A bolus of the compound is injected into the venous system. Then the region of interest e. A thrombus is formed in the illuminated blood vessels, causing a stroke in the dependent brain tissue.
Rose bengal has been used for 50 years to diagnose liver and eye cancer. Rose bengal dye is mixed with the homogenate of Brucella and pH of the solution is maintained at 3. It has also been used as an insecticide.
Rose bengal is able to stain cells whenever the surface epithelium is not being properly protected by the preocular tear film, because rose bengal has been proven to not be able to stain cells because of the protective functioning of these preocular tear films. Rose bengal has been used for ocular surface staining to study the efficacy of punctal plugs in the treatment of keratoconjunctivitis sicca.
Rose bengal is being researched as an agent in creating nano sutures. This links the tiny collagen fibers together sealing the wound. Rose bengal is used to suppress bacterial growth in several microbiological media, including Cooke's rose bengal agar. Rose bengal has been used as a protoplasm stain to discriminate between living and dead micro-organisms, particularly Foraminifera , since the s when Bill Walton developed the technique.
Rose bengal acetate can act as a photosensitiser and may have potential in photodynamic therapy to treat some cancers. From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. CAS Number. Interactive image. Chemical formula.
ATC code. Pharmacy and Therapeutics. Physical Chemistry Chemical Physics. O'Neill The vans will be active from to hours. The local variety of rose grows in abundance in the two districts of East Midnapore and North Parganas. The roses that will be available in these mobile outlets will be a combination of the local variety as well as Dutch Rose, which is imported mainly from Bengaluru and Ooty.
The flowers will also be sold in flower pots, hanging baskets and in other decorative formats. I had no companion of my own age, except when at home in London, for at Westoby Puerorum the children were few, and of such a kind that I had but little in common with them. We met at Sunday school, and as I did not care for their horseplay, and got disgusted with their perpetual lying, they voted me a muff, and left me alone — after I had proved in one or two pitched battles that at any rate I was not a coward. I was about twelve years old when there came an addition to our circle in the shape of a granddaughter of Mrs.
Petersen by her first marriage, an orphan, with neither home nor friends. Before she came there were anxious discussions between the old people as to the probable result of her coming. It was evident there was some old cause for anxiety, and once I heard a remark which puzzled me. It was made by Mrs.
Arabella always took her own way in spite of me — and of her poor father — and may be her daughter will want to do the same. Let the little girl come. I doubt not that He will watch over and mould all things to good purpose. I do not think that anyone was so pleased at the idea of her coming as I was. The old people at concern for the future, and the maid, who saw in prospect more waiting and more cooking and washing and another bed to make, grumbled to the gardener, who, though he had no prospect of added work, grumbled sympathetically.
For me there was no concern. In those days I suppose I took it for granted, as other boys do, then beds are made and victuals cooked and clothes washed by some dispensation of providence specially arranged for the benefit of boys. The thinking belongs to a later period, when there are other little beaks open and other tiny voices that clamor at need. When Arabella Devanti arrived I proceeded with the simple, selfish directness of a schoolboy to fall in love with her, despite the great gulf of five years fixed between us.
In this I was not alone, for the feeling was shared in common but the whole household. Even the maid and the gardener gave in, and, as is the wont of such, changed the form or cause of their grumbling, for of course of grumbling was perennial. Finally a compromise was arranged, to the effect that Bella was to be allowed to help in the cooking if she left the rougher domestic work to Maria.
Her pretty little foreign ways became a new pleasure in the household, and there was, I am bound to say, a marked improvement in the cuisine. She used to do things with eggs that I dream of yet. Bella and I became at once great friends. She helped me with my lessons, and taught me music and drawing; and I taught her to ride my pony, and to play cricket, and le-gras, and other games of an old-fashioned kind, which were a tradition in the rectory.
