Not a thing did she let slip.
"Your father's pit things will want well airing, Annie," she said,when the men were going back to work.
"Don't you bother about that, my dear," said Annie.
One night Annie and Paul were alone. Nurse was upstairs.
"She'll live over Christmas," said Annie. They were both fullof horror. "She won't," he replied grimly. "I s'll give her morphia."
"Which?" said Annie.
"All that came from Sheffield," said Paul.
"Ay--do!" said Annie.
The next day he was painting in the bedroom. She seemedto be asleep. He stepped softly backwards and forwards at hispainting. Suddenly her small voice wailed:
"Don't walk about, Paul."
He looked round. Her eyes, like dark bubbles in her face,were looking at him.
"No, my dear," he said gently. Another fibre seemed to snapin his heart.
That evening he got all the morphia pills there were, and tookthem downstairs. Carefully he crushed them to powder.
"What are you doing?" said Annie.
"I s'll put 'em in her night milk."
Then they both laughed together like two conspiring children. On top of all their horror flicked this little sanity.
Nurse did not come that night to settle Mrs. Morel down. Paul went up with the hot milk in a feeding-cup. It was nineo'clock.
She was reared up in bed, and he put the feeding-cup between herlips that he would have died to save from any hurt. She took a sip,then put the spout of the cup away and looked at him with her dark,wondering eyes. He looked at her.
"Oh, it IS bitter, Paul!" she said, making a little grimace.
"It's a new sleeping draught the doctor gave me for you," he said. "He thought it would leave you in such a state in the morning."
"And I hope it won't," she said, like a child.
She drank some more of the milk.
"But it IS horrid!" she said.
He saw her frail fingers over the cup, her lips makinga little move.
"I know--I tasted it," he said. "But I'll give you some cleanmilk afterwards."
"I think so," she said, and she went on with the draught. She was obedient to him like a child. He wondered if she knew. He saw her poor wasted throat moving as she drank with difficulty. Then he ran downstairs for more milk. There were no grains in the bottomof the cup.
"Has she had it?" whispered Annie.
"Yes--and she said it was bitter."
"Oh!" laughed Annie, putting her under lip between her teeth.
"And I told her it was a new draught. Where's that milk?"
They both went upstairs.
"I wonder why nurse didn't come to settle me down?"complained the mother, like a child, wistfully.
"She said she was going to a concert, my love," replied Annie.
"Did she?"
They were silent a minute. Mrs. Morel gulped the littleclean milk.
"Annie, that draught WAS horrid!" she said plaintively.
"Was it, my love? Well, never mind."
The mother sighed again with weariness. Her pulse wasvery irregular.
"Let US settle you down," said Annie. "Perhaps nurse willbe so late."
"Ay," said the mother--"try."
They turned the clothes back. Paul saw his mother LIke a girlcurled up in her flannel nightdress. Quickly they made one halfof the bed, moved her, made the other, straightened her nightgownover her small feet, and covered her up.
"There," said Paul, stroking her softly. "There!--now you'll sleep."
"Yes," she said. "I didn't think you could do the bed so nicely,"she added, almost gaily. Then she curled up, with her cheekon her hand, her head snugged between her shoulders. Paul putthe long thin plait of grey hair over her shoulder and kissed her.
"You'll sleep, my love," he said.
"Yes," she answered trustfully. "Good-night."
They put out the light, and it was still.
Morel was in bed. Nurse did not come. Annie and Paul cameto look at her at about eleven. She seemed to be sleeping as usualafter her draught. Her mouth had come a bit open.
"Shall we sit up?" said Paul.
"I s'll lie with her as I always do," said Annie. "She mightwake up."
"All right. And call me if you see any difference."
"Yes."
They lingered before the bedroom fire, feeling the night bigand black and snowy outside, their two selves alone in the world. At last he went into the next room and went to bed.
He slept almost immediately, but kept waking every now and again. Then he went sound asleep. He started awake at Annie's whispered,"Paul, Paul!" He saw his sister in her white nightdress, with herlong plait of hair down her back, standing in the darkness.
