L. T. Meade

“ Lady Shuttleworth, the more I see of the wealthy classes, the more I believe in the gospel of work for all, and also in equality for all. The plain truth of the case is this—your daughter has been kept in ignorance and idleness until her mind has been perceptibly weakened for sheer lack of healthy occupation. ”

“ I said; “it does not suit me a bit—it is the sort of case which will try my patience beyond description. Then, too, I am in want of a holiday.”
“Look here,” he said—he suddenly bent forward and gave me an emphatic warning look—“if someone does not take that girl up she will either be in a madhouse or her grave in a fortnight.”
“Is it so bad as that?” I asked.
“It is,” he replied; “the nervous system is completely unbalanced. At the same time there is no absolute disease. You are not the woman, Sister Dora, to put your hand to the plough and then turn back.” ”

“ You had no motive to work—you had no motive to rouse yourself—your mind began to feed on itself; and in order to elicit sympathy, which, after all, is essential to the human soul, you became ill with a fanciful complaint.”
“Fanciful!” she exclaimed. “Sister Dora, you do not know what you are saying. My pains, my terrible agonies fanciful!”
“Even so, my dear young lady. Had you been a poor child, you would never have had these headaches. But now,” I added hastily, changing my tone, “we have talked long enough about yourself. ”

“ I am an only child. It is very dull sometimes at home, for father does not care for society, and mother gets tired easily. But you see I like intellectual pursuits. Professor Trevelyan evidently thinks well of my powers or he would not call so often. Nurse”—she started up in bed and peered at me with two intensely bright eyes. “Nurse, I am not likely to go mad, am I?—that is what I dread so—you don't think I will, do you?” ”

“ I went downstairs to see Lady Shuttleworth.
This good lady had never forgiven me for taking complete control of her daughter. Even the fact that Miss Shuttleworth was now on a fair road to recovery by no means reconciled the mother to being put, as she expressed it, out of her rightful place.
“Well, Sister Dora,” she said in a somewhat stiff voice as I appeared, “I see by your face that you have good news. How is the patient this morning?”
“You have already seen Dr. Rigby,” I answered; “he has given you a good report, has he not?” ”

“ The case is yours, not mine. I shall call at the house daily while I am in town simply for the sake of keeping up appearances, but I shall not pretend to dictate to you. In all London you are the only woman I know who can save that girl.”
I was silent again, thinking deeply.
“If what you have just said is correct,” I remarked after a pause, “does it not contradict some other words of yours? You maintain that Miss Shuttleworth is quite well except that she has highly strung nerves. Why do you speak of the possibility of her being dead in a fortnight?” ”

“ The year is over, and Lucy is again a healthy woman. I do not believe she will ever lapse back into the miserable condition in which I found her, but at the same time her nerves have been severely strained, and will never be strong. One of the wretched victims of an enervated civilization, she will carry to her dying day the result of her false bringing up, in many an hour of hidden suffering. But I have, at least, taught her self-restraint.
[THE END.] ”

“ I said. “Sister Dora—Dr. Rigby sent me.”
“Come in, please,” said the man, “and I will send word to Lady Shuttleworth.”
I was shown into a small room at one side of the hall. The footman softly closed the door behind me. After a very short delay a small, tired-looking woman came hurriedly in.
“I am Lady Shuttleworth—how do you do, nurse?” she said, coming up to me and speaking with much excitement. “I am very glad to see you. I hope you can do something to ease my daughter's sufferings. She is in terrible, almost intolerable agony. It is a fearful sight to see her.” ”

“ I continued; “this case is not to my taste. I like to battle with a tangible, not an intangible foe. Nevertheless, at Dr. Rigby's express request, I will nurse your daughter provided you allow me to do it in my own way.”
“You are somewhat peremptory, are you not, Sister?” said the great lady, surveying me with a critical and anxious glance from top to toe, “and were it not for—but there, Lucy has taken a fancy to you”—she broke off and gave me another keen glance. “But for that fact—” she continued, “of course you understand that there are plenty of other nurses in London.” ”

“ Lady Shuttleworth, you must listen to some plain speaking. You are the last person to be in your daughter's room. If I am to undertake her case you must promise to have little or nothing to do with her. You can come to see her once or twice a day in my presence, but you are never to be with her except when I am there. A nurse whom I know will assist me with the night part of the case—I shall be in the dressing-room near, but must have sleep in order to enable me to undertake the day duties. ”

“ From that moment I began my treatment, which was simple enough. In the first place, I insisted on keeping all relatives out of the room except when I was present. I further insisted on my patient taking a sufficient quantity of good and nourishing food. I immediately debarred all stimulants with the exception of strong beef-tea and Brand's Essence. When the patient cried and groaned I never took the least notice, but when she bore her headaches—and undoubtedly the headaches were real—with quietness and patience, I invariably praised her. ”

“ I took her into the dressing-room, which I made bright and cheerful with flowers. I read aloud to her books on Natural History, which I found she had a certain taste for. I eschewed all novels, and tried as far as possible to get her mind into a healthy working state. At the end of ten days her strength had wonderfully improved, her headaches were much less, the cries and groans had disappeared, and she slept soundly at night.
“You are working miracles in me, Sister Dora,” she said; “you are curing my illness.”
“You are much better,” I answered ”

“ One day at an At Home in our own etage, Professor Trevelyan made his way to my side. Lucy was standing near me; he held out his hand and took one of hers, then he looked at her earnestly.
“'I am a very happy man this morning,' he said; 'a lady has arrived unexpectedly—an old, a great friend. I have taken the liberty of bringing her here, Lady Shuttleworth, for I should like to introduce her to you.'
“'And who is she?' I asked.
“'She is a Miss Mortimer—an English lady who has lived for several years in Germany. We have been engaged to be married for a long time ”

“ You know, perhaps, that I am nineteen, but I have never been very strong or able to stand continuous effort of my brain. I was induced to go in for a literature course; several other grown-up girls took it up, and there was an examination, a rather stiff one, at the end—I passed it, yes, I passed it well—it was immediately afterwards that I broke down. ”