Chapter 60

Chapter 10

THE DOLLS' DRESSMAKER DISCOVERS A WORD

A darkened and hushed room; the river outside the windows
flowing on to the vast ocean; a figure on the bed, swathed and
bandaged and bound, lying helpless on its back, with its two
useless arms in splints at its sides. Only two days of usage so
familiarized the little dressmaker with this scene, that it held the
place occupied two days ago by the recollections of years.

He had scarcely moved since her arrival. Sometimes his eyes were
open, sometimes closed. When they were open, there was no
meaning in their unwinking stare at one spot straight before them,
unless for a moment the brow knitted into a faint expression of
anger, or surprise. Then, Mortimer Lightwood would speak to
him, and on occasions he would be so far roused as to make an
attempt to pronounce his friend's name. But, in an instant
consciousness was gone again, and no spirit of Eugene was in
Eugene's crushed outer form.

They provided Jenny with materials for plying her work, and she
had a little table placed at the foot of his bed. Sitting there, with
her rich shower of hair falling over the chair-back, they hoped she
might attract his notice. With the same object, she would sing,
just above her breath, when he opened his eyes, or she saw his
brow knit into that faint expression, so evanescent that it was like a
shape made in water. But as yet he had not heeded. The 'they'
here mentioned were the medical attendant; Lizzie, who was there
in all her intervals of rest; and Lightwood, who never left him.

The two days became three, and the three days became four. At
length, quite unexpectedly, he said something in a whisper.

'What was it, my dear Eugene?'

'Will you, Mortimer--'

'Will I--?

--'Send for her?'

'My dear fellow, she is here.'

Quite unconscious of the long blank, he supposed that they were
still speaking together.

The little dressmaker stood up at the foot of the bed, humming her
song, and nodded to him brightly. 'I can't shake hands, Jenny,'
said Eugene, with something of his old look; 'but I am very glad to
see you.'

Mortimer repeated this to her, for it could only be made out by
bending over him and closely watching his attempts to say it. In a
little while, he added:

'Ask her if she has seen the children.'

Mortimer could not understand this, neither could Jenny herself,
until he added:

'Ask her if she has smelt the flowers.'

'Oh! I know!' cried Jenny. 'I understand him now!' Then,
Lightwood yielded his place to her quick approach, and she said,
bending over the bed, with that better look: 'You mean my long
bright slanting rows of children, who used