Daughter of England

Chapter 7. When All is Dark.

Have courage for the great sorrows of life and patience for the small ones; and when you have laboriously accomplished your daily task, go to sleep in peace. -- Victor Hugo

Chapter 7.

When All is Dark.

June 1855

The summer heat had settled on the barracks hospital and the patients and staff dealt with it as best they could. One day Dr. Morris was making his rounds through the wards and as usual, Carol was with him. They passed by the Eric's bed as they walked down the corridors. He was sitting quietly, staring into the blackness that was now his world as had been his habit for the past month. Carol cast a glance at him before turning to Dr. Morris.

"How do you think he is doing?" She asked him.

"He?" Dr. Morris lifted an eyebrow. "My dear Miss Winther, there are over two thousand men in this hospital. I'm afraid you are going to have to be a little more specific if you want me to know which 'he' you are talking about."

It was all Carol could do to keep from rolling her eyes. "Major Carrywith of course."

"Well, I'd say he's doing extremely well. His wounds are healing, his general condition is improving and so far there hasn't even been a hint of infection. But," Dr. Morris paused his walking and looked intently at Carol, "you know all this even better than I do."

Carol hid her annoyance, knowing it wouldn't get her anywhere. "What I'm trying to get you to tell me is do you think there is any hope of persuading his eyes to see again?"

"Ah, Carol, it's not his eyes that need persuading, it's his brain. You see, when the major fell down something in his brain, the part that has to do with his sight, was damaged. Thus he lost him this precious ability. I have no idea how to convince his head to let those eyes see again. Such things are beyond me as a surgeon I'm afraid. I don't know for certain just what went wrong, so I don't know how to make it right again. He has been complaining of headaches, which tells me there might be some hope, but I can't tell you anything concrete."

Carol sighed and cast another glance at Eric. "Why must it all take so long?"

"Ah, poor little Carol," Dr. Morris chuckled. "This is the world of medicine, my dear. If you must learn one thing, it is patience. Wounds do not heal overnight, diseases are not cured in a day, and some things cannot be changed at all. And anyway, what is the hurry?"

"I thought I told you, Eric doesn't want to talk about anything until his sight returns. I've waited for a month and there is no obvious improvement. I just want to know what he feels for me, if he feels anything at all, but I don't have the courage to try and pull it out of him. He has enough to trouble him as it is. Oh I know everything seems to be just fine. He's calm and composed, polite and gentle and never out of spirits. But deep down this has been a very bitter blow to him. Eric is very sociable and always seeks company. It was easy for him to talk to just about anybody. He could even pull my sister Ann into a conversation and get her to express her opinion on different matters. This was a great feat, for my sister is perhaps the shyest person in the entire British Empire. And now to see him so withdrawn and distant from the world, I cannot help but worry. He keeps everyone one at a distance and I am no exception. It hurts me to see him like this, Dr. Morris, and it hurts even more to know there is nothing I can do to help."

"I've told you my opinion on the matter. If he's putting a road block, grow wings and fly over it. Is it really so hard to just walk up to him and say, 'Eric, I still love you, do you love me'?"

"Dr. Morris! I could never do something like that and you know it! My upbringing taught me to never do such blunt things."

"And did your upbringing teach you to argue with your elders?"