“REPRIEVE.”

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVI, Issue 2113, 12 February 1908, Page 6 (Supplement)

“REPRIEVE.”

(By Erie Cox, in the “Lone

At first it apppard to mo nothing more than a nuisance that, alter reading a few hours, iny eyes became dim, and the print blurred disagreeably. But, as time went on, l found myself lacing the necessity of spectacles ,

One evening, having nothing hotter to do, I strolled across to see my old school-mate. Jack Burton, who had raised himself to the dignity of wearing several letters after his name, and a brass-plate on his front, gate. Burton greeted me with jeers when 1 told him .1 was a patient, thinking 1 was having a mild joke at his expense.

"Eyes,” he said, when 1 told him the trouble. "Liver perhaps. Let’s have a look.”

Ho made me read the alphabet from cards, on which the letters showed in an sober order and tricky juxtaposition, and grunted in a dissatisfied manner at the result. "No, my hoy, that's not liver, that's eyes,” lie said from behind my chair. Subsequently l stared blankly into a. glare infernal he produced from a lube. And it was a moment after, while .1 was still blinking from the light, that I caught a glimpse of* his face. If ever a man knew fear, I knew it then. There was no need for him to speak, i read the sentence as though he had shouted if at mo. Ho swung quickly to a sideboard, and I heard the clin'k of glasses. Then without speaking, he handed me a nip of brandy, almost neat, and of appalling dimensions. 1 swallowed it without a word, and Jack stood twirling his watch-chain .in his fingers, and staring at the pattern on tho carpet. “Well?” It was a struggle to drag even the one word from my lips. “Old man,” he said slowly, "it’s bad—bad as can be.” "How long, Jack? Don’t hide anything!” “Perhaps six months. Certainly not more.” “Totally?” "Absolutely I” It seemed a strange voice—unlike mine—when I asked was there any hope. “No, old fellow. ThercLare some things we can do, but there are limits, and tins is one of them. I can’t fool yon over a case like this. Go and see Maekinnon to-morrow He’s the best man; but don’t hope. Where’s your wife?”

“Holiday!” “Glad to hear it. You must tell her; it’s no use keeping it back. I’ll see you home, I think.” All through the night I lay still in the darkness 1 , trying to realise what it meant. Only 30—and perhaps 40 more years to live in that horrible shadow. Had I been alone it might not matter, but then there was Marion and the boy. Towards midnight I switched on my light, and opened a drawer in the dressing-table, and, taking from it a small .polished box, made my way to the garden, and after infinite trouble raised the stone that covered an underground tank, and dropped the box in. I know it was not welf to let my mind dwell on tile .44 revolver it held. . That were bettor out of reach for a while at least.

At half-past- ten next morning I was in Dr. Mackinnon’s waiting-room, and after a dreary hour's wait, a trim nurse ushered me into liis presence. Small lie was, and neat, and alert in every movement, and his dark, keen eyes seemed to make a comprehensive survey of me at one glance. He fired a fusilade of searching questions, mostly monosyllables,. and then again came the ordeal of the night before. Then lie returned to Iris table, and commenced to speak. I remember very little- of what lie said, only that Burton was right except on one point. “You haven’t six months left. Three possibly—no more.” “Good God, Doctor! Can’t you do anything ?” ‘.‘l wish I could my dear fellow, ibut I dear it is hopeless. If .it :is any consolation, I’ll ask Martin and Carfax to meet you here this afternoon. Shall I arrange it?” “Very well.” “Ail right; come back at three.”. And ho shook me kindly by the hand as I left the room. Until the appointed hour I wandered about the streets, with just one', word ringing through my head: “Blind! blind! blind!” I knew the verdict- would be final, for the men I was to meet formed the highest court of Appeal, but there was something in Mackinnon’s voice that was sufficient. • Again the examination (conducted with infinite ’kindness) by three grave men, anti then I waited for wliat seemed like hours, listening to the murmur of their voices in the nextroom. Then I heard their curt goodbyes, and Mackinnon came back to me. I waited for him to speak, but his whole manner, as he dropped into the chair, was eloquent. “They agree with me in every detail. Three months at the outside!” I buried my face in my hands. I did not know lie had moved till I felt his hand on my shoulder. “My hoy! I can’t give you hope; but would you sacrifice those three months for a chance, however slight?” I was on my feet in a second. “A chance P’ “Don’t misunderstand me.” He spoke very slowly, as if he weighed every word. “The chance is so slight that I cannot counsel you to take it It’s not a thousand to one. But —” “Go on . go on 1 ” “There is nil operation, very unusual, that we might try, and if wo fail—and I tell you Martin and Carfax are both against it—you will be blind immediately afterwards. If we should by a miracle succeed, your sight will be -is good as any man’s.” He raised his hand to stop me as I was about to speak. '‘They will help, if you agree. But I won’t take an answer now. Go and think it over, and come back in an hour. Jf you decide for it. it must be done to-morrow. You must stay in my hospital.” It was a perfect day. and I wandered about the gardens, wrestling with the problem, it was awful to know that perhaps after 2-J hours the light would be closed for ever, by my own choice. Twenty-four hours against three months. But the chance The doctor was awaiting my return, and heard my decision with grave approval. I ‘knew well that all that skill ancl science conld do. would be done. The rest was on the knees of the gods. “Well done, man. Always remem-

tryst with Kate. A business-like nurse received me, and passed me on to another, after taking my bag. My 'seCovuldvCcpor (a jolly girl, and good friend after) piloted mo into a small r o omT"t h afcMi if ore d from a well-furnished silling-moTn -iu only a few particulars, but the high tablelike couch, with iron legs, proclaimed its real purpose, as did the fixed basins and taps on the wall. Another white-capped nurse, busy with some sponges, glanced curiously at me over her shoulder, and a dark, youngish looking man, who was manipulating what appeared to be the interior of a football at a side table, turned on our entrance.

