CHAPTER III.
"If yer goin' downstairs, Nuss, you'd better take that there scuttlewith yer, for the coals is gittin' low an' it ull save yer a journey!"
Marcella looked with amusement at her adviser--a small bandy-legged boyin shirt and knickerbockers, with black Jewish eyes in a stronglyfeatured face. He stood leaning on the broom he had just been wielding,his sleeves rolled up to the shoulder showing his tiny arms; hisexpression sharp and keen as a hawk's.
"Well, Benny, then you look after your mother while I'm gone, and don'tlet any one in but the doctor."
And Marcella turned for an instant towards the bed whereon lay a sickwoman too feeble apparently to speak or move.
"I aint a goin' ter," said the boy, shortly, beginning to sweep againwith energy, "an' if this 'ere baby cries, give it the bottle, Is'pose?"
"No, certainly not," said Marcella, firmly; "it has just had one. Yousweep away, Benny, and let the baby alone."
Benny looked a trifle wounded, but recovered himself immediately, andran a general's eye over Marcella who was just about to leave the room.
"Now look 'ere, Nuss," he said in a tone of pitying remonstrance, "yernever a goin' down to that 'ere coal cellar without a light. Yer'll 'aveto come runnin' up all them stairs again--sure as I'm alive yer will!"
And darting to a cupboard he pulled out a grimy candlestick with an endof dip and some matches, disposed of them at the bottom of thecoal-scuttle that Marcella carried over her left arm, and then, stillmasterfully considering her, let her go.
Marcella groped her way downstairs. The house was one of a type familiarall over the poorer parts of West Central London--the eighteenth-centuryhouse inhabited by law or fashion in the days of Dr. Johnson, nowparcelled out into insanitary tenements, miserably provided with air,water, and all the necessaries of life, but still showing in itschimney-piece or its decaying staircase signs of the graceful domesticart which had ruled at the building and fitting of it.
Marcella, however, had no eye whatever at the moment for the panellingon the staircase, or the delicate ironwork of the broken balustrade.Rather it seemed to her, as she looked into some of the half-open doorsof the swarming rooms she passed, or noticed with disgust the dirt anddilapidation of the stairs, and the evil smells of the basement, thatthe house added one more to the standing shames of the district--anopinion doubly strong in her when at last she emerged from her gropingsamong the dens of the lower regions, and began to toil upstairs againwith her filled kettle and coal-scuttle.
The load was heavy, even for her young strength, and she had just passeda sleepless night. The evening before she had been sent for in haste toa woman in desperate illness. She came, and found a young Jewess, with aten days old child beside her, struggling with her husband and two womenfriends in a state of raging delirium. The room, was full to suffocationof loud-tongued, large-eyed Jewesses, all taking turns at holding thepatient, and chattering or quarrelling between their turns. It had beenMarcella's first and arduous duty to get the place cleared, and she haddone it without ever raising her voice or losing her temper for aninstant. The noisy pack had been turned out; the most competent womanamong them chosen to guard the door and fetch and carry for the nurse;while Marcella set to work to wash her patient and remake the bed asbest she could, in the midst of the poor thing's wild shrieks andwrestlings.
It was a task to test both muscular strength and moral force to theirutmost. After her year's training Marcella took it simply in the day'swork. Some hours of intense effort and strain; then she and the husbandlooked down upon the patient, a woman of about six-and-twenty, plungedsuddenly in narcotic sleep, her matted black hair, which Marcella hadnot dared to touch, lying in wild waves on the clean bed-clothes andnight-gear that her nurse had extracted from this neighbour andthat--she could hardly have told how.
"_Ach, mein Gott, mein Gott!_" said the husband, rising and shakinghimself. He was a Jew from German Poland, and, unlike most of his race,a huge man, with the make and the muscles of a prize-fighter. Yet,after the struggle of the last two hours he was in a bath ofperspiration.
"You will have to send her to the infirmary if this comes on again,"said Marcella.
The husband stared in helpless misery, first at his wife, then at thenurse.
