A Little Protestant in Rome by Eglanton Thorne

A Surrender.

JOHN BERNARD entered the room where his wife lay, having at last consented to take a little repose. She was on the couch by the window. There was bright sunshine outside; but the venetians were closed, making a pleasant twilight in the room. She still wore the handsome silken gown in which she had dined and gone forth to view the Coliseum by moonlight. She had lain down, intending only to rest for half an hour; but sleep had stolen upon her, and she had been sleeping for more than two hours. She was still pale, and there were dark circles beneath her eyes; but her look was peaceful, and her husband felt as he gazed down on her that she had lost none of her beauty or her charm. Thankful to find her sleeping, he was about to steal away when she opened her eyes. For a moment they met his in bewilderment; then her colour rose and she sat up.

"Paul," she said quickly, "how is he?"

"He is going on all right," said her husband cheerfully. "A rash has appeared which leaves the doctor no longer any doubt as to his malady. It is scarlet fever."

She shuddered. "Scarlet fever! That is terrible."

"It might be worse, dearest. I think the doctor is relieved to find that it is scarlet fever. There is every reason to hope that the disease will follow a normal course, and the child make a good recovery."

"God grant it! " murmured Mrs. Bernard, as she rose and hastily crossed the room.

Her husband laid his hand on her arm as she was about to open the door. "Stay a moment, Clarice. I have something to say to you."

She looked up at him inquiringly, her hand still on the door.

"Janet is with him now, you know," said Mr. Bernard. "She says she has had the fever, and has not the least fear of infection."

"Nor have I," said Mrs. Bernard quickly. "If that is all-" and she turned the handle.

"It is not all," said her husband. "Of course, I knew you would be fearless; but, dear, I want you to think of our boy's best interests. The doctor and I have agreed that it would be most unwise to suffer you to run any risk of infection."

Mrs. Bernard turned on him with a flash of defiance in her eyes.

"What do you mean? " she asked. "You cannot suppose that I am not going to nurse Paul myself. It is my right as his mother."

"Then, dearest, I will ask you to forego that right for his sake and mine," said Mr. Bernard; "Paul cannot afford to lose his mother, nor can I afford to lose my wife."

Clarice Bernard stood motionless. The word wife thrilled her with the memory of their recent reconciliation, and the joy which had come in the midst of sorrow and dread. Were their wills clashing already?

"I do not see why you need imagine such a thing," she said; "I am not at all likely to take the fever."

"We cannot tell that," said Mr. Bernard, "and I do not think you ought to run the risk. Janet is perfectly able to nurse him, and I shall be at hand to help her."

"If I ought not to run the risk, you ought not," she said.

"It is not an equal risk for me," he said; "I am older, and I shall take every precaution. There is less fear for me, indeed."