Everyman's Land

								

never let us guess we were living on you. As I sat and listened to Brian
talk of our future, my very bones seemed to melt. The only thing I've
been trained to do well is to nurse. I wasn't a bad nurse when the war
began. I'm an excellent nurse now. But it's Brian's nurse I must be. I
saw that, in the first hour after the news was broken, and our two lives
broken with it. I saw that, with me unable to earn a penny, and Brian's
occupation gone with his sight, we were about as helpless as a pair of
sparrows with their wings clipped.
If Brian in his secret soul had any such thoughts, perhaps he had faith
to believe that not a sparrow can fall, unless its fall is appointed by
God. Anyhow, he said never a word about ways and means, except to
mention cheerfully that he had "heaps of pay saved up," nearly thirty
pounds. Of course I answered that I was rich, too. But I didn't go into
details. I was afraid even Brian's optimism might be dashed if I did.
Padre, my worldly wealth consisted of five French bank notes of a
hundred francs each, and a few horrible little extra scraps of war-paper
and copper.
The hospital where Brian lay was near the front, in the remains of a
town the British had won back from the Germans. I called the place
Crucifix Corner: but God knows we are all at Crucifix Corner now! I
lodged in a hotel that had been half knocked down by a bomb, and patched
up for occupation. As soon as Brian was able to be moved, the doctor
wanted him to go to Paris to an American brain specialist who had lately
come over and made astonishing cures. Brian's blindness was due to
paralysis of the optic nerve; but this American--Cuyler--had performed
spine and brain operations which had restored sight in two similar
cases. There might be a hundredth chance for my brother.
Of course I said it would be possible to take Brian to Paris. I'd have
made it possible if I'd had to sell my hair to do it; and you know my
curly black mop of hair was always my pet vanity. Brian being a soldier,
he could have the operation free, if Doctor Cuyler considered it wise to
operate; but--as our man warned me--there were ninety-nine chances to
one against success: and at all events there would be a lot of expenses
in the immediate future.
I sent in my resignation to the dear Hôpital des Épidémies, explaining
my reasons: and presently Brian and I set out for Paris by easy stages.
The cap was put on the climax for me by remembering how he and I had
walked over that very ground three years before, in the sunshine of life
and summer. Brian too thought of the past, but not in bitterness. I hid
my anguish from him, but it gnawed the heart of me with the teeth of a
rat. I couldn't see what Brian had ever done to deserve such a fate as
his, and I began to feel wicked, wicked. It seemed that destiny had
built up a high prison wall in front of my brother and me, and I had a
wild impulse to kick and claw at it, though I knew I couldn't pull it