‘Yes, I
would. She’d like it.’
When Nurse Blaber came back after the parting at Templecombe her nose
and her eyelids were red, but, for all that, her face reflected a great
light even while she sniffed over The Cloister and the
Hearth.
Miss Henschil, deep in a house furnisher’s catalogue, did not speak for
twenty minutes. Then she said, between adding totals of best, guest, and
servants’ sheets, ‘But why should our times have been the same,
Nursey?’
‘Because a child is born somewhere every second of the clock,’ Nurse
Blaber answered. ‘And besides that, you probably set each other off by
talking and thinking about it. You shouldn’t, you know.’
‘Ay, but you’ve never been in Hell,’ said Miss Henschil.
The telegram handed in at Hereford at 12.46 and delivered to Miss
Henschil on the beach of a certain village at 2.7 ran thus:
‘“Absolutely confirmed. She says she remembers hearing noise of
accident in engine-room returning from India eighty-five.”’
‘He means the year, not the thermometer,’ said Nurse Blaber, throwing
pebbles at the cold sea.
‘“And two men scalded thus explaining my hoots.” (The idea of
telling me that!) “Subsequently silly clergyman passenger ran up
behind her calling for joke, ‘Friend, all is lost,’ thus accounting very
words.”’
Nurse Blaber purred audibly.
‘“She says only remembers being upset minute or two. Unspeakable
relief. Best love Nursey, who is jewel. Get out of her what she would like
best.” Oh, I oughtn’t to have read that,’ said Miss Henschil.
‘It doesn’t matter. I don’t want anything,’ said Nurse Blaber, ‘and if
I did I shouldn’t get it.’
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Rudyard Kipling
A Diversity of Creatures
‘Helen all Alone’
There was darkness under Heaven
For an hour’s space—
Darkness that we knew was given
Us for special grace.
Sun and moon and stars were hid,
God had left His Throne,
When Helen came to me, she did,
Helen all alone!
Side by side (because our fate
Damned us ere our birth)
We stole out of Limbo Gate
Looking for the Earth.
Hand in pulling hand amid
Fear no dreams have known,
Helen ran with me, she did,
Helen all alone!
When the Horror passing speech
Hunted us along,
Each laid hold on each, and each
Found the other strong.
In the teeth of things forbid
And Reason overthrown,
Helen stood by me, she did,
Helen all alone!
When, at last, we heard the Fires
Dull and die away,
When, at last, our linked desires
Dragged us up to day,
When, at last, our souls were rid
Of what that Night had shown,
Helen passed from me, she did,
Helen all alone!
Let her go and find a mate,
As I will find a bride,
Knowing naught of Limbo Gate
Or Who are penned inside.
There is knowledge God forbid
More than one should own.
So Helen went from me, she did,
Oh my soul, be glad she did!
Helen all alone!
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Rudyard Kipling
A Diversity of Creatures
The Honours of War
(1911)
A hooded motor had followed mine from the Guildford Road up the drive
to The Infant’s ancestral hall, and had turned off to the stables.
‘We’re having a quiet evening together. Stalky’s upstairs changing.
Dinner’s at 7.15 sharp, because we’re hungry. His room’s next to yours,’
said The Infant, nursing a cobwebbed bottle of Burgundy.
Then I found Lieutenant–Colonel A.L. Corkran, I.A., who borrowed a
collar-stud and told me about the East and his Sikh regiment.
‘And are your subalterns as good as ever?’ I asked.
‘Amazin’—simply amazin’! All I’ve got to do is to find ’em jobs. They
keep touchin’ their caps to me and askin’ for more work. ‘Come at me with
their tongues hangin’ out. I used to run the other way at their
age.’
‘And when they err?’ said I. ‘I suppose they do sometimes?’
‘Then they run to me again to weep with remorse over their virgin
peccadilloes. I never cuddled my Colonel when I was in trouble.
Lambs—positive lambs!’
‘And what do you say to ’em?’
‘Talk to ’em like a papa. Tell ’em how I can’t understand it, an’ how
shocked I am, and how grieved their parents’ll be; and throw in a little
about the Army Regulations and the Ten Commandments. ‘Makes one feel
rather a sweep when one thinks of what one used to do at their age. D’you
remember—’
We remembered together till close on seven o’clock. As we went out into
the gallery that runs round the big hall, we saw The Infant, below,
talking to two deferential well-set-up lads whom I had known, on and off,
in the holidays, any time for the last ten years. One of them had a
bruised cheek, and the other a weeping left eye.
‘Yes, that’s the style,’ said Stalky below his breath. ‘They’re brought
up on lemon-squash and mobilisation text-books. I say, the girls we knew
must have been much better than they pretended they were; for I’ll swear
it isn’t the fathers.’
‘But why on earth did you do it?’ The Infant was shouting. ‘You know
what it means nowadays.’
‘Well, sir,’ said Bobby Trivett, the taller of the two, ‘Wontner talks
too much, for one thing. He didn’t join till he was twenty-three, and,
besides that, he used to lecture on tactics in the ante-room. He said
Clausewitz was the only tactician, and he illustrated his theories with
cigar-ends. He was that sort of chap, sir.’
‘And he didn’t much care whose cigar-ends they were,’ said Eames, who
was shorter and pinker.
‘And then he would talk about the ‘Varsity,’ said Bobby. ‘He
got a degree there.
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