CHAPTER IV.
DR. LUTTRELL'S FIRST PATIENT.
"Sudden the worst, turns the best to the brave,"--_Browning_.
Olivia felt as if she were dreaming as she followed the littleprocession down the dark garden-path. Once she pinched her wristslightly to assure herself that she was awake. Mrs. Crampton held thelantern, and the cook and the two maids carried the arm-chair, withjolting uneven footsteps, that brought a suppressed groan to Mr.Gaythorne's lips. As they lifted him on the couch he looked so whitethat Olivia thought he was going to faint, and begged the housekeeperto give him some wine; he was evidently in severe pain.
"It would be better not to touch the foot until the doctor comes," sheobserved. And then Mrs. Crampton looked perplexed.
"My master does not hold with doctors, ma'am. I don't remember oneever crossing the threshold since poor Miriam had typhoid fever. Thefoot is swelling already, and it will be a job to get the boot off.Ah, I thought so"--as Mr. Gaythorne winced and motioned her away--"hewill be afraid of one touching it!"
"My husband lives just opposite--the corner house with the red lamp inHarbut Street. He is a doctor and very clever, and I am nearly surethat he is in just now." Olivia spoke a little breathlessly andanxiously; then she bent over the old man.
"If Mrs. Crampton does not know of another doctor would you mind one ofthe maids running across the road for Dr. Luttrell? You are sufferingso much, and your foot ought to be treated at once. It is impossiblefor any one to know if it be only a sprain until the boot is removed.You fell so heavily that perhaps a small bone might be broken."
"Yes--send--send," returned the invalid, irritably. "Clear the room,Crampton. You know that I hate to have a parcel of women roundme.--There is no need for you to go, madam"--with an attempt atcivility as Olivia was about to withdraw at this plain speaking. "Givethe lady a chair, Phoebe."
But Olivia, who had excellent tact, only smiled pleasantly, and shookher head.
"I think it will be best for me to send the doctor across, there isnothing that I can do for you until he comes."
She took the old man's hand as she spoke and pressed it gently.
"I am so sorry to leave you in such pain, but I hope you will soon berelieved. Perhaps you will not mind my inquiring another day, but astranger is only in the way to-night."
Olivia's soft, well-modulated voice was so full of kindly sympathy,that Mr. Gaythorne opened his weary eyes again.
"Thank you," was all he said; but he watched her keenly as she crossedthe long room.
Olivia walked so quickly that she was almost out of breath when shereached her own door. The dining-room looked cold and comfortless.Martha was on her knees before the fireplace trying to revive theblackened embers with the help of the kitchen bellows, and Dr.Luttrell, with a tired face and puckered brow, was watching theproceedings somewhat impatiently. A tallow candle was gutteringuncomfortably on the table.
"Is the fire out? Oh, Marcus, I am so sorry, but Martha and I willsoon put things to rights. Will you go across to Galvaston House atonce, please?"--and here Olivia's voice was full of suppressedexcitement. "Mr. Gaythorne has slipped against the curb and hurt hisfoot; he is in great pain. I have been helping him, and then I said Iwould send you. I have left the gate open so you can just go up to thedoor."
Marcus listened to these details with an astonished face; then hecaught up his black bag and nodded acquiescence. The tired frown lefthis face, and he moved away with his quiet, professional step.
Olivia watched him from the doorstep. As she closed the door afterhim, she could have clapped her hands with sheer delight andexcitement. It was her doing that Marcus had his first patient. Thosefoolish maids would never have thought of sending for him. Dot wasawake and singing to herself in her usual chuckling fashion in thefirelight, but Olivia had no time to play with her pet.
"The bellows are no good, Martha," she said, quickly. "You must justfetch a bundle of sticks and a newspaper, and relay the fire, while Ikindle the lamp and set the table for tea; the room feels like a vault."
"There is a good fire in the kitchen, ma'am, if you want to maketoast," observed Martha, rising reluctantly from her knees; "I havebeen ironing Miss Baby's pinnys." Olivia, who was drawing the heavycurtain across the window, was relieved to hear this.
In another quarter of an hour the little room wore a more cheerfulaspect. The sticks crackled and blazed lustily; the green-shaded lampdiffused a mellow light. The tea-tray was set and the plate of Frenchtoast was frizzling gently on a brass trivet. At the sound of hermaster's footstep Martha had orders to fill up the teapot and boil theeggs.
After this Olivia played with Dot, and undressed her, and then broughther in to say good-night to her father. But she waxed sleepy longbefore he let himself in with his latch-key.
