The Stratagem and Other Stories

side. “What is it, Magdalen?” he cried, anxiety in every word. I closed my eyes. “Make gestures!” said I. (He was directly between me and the sun.) He obeyed, wondering. “You are——you are”——I stammered——“no! I don't know what you are doing. I am blind!” He sawed his arm up and down. Useless; I had be- come absolutely insensitive. We repeated a dozen ex- periments that night. All failed. We concealed our disappointment, and it did not cloud our love. The sympathy between us grew even subtler and stronger, but only as it grows between all men and women who love with their whole hearts, and love unselfishly. IV We returned to Cambridge in October, and Arthur threw himself vigorously into the new year's work. Then I fell ill, and the hope we had indulged was disap- pointed. Worse, the course of the illness revealed a con- dition which demanded the most complete series of op- erations which a woman can endure. Not only the past hope, but all future hope, was annihilated. It was during my convalescence that the most re- markable incident of my life took place. I was in great pain one afternoon, and wished to see the doctor. The nurse went to the study to tele- phone for him. “Nurse!” I said, as she returned, “don't lie to me. He's not gone to Royston; he's got cancer, and is too upset to come.” “Whatever next?” said the nurse. “It's right he can’t come, and I was going to tell you he had gone to Roys- ton; but I never heard nothing about no cancer.”