Mary of Marion Isle. Генри Райдер Хаггард

when at last she had departed beaming. «Splendid idea, that hot water, and the six drops of lemon were a perfect stroke of genius. Only I foresee that she will want me to take it also – without the whisky. You know,» he added, changing his tone, «my daughter is a good girl enough, but she has this crank about her health. To tell you the truth, there was a little disappointment a few years ago. If she could only get married, she would be all right. But when a woman is always talking of her digestion – well, it makes a man think that it might interfere with his.»

      Chapter VI

      The Hospital

      Andrew’s career as assistant to Dr. Somerville Black in his fashionable and lucrative practice may be summarized in very few words, especially as it was short. He was quite successful in his humble rôle of medical bottle-washer, but the whole business bored him to distraction, because in it, so far as he was concerned, there was absolutely nothing of any importance. Many serious cases came to Dr. Black and received the benefit of his singular gift of diagnosis and shrewd and valuable advice. But he did not deal with them himself; after indicating their nature, almost invariably he passed them on to the real experts in the various branches of medical lore. Still less of course did Andrew deal with them, whose function was simply to hold the stage when the doctor was not there, with any gag that might be convenient, often by calling on and chatting with patients suffering from nothing in particular, when Black had not time to visit them. Very soon, indeed, he came to understand that so far as essentials were concerned and at the bottom he cared for nothing else, he would learn more of his trade in a single month at Whitechapel than he could hope to do in a year in Park Lane, although his pecuniary earnings might be in an inverse ratio.

      At first Andrew was amused and interested, but quickly grew weary and, being intensely zealous and thorough by nature, came to the conclusion that however much he might hope to make out of it ultimately, this Park Lane practice was no place for him, although for reasons of his own it was desirable that he should stay there for a while until he found another opening. Otherwise how was he to marry Rose Watson, as he hoped and expected to do, at the end of his year of probation? This was one of his troubles, but he was faced by another that was even worse than his daily struggle between professional conscience and personal advantage. Arabella, who was a good many years his senior, took a fancy to him which soon became very marked. On every possible occasion she consulted him about her imaginary symptoms, deferring to his advice in a fashion which he thought pathetic, since he knew it to be based on nothing.

      Now Andrew, although he could play a part for a while and appreciate a joke, was at bottom an earnest and upright young man. Therefore at length the truth burst out of him, even where his master’s daughter was concerned.

      «It is absurd of you, Miss Black,» he said, «to consult me, a mere novice, when you have at your command your father, who in his own way is one of the most skilled of our profession, and all its other members as well. But since you persist in doing so, I will tell you what I think. It is that you are a perfectly healthy woman; there is nothing at all the matter with you.»

      Thus quoth the exasperated Andrew, reflecting, not altogether with regret, that the speech would put a full stop to his practice as second fiddle to a fashionable physician. Arabella’s pale but statuesque face flushed a little as she heard, but to his surprise she showed no anger, only great interest.

      «How curious that you should tell me that,» she said. «Nobody else has, not even my father. They all give me prescriptions.»

      «Because they are afraid of you and do not want to be worried,» blurted out Andrew. «I could give you a prescription also and one which would prove a perfect cure for all your ailments, which are real enough in their way.»

      «Indeed, and what is it?»

      «To cease thinking about yourself and begin to think about others. You have too much to your hand. Stop taking, and give.»

      In a nebulous fashion it came home to Arabella that his words embodied a fine idea.

      «How?» she asked, then added with an outgush of truth, «I am a failure, Doctor West, and a very unhappy woman. My father and I do not get on. We bore each other and I am a disappointment to him. Of course we are very wealthy, but that does not seem to help matters since we have no society, except that of other doctors and rich, common people whom my father sometimes entertains for professional reasons. They do not care for me, and I,» she added sighing, «have attracted no one outside because, you see, I am stupid and interest nobody, and am not good-looking enough to please them otherwise. Also I am a fidget, I know it, and so, between one thing and another, even the money does not seem to help me and I feel very lonely, having no relations. What is the use of driving out in beautiful clothes and a splendid carriage and pair, when everybody looks at your fur coat and the horses and not at you, and if they talk about you at all, only say that you will have a lot of money?» she ended pathetically with a kind of sob.

      «I don’t know,» said Andrew who was touched. «None, I should think. But, dash it all! Miss Arabella, it is your own fault. Why are you eternally talking about your health and making fusses because people are late for luncheon, and so forth, till you get the reputation of being a crank, as I do myself for different reasons. Don’t stop to answer, but since you have been so good as to consult me and as crank calls to crank, I’ll give you my advice. Imagine that you have only two pounds a week to live on and stick to that limit, and take a boxful of your oldest clothes – if you have any old clothes – and go out to work.»

      She considered him a little and then asked:

      «Would you think better of me if I did?»

      «I don’t quite see what I have to do with it, but of course I should.»

      «Then I’ll try, if you will show me how.»

      Andrew ran his fingers through his wavy hair and studied her with his dark eyes. Suddenly an idea came to him and he said:

      «Doctor Watson, with whom I worked before I came here, keeps a curious hospital of his own, a sort of home for irritating and indefinite cases, generally of elderly females whom the regular hospitals won’t take and who are not mad enough to be sent to an asylum, broken-down ladies and that kind, with a few drug victims whom he treats mostly by suggestion. It is reported that he does this on the interest of a sum of money, thirty thousand pounds, which a grateful patient left him to apply as he thought best. He might have kept it for himself if he wished, but being the man he is, took a different view and never tried. So he runs this place, helping out the expenses with such voluntary contributions as he can get. His nurses are also voluntary and therefore hard to find. I believe he wants one now, and she need not be skilled but just ready to work. Do you understand?»

      «Yes, I think so. But wouldn’t money be more serviceable?»

      «For him, but not for you,» replied Andrew almost rudely.

      «Where should I live? In the hospital?» she asked again.

      «No, I think not, the patients would get upon your nerves at night, and perhaps you might get upon theirs. But I’ve no doubt that he would put you up at Red Hall, where there is lots of room, if you don’t mind roughing it. And now I must be off. I’ve to meet your father about a case of an hysterical young woman. Her fit always takes her at five o’clock, and it’s a quarter to now. Forgive me if I have made suggestions which I dare say you think foolish.»

      «I don’t think them foolish,» gasped Arabella. «I think them extremely wise, though I fear that I shall be very useless at first. Will you take me to see Doctor Watson?»

      Andrew reflected. Here was a good excuse for another visit to Red Hall, or in other words, to see Rose.

      «Yes,» he answered, «that is, if you do not mind calling at 13 Justice Street where I live, at, say, twenty minutes to six. If I am not there by then, as I expect to be, my landlady, Mrs. Josky, will look after you till I come. Does that suit you? Very well. Now I must be off.»

      At twenty minutes to six accordingly, or rather before it, one of Dr. Black’s smart broughams drew up at 13 Justice Street. Arabella, like many other idle and aimless women, having developed an idea, was anxious to act upon it in a hurry. Moreover, she desired greatly to please Andrew and