Marcus paused on the threshold a moment as though something struck him.Olivia's face looked fair and sweet as she sat in her low chair withthe sleepy child in her arms. She put back her head with a softquestioning smile as he bent down to kiss her face.
"Dot is nearly asleep, but I had not the heart to put her in her cotuntil you had seen her; tea is quite ready, and Martha is boiling somenew-laid eggs. Aunt Madge has sent you, too, a pot of her home-mademarmalade, because she knows how fond you are of it. Sit down andbegin, I shall not be a moment," and Olivia's voice was so full ofsuppressed excitement, that Marcus laughed as he drew his chair to thetable; he was tired and hungry, but he no longer felt impatient anddepressed.
"Now tell me everything," she exclaimed, when she came back. "Whathave you done? Was the foot very bad? Will you have to go toGalvaston House again?"
"Rather!" returned Marcus; "it is a pretty bad sprain, I can tell you.Why, I should not be surprised if Mr. Gaythorne is laid up for the nexttwo or three weeks; he is not in good condition and the shaking andfright have upset him. He will want good nursing and plenty ofattention, as I told his housekeeper. I am going again early in themorning."
"And was he civil to you? Mrs. Crampton says he hates doctors," andOlivia's tone was a trifle anxious.
"Well, he was a bit grumpy at first, but I had my work to do, and tookno notice, but when I had helped him upstairs and put him comfortablefor the night, he waxed a shade more gracious and thanked me quitecivilly. I fancy he is a character and has lived so long alone that hehas grown morose and unsociable. That blind hound of his followed usupstairs and would not leave him. Did you notice him, Livy?"
"Yes; and is it not a nice house, Marcus? That library is a beautifulroom. All those hundreds of well-bound books, and the massive oakfurniture. I had not time to notice things, but I could not helpfeeling how deliciously soft and warm the carpets felt to one's feet,and then those lovely rugs and skins in the hall."
"His bedroom was just as luxurious. Mr. Gaythorne is evidently a richman, though he keeps no carriage. Mrs. Crampton told me so. He isvery fond of flowers; there is a sort of conservatory on the firstfloor full of beautiful plants, and an alcove where he can sit andenjoy them. I could not help stopping a moment to admire them, butMrs. Crampton did not invite me to go in. You may depend upon it theold gentleman is a strict martinet, and rules his household with a rodof iron. Mrs. Crampton seems a good creature, but he spoke prettysharply to her once or twice."
"But he was in such pain, Marcus."
"Yes, my dear, I know that. Oh, by-the-bye, he sent his compliments toyou. 'I am greatly indebted to Mrs. Luttrell, and I trust that I shallsoon have an opportunity of thanking her properly for her kindhelpfulness.' There, Livy, now we shall hear no more of the Nihilistor the Roman priest."
Dr. Luttrell was in spirits; it was easy to see that. The firstpatient, the first brief, the first book--aye, and the first love.What a halo remains round them!
Our first-fruits may be immature, unripe, but to us they have a goodlyflavour, a subtle, sweet aroma of their own. All through hissuccessful life Dr. Luttrell will look back to this evening as theturning-point of his
career, when; he stood cold and tired watchingMartha's bellows, and his wife's voice with a triumphant ring in it hadcalled to him from the threshold.
Marcus's first piece of good luck had so absorbed them that it was sometime before Olivia remembered to tell him about Aunt Madge's present.Marcus forgot to go on with his tea when he saw the little heap ofcoins in his wife's hand. Martha's wages, Dot's pelisse, and even thegloves and new hat-trimming were all duly canvassed. When Marcus said,abruptly, "Aunt Madge is a trump," his glistening eyes were eloquentenough. They had so much to discuss that it was nearly bedtime beforehe offered to go on with the book he was reading aloud, but after allthey were neither in the mood for other people's stories.
In youth life is so interesting. No chapters of past memories, no wideexperiences are so beguiling and absorbing. "Oh, we lived then." Howoften we hear that phrase, as the old man looks back over a long life,to the time when lad's love filled his days with sunshine.
When Marcus lay awake that night there was no deadly coldness at hisheart, no lurking demon of despondency, waiting for the small darkhours to assail him. On the contrary, hope with seraph wings fannedhim blissfully. Marcus Luttrell was young, but he was no coward. Fortwo years he had waited patiently until the tide should turn. "Waittill the clouds roll by," he used to say, cheerily, but only his wifeguessed how he was really losing heart, as day after day and monthafter month passed and no paying patients presented themselves at thecorner house at Galvaston Terrace.