"You will not go away, mees," he implored, "you will not leaf me alone?"
Wearied as she was, Marcella could have smiled at the abject giant.
"No, I will stay with her till the morning and till the doctor comes.You had better go to bed."
It was close on three o'clock. The man demurred a little, but he was intruth too worn out to resist. He went into the back room and lay downwith the children.
Then Marcella was left through the long summer dawn alone with herpatient. Her quick ear caught every sound about her--the heavy breathsof the father and children in the back room, the twittering of thesparrows, the first cries about the streets, the first movements in thecrowded house. Her mind all the time was running partly on contrivancesfor pulling the woman through--for it was what a nurse calls "a goodcase," one that rouses all her nursing skill and faculty--partly on theextraordinary misconduct of the doctor, to whose criminal neglect andmismanagement of the case she hotly attributed the whole of the woman'sillness; and partly--in deep, swift sinkings of meditative thought--onthe strangeness of the fact that she should be there at all, sitting inthis chair in this miserable room, keeping guard over this Jewish motherand her child!
The year in hospital had _rushed_--dreamless sleep by night, exhaustingfatigue of mind and body by day. A hospital nurse, if her work _seizes_her, as it had seized Marcella, never thinks of herself. Now, for somesix or seven weeks she had been living in rooms, as a district nurse,under the control of a central office and superintendent. Her work layin the homes of the poor, and was of the most varied kind. The life wasfreer, more elastic; allowed room at last to self-consciousness.
* * * * *
But now the night was over. The husband had gone off to work at afactory near, whence he could be summoned at any moment; the childrenhad been disposed of to Mrs. Levi, the helpful neighbour; she herselfhad been home for an hour to breakfast and dress, had sent to the officeasking that her other cases might be attended to, and was at present insole charge, with Benny to help her, waiting for the doctor.
When she reached the sick-room again with her burdens, she foundBenjamin sitting pensive, with the broom across his knees.
"Well, Benny!" she said as she entered, "how have you got on?"
"Yer can't move the dirt on them boards with sweepin'," said Benny,looking at them with disgust; "an' I ain't a goin' to try it no more."
"You're about right there, Benny," said Marcella, mournfully, as sheinspected them; "well, we'll get Mrs. Levi to come in and scrub--as soonas your mother can bear it."
She stepped up to the bed and looked at her patient, who seemed to bepassing into a state of restless prostration, more or less under theinfluence of morphia. Marcella fed her with strong beef tea made byherself during the night, and debated whether she should give brandy.No--either the doctor would come directly, or she would send for him.She had not seen him yet, and her lip curled at the thought of him. Hehad ordered a nurse the night before, but had not stayed to meet her,and Marcella had been obliged to make out his instructions from thehusband as best she could.
Benny looked up at her with a wink as she went back to the fire.
"I didn't let none o' _them_ in," he said, jerking his thumb over hisshoulder. "They come a whisperin' at the door, an' a rattlin' ov thehandle as soon as ever you gone downstairs. But I tole 'em just to taketheirselves off, an' as 'ow you didn't want 'em. Sillies!"
And taking a crust smeared with treacle out of his pocket, Bennyreturned with a severe air to the sucking of it.
Marcella laughed.
"Clever Benny," she said, patting his head; "but why aren't you atschool, sir?"
Benjamin grinned.
"'Ow d'yer s'po
se my ma's goin' to git along without me to do for 'erand the babby?" he replied slily.
"Well, Benny, you'll have the Board officer down on you."
At this the urchin laughed out.
"Why, 'e wor here last week! Ee can't be troublin' 'isself about this'ere bloomin' street _ev_ery day in the week."
There was a sharp knock at the door.
"The doctor," she said, as her face dismissed the frolic brightnesswhich had stolen upon it for a moment. "Run away, Benny."
Benny opened the door, looked the doctor coolly up and down, and thenwithdrew to the landing, where his sisters were waiting to play withhim.
