But Lisa still refused to give up, even though she often had terrible moods of depression. Joy was inspired by the frail girl’s courage, and worked along with her. They ventured into the most disturbed wards knowing that they had not only the dangerous patients to deal with, but the hatred of the guards.
The two wards which Joy most feared were the one housing the violent male patients, and the female counterpart of it. The worst cases were chained in tiny, dark dungeons in the damp and cold cellars. She felt many of the cases in these wards were too dangerous to be allowed to wander in the locked rooms at will. Too often there were quarrels between the patients, and it was not unknown for a patient to be murdered before the others in the ward.
Lisa had a favorite patient in the violent male ward whom she had named Hugo. He was a pale, good-looking youth, who had been injured in a fall from a horse which left him with brain damage. He had spells of normalcy alternating with periods of violent headaches in which he became dangerously aggressive.
Lisa confided in Joy, “I’m sure his condition is very gradually improving. With good care he can get out of here. But I fear for him if he’s left with these violent patients.”
She suggested, “Perhaps the doctor will move him.”
“I’ve talked with the doctor,” Lisa said with a grimace. “He’s promised to look into the case. But he’s done nothing at all.”
“Perhaps he will eventually get around to it.”
“Eventually!” Lisa rolled her eyes. “I’m sure he’s forgotten all about it. And I do want to help Hugo. I’d like to win at least one victory over this awful place!”
Joy agreed bitterly. “They’ve done little to make us welcome. Take this room we’re living in as an example!” The room which they shared was high in the attic, reserved for untrained help. It was cold and the windows had panes of glass missing, so there was no way of heating it properly. Their room at the school had been luxurious by contrast.
On a morning in March they made one of their regular visits to the male violent ward. The grumpy warder opened the iron-barred door and let them in. The usual stench and noise of the ward assailed them. Lisa made her way through the group of madmen as they laughed and gibbered at her. A few sullenly stared at her with eyes burning with insane hatred. Joy followed after her, and waited as Lisa spoke quietly to Hugo.
Lisa asked the young, blond giant, “Has the doctor said anything about moving you to another ward?”
He shook his head. “No.”
She frowned. “I can’t understand it. I’ve talked to him about it many times.”
“No one does anything,” Hugo said, clenching his hands and looking fearfully about him at the other patients. “I know if I’m kept here much longer I’ll surely be mad!”
Lisa sighed and told him, “Don’t give up! I’m on your side. And I will see something is done for you.” And she patted him on the arm.
The pat on the arm was observed by a burly patient standing close by, and he let go a weird cry of rage! This huge, bald man, who had been gazing at Lisa with burning eyes, broke into a frenzy of rage! Without warning, he charged at the frail, blonde girl and seized her!
Lisa screamed and Joy cried out in terror! She called for the warder as Lisa struggled to free herself from the madman’s grip. Hugo sprang to her rescue only to be struck heavily across the face by another lunatic! He toppled back unconscious.
Joy seized the bald man’s arm and bit into his flesh. She drew blood but the snarling madman paid no attention. In the meanwhile he was slowly throttling Lisa to death!
Finally the warder came forward with a whip, followed by a helper with a long, heavy pole. The warder lashed out at the bald lunatic, but achieved nothing. Then the second man brought the pole down on the bald head so that it cracked open, and blood spurted from the gaping wound. The bald man’s eyes became glassy and he released Lisa, and then dropped to the floor.
Joy was sobbing hysterically as the two warders lifted Lisa. Hugo still lay unconscious on the floor, with the bald man stretched out beside him. The lunatics became strangely silent as the warders carried Lisa away. Then as the ward door closed behind the rescue party, a bedlam of shrieking began in the dark dungeon!
Joy sobbed, “You didn’t come soon enough. You should have been there to help her!”
The warder gave her an ugly glance and spat at her. They took Lisa to the doctors’ room and placed her on a table. One of the doctors came rushing in to ask, “What is going on?”
“One of the madmen attacked her,” Joy said between her crying spells.
