"You are doing her more harm than good.
You had better go away and write to her daily from London."
"But why--but why?" I clamoured. "Can't you give me any reason?"
The nurse glanced at me with a touch of feminine scorn.
"The bandages will soon be removed."
"Well?" said I.
"The sight of one eye may be gone."
"I know," said I. "She is reconciled to it. She has the courage and
resignation of a saint."
"She has also the very common and natural fears of a woman."
"For Heaven's sake," I cried, "tell me plainly what you mean."
"We don't quite know what disfigurement will result," said the nurse
bluntly. "It is certain to be very great, and the dread of your seeing
her is making her ill and retarding her recovery. So if you have any
regard for her, pack up your things and go away."
"But," I remonstrated, "I'm bound to see her sooner or later."
The nurse lost patience. "Ach! Can't you get it into your head that it
is essential it should be later, when she is strong enough to stand the
strain and has realised the worst and made her little preparations?"
I accepted the rebuke meekly.
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