Vigil in the Night

Vigil in the Night Read Free Page B

Book: Vigil in the Night Read Free
Author: A. J. Cronin
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bitterly. “Now she would think you were trying to shield me.”
      There was silence in the little room, a sad, unhappy silence. Anne stared out of the window in tortured melancholy; Lucy bit her lip with stubborn perversity. Then with a cry of genuine contrition, Lucy threw herself into Anne’s arms.
      “Oh, I’m sorry, really I am!” she sobbed. “I don’t know how it ever happened. It was wonderful of you to take the blame. I could never have faced it, never, never. I haven’t the pluck. And they’d never have given me my certificate. I’d have been finished. But you can easily get another job, Anne. And when I pass my examination, I’ll join you. We wouldn’t have stayed here much longer in any case, would we, Anne? We wouldn’t have wasted our lives in a hole like this? But of course if you like, I’ll still own up—”
     
    CHAPTER 7
      While Lucy babbled on, almost hysterically, Anne held her close, stroked her forehead soothingly. So much did she love her sister, the sacrifice she had made became not merely necessary but inevitable. They sat together on the edge of the bed facing the window, envisaging the far horizon of their future, while lights beaded the dusk of the distant town.
      “Where shall you go?” whispered Lucy.
      Anne had already considered this contingency. She had always meant to seek her opportunity in a great city. Now the opportunity had come more swiftly, more sadly, than she had expected. “I’ll go to Manchester,” she said. “Now, don’t worry. I’ll soon get a job there. Plenty of chances. It’s not too far away from you, my dearest.”
      There was silence for a moment, then, hesitantly, Anne spoke again, her voice somber in the obscurity of the room. “There’s just one thing I want you to promise me, Lucy. If you think I’ve done something for you, then do this for me. Promise me never to be careless again. Promise me to vindicate yourself, to make up for what you’ve done. Promise me to be a good nurse.”
      “I promise,” whispered Lucy, choking back a sob.
      When Lucy had gone, Anne began to pack. Already she had made up her mind to leave the following morning at dawn. It was not that her peremptory dismissal rankled. She could not bear to face the other nurses in the common room, to hear their comments, sustain their condolences or criticism. In her present case one clear swift cut—that was the best way out.
      Yet there was one thing more she must do. At eleven o’clock, when the lights had been extinguished in the nurses’ home, she went down the stairs, stealing unobserved across the yard to a small stone building that stood detached, like a tiny chapel, close to the outer wall. It was the hospital mortuary.
      Anne entered, unafraid. And there she stood, for moments which fled swiftly, while she contemplated with graven features what the silent place now held. She thought how pitiful was the death of a little child. How doubly pitiful a needless death. Her soul throbbed within her. She prayed as she had never prayed in all her life: for her sister, for herself, for their future, that singly and together they might expiate this terrible mistake of Lucy’s. Then, strangely comforted, she retraced her steps and slipped into bed.
      At quarter to six next morning Anne’s alarm clock rang. She arose, dressed quickly, and, carrying her one suitcase, left her room. She wished no heroic farewells at this hour. As she passed her sister’s room she slipped a note underneath the door. She felt that Lucy would understand. Then she went down the deserted staircase and for the last time passed through the gates of the County Hospital.
      It was raining gently, a soft sea rain which misted her hair and clung in tiny beads to the blue fabric of her raincoat. As she took the long road to the town, she dared not look across her shoulder lest she should give way to tears.
      A quarter of a mile along the road there came an interruption to her

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