The doctor looked uneasy and then made an examination of Lisa. It did not take him long to raise his head and tell Joy, “There’s nothing I can do. She is dead.”
She saw that Lisa’s body was shipped back to Berlin. And she carried on for another two weeks in a numbed state. She sent a letter to the Pastor telling him what had happened and that it meant the end of their mission to the Vienna hospital. She also let him know she would return to England.
She had a final interview with the doctor in charge of the entire asylum. She told him, “I’ve giving up. This place has improved little since the Middle Ages when your Lunatic’s Tower was one of the attractions of the city.”
The black-bearded doctor frowned. “You are merely upset by the loss of your colleague.”
“Her death was needless. The warder neglected his duties.”
“He claims he came rushing to Fraulein Spahn’s rescue!”
“Then he lies.”
The doctor sighed. “I’m sorry. You and the Fraulein Lisa have accomplished much here. The Pastor will not be pleased to hear you have abandoned us.”
“He will be more upset to learn that Lisa was sacrificed by the hostility of your guards.”
“I cannot accept that,” he said coldly.
She ignored this and went on, “You say we have done much good here.”
“I do.”
“Then you can do something to show your gratitude,” she said. “There is a patient whom Fraulein Lisa called Hugo. She was talking with him at the time of her murder. She felt he should be transferred to another ward as he is not truly a violent case. She saw him making a recovery.”
The doctor stroked his beard. “She did mention the case. I have not gotten around to dealing with it.”
“I beg that you do so now,” she said.
“Very well,” he told her. “You have my word.”
“I shall remain here until I have your opinion on the case,” she said. “It is the one thing I can do for my friend.”
Many nights she cried herself to sleep in the cold room which she had shared with Lisa. Often she took out the small music box, and listened to its merry, tinkling music. At last she was summoned to the doctor’s private office.
Grandly, he said, “I have some good news.”
“What?”
“I have examined the patient and declare him well enough to be discharged from the hospital. His papers are made up. There they are!” And he passed them to her.
She studied them and saw they were in order. Hugo would be free. She said, “Thank you. I would like to see him before he goes.”
The doctor said, “He’ll be leaving tomorrow at ten. By the main gate.”
“I shall be there,” she promised, rising to leave.
It was gray and chilly when she arrived at the main gate of the ancient asylum the next morning. The pale, blond man whom she had known as Hugo, was seated on a bench. As a makeshift carry-all he held a large cotton handkerchief in which he tied his few belongings. She noticed that he wore only light clothing which could not be expected to spare him from the cold.
Seeing her approach, he awkwardly rose, and when she came to him, he said, “Thanks to you I’m free!”
She shook her head. “Don’t thank me. It was my friend’s doing.”
His blue eyes brimmed with tears. “I caused her death! She would be alive but for wanting to help me!”
Joy sighed. “Don’t think that! It wasn’t your fault. She died because of the hatreds and the poor management of the staff. Her dearest wish was to save you. To have something to show for her efforts here. And now you have been saved.”
“How can I thank you?” he asked.
“No need,” she said. “You have no warm clothes.”
“I will manage,” he said, looking around him grimly. “Cold is nothing compared to being shut in that dungeon of madmen.”
“Where will you go?”
“To my village,” he told her. “It is a good two or three day’s journey from here.”
She made a decision and said, “I will not leave you until you have some proper, warm clothing. We’re going to go shopping together.”
She escorted him out through the main gates and they walked down the steep, cobblestone street to the district of tiny shops below. She found a special delight in buying him a warm outfit, and his pleasure in his new clothes was almost pathetic. She ended the shopping by taking him to a small inn for some excellent, warm food.
Afterwards, as their moment of farewell drew near, they stood facing each other on the narrow sidewalk outside the inn. A light snow had begun to drift down. She smiled and said, “It always seems to be snowing! I wish you good luck, Hugo. That is what Lisa always called you.”
“I shall adopt it as my true name in her honor,” the big man vowed. “And one day I shall make a pilgrimage to her grave in Berlin.”
“Yes,” she said. “I think she would like that.”
“And what are your plans, my lady?”
