The Two Destinies

a doctormyself; and I want to see the lady before we get the medicine."

  The announcement of my profession appeared to inspire the boy with acertain confidence. But he still showed no disposition to accompany meto his mother's house.

  "Do you mean to charge the lady anything?" he asked. "The money I'vegot on the ring isn't much. Mother won't like having it taken out of herrent."

  "I won't charge the lady a farthing," I answered.

  The boy instantly got into the cab. "All right," he said, "as long asmother gets her money."

  Alas for the poor! The child's education in the sordid anxieties of lifewas completed already at ten years old!

  We drove away.

  CHAPTER XXV. I KEEP MY APPOINTMENT.

  THE poverty-stricken aspect of the street when we entered it, the dirtyand dilapidated condition of the house when we drew up at the door,would have warned most men, in my position, to prepare themselves fora distressing discovery when they were admitted to the interior of thedwelling. The first impression which the place produced on _my_ mindsuggested, on the contrary, that the boy's answers to my questions hadled me astray. It was simply impossible to associate Mrs. Van Brandt (as_I_ remembered her) with the spectacle of such squalid poverty as Inow beheld. I rang the door-bell, feeling persuaded beforehand that myinquiries would lead to no useful result.

  As I lifted my hand to the bell, my little companion's dread of abeating revived in full force. He hid himself behind me; and when Iasked what he was about, he answered, confidentially: "Please standbetween us, sir, when mother opens the door!"

  A tall and truculent woman answered the bell. No introduction wasnecessary. Holding a cane in her hand, she stood self-proclaimed as mysmall friend's mother.

  "I thought it was that vagabond of a boy of mine," she explained, as anapology for the exhibition of the cane. "He has been gone on an errandmore than two hours. What did you please to want, sir?"

  I interceded for the unfortunate boy before I entered on my ownbusiness.

  "I must beg you to forgive your son this time," I said. "I found himlost in the streets; and I have brought him home."

  The woman's astonishment when she heard what I had done, and discoveredher son behind me, literally struck her dumb. The language of theeye, superseding on this occasion the language of the tongue, plainlyrevealed the impression that I had produced on her: "You bring my lostbrat home in a cab! Mr. Stranger, you are mad."

  "I hear that you have a lady named Brand lodging in the house," I wenton. "I dare say I am mistaken in supposing her to be a lady of the samename whom I know. But I should like to make sure whether I am right orwrong. Is it too late to disturb your lodger to-night?"

  The woman recovered the use of her tongue.

  "My lodger is up and waiting for that little fool, who doesn't know hisway about London yet!" She emphasized those words by shaking her brawnyfist at her son--who instantly returned to his place of refuge behindthe tail of my coat. "Have you got the money?" inquired the terribleperson, shouting at her hidden offspring over my shoulder. "Or have youlost _that_ as well as your own stupid little self?"

  The boy showed himself again, and put the money into his mother's knottyhand. She counted it, with eyes which satisfied themselves fiercely thateach coin was of genuine silver--and then became partially pacified.

  "Go along upstairs," she growled, addressing her son; "and don't keepthe lady waiting any longer. They're half starved, she and her child,"the woman proceeded, turning to me. "The food my boy has got for themin his basket will be the first food the mother has tasted today. She'spawned everything by this time; and what she's to do unless you helpher is more than I can say. The doctor does what he can; but he told metoday, if she wasn't better nourished, it was no use sending for _him_.Follow the boy; and see for yourself if it's the lady you know."

  I listened to the woman, still feeling persuaded that I had acted undera delusion in going to her house. How was it possible to associatethe charming object of my heart's worship with the miserable storyof destitution which I had just heard? I stopped the boy on the firstlanding, and told him to announce me simply as a doctor, who had beeninformed of Mrs. Brand's illness, and who had called to see her.