We used to sit every day, when the weather was fine on the old marble seat; and the Bengal roses, all summer long, used to keep shedding their great petals over the green moss beneath. There I learned my lessons; Bella was a good mistress, for she would not allow any trifling or inattention. I began to feel, after a while, that her sway was a strong one, and that if I wanted her to do anything I must begin by being master of my work.
Quite three years passed in this way, and I was now a good sized lump of a boy, and began to fancy myself a man. In school this feeling generally finds an outlet in a plentitude of hats, and a choice of neckties; but in our rustic life there was no such outlet, and even the increase of my passion for Bella did not move me to try to add to my attractions in her eyes.
She was always most kind to me, and there was between us a genuine affection. She used to tell me all her little secrets, and I to tell her mine. Still, I never felt quite satisfied. There was not that complete abandonment or effacement of herself — that losing her own individuality in that of the other — which the masculine lover, even from his cradle, seems to demand. There always was for her, even in those day dreams which she shared with me, to be some order of things other than present, something to come yet of quite a different kind to that which existed.
Indeed, some unknown individual was to make his appearance was to charm us both by his worth and beauty and the gallantry of his bearing. With a seeming generosity she always insisted on giving me a portion of the pleasure of his society, and on my angry remonstrance and disclaimer to share at all in his hateful presence she would laugh softly through her blushes, and then, after a while, tried to soothe me by some added deference to my wishes — my wishes regarding something else.
As a matter fact I grew intensely jealous, and the keen eyes of jealousy found food everywhere and in everything. Although I loved Bella more than ever, I began to have moments of what I believed to be hate for her also. It was at this time that we had a break in the monotony of our lives at Westoby Puerorum. Our squire had in his youth been a pupil of Mr. Indeed, it was after the young squire went to college that the old squire presented him to the living; and whenever the young squire — now the squire himself, and no longer young — came to Westoby Grange he always managed to pay a visit to his old tutor.
This necessitated something of a drive, for the Grange was in Westoby Magnus, and was distant some eight miles. He had been away for a long time, for his winters were spent abroad, and she had several other estates, so that his summers were divided. He chiefly lived at a place nearly two-hundred miles away, where the ground was high and the air more bracing.
This time he had only a small party at the Grange, and when he rode over to see Mr. Petersen he took with him a young gentleman to whom at first I took a liking. It was only when I found that Bella had taken a liking to him also that I began to recognise in him certain evil qualities. He seemed as frank as a boy for all that he was a captain in a crack cavalry regiment.
He was sitting on the marble seat between Bella and me before either of us seemed to realise the fact that he was only a stranger after all. He was such a handsome fellow, so bright and cheery, and with such a winning manner, that I could not help it; but I could not forgive Bella for liking him also, and the more jealous I grew up him the more unreasonably angry I became with her. When he had gone, Bella and I sat under the Bengal roses and talked of him in the shade from the afternoon sun. It angered me whenever Bella found new points to admire in him, and so after a while I began to turn the conversation.
It was now getting on for sunset, and it was our habit to take the clouds round the setting sun as a garden wherein to found our romances. Bella would not give her own views as to what the hero should be like, but she differed with me point by point as we went along. Take him if you want to! She had sat down again; her face was very pale and her dark eyes were blazing. You are born a gentleman, and nothing could justify such an affront. I take it now that you do not know better, and that you were angry, though what cause of anger there is I fail to see. But such a thing must never occur again!
You are getting old enough to think for yourself. It left me speechless. I sat silent a while, and felt myself grow red and white by turns; and then a gush of some feeling came over me, and despite all I could do the tears came to my eyes and ran through the fingers which I held before my face. In an instant Bella changed, and spoke to me lovingly, entreating pardon, and trying, as she spoke, to take away my hands. I repulsed her, and would have risen and run away, but that she held me tight. I suppose the difference in our ages became then more marked than it had ever been, for, with sudden impulse, I threw myself on my knees on the grass beside her, and, hiding my head in her lap, had my cry out, whilst she tenderly stroked my hair, silent all the time, with the instinct of a true woman.
