Dear Tiberius; (aka Nurse Nolan) (14 page)

To her, at that moment, there was something about him that made her want to get up and insist that he accept one of her comfortable chairs, and that he also permit her to make him a cup of tea, although he probably hated tea, or merely despised it.
She did not realize that she was looking at him in a very revealing fashion when he suddenly turned and looked at her.

“
Nurse Nolan,
”
he began,
“
I
....”
And then all at once he

paused, while they gazed at one another as if compelled. Lucy felt a hot tide of color rise up in her cheeks, and she suddenly felt rather breathless, as if she was waiting for something to happen. And then the moment passed, and Sir John continued,
“
I
’
ve no doubt you
’
ve been expecting me to come and see you before this?
”

“
I
...well, I
...
”

She wished he would not stand there, so close to her on the thick fur rug that she could have put out a hand and touched him had she been weak enough to give way to the desire to do so, and still looking down at her with something rather baffling in his dark gray eyes. She picked up her
sewing and ostentatiously put one or two stitches into it while she fumbled mentally for words.

“
You were anxious to hear all there is to hear about Miranda, I
’
m sure,
”
he said. But he cast a glance around the room as he spoke, taking in the attractive cosiness of it, with the reading lamp at Lucy
’
s elbow shedding a flood of warm light across the carpet, and the little things of hers that were scattered around. There was something shut-in and intimate about the room, and all at once he changed his mind.
“
I think
I
will sit down,
”
he told her, and promptly sank into an armchair. A faint twinkle appeared in his eyes as he stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed one well-shod foot over the other, while he allowed his head to sink back into the cushion behind it.
“
I
must say you
’
re very restful here—really restful!
”

“
I was just about to make some tea.
”
Lucy
’
s glance went to the electric kettle and the switch beside it, and then she looked up at him again, diffidently.
“
Can
’
t
I
persuade you to have some, too?
”

The twinkle in his eyes deepened.

“
I
suppose that
’
s a hospital habit that you find it difficult to shake off?
”
he observed.
“
Tea at all hours! But although I
’
m not personally addicted to it,
I
don
’
t mind having a cup now if you really are going to make some?
”

“
Oh, yes,
I
am!
”
she assured him.

She was glad of the opportunity to get up and bestir herself, although she was conscious at the same time that his eyes followed most of her movements. But as she set out the cups on the little tray and put the teapot to warm on the tiled hearth, she became less nervous, not quite so full of that strange confusion that had attacked her when he stood so near to her. She talked quickly, and somewhat irrelevantly, while she brewed the tea, and he answered
her in an absentminded fashion that gave no clue to what he was actually thinking.

“
Thank you.
”
He accepted his cup from her hands, and put it beside him on the small table she arranged conveniently close to his elbow. She lifted the lid of a cigarette box and offered it to him, but he shook his head, the tiniest of smiles replacing the twinkle in his eyes.
“
I prefer my own, if it won
’
t offend you? They
’
re specially blended for me—a mixture of Turkish and Virginian tobaccos. Try one yourself.
”

His gold case was produced and held out in front of her, and when she had selected a cigarette he lit it for her, and then lighted his own. While the flame of his lighter was held close to her face his sleek head seemed to come very near to her own, and for an instant, before the little blue, dancing spurt of flame was extinguished, her eyelashes swept upward, and her eyes looked into his. It was a moment that did something queer to her heartbeat, but it subsided when he lay back in his chair again.

He let out a little sigh.

“
When
I
came upstairs a few moments ago, I was feeling
...
well,
I
don
’
t know how to express to you how I was feeling! But there was nothing pleasant about it.
I
was sunk somewhere between dejection and complete despondency.
I
wasn
’
t even very hopeful, although I have been given to understand that there is a certain amount of hope for Miranda. But here in this room—although
I
haven
’
t yet tasted your tea—
”
flashing almost a
warm smile at her
“
—I already feel different.
”

“
I
’
m glad,
”
Lucy said simply. And she added,
“
I thought, somehow, you were not very happy about— things.
”

“
No,
”
he agreed,
“
I
was not,
”
and he stared at the glowing false coals of the electric fire.