"Yes?" he whispered, sitting up.
"Come and look at her."
He slipped out of bed. A bud of gas was burning in thesick chamber. His mother lay with her cheek on her hand, curled upas she had gone to sleep. But her mouth had fallen open, and shebreathed with great, hoarse breaths, like snoring, and there were long intervals between.
"She's going!" he whispered.
"Yes," said Annie.
"How long has she been like it?"
"I only just woke up."
Annie huddled into the dressing-gown, Paul wrapped himselfin a brown blanket. It was three o'clock. He mended the fire. Then the two sat waiting. The great, snoring breath was taken--heldawhile--then given back. There was a space--a long space. Then they started. The great, snoring breath was taken again. He bent close down and looked at her.
"Isn't it awful!" whispered Annie.
He nodded. They sat down again helplessly. Again came the great,snoring breath. Again they hung suspended. Again it was given back,long and harsh. The sound, so irregular, at such wide intervals,sounded through the house. Morel, in his room, slept on. Paul and Annie sat crouched, huddled, motionless. The great snoringsound began again--there was a painful pause while the breath washeld--back came the rasping breath. Minute after minute passed. Paul looked at her again, bending low over her.
"She may last like this," he said.
They were both silent. He looked out of the window, and couldfaintly discern the snow on the garden.
"You go to my bed," he said to Annie. "I'll sit up."
"No," she said, "I'll stop with you."
"I'd rather you didn't," he said.
At last Annie crept out of the room, and he was alone. He hugged himself in his brown blanket, crouched in front ofhis mother, watching. She looked dreadful, with the bottom jawfallen back. He watched. Sometimes he thought the great breathwould never begin again. He could not bear it--the waiting. Then suddenly, startling him, came the great harsh sound. He mended the fire again, noiselessly. She must not be disturbed. The minutes went by. The night was going, breath by breath. Each time the sound came he felt it wring him, till at last he couldnot feel so much.
His father got up. Paul heard the miner drawing hisstockings on, yawning. Then Morel, in shirt and stockings, entered.
"Hush!" said Paul.
Morel stood watching. Then he looked at his son, helplessly,and in horror.
"Had I better stop a-whoam?" he whispered.
"No. Go to work. She'll last through to-morrow."
"I don't think so."
"Yes. Go to work."
The miner looked at her again, in fear, and went obedientlyout of the room. Paul saw the tape of his garters swinging againsthis legs.
After another half-hour Paul went downstairs and drank a cupof tea, then returned. Morel, dressed for the pit, came upstairs again.
"Am I to go?" he said.
"Yes."
And in a few minutes Paul heard his father's heavy steps gothudding over the deadening snow. Miners called in the streetsas they tramped in gangs to work. The terrible, long-drawn breathscontinued--heave--heave--heave; then a long pause--then--ah-h-h-h-h!as it came back. Far away over the snow sounded the hootersof the ironworks. One after another they crowed and boomed,some small and far away, some near, the blowers of the collieriesand the other works. Then there was silence. He mended the fire. The great breaths broke the silence--she looked just the same. He put back the blind and peered out. Still it was dark. Perhaps there was a lighter tinge. Perhaps the snow was bluer. He drew up the blind and got dressed. Then, shuddering, he drankbrandy from the bottle on the wash-stand. The snow WAS growing blue. He heard a cart clanking down the street. Yes, it was seven o'clock,and it was coming a little bit light. He heard some people calling. The world was waking. A grey, deathly dawn crept over the snow. Yes, he could see the houses. He put out the gas. It seemedvery dark. The breathing came still, but he was almost used to it. He could see her. She was just the same. He wondered if he piledheavy clothes on top of her it would stop. He looked at her. That was not her--not her a bit. If he piled the blanket and heavy coatson her---
Suddenly the door opened, and Annie entered. She lookedat him questioningly.
"Just the same," he said calmly.
They whispered together a minute, then he went downstairsto get breakfast. It was twenty to eight. Soon Annie came down.
"Isn't it awful! Doesn't she look awful!" she whispered,dazed with horror.