We seemed better friends than ever after that night. I could not but feel that there had come some sort of chasm between us: but the recognition of such a thing was the first step to its bridging, and although I said no more of any feeling which might be between her and Captain Chudleigh I tacitly recognised such a thing as possible and respected it. Less than a week elapsed before Captain Chudleigh paid his promised visit, and when he came Bella was the one who seemed to avoid him, whilst he and I grew great friends.
We all three sat under the roses after luncheon — we called it lunch to strangers, but it was in reality our dinner — and were together all the time except for half an hour when I was rummaging in the attic for an old book of etchings by Piranesi which Bella thought she had seen there some months before.
They had quite forgotten about the book I offered to ride a part of the way with Captain Chudleigh, and he acquiesced heartily, although I thought I saw him make a queer kind of face to Bella when he thought I was not looking. He was silent for a while after we had started, but presently he grew quite gay and laughed and sang and made jokes to me as we rode along.
When it was time for me to return he promised that he would ride over again some day soon. When I got back I found Bella still sitting under the roses, and so abstracted that she started when I spoke to her. Some days afterwards I got a line from Cotterham, saying that Captain Chudleigh would on the following day ride over to lunch with the squire; and that he would, if he might, look into the rectory on his way back, when perhaps Miss Devanti and I would give him a cup of tea under the roses. He came, and we had tea on the marble seat.
Petersen not being very well had lain down, and the rector was writing his sermon for the next day. It was a very pleasant afternoon, and we all enjoyed ourselves. When I came back Bella and the captain sat silent at either end of the seat, he with a rose in his buttonhole which had not been there before.
This gave me a new pang jealousy, and I did not offer to ride part of his way, although I had been looking forward for the last twenty-four hours to the pleasure of so doing. Bella and I said but little to each other that evening. The next day I went out for a long walk, taking my lunch with me, as I usually did on such occasions. This expedition had been planned nearly a week before, for I was to explore an old ruin which I had never visited, and Bella had taken much interest in it.
When I got so far as I could on the high road I went to strike across country; but in leaping my first ditch I turned my ankle, and had to abandon my expedition, for that day at all events. However, I ate my lunch, and when I felt sufficiently recovered began my journey home. It was very tiring and my ankle pained me much, so that when I got into our own grounds I was thoroughly fagged out.
The afternoon sun was beating strongly down, and the shade of the trellised roses, with the cool, green moss, looked so inviting that I lay down and forthwith fell asleep. They were whispering; but, low as their voices were, I could hear distinctly, and what I heard made my heart beat and my ears tingle. He was telling Bella of his love for her, and she murmured an answer that satisfied him, and then I heard their kiss.
Boy as I was I knew that I had no right to be there, and so I crawled away out of earshot, being careful to keep the trellis between us, and reached my own room without anyone seeing me. I lay down on my bed, with my heart and my temples throbbing, and felt anew all the pangs of jealousy with despair added. I waited there till the evening fell, and then, when I knew I would meet no one, left the house and came round to the front door, making what noise I reasonably could, and limped in to where the family were at supper.
They were all concerned when they heard my accident, which I took care not to say had taken place early in the day. Fortunately the pain and fatigue accounted for my pale face and nervous manner. Bella wanted herself to bathe my ankle, but I insisted that Maria should do it. She was looking so radiantly happy that I could not bear the sight of her.
All the next day Bella was very sweet, and we sat on the marble seat, I with my ankle bandaged on a chair in front of me. As the day wore on I expected that Bella would make some confidence, and I was by that time prepared — after some upbraiding — to give her my sympathy and approval. Self-love demanded that the occasion should not pass unnoticed.
The only satisfaction I had — and when I look back on it I think it was a pretty mean one — was that I would not let her do the smallest service for my lame ankle. On this point I was as doggedly resolved as I could be about anything. I almost began to think that she had told me a falsehood, and to imagine all sorts of things.
Being ever on the watch I did detect now and then some small acts of secretiveness rendered necessary by her possession of so big a secret.