We were about leaving the hospital, when my friend exclaimed: 'You must see this ward.' So saying, she led me to a small building by itself in the garden, where the patients take exercise when convalescent. Certainly it was a pleasant spot. The sun shining in, made it seem the brightest of the wards. It is divided into two rooms, one for male, the other for female patients. The cases are chiefly bronchitis and similar acute diseases. It is presided over by a sweet-looking Sister. She has her little establishment all to herself including a separate room for any desperate case. She is an enthusiast at her vocation, and tells us she gets all the best cases. Asking for an explanation of 'best,' she says: 'My gentlemen' (students) 'are the most advanced, and so they pick out all the most interesting, I mean dangerous cases.'
On our way out, my friend shewed me the block of buildings set apart for the use of out-patients. Pointing to one room, she said: 'That is where they do any _little_ thing--such as taking out a tooth.' I am afraid most of us are in the habit of looking upon that operation as anything but little; and to tell the truth, the patients we encountered coming up the steps seemed to share the popular notion, and did not look particularly joyful in their anticipations. So we left the hospital, feeling thankful that, though suffering and poverty must always be, so much is done to alleviate the sorrows of the suffering poor.
In the garden I found Mr Wentworth pacing one of the side-walks.
'How does she bear it?' he asked, advancing towards me.
'I do not fear for her--eventually. But it is very terrible.' Striking my hand upon the arm of a garden-seat, I angrily added: 'And he dares to call it love! Thank God, the more she sees of it the less she will believe in it!'
'He is trying to persuade her not to act upon that paper. I saw that was his intention.'
'But you were not so blind as to suppose he would succeed?' I retorted.
'He will only succeed in making her suffer more; though there may be some use in that. Her eyes may be opened to his selfishness and--and utter worthlessness, at last. Indeed, I am proud to say I never called that man my friend.'
'Sit down, Miss Haddon; you will want all your nerve presently,' he said gently. 'What should we do without you?'