Even Jim Beadle, his servant, standing at the foot of the bed, clapped a hand to his mouth to stop a cry, and the nurse turned as white as the apron she wore.
Dumbfounded as Rockwell was, with instant professional presence of mind he said: "No, Ingolby, you must be kept in darkness a while yet." Then he whipped out a silk handkerchief from his pocket.

"We will have light," he continued, "but we must bandage you first to keep out the glare and prevent pain.

The nerves of the eyes have been injured." Hastily and tenderly he bound the handkerchief round the sightless eyes.
Having done so, he said to the nurse with unintentional quotation from the Gospel of St.John, and a sad irony: "Let there be light." It all gave him time to pull himself together and prepare for the moment when he must tell Ingolby the truth.

In one sense the sooner it was told the better, lest Ingolby should suddenly discover it for himself.
Surprise and shock must be avoided.

So now he talked in his low, soothing voice, telling Ingolby that the operation had put him out of danger, that the pain now felt came chiefly from the nerves of the eye, and that quiet and darkness were necessary.