“Tho stranger explained that lie way then) by Mackinnou’s arrangeriuont, and apologised for bis absence, saying that he aml the others would bo iu presently, and went on to say that he was aware of the nature of my ease, and congratulated me on my decision, lie closed his lingers round my wrist for a moment, and then looked lip smiling, with tho remark that I kept myself well in hand. My glance wandered to a. small iron table at the head of the couch, covered with a white cloth, one corner of which was turned back; and my eye was held by the glitter of rows of evil little knives. In spite of myself I shuddered. The nurse.caught the direction of my glance, and swept the cloth' down at a noil from tho doctor. At that moment the door openend and let in Maekinnon, followed by Martin and Carfax, and they were still laughing at some joke as they entered. I remember I thought it a curious time for jokes. They shook bands, and Maekinnon turned to the nurse near me: “Now, nurse !” As tho nurse relieved mo of coat and vest, collar and tie, Carfax and Martin were discussing the chance of some horse for tho Caulfield Cup. The nurse stooped down to unlace my boots, and .Denton said, sharply, “You don’t want his boots off.” “Oli yes! I do, Dr. Denton, llemcmber I’m at the kicking end and you are not.” The others laughed, and even Maekinuon’s face relaxed a little. “Will you please lie on the table now?” said the nurse. I would have given anything to bolt at that moment. It all seemed so cold-blooded, but there was nothing now but obedience. Everything seemed strangely quiet, but somewhere in the street I heard tho clang of a tram gong. Denton leant over me with a stethoscope pressed to my chest, listening intently. “Sound as a, bell,” he commented, briefly. Tho others were talking together in low tones as lie approached mo with a rubber contrivance in his hands.

“Now breathe deeply, and let yourself sleep. Don’t resist more than you can help.” At the moment it struck me that I had seen the last of the light as be placed a funnel-shaped mask over mouth and nose. Choking, pungent, and suffocating, the gas seized mo as I struggled for breath. There was a roaring of torrents in my ears, and blinding flashes of gold in my eyes, and then oblivion. The last thing I remember was a frantic grab at a hand that touched me, and 1 heard afterwards it took two of them to release my grip from the girl’s lingers. After thousands of years I heard voices from miles away ; and then, with n rush, the thought came: “It is over! What lias happened?” There was a sickly perfume of eau-de-cologne (how I hate it now), and I felt I was being fanned. The voices had ceased, and I realised I was in bed; but there was no light. I raised my hands to feel my face, that ached terribly across the eyes, but a gentle touch stopped me.

“Keep still; your eyes are closely bandaged.” “Nurse, did they do it?” “Dont’ talk, please. Dr. Mackinnon will be here in a moment; the others aro gone.” ■ Then, my senses grown acute, I heard the doctor enter. “Well, nurse?” “He’s conscious now, Doctor.” “Good! Well, my friend, how do you feel?” “Tell me the verdict, Doctor,” I asked. “First class. We can’t tell yet, though ; in fact, not for a week. Still as far as I can see, you have a good chance—better than I expected. But you must have patience and pluck. Don’t worry, or you’ll spoil our work. Oh, yes; she’s here. You can speak to her for five minutes, no longer. I can’t let the boy in.” I got consolation, then, of the best, and new courage for the ordeal of waiting. For seven clays and nights I lay in that outer darkness, most of the time, I fancy, drugged into semi-un-consciousness ; for I hardly think a normal nerve could have stood the strain without help. The only breaks were the brief visits from the one who had to bear lier waiting without aid. We dont’ talk much of those days now. Then on ji morning they all came together—Mackinnon, Martin, and Caifax. The Doctor sat in the chair beside me, and, taking one of my hands, spoke slowly : “Now, my dear sir, time’s up, and wo’ll know what’s wliat. You know as well as I do the risk we took, ancl you know we’ve done all that was possible. I hope'for Success, but if we’ve failed, then don’t be too disappointed. Now, I’ll just raise these bandages an inch, and show a light—the room is quite dark. If you see the light you are sale.” I don’t think 1 breathed while Ills hand winked on the cloth. 1 felt them lilt. 'There was a crackle of a match, and for one brief moment I saw three intent laces bent over me. “The light! Thank God! The light!” I cried out. I lelt my hands gripped and shaken heartily, and heard Mackinnon’s crisp comments to the others. But I cared for nothing, and found myself lying there sobbing like a baby. Do you wonder? “Steady lad, steady! I’ve sent for vour wife. She’s downstairs waiting. Full yourself together.” J.t Look an effort, but I managed it. Those men must have feelings somewhere, for they lied like schoolboys when she tried to thank them: 'Hint is four years ago now, and although the recovery was slow, it has been certain. Do you know that not one of those doctors appears to be proud of himself? And how can one thank them?