第80部分(第1/7 页)

passing　away；　and　so　forth。

I　had　never　taken　a　major　anaesthetic　before；　and　I　must　say　I　did　not　find　the　process　pleasant。　I　can　still　see　the　face　of　my　friend　Dr。　Lyne　Stivens；　and　the　jovial；　rubicund　countenance　of　the　late　Professor　Rose；　bending　over　me　as　through　a　mist；　both　grown　so　strangely　solemn；　and　feel　the　grip　of　my　hand　tightening　upon　that　of　the　nurse　which　afterwards　it　proved　almost　impossible　to　free。

Then　came　the　whirling　pit　and　the　blackness。　I　suppose　that　it　was　like　death；　only　I　hope　that　death　is　not　quite　so　dark！

From　this　blackness　I　awoke　in　a　state　of　utter　intoxication　to　find　the　nurses　of　the　establishment　gathered　round　me　with　sheets　of　paper　and　the　familiar；　hateful　autograph　books　in　which；　even　in　that　place　and　hour；　they　insisted　I　should　write。　Heaven　knows　what　I　set　down　therein：　I　imagine　they　must　have　been　foolish　words；　which　mayhap　one　day　will　be　brought　up　against　me。

Another　question：　Why　cannot　the　public　authorities　establish　really　suitable　nursing　homes　for　paying　patients？　This　would　be　a　great　boon　to　thousands；　and；　I　should　imagine；　self…supporting。

However；　of　one　of　these　nurses　at　any　rate；　a　widow；　I　have　grateful　recollections。　I　amused　myself；　and；　I　trust；　her；　by　reading　“Ayesha”　aloud　to　her　during　my　long　wakeful　hours　—　for　she　was　a　night　nurse。

This　book　“Ayesha；”　which　was　published　while　I　was　in　the　nursing　home；　is　a　sequel　to　“She；”　which；　in　obedience　to　my　original　plan；　I　had　deliberately　waited　for　twenty　years　to　write。　As　is　almost　always　the　case；　it　suffered　somewhat　from　this　fact；　at　any　rate　at　the　hands　of　those　critics　with　whom　it　is　an　article　of　faith　to　declare　that　no　sequel　can　be　good。　Still；　I　have　met　and　heard　from