The doctor, a tall man of thirty, with a red, blurred face and a fairmoustache, walked in hurriedly, and stared at the nurse standing by thefire.
"You come from the St. Martin's Association?"
Marcella stiffly replied. He took her temperature-chart from her handand asked her some questions about the night, staring at her from timeto time with eyes that displeased her. Presently she came to an accountof the condition in which she had found her patient. The edge on thewords, for all their professional quiet, was unmistakable. She saw himflush.
He moved towards the bed, and she went with him. The woman moaned as heapproached her. He set about his business with hands that shook.Marcella decided at once that he was not sober, and watched hisproceedings with increasing disgust and amazement. Presently she couldbear it no longer.
"I think," she said, touching his arm, "that you had better leave it tome--and--go away!"
He drew himself up with a start which sent the things he held flying,and faced her fiercely.
"What do you mean?" he said, "don't you know your place?"
The girl was very white, but her eyes were scornfully steady.
"Yes--I know my place!"
Then with a composure as fearless as it was scathing she said what shehad to say. She knew--and he could not deny--that he had endangered hispatient's life. She pointed out that he was in a fair way to endanger itagain. Every word she said lay absolutely within her sphere as a nurse.His cloudy brain cleared under the stress of it.
Then his eyes flamed, his cheeks became purple, and Marcella thought foran instant he would have struck her. Finally he turned down hisshirt-cuffs and walked away.
"You understand," he said thickly, turning upon her, with his hat in hishand, "that I shall not attend this case again till your Association cansend me a nurse that will do as she is told without insolence to thedoctor. I shall now write a report to your superintendent."
"As you please," said Marcella, quietly. And she went to the door andopened it.
He passed her sneering:
"A precious superior lot you lady-nurses think yourselves, I dare say.I'd sooner have one old gamp than the whole boiling of you!"
Marcella eyed him sternly, her nostrils tightening. "Will you go?" shesaid.
He gave her a furious glance, and plunged down the stairs outside,breathing threats.
Marcella put her hand to her head a moment, and drew a long breath.There was a certain piteousness in the action, a consciousness of youthand strain.
Then she saw that the landing and the stairs above were beginning tofill with dark-haired Jewesses, eagerly peering and talking. In anotherminute or two she would be besieged by them. She called sharply,"Benny!"
Instantly Benny appeared from the landing above, elbowing the Jewessesto right and left.
"What is it you want, Nuss? No, she don't want none o' _you_--_there_!"
And Benjamin darted into the room, and would have slammed the door inall their faces, but that Marcella said to him--
"Let in Mrs. Levi, please."
The kind neighbour, who had been taking care of the children, wasadmitted, and then the key was turned. Marcella scribbled a line on ahalf-sheet of paper, and, with careful directions, despatched Benny withit.
"I have sent for a new doctor," she explained, still frowning and white,to Mrs. Levi. "That one was not fit."
The woman's olive-skinned face lightened all over. "Thanks to the Lord!"she said, throwing up her hands. "But how in the world did you do 't,miss? There isn't a single soul in this house that doesn't go all of atremble at the sight of 'im. Yet all the women has 'im when they'reill--bound to. They thinks he must be clever, 'cos he's such a brute. Ido believe sometimes it's that. He _is_ a brute!"
Marcella was bending over her patient, trying so far as she could to sether straight and comfortable again. But the woman had begun to mutteronce more words in a strange dialect that Marcella did not understand,and could no longer be kept still. The temperature was rising again, andanother fit of delirium was imminent. Marcella could only hope that sheand Mrs. Levi between them would be able to hold her till the doctorcame. When she had done all that was in her power, she sat beside thepoor tossing creature, controlling and calming her as best she could,while Mrs. Levi poured into her shrinking ear the story of the woman'sillness and of Dr. Blank's conduct of it. Marcella's feeling, as shelistened, was made up of that old agony of rage and pity! The sufferingsof the poor, _because_ they were poor--these things often, still,darkened earth and heaven for her. That wretch would have been quitecapable, no doubt, of conducting himself decently and even competently,if he had been called to some supposed lady in one of the well-to-dosquares which made the centre of this poor and crowded district.