He nodded.
"If she looks like that!" said Annie.
"Drink some tea," he said.
They went upstairs again. Soon the neighbours came with theirfrightened question:
"How is she?"
It went on just the same. She lay with her cheek in her hand,her mouth fallen open, and the great, ghastly snores came and went.
At ten o'clock nurse came. She looked strange and woebegone.
"Nurse," cried Paul, "she'll last like this for days?"
"She can't, Mr. Morel," said nurse. "She can't."
There was a silence.
"Isn't it dreadful!" wailed the nurse. "Who would have thoughtshe could stand it? Go down now, Mr. Morel, go down."
At last, at about eleven o'clock, he went downstairsand sat in the neighbour's house. Annie was downstairs also. Nurse and Arthur were upstairs. Paul sat with his head in his hand. Suddenly Annie came flying across the yard crying, half mad:
"Paul--Paul--she's gone!"
In a second he was back in his own house and upstairs. She lay curled up and still, with her face on her hand, and nursewas wiping her mouth. They all stood back. He kneeled down,and put his face to hers and his arms round her:
"My love--my love--oh, my love!" he whispered again and again. "My love--oh, my love!"
Then he heard the nurse behind him, crying, saying:
"She's better, Mr. Morel, she's better."
When he took his face up from his warm, dead mother he wentstraight downstairs and began blacking his boots.
There was a good deal to do, letters to write, and so on. The doctor came and glanced at her, and sighed.
"Ay--poor thing!" he said, then turned away. "Well, callat the surgery about six for the certificate."
The father came home from work at about four o'clock. Hedragged silently into the house and sat down. Minnie bustled togive him his dinner. Tired, he laid his black arms on the table. There were swede turnips for his dinner, which he liked. Paul wondered if he knew. It was some time, and nobody had spoken. At last the son said:
"You noticed the blinds were down?"
Morel looked up.
"No," he said. "Why--has she gone?"
"Yes."
"When wor that?"
"About twelve this morning."
"H'm!"
The miner sat still for a moment, then began his dinner. It was as if nothing had happened. He ate his turnips in silence. Afterwards he washed and went upstairs to dress. The door of her roomwas shut.
"Have you seen her?" Annie asked of him when he came down.
"No," he said.
In a little while he went out. Annie went away, and Paulcalled on the undertaker, the clergyman, the doctor, the registrar. It was a long business. He got back at nearly eight o'clock. Theundertaker was coming soon to measure for the coffin. The housewas empty except for her. He took a candle and went upstairs.
The room was cold, that had been warm for so long. Flowers,bottles, plates, all sick-room litter was taken away; everything washarsh and austere. She lay raised on the bed, the sweep of the sheetfrom the raised feet was like a clean curve of snow, so silent. She lay like a maiden asleep. With his candle in his hand, he bentover her. She lay like a girl asleep and dreaming of her love. The mouth was a little open as if wondering from the suffering,but her face was young, her brow clear and white as if life hadnever touched it. He looked again at the eyebrows, at the small,winsome nose a bit on one side. She was young again. Only the hairas it arched so beautifully from her temples was mixed with silver,and the two simple plaits that lay on her shoulders were filigreeof silver and brown. She would wake up. She would lift her eyelids. She was with him still. He bent and kissed her passionately.But there was coldness against his mouth. He bit hislips with horror. Looking at her, he felt he could never, never lether go. No! He stroked the hair from her temples. That, too,was cold. He saw the mouth so dumb and wondering at the hurt. Then he crouched on the floor, whispering to her:
"Mother, mother!"
He was still with her when the undertakers came, young menwho had been to school with him. They touched her reverently,and in a quiet, businesslike fashion. They did not look at her. He watched jealously. He and Annie guarded her fiercely. They would not let anybody come to see her, and the neighbourswere offended.
After a while Paul went out of the house, and played cardsat a friend's. It was midnight when he got back. His father rosefrom the couch as he entered, saying in a plaintive way:
"I thought tha wor niver comin', lad."
"I didn't think you'd sit up," said Paul.
