William Monk 07 - Weighed in the Balance

she turned and ran down the stairs again and blindly across the hall to the morning room, where she could be alone.
    Hester went back upstairs feeling sick.
    In the middle of the morning Robert woke up saying that his head was throbbing and his mouth was dry. Hester helped him into the nearby chair. In the hospital in Scutari, she had learned how to lift people who did not have the strength or the feeling to lift themselves, even men larger and heavier than Robert. She gave him the bowl of water so he could wash and shave himself while she changed the bed, put on clean sheets and pillow slips, plumped them up and smoothed the coverlet. She was not finished when Dagmar knocked and came in.
    Robert was composed and very grave, but he looked in command of himself. He refused his mother’s help back into bed, but, of course, he could not manage without Hester.
    “If Miss Stanhope upset you yesterday,” Dagmar began, “I shall send a polite note thanking her and asking her not to come again. It can all be managed without distressing you.”
    “She probably won’t come anyway,” Robert said miserably. “I was very rude to her.”
    “I’m sure it wasn’t your fault—” Dagmar began.
    “Yes it was! Don’t defend me as if I were a child, or an idiot, and not responsible for my actions! I’ve lost the use of my legs, not my mind!”
    Dagmar winced and her eyes filled with tears.
    “I’m sorry,” Robert said immediately. “You’d better leave me alone. I don’t seem to be able to be civil to anyone, except Miss Latterly. At least she’s paid to look after me, and I daresay she’s used to people like me, who behave wretchedly to all those we should be most grateful to.”
    “Are you saying you want me to go?” Dagmar tried to master her hurt, but it was naked in her face.
    “No, of course not. Yes, I am. I hate hurting you! I hate myself!” He turned away, refusing to look at her.
    Hester could not make up her mind whether to step in or not. Maybe this needed to run to its conclusion so all the things unsaid would not be hurting in the mind. Or maybe they were better not spoken? Then they would not have to be taken back and apologized for. And there would be no doubt afterwards whether they were forgiven or not.
    “I’ll write to Miss Stanhope,” Dagmar said hesitantly.
    Robert turned back quickly. “No! Please don’t. I’d … I’d like to write to her myself. I want to apologize. I need to.” He bit his lip. “Don’t do everything for me, Mama. Don’t take that much dignity from me. I can at least make my own apologies.”
    “Yes …” She swallowed as if there were something stuck in her throat. “Yes, of course. Will you ask her to come again, or not to?”
    “I’ll ask her to come again. She was going to read to me about Sir Galahad and the search for the Holy Grail. He found it, you know.”
    “Did he?” She forced herself to smile, though tears spilled over her cheeks. “I’ll … I’ll fetch you some paper. And I’ll bring you a tray. Will you be all right with ink in bed?”
    He smiled twistedly. “I had better learn, hadn’t I?”
    The doctor called in the afternoon, as he did almost every day. He was quite a young man and had not the professional manner which usually distances a doctor from his patients. There was no air of authority, which to some gave great comfort and to others seemed like condescension. He examined Robert and asked him questions, always addressing him directly and without any false optimism.
    Robert said very little. Hester felt certain he was trying to call up the courage to ask if he was going to walk again. He asked no other questions, and that one still seemed too enormous to grasp.
    “You are progressing very satisfactorily,” the doctor said at length, closing up his bag, still speaking to Robert, not toHester or Dagmar, who stood by. “Lying still seems to have had no adverse effect upon your circulation.”
    Dagmar made as if to speak and then changed her mind.
    “I will have a word with Nurse Latterly about your treatment,” the doctor went on. “You must keep from getting sores when you lie in one position.”
    Robert drew in his breath and let it out again in a sigh.
    “I don’t know,” the doctor said softly, answering the question his patient had not asked. “That is the truth, Mr. Ollenheim. I am not saying that if I did know I should necessarily tell you, but I should not lie, that I swear to you. It is not