"Hullo, nurse!" said a cheery voice; "you seem to have got a bad case."
The sound was as music in Marcella's ears. The woman she held was fastbecoming unmanageable--had just shrieked, first for "poison," then for a"knife," to kill herself with, and could hardly be prevented by thecombined strength of her nurse and Mrs. Levi, now from throwing herselfmadly out of bed, and now from tearing out her black hair in handfuls.The doctor--a young Scotchman with spectacles, and stubbly redbeard--came quickly up to the bed, asked Marcella a few short questions,shrugged his shoulders over her dry report of Dr. Blank's proceedings,then took out a black case from his pocket, and put his morphia syringetogether.
For a long time no result whatever could be obtained by any treatment.The husband was sent for, and came trembling, imploring doctor andnurse, in the intervals of his wife's paroxysms, not to leave him alone.
Marcella, absorbed in the tragic horror of the case, took no note of thepassage of time. Everything that the doctor suggested she carried outwith a deftness, a tenderness, a power of mind, which keenly affectedhis professional sense. Once, the poor mother, left unguarded for aninstant, struck out with a wild right hand. The blow caught Marcella onthe cheek, and she drew back with a slight involuntary cry.
"You are hurt," said Dr. Angus, running up to her.
"No, no," she said, smiling through the tears that the shock had calledinto her eyes, and putting him rather impatiently aside; "it is nothing.You said you wanted some fresh ice."
And she went into the back room to get it.
The doctor stood with his hands in his pockets, studying the patient.
"You will have to send her to the infirmary," he said to the husband;"there is nothing else for it."
Marcella came back with the ice, and was able to apply it to the head.The patient was quieter--was, in fact, now groaning herself into a freshperiod of exhaustion.
The doctor's sharp eyes took note of the two figures, the huddledcreature on the pillows and the stately head bending over her, with thedelicately hollowed cheek, whereon the marks of those mad fingers stoodout red and angry. He had already had experience of this girl in one ortwo other cases.
"Well," he said, taking up his hat, "it is no good shilly-shallying. Iwill go and find Dr. Swift." Dr. Swift was the parish doctor.
When he had gone, the big husband broke down and cried, with his headagainst the iron of the bed close to his wife. He put his great hand onhers, and talked to her brokenly in their own patois. They had beeneight years married, and she had never had a day's serious illness tillnow. Marcella's eyes filled with tears as she moved about the room,d
oing various little tasks.
At last she went up to him.
"Won't you go and have some dinner?" she said to him kindly. "There'sBenjamin calling you," and she pointed to the door of the back room,where stood Benny, his face puckered with weeping, forlornly holding outa plate of fried fish, in the hope of attracting his father's attention.
The man, who in spite of his size and strength was in truth childishlysoft and ductile, went as he was bid, and Marcella and Mrs. Levi setabout doing what they could to prepare the wife for her removal.
Presently parish doctor and sanitary inspector appeared, strange andperemptory invaders who did but add to the terror and misery of thehusband. Then at last came the ambulance, and Dr. Angus with it. Thepatient, now once more plunged in narcotic stupor, was carrieddownstairs by two male nurses, Dr. Angus presiding. Marcella stood inthe doorway and watched the scene,--the gradual disappearance of thehelpless form on the stretcher, with its fevered face under the dark matof hair; the figures of the straining men heavily descending step bystep, their heads and shoulders thrown out against the dirty drabs andbrowns of the staircase; the crowd of Jewesses on the stairs andlanding, craning their necks, gesticulating and talking, so that Dr.Angus could hardly make his directions heard, angrily as he bade themstand back; and on the top stair, the big husband, following the form ofhis departing and unconscious wife with his eyes, his face convulsedwith weeping, the whimpering children clinging about his knees.
How hot it was!--how stifling the staircase smelt, and how the sun beatdown from that upper window on the towzled unkempt women with theirlarge-eyed children.