health is the first condition of life. Without it - nothing.'
'Well, I assume since they are your patients they are likely to be ailing to call you in. I confess I meet a number of healthy people about. Of course it is a prime essential; and those who have it don't appreciate it until it is lost. But this seems to have a personal implication. Hasn't it? You've told me you're not unwell yourself. There's a darkness of spirit in you, Dwight.'
They had both checked their horses at the fork in the path. Ross's Sheridan was restless and anxious to be home.
Dwight said: 'Sometime perhaps we can talk of it.'
'I have no appointment. Let us get down for a minute. Is there some way I can help?'
'No .. . ’ Dwight patted his horse's neck. 'There's no need to get down. It can be said in a few words, if you wish it. Sarah will not live.'
Ross stared at him. 'What?'
'Have you observed that the child has a slight bluish tinge to the lips? It is little noticeable but, being a surgeon as well as a father, I noticed it. She has been born with a congenital defect of the heart. A murmuration. Perhaps even a perforation - that I don't know - one cannot be sure.'
'My God,' said Ross. 'My God. My God!'
Dwight narrowed his eyes and stared at the colourless day. 'When one sees, as I do, hundreds of children brought into the world in poverty and squalor and deprivation, many of them attended by some clumsy midwife who mishandles the mother, bites the cord with her teeth and gives the child a drop of gin to keep it quiet, and they all, or almost all, in the first place, in the first months of life, whatever happens later, they almost all are perfect in every way, it is very strange to contemplate the paradox of a rich child, attended by her own father and brought up with all the care and attention of a princess, that such a child should be flawed, and flawed in a way that it is beyond the skill of man to cure.'
It was a long speech, and it came out so quickly that Ross realized his friend had had these words, or similar, in his mind night and day over the past months.
'Dwight, I don't know what to say. I suppose ... Caroline doesn't know?'
'No. I can't tell her. I have thought of every way. Of trying to break the news gently — even of writing. It's impossible. It must take its course,'
Ross caught at his reins harshly to keep Sheridan quiet. The horse shook its head and a drip of foam fell from its mouth.
Dwight said: 'You mustn't tell Demelza. Not that she would say anything, but she could not keep it out of her face.'
'Dwight, this is the worst thing that has happened to us - to us as a quartet - since Julia died. But - forgive me - my knowledge of medicine is limited to a few crude facts. Can you be so sure?'
'Yes - unhappily. At least, nothing is certain in this life, but there is hardly anything could be more certain. I have seen it a half dozen times all told - as it happens, more often when I was a student in London. The complaint is readily detectable. One puts one's car to the child's chest. The normal heart beat is a gentle thump - thump. Sarah's heart goes hush - hush.'
'Let me ride a way with you, Dwight.'
'If you wish. But not as far as Killewarren, or Caroline will wonder you don't come in. And your face at the moment would betray you.'
Ross wiped his gauntlet glove across his nose, and they moved off slowly in the direction of Jonas's Mill. Sheridan was difficult to turn away from home.
After a while Ross said: 'But she seems - bright, alert, in every way Well. Is there nothing else to show?'
'Not yet. There may not be. It is simply a question, Ross, of waiting for the first infection. Whether it comes this year or next, her heart will not have the resources to meet it.'
Chapter Seven
I
In July Drake Carne had two visitors, one regular and expected, the other irregular and unexpected. The first was his brother Sam, whom God had chosen - and Sam felt this in all humility - to help to draw lost souls nearer to
'Well, I assume since they are your patients they are likely to be ailing to call you in. I confess I meet a number of healthy people about. Of course it is a prime essential; and those who have it don't appreciate it until it is lost. But this seems to have a personal implication. Hasn't it? You've told me you're not unwell yourself. There's a darkness of spirit in you, Dwight.'
They had both checked their horses at the fork in the path. Ross's Sheridan was restless and anxious to be home.
Dwight said: 'Sometime perhaps we can talk of it.'
'I have no appointment. Let us get down for a minute. Is there some way I can help?'
'No .. . ’ Dwight patted his horse's neck. 'There's no need to get down. It can be said in a few words, if you wish it. Sarah will not live.'
Ross stared at him. 'What?'
'Have you observed that the child has a slight bluish tinge to the lips? It is little noticeable but, being a surgeon as well as a father, I noticed it. She has been born with a congenital defect of the heart. A murmuration. Perhaps even a perforation - that I don't know - one cannot be sure.'
'My God,' said Ross. 'My God. My God!'
Dwight narrowed his eyes and stared at the colourless day. 'When one sees, as I do, hundreds of children brought into the world in poverty and squalor and deprivation, many of them attended by some clumsy midwife who mishandles the mother, bites the cord with her teeth and gives the child a drop of gin to keep it quiet, and they all, or almost all, in the first place, in the first months of life, whatever happens later, they almost all are perfect in every way, it is very strange to contemplate the paradox of a rich child, attended by her own father and brought up with all the care and attention of a princess, that such a child should be flawed, and flawed in a way that it is beyond the skill of man to cure.'
It was a long speech, and it came out so quickly that Ross realized his friend had had these words, or similar, in his mind night and day over the past months.
'Dwight, I don't know what to say. I suppose ... Caroline doesn't know?'
'No. I can't tell her. I have thought of every way. Of trying to break the news gently — even of writing. It's impossible. It must take its course,'
Ross caught at his reins harshly to keep Sheridan quiet. The horse shook its head and a drip of foam fell from its mouth.
Dwight said: 'You mustn't tell Demelza. Not that she would say anything, but she could not keep it out of her face.'
'Dwight, this is the worst thing that has happened to us - to us as a quartet - since Julia died. But - forgive me - my knowledge of medicine is limited to a few crude facts. Can you be so sure?'
'Yes - unhappily. At least, nothing is certain in this life, but there is hardly anything could be more certain. I have seen it a half dozen times all told - as it happens, more often when I was a student in London. The complaint is readily detectable. One puts one's car to the child's chest. The normal heart beat is a gentle thump - thump. Sarah's heart goes hush - hush.'
'Let me ride a way with you, Dwight.'
'If you wish. But not as far as Killewarren, or Caroline will wonder you don't come in. And your face at the moment would betray you.'
Ross wiped his gauntlet glove across his nose, and they moved off slowly in the direction of Jonas's Mill. Sheridan was difficult to turn away from home.
After a while Ross said: 'But she seems - bright, alert, in every way Well. Is there nothing else to show?'
'Not yet. There may not be. It is simply a question, Ross, of waiting for the first infection. Whether it comes this year or next, her heart will not have the resources to meet it.'
Chapter Seven
I
In July Drake Carne had two visitors, one regular and expected, the other irregular and unexpected. The first was his brother Sam, whom God had chosen - and Sam felt this in all humility - to help to draw lost souls nearer to
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