, "after great exertion and fatigue, may take very rapid and unexpected turns." Sir Richmond, cheek on pillow, seemed to assent. "I think if you want to be sure that Lady Hardy sees you again-- . . . If you don't want to take risks about that--. . . One never knows in these cases. Probably there is a night train." Sir Richmond manifested no surprise at the warning. But he stuck to his point. His voice was faint but firm. "Couldn't make up anything to say to her. Anything she'd like." Dr. Martineau rested on that for a little while. Then he said: "If there is anyone else?" "Not possible," said Sir Richmond, with his eyes on the ceiling. "But to see?" Sir Richmond turned his head to Dr. Martineau. His face puckered like a peevish child's. "They'd want things said to them...Things to remember...I CAN'T. I'm tired out." "Don't trouble," whispered Dr. Martineau, suddenly remorseful. But Sir Richmond was also remorseful. "Give them my love," he said. "Best love...Old Martin. Love." Dr. Martineau was turning away when Sir Richmond spoke again in a whisper. "Best love...Poor at the best. . . ." He dozed for a time. Then he made a great effort. "I can't see them, Martineau, until I've something to say. It's like that. Perhaps I shall think of some kind things to say--after a sleep. But if they came now...I'd say something wrong. Be cross perhaps. Hurt someone. I've hurt so many. People exaggerate...People exaggerate--importance these occasions." "Yes, yes," whispered Dr. Martineau. "I quite understand." Section 4 For a time Sir Richmond dozed. Then he stirred and muttered. "Second rate. . . Poor at the best. . . Love. . . Work. All. . ." "It had been splendid work," said Dr. Martineau, and was not sure that Sir Richmond heard. "Those last few days. . . lost my grip. . . Always lose my damned grip. "Ragged them. . . . Put their backs up . . . .Silly.... "Never.... Never done anything--WELL .... "It's done. Done. Well or ill.... "Done." His voice sank to the faintest whisper. "Done for ever and ever ... and ever . . . and ever." Again he seemed to doze. Dr. Martineau stood up softly. Something beyond reason told him that this was certainly a dying man. He was reluctant to go and he had an absurd desire that someone, someone for whom Sir Richmond cared, should come and say good-bye to him, and for Sir Richmond to say good-bye to someone. He hated this lonely launching from the shores of life of one who had sought intimacy so persistently and vainly. It was extraordinary--he saw it now for the first time--he loved this man. If it had been in his power, he would at that moment have anointed him with kindness. The doctor found himself standing in front of the untidy writing desk, littered like a recent battlefield. The photograph of the American girl drew his eyes. What had happened? Was there not perhaps some word for her? He turned about as if to enquire of the dying man and found Sir Richmond's eyes open and regarding him. In them he saw an expression he had seen there once or twice before, a faint but excessively irritating gleam of amusement. "Oh!--WELL!" said Dr. Martineau and turned away. He went to the window and stared out as his habit was. Sir Richmond