anything. She had that strength of mind. She never for one moment
attempted to answer the question to herself, as to whether Alvina
had betrayed herself with any of these young doctors, or not. The
question remained stated, but completely unanswered--coldly awaiting
its answer. Only when Miss Frost kissed Alvina good-bye at the
station, tears came to her eyes, and she said hurriedly, in a low
voice:
"Remember we are all praying for you, dear!"
"No, don't do that!" cried Alvina involuntarily, without knowing
what she said.
And then the train moved out, and she saw her darling standing there
on the station, the pale, well-modelled face looking out from behind
the gold-rimmed spectacles, wistfully, the strong, rather stout
figure standing very still and unchangeable, under its coat and
skirt of dark purple, the white hair glistening under the folded
dark hat. Alvina threw herself down on the seat of her carriage. She
loved her darling. She would love her through eternity. She knew she
was right--amply and beautifully right, her darling, her beloved
Miss Frost. Eternally and gloriously right.
And yet--and yet--it was a right which was fulfilled. There were
other rights. There was another side to the medal. Purity and
high-mindedness--the beautiful, but unbearable tyranny. The
beautiful, unbearable tyranny of Miss Frost! It was time now for
Miss Frost to die. It was time for that perfected flower to be
gathered to immortality. A lovely _immortel_. But an obstruction to
other, purple and carmine blossoms which were in bud on the stem. A
lovely edelweiss--but time it was gathered into eternity.
Black-purple and red anemones were due, real Adonis blood, and
strange individual orchids, spotted and fantastic. Time for Miss
Frost to die. She, Alvina, who loved her as no one else would ever
love her, with that love which goes to the core of the universe,
knew that it was time for her darling to be folded, oh, so gently
and softly, into immortality. Mortality was busy with the day after
her day. It was time for Miss Frost to die. As Alvina sat motionless
in the train, running from Woodhouse to Tibshelf, it decided itself
in her.
She was glad to be back in Islington, among all the horrors of her
confinement cases. The doctors she knew hailed her. On the whole,
these young men had not any too deep respect for the nurses as a
whole. Why drag in respect? Human functions were too obviously
established to make any great fuss about. And so the doctors put
their arms round Alvina's waist, because she was plump, and they
kissed her face, because the skin was soft. And she laughed and
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