Olivia was at the window the following morning with Dot in her arms.As Dr. Luttrell, with his shabby black bag crossed the road, he lookedback once, and Dot kissed her dimpled hand to him. Olivia, who admiredher husband with all her honest girlish heart, watched eagerly untilthe slight, well-built figure passed between the stone lions.
"If he were only a little older-looking," she thought, regretfully, buthis smooth face and fair hair gave him a boyish look.
It was absurd, of course, but she could settle to nothing until he cameback; but Marcus, who had a bad accident case on his mind, was in toogreat a hurry to satisfy his wife's curiosity. "The foot was going onas well as he expected, but Mr. Gaythorne was unable to leave his bed.He was going again in the evening, and now he must be off to the modellodging-house to see if the poor fellow had pulled through the night."
Olivia had planned out her morning. She had her marketing to do, andher purchases to make. Then it was only right to go round and tellAunt Madge of the wonderful piece of good fortune that had befallenthem.
Mrs. Broderick was unfeignedly pleased. "Still, Olive," she remarked,with commendable prudence, "one swallow does not make a summer."
"No, Aunt Madge, of course not; but, as Marcus says, one patient bringsothers. Galvaston House is a big place, and when the neighbours seehim going in and out, it will be a sort of testimonial; besides, Ishall quote Deb's favourite proverb, 'Every mickle makes a muckle.'Now I really must go, for I want to cut out Dot's pelisse."
"And the dinner, Olive; are you sure it will go round to-day?"
Then Olivia laughed in a shamefaced way.
"Yes, indeed; I have been dreadfully extravagant, and we are going tohave steaks and chips because it is Marcus's favourite dish, and Marthadoes it so well. There is a whole pound of steak and just a littleover. I saw it cut myself, and it was such good weight." Andhesitating a little, "There are currant dumplings too."
"Come--this is feasting indeed!"
But Aunt Madge smiled a little sadly when she found herself alone.
"Does Olive half realise how happy she is!" she said to herself. "Sheis a rich woman in spite of all her poverty and cares. When one hasyouth and love and health and a good conscience, every day is a feastand a delight. One day Marcus will drive in his carriage and pair. Heis a clever fellow and there is real grit in him, and people will findit out, they always do. And Olive will wear silk dresses, and getstout with prosperity and good living; but I doubt if she will be quiteas happy as she is to-day--cutting out Dot's pelisse, and enjoying herday-dreams."
And very probably Mrs. Broderick was right. Marcus was morecommunicative that evening when he returned from his second visit toGalvaston House. Mr. Gaythorne was not exactly an ideal patient; hehad a will and a temper of his own, and already his opinion clashedwith his doctor's.
Marcus had laid great stress on perfect rest. He wished his patient toremain in bed for the next two or three days, but Mr. Gaythorneperversely refused to do anything of the kind; he would put on hisdressing-gown and lie on the couch. He hated bed in the daytime--itmade him nervous, and spoilt his night's sleep.
"I shall have to give in to him," went on Marcus, a little irritably."If I were in good practice I should just throw up the case. 'My goodsir,' I should say, 'if you will not follow my directions it will beuseless for me to prescribe for you. My professional reputation is atstake, and I cannot stand by and see you retard your cure.' Can't youfancy me saying it, Livy?"--and Marcus tossed back his wave of hair inhis old boyish way.
"Yes, dear; but people will soon find out what a splendid doctor youare; and so that poor glazier in the Models will recover, you think?"
"Yes, I hope so; the chances are in his favour, poor chap; it was hardlines crashing through the roof of that conservatory. If I had notbeen on the spot he would have bled to death before they could have gothim to a hospital. You might go and see them, Livy; they are decentpeople. She is a pleasant, hard-working young woman, and they have twolittle children, and the place is as clean as possible. I told Mr.Gaythorne about them just to amuse him, but he only grunted and lookedbored. By-the-way, you are right in one of your surmises--he hasbought your favourite picture of the Prodigal Son. It was on a chairbeside his bed, and he consulted me as to where he could have it hung.I was going to suggest over the mantel-piece, but then I saw there wasa large picture there with a silk curtain over it."
"That must be his wife's picture, Marcus. How nice of him to havecurtains over it!"
"Very nice if we could be sure that Mr. Gaythorne has been married andhad a wife," he returned, a little dryly; "but I should not besurprised to find that he was an old bachelor; he is far too fussy andprecise for a widower. But, my dear child, we are getting into verygossiping ways, and I must really get on with that book Aunt Madge lentus." And then Olivia consented to hold her tongue and let him readaloud to her as usual.