Margaret's Patient

"Margaret's Patient" is a poignant short story by Lucy Maud Montgomery, originally published in 1910. The narrative centers on Margaret, a compassionate and dedicated nurse who becomes emotionally invested in her patient, a troubled young man named Edwin. As she tends to his physical and emotional wounds, the story delves into themes of love, sacrifice, and the complexities of human connection. Montgomery's signature lyrical prose and deep character exploration provide a moving portrait of healing and the power of empathy in the face of life's challenges.

• Short story

								
Margaret paused a moment at the gate and looked back at the quaint old
house under its snowy firs with a thrill of proprietary affection. It
was her home; for the first time in her life she had a real home, and
the long, weary years of poorly paid drudgery were all behind her.
Before her was a prospect of independence and many of the delights she
had always craved; in the immediate future was a trip to Vancouver
with Mrs. Boyd.

For I shall go, of course, thought Margaret, as she walked briskly
down the snowy road. I've always wanted to see the Rockies, and to go
there with Mrs. Boyd will double the pleasure. She is such a
delightful companion.

Margaret Campbell had been an orphan ever since she could remember.
She had been brought up by a distant relative of her father's--that
is, she had been given board, lodging, some schooling and indifferent
clothes for the privilege of working like a little drudge in the house
of the grim cousin who sheltered her. The death of this cousin flung
Margaret on her own resources. A friend had procured her employment as
the "companion" of a rich, eccentric old lady, infirm of health and
temper. Margaret lived with her for five years, and to the young girl
they seemed treble the time. Her employer was fault-finding, peevish,
unreasonable, and many a time Margaret's patience almost failed
her--almost, but not quite. In the end it brought her a more tangible
reward than sometimes falls to the lot of the toiler. Mrs. Constance
died, and in her will she left to Margaret her little up-country
cottage and enough money to provide her an income for the rest of her
life.

Margaret took immediate possession of her little house and, with the
aid of a capable old servant, soon found herself very comfortable. She
realized that her days of drudgery were over, and that henceforth
life would be a very different thing from what it had been. Margaret
meant to have "a good time." She had never had any pleasure and now
she was resolved to garner in all she could of the joys of existence.

"I'm not going to do a single useful thing for a year," she had told
Mrs. Boyd gaily. "Just think of it--a whole delightful year of
vacation, to go and come at will, to read, travel, dream, rest. After
that, I mean to see if I can find something to do for other folks, but
I'm going to have this one golden year. And the first thing in it is
our trip to Vancouver. I'm so glad I have the chance to go with you.
It's a wee bit short notice, but I'll be ready when you want to
start."

Altogether, Margaret felt pretty well satisfied with life as she
tripped blithely down the country road between the ranks of snow-laden
spruces, with the blue sky above and the crisp, exhilarating air all
about. There was only one drawback, but it was a pretty serious one.

It's so lonely by spells, Margaret sometimes thought wistfully. All
the joys my good fortune has brought me can't quite fill my heart.
There's always one little empty, aching spot. Oh, if I had somebody of
my very own to love and care for, a mother, a sister, even a cousin.
But there's nobody. I haven't a relative in the world, and there are
times when I'd give almost anything to have one. Well, I must try to
be satisfied with friendship, instead.

Margaret's meditations were interrupted by a brisk footstep behind
her, and presently Dr. Forbes came up.

"Good afternoon, Miss Campbell. Taking a constitutional?"

"Yes. Isn't it a lovely day? I suppose you are on your professional
rounds. How are all your patients?"

"Most of them are doing well. But I'm sorry to say I have a new one
and am very much worried about her. Do you know Freda Martin?"

"The little teacher in the Primary Department who boards with the
Wayes? Yes, I've met her once or twice. Is she ill?"

"Yes, seriously. It's typhoid, and she has been going about longer
than she should. I don't know what is to be done with her. It seems
she is like yourself in one respect, Miss Campbell; she is utterly
alone in the world. Mrs. Waye is crippled with rheumatism and can't
nurse her, and I fear it will be impossible to get a nurse in
Blythefield. She ought to be taken from the Wayes'. The house is
overrun with children, is right next door to that noisy factory, and
in other respects is a poor place for a sick girl."

"It is too bad, I am very sorry," said Margaret sympathetically.

Dr. Forbes shot a keen look at her from his deep-set eyes. "Are you
willing to show your sympathy in a practical form, Miss Campbell?" he
said bluntly. "You told me the other day you meant to begin work for
others next year. Why not begin now? Here's a splendid chance to
befriend a friendless girl. Will you take Freda Martin into your home
during her illness?"

"Oh, I couldn't," cried Margaret blankly. "Why, I'm going away next
week. I'm going with Mrs. Boyd to Vancouver, and my house will be shut
up."

"Oh, I did not know. That settles it, I suppose," said the doctor with
a sigh of regret. "Well, I must see what else I can do for poor Freda.
If I had a home of my own, the problem would be easily solved, but as
I'm only a boarder myself, I'm helpless in that respect. I'm very much
afraid she will have a hard time to pull through, but I'll do the best
I can for her. Well, I must run in here and have a look at Tommy
Griggs' eyes. Good morning, Miss Campbell."

Margaret responded rather absently and walked on with her eyes fixed
on the road. Somehow all the joy had gone out of the day for her, and
out of her prospective trip. She stopped on the little bridge and
gazed unseeingly at the ice-bound creek. Did Dr. Forbes really think
she ought to give up her trip in order to take Freda Martin into her
home and probably nurse her as well, since skilled nursing of any kind
was almost unobtainable in Blythefield? No, of course, Dr. Forbes did
not mean anything of the sort. He had not known she intended to go
away. Margaret tried to put the thought out of her mind, but it came
insistently back.

She knew--none better--what it was to be alone and friendless. Once
she had been ill, too, and left to the ministration of careless
servants. Margaret shuddered whenever she thought of that time. She
was very, very sorry for Freda Martin, but she certainly couldn't give
up her plans for her.

"Why, I'd never have the chance to go with Mrs. Boyd again," she
argued with her troublesome inward promptings.

Altogether, Margaret's walk was spoiled. But when she went to bed that
night, she was firmly resolved to dismiss all thought of Freda Martin.
In the middle of the night she woke up. It was calm and moonlight and
frosty. The world was very still, and Margaret's heart and conscience
spoke to her out of that silence, where all worldly motives were
hushed and shamed. She listened, and knew that in the morning she must
send for Dr. Forbes and tell him to bring his patient to Fir Cottage.

The evening of the next day found Freda in Margaret's spare room and

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