  We ascended a second flight of stairs, and a third. Arrived now at thetop of the house, the boy knocked at the door that was nearest to uson the landing. No audible voice replied. He opened the door withoutceremony, and went in. I waited outside to hear what was said. The doorwas left ajar. If the voice of "Mrs. Brand" was (as I believed it wouldprove to be) the voice of a stranger, I resolved to offer her delicatelysuch help as lay within my power, and to return forthwith to my postunder "the shadow of Saint Paul's."

  The first voice that spoke to the boy was the voice of a child.

  "I'm so hungry, Jemmy--I'm so hungry!"

  "All right, missy--I've got you something to eat."

  "Be quick, Jemmy! Be quick!"

  There was a momentary pause; and then I heard the boy's voice once more.

  "There's a slice of bread-and-butter, missy. You must wait for your eggtill I can boil it. Don't you eat too fast, or you'll choke yourself.What's the matter with your mamma? Are you asleep, ma'am?"

  I could barely hear the answering voice--it was so faint; and ituttered but one word: "No!"

  The boy spoke again.

  "Cheer up, missus. There's a doctor outside waiting to see you."

  This time there was no audible reply. The boy showed himself to me atthe door. "Please to come in, sir. _I_ can't make anything of her."

  It would have been misplaced delicacy to have hesitated any longer toenter the room. I went in.

  There, at the opposite end of a miserably furnished bed-chamber,lying back feebly in a tattered old arm-chair, was one more among thethousands of forlorn creatures, starving that night in the great city.A white handkerchief was laid over her face as if to screen it from theflame of the fire hard by. She lifted the handkerchief, startled by thesound of my footsteps as I entered the room. I looked at her, and saw inthe white, wan, death-like face the face of the woman I loved!

  For a moment the horror of the discovery turned me faint and giddy. Inanother instant I was kneeling by her chair. My arm was round her--herhead lay on my shoulder. She was past speaking, past crying out: shetrembled silently, and that was all. I said nothing. No words passed mylips, no tears came to my relief. I held her to me; and she let me holdher. The child, devouring its bread-and-butter at a little round table,stared at us. The boy, on his knees before the grate, mending the fire,stared at us. And the slow minutes lagged on; and the buzzing of a flyin a corner was the only sound in the room.

  The instincts of the profession to which I had been trained, rather thanany active sense of the horror of the situation in which I was placed,roused me at last. She was starving! I saw it in the deadly color of herskin; I felt it in the faint, quick flutter of her pulse. I calledthe boy to me, and sent him to the nearest public-house for wine andbiscuits. "Be quick about it," I said; "and you shall have more moneyfor yourself than ever you had in your life!" The boy looked at me, spiton the coins in his hand, said, "That's for luck!" and ran out of theroom as never boy ran yet.

  I turned to speak my first words of comfort to the mother. The cry ofthe child stopped me.

  "I'm so hungry! I'm so hungry!"

  I set more food before the famished child and kissed her. She looked upat me with wondering eyes.

  "Are you a new papa?" the little creature asked. "My other papa neverkisses me."

  I looked at the mother. Her eyes were closed; the tears flowed slowlyover her worn, white cheeks. I took her frail hand in mine. "Happierdays are coming," I said; "you are _my_ care now." There was no answer.She still trembled silently, and that was all.

  In less than five minutes the boy returned, and earned his promisedreward. He sat on the floor by the fire counting his treasure, the onehappy creature in the room. I soaked some crumbled morsels of biscuitin the wine, and, little by little, I revive
d her failing strength bynourishment administered at intervals in that cautious form. After awhile she raised her head, and looked at me with wondering eyes thatwere pitiably like the eyes of her child. A faint, delicate flush beganto show itself in her face. She spoke to me, for the first time, inwhispering tones that I could just hear as I sat close at her side.

  "How did you find me? Who showed you the way to this place?"

  She paused; painfully recalling the memory of something that was slowto come back. Her color deepened; she found the lost remembrance, andlooked at me with a timid curiosity. "What brought you here?" she asked."Was it my