Thus, for
instance, besides the doctor's curly hair, I was greatly interested in
seeing them push back the upper and lower bolt of the door of the room
adjoining mine, which Clara intended to occupy. I remember that I
could not take my eyes off that door, as if something depended on
whether it would open or not. Presently the surgeon came in who was to
look after me under Clara's supervision. He began to say something to
me, but Clara motioned him to be silent.
I am still very tired, and must leave off.
16 October.
My nerves have quieted down during that long illness. I have none of
those terrors that haunted me before. I only wish Clara would come
back as quickly as possible. It is not so much a longing for her
presence, as the selfishness of the convalescent, who feels that
nothing can replace her tender care and nursing. I know she will not
dwell close to me any longer; but her presence soothes me. Weakness
and helplessness cling to the protecting power as a child clings to
its mother. I am convinced that no other woman would have done for me
what Clara did; other women would have thought more of the proprieties
than of saving a man's life. Thinking of this, bitterness rises in my
throat, and there is one name on my lips--But those are things better
left alone, as long as I have not strength enough to think about them.
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