“I’m returning to England. At the moment I’m filled with loneliness and frustration. I need to go back to my own country and my family and friends.”
“You and she were like two angels in that damned place,” Hugo said, with a dark glance up the hill where the grim, gray building stood amid the falling snow.
“We tried to do our best,” she said. “Have a safe trip to your village.”
She watched as he moved further in the distance, and was at last lost by the curtain of snow falling between them. Then she turned, and went back to finish packing. Hurt welled up in her throat as she walked in the snow. The sooner she escaped Vienna the better. For her it had been much less than an enchanted city.
Hilda was at the railway station in London to meet her. As soon as she located a porter to take care of her luggage, she and her sister-in-law rushed away from the sooty confusion and noise of the huge building. Outside, Hilda took a look at her and said, “You’re thinner! But it suits you!”
“I’ve seen a good deal. Been through a good deal,” she said with a shudder.
“I’m sure you have. Your letters from Vienna shocked me. That asylum must have been a terrible place. They ought never to have sent you there!” Hilda was indignant.
“Still, I learned a lot. I know how awful conditions can be in such places. And how little nursing care is used. The worst thing of all was losing Lisa!”
Her sister-in-law’s face shadowed. “I still find it hard to believe her death. I’m consoled by one thing, that you had the opportunity of knowing her, and became her friend.”
“She was a truly dedicated nurse. I learned much from her.”
“I’m certain you did.”
“We also had our happy times together in spite of the awful challenge that faced us in that Vienna asylum!”
“That helps ease the tragedy of her loss a trifle,” Hilda said.
Joy took a deep breath. “I still find it hard to talk of her without tears,” she said, as they waited for the porter to join them. “How are your children?”
“All in good health,” Hilda said. “Joy grows more like you every day. She is a most independent child.”
“A valuable quality in a difficult world,” Joy said. “And what about my brother?”
“James keeps busy with politics and supervising the estate,” Hilda said. “He is critical of the policies of Lord Aberdeen. He thinks, unless there is a change, we are certain to be involved in another war.”
“I hope he is wrong. What about my mother?”
“As usual,” Hilda said with a wry look on her lovely face. “She has become more vague of late. That is actually an improvement. Her tongue is less sharp.”
At last the porter arrived, dragging her luggage. She saw it installed on the waiting carriage, and soon she and Hilda were being driven through the London streets to Berkeley Square. Joy glanced out the carriage window and saw that it was foggy, and though it was chilly there was no snow. She had never been happier at returning to the old city.
Turning to Hilda, she smiled, “How good to hear English spoken all around you. Even the Cockney accents are warming. And the fog is like a welcome home. I shall never love another city as I do London.”
Her sister-in-law said, “We are glad to have you back.”
“What has been happening in my absence?”
“That fine legal mind you engaged managed to get that young woman off with a very short prison sentence.”
“She should not have been punished for killing Ernest. He most foully betrayed her.”
“Without the best legal aid she would have fared badly,” the woman sitting beside her said. “As it is she’ll soon be out of prison.”
Joy promised, “I shall help her when she is released.”
“Did I write you about Nancy?”
“No.”
“She has married again,” Hilda said. “I rather expected she would.”
“Really?”
“Yes. This time it’s a Frenchman. He creates figures for the new waxworks that a Madame something or other has opened here. Rather a common fellow it would appear. But the talk is that he is devoted to her.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Joy said with a sigh. “I do not think our friendship can ever be mended.”
On reaching Berkeley Square, Joy at once went to see her mother. Propped up on pillows, Lady Susan looked a withered caricature of herself. On first seeing Joy, she gazed at her blankly. Then as Joy came close to her bedside, her mother murmured in a tremulous voice, “It really is you, Joy. I felt at first it was a shadow.”
“No shadow!” she said with a smile and bent and kissed the parchment-like cheek of her parent. “I worried that I was never to see either you or London!”
Her mother’s faded eyes fixed on her blankly. “You have been away?”
“I’ve just returned from Vienna.”
“A lovely city! Your father and I visited Vienna many years ago.”