“
And yet you say Dr. Wern held out hope?
”

“
Oh, yes. Oh, yes, he did. He says there
’
s a fifty-fifty chance.
”

“
But—
”
Lucy was immediately perturbed
“
—I rather gathered from Miranda—in fact, I
’
m quite sure Dr. Wern himself assured her that he could cure her altogether and she would walk again! She
’
s got no doubt about it in her own mind.
”

“
Isn
’
t that perhaps as well?
”

He looked at her with the tired look back in his
gray eyes.

“
You mean that
...
Oh, no!
”
Lucy exclaimed, and clasped her hands together automatically over her slender breasts.
“
Not—not one thing or the other? Either she
’
ll walk again, or....
”

Sir John nodded his head very slowly, and ground out the stub of his cigarette in the ashtray she had provided for the purpose.

“
That
’
s what I do mean—that
’
s what Rupprecht Wern means! After all, no man can achieve the impossible, and we know that specialists she had seen in this country have all pronounced their verdict that there is little hope of Miranda
’
s ever walking again. You know how it is with these spinal injuries. You
’
ve probably had to witness this sort of thing before.
”

“
Yes, but Miranda is so young!
”

He shrugged slightly.

“
Young or not, she is not in a condition to make an operation of this sort—the sort of operation Wern will perform on her if she goes to Vienna—a certain success. But for certain complications he could guarantee success
,
but as it is—the most he can guarantee is that it will either go one way or the other with her!
If h
er strength holds out, she will walk again—if not
....”

Lucy again felt cold inside, as she had felt on the afternoon of the day Dr. Wern arrived to make his examination of Miranda, and she had gone in to sit with the invalid while her father talked to the doctor in this very room—this brightly lighted, cozy and intimate small room!

She looked around it with vague eyes, and then she lifted her cup of tea to her lips with shaking hands. She gulped at it hastily, and then spilled a considerable amount of it into her saucer.

Sir John watched her with grave eyes, and then bent forward to take the cup away from her and replace it on the tray. He even offered her his handkerchief to wipe away a few drops of tea that had rolled onto her dress.

“
You
’
re very much attached to Miranda, aren
’
t you?
”
he asked, as she rubbed, without quite realizing what she was doing, at the skirt of her dress.

She nodded, but she did not trust herself to speak.
“
Then, in that case, you must see that Wern did the right thing when he told her that he could make her walk again? He
can
—if the ordeal she had already faced up to hasn
’
t made it impossible for her to stand up to very much more! But if, on the other hand, things don
’
t
...
don
’
t go as we hope they will
...
then she will never know! So, therefore, the wise thing plainly was to let her believe that she will come through this thing with flying colors, and, happy in that belief, at least she will not dread what is ahead of her!
”

“
Yes,
”
Lucy whispered,
“
I see that. And at the moment she is quite confident.
”

“
Which is a state of mind Wern wishes to encourage.
”

“
And you have quite decided to allow him to operate?
”

“
I think so—yes, yes, I have!
”

He lay back in his chair again, and once more he started at the fire. There was something quiet and reflective in the expression on his face.

“
I
expect,
”
he said, almost musingly,
“
that you
’
ve sometimes thought that I don
’
t concern myself very much about Miranda?
”

Lucy stared at him, unable to think of the best way in which to reply to such a question.

“
You may even have decided—as I
’
m sure you did several weeks ago—that
I
neglect her?
”

“
Oh, no!
”
Lucy said quickly, because his eyes seemed to be accusing her.
“
Not
...
not that! Not really that!
”

“
Then what?
”
he said swiftly.
“
What kind of thoughts have you had about me?
”

Lucy had been maltreating his handkerchief between her restless fingers, and now she gazed down at it where it lay in her lap, a ball of crumpled white linen stained by the tea she had spilt. She picked it up and endeavored to smooth out the creases.

“
I
thought that perhaps you
...
you were not very fond of children! After all, some people are not—it isn
’
t entirely
u
nnatural
.... B
ut, even so
,
I
’
m quite sure you
’
ve always

done everything possible for Miranda, from her earliest years.
”
She looked up at him quickly, and then away again, for he was lying back watching her, and there was a kind of intrigued cynicism in his eyes now.
“
You
’
ve surrounded her with everything she needed, and you could hardly do more—
”