The Beguiled by Thomas Cullinan

Author:Thomas Cullinan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2017-05-12T09:38:08+00:00

Martha Farnsworth

I knew he was guilty, no matter what secondary responsibility might have been charged to any of our students. No matter what actually happened on the third floor that night or what his provocation, I knew what had been in his mind and in my rage at this betrayal of my hospitality I would have dragged him down to the Brock road and left him there had not my sister stayed my hand. Then later it occurred to me that such an action on my part might scandalize the younger students who presumably would have no idea of what McBurney had intended.

At any rate the certainty of his guilt did not prevent me from giving him all the immediate comfort I could. I stopped the bleeding and got him back to his downstairs bed and then the following morning, egged on by the entire household, I made quite a lengthy attempt to repair the damage Mister McBurney’s folly had caused him.

“It would take a magician to restore this leg to its former usefulness,” I said as I stitched it for the second time.

“And you’re the lady with the old magic wand,” said my patient cheerfully. “Now don’t trouble to deny it, ma’am, for there’s not a soul here will believe your story.”

“It looks as neatly done as before, sister,” said Harriet bravely. She had been feeling faint a few moments before and so I had sent her across to the library to check on the activities of the students. However she had then obviously tarried in the hall as long as she could because when she returned I was almost finished.

“It may look neat but it certainly doesn’t look healthy,” I remarked. “Notice how swollen and discolored the calf is.”

“Good God, if the calf is discolored I wonder what state the cow is in.” Mister McBurney shouted merrily. “Ah to hell with all calf cuddling and general leg coddling anyway. Excuse me dear ladies, but that old stem needs only a cold cloth and a good rub down with the lily white hands of Miss Martha Farnsworth and ’twill be as sound and sturdy as the day I walked into the world with it. Them’s my opinions and the Pope, President Lincoln and good Queen Victoria won’t change them!”

“Notice also the complete lack of any feeling in it.”

“How dare you, Miss, how dare you! I’ll have you know that particular leg is the most sensitive part of my entire body. That leg blushes to the bone in bad company. I’ve used that leg for years like a weather glass to keep me always in the state o’ grace!”

“He does feel some pain, I’m sure,” Harriet insisted. “It’s only the wine and his braggadocio that won’t permit him to flinch when you apply the needle.”

It was true that the wine—whether it had any pain killing effect or not—had given him the courage to put on a show of complete indifference. Moreover the wine, which my sister had been pouring for him in most generous quantities, had loosened his tongue considerably.

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