CHAPTER XV

AN EVIL PROPHECY BEGINS TO BEAR FRUIT

Leonora and Mrs. Kimball accompanied Dr. Earl to the meeting of the

medical society, and if he had some doubts whether or not she would be

able to follow his discourse perfectly, he had none whatever as to his

own pride and pleasure in her dainty loveliness. She was gowned in

white, and the season's styles were particularly becoming to her

graceful and well-rounded figure. Her radiant face with its sensitive

coloring resembled the delicate glow of one of those rare Sevres vases

of the Empire Period.

She appreciated the compliment of the invitation, as people always

appreciate the compliment of being invited to distinguished gatherings

where the subjects of discussion are likely to be much beyond their

range of knowledge or understanding.

There was a large attendance, for while many members of the profession

had come from idle curiosity, most of those present were interested in

the views of any man of standing who might throw new light upon the

successful application of either medical or surgical remedies.

Whatever criticisms may be passed upon individual practitioners, or

however many Bourbons may exist in the fraternity, yet it must be

apparent to the student of such matters that nowhere in the world does

as large a percentage of the medical or surgical profession adopt new

and improved methods of treatment of the maimed and the ill as in the

United States. And nowhere in the world are such new and improved

methods applied with anything like the aptness or skill as by American

doctors of medicine or surgery.

The old school, the newer school, the newest school of legally

recognized practitioners were there in force, as well as numbers of

those who were effecting remarkable cures without any special sanction

of law for their methods.

Modestly and earnestly, Dr. Earl discussed the subject that had been

assigned him, amplifying as much as his time would permit, and

occasionally citing authorities bound to command respectful attention

from scientific minds.

He was aware that he had the sympathy of most of his audience, and he

was just as fully conscious of the hostility of Drs. Morris, Tower,

Hershell, Bainbridge and two or three more of those who believed with

something approaching fanaticism that all physicians and surgeons must

adhere strictly to what they denominated "standard methods."

While Leonora could not comprehend the larger significance of his

discourse, it gratified her pride and pleased her vanity that her

fiancee was a man who could obtain such a hearing from the medical

profession. The discussion that followed the address was animated and

intelligent, and if the malcontents had intended any discourtesy to Dr.

Earl their plans went awry.

Dr. Earl found himself plunged deeper and deeper every day in the

seemingly innumerable duties that crowded upon him. Summer came with

tropical heat, but feeling that he had already enjoyed a long vacation,

he made no plans, save to take his week-ends out of town, and prepared

to keep office hours all summer.

Early in July, Leonora and her mother went to Bar Harbor and the

Ramseys to Newport. Frank had gone West in May. He would have missed

them had he possessed a free moment, but the first of August found him

as busy as ever, in spite of the fact that the city was deserted by the

fashionable world. Sickness has fashions of its own, and the fame he had

achieved as "the surgeon who cures without operating," brought him not a

few calls from those who had nothing to commend them save their

suffering and their faith. Every doctor worthy the name has a set of

books kept only by his recording angel, and Earl's invisible guardian

made many entries that summer, and there were times when even the

insistence of Leonora could not make him feel willing to leave those who

seemed so wholly dependent upon his presence for their physical welfare.

Now and then, in spite of his all-absorbing work, there came to his

sensitive consciousness a feeling of foreboding and dread that he could

not explain, save by some subtle law of suggestion, as he recalled half

in mirth and half in seriousness the dark prophecies of the astrologist

at the suffrage ball. He had suspected his brother Frank, and when he

learned that the seeress was Miss Renner, that suspicion had been

confirmed; Frank might have given her the date of Leonora's birthday,

but he had nothing to do with the warning she had given him that

something would happen within the next twenty-four hours which would

have a bearing on his whole career. Within two hours he had treated

little Alice Bell, and out of that event had grown his more intimate

acquaintance with Silvia, and the marked hostility of Dr. Morris. The

child was doing as well as could be expected, but he was greatly

disturbed over her condition, and was building up her general health in

the hope of overcoming the disease.

He had asked Miss Renner one or two questions, but she had evaded him,

and while he had thought of calling on her and asking for the promised

horoscope, which she did not send, the idea seemed absurd, and he had no

time to carry it out.

On the fourth of August he received a summons to come to Magnolia,

Massachusetts, to attend a former patient who was spending the summer

there, and he left New York, intending to remain a week.

His movements had become a matter of interest to the ubiquitous

newspaper reporter, and as the dog-days in New York were not prolific

in startling items, the fact of his being sent for to attend a prominent

New York man at Magnolia was seized upon and made into a fairly readable

first page news story.

He arranged for the care of his patients, saw the Bells and told them of

his intended absence, and spent some time talking with the frail little

child who had become greatly attached to him. As he rose to go, he

turned to the couch once more. "What shall I send you from Boston,

little Miss Alice?" he said kindly, and the girl replied in true child

fashion, "Candy." He shook his head. "You know I don't approve of much

candy for small girls; but you shall have something better," he said,

"you may be sure I won't forget," and with another good-by he was gone.

He took the midnight train for Boston, and his patient's motor car was

waiting for him when he arrived there.

Perhaps it was the excitement of thinking what the "something better"

could be that kept Alice Bell awake that night; whatever it was, when

Silvia Holland saw her the next morning her heart sank. She had a

feeling that she was in some way responsible for the child also, and

that she was still Dr. Earl's assistant. She watched her while she

talked to Mrs. Bell, and suggested, in a tentative way, that Mrs. Bell

should go to some quiet country place for a month, but the woman shook

her head.

"I cannot leave the city, now," she said. "I have a great quantity of

sewing that must be done for Miss Lanier's wedding in September."

"Couldn't you take it along?" asked Silvia.

"No," she said quietly, but decidedly. "Some of the things she wants

fitted, and I have said I would be here any time she wanted to run into

town. Besides, there are other reasons why I cannot go away now." She

controlled herself with an effort. "I can never tell you, Miss Holland,

how thankful I am for the work you have brought my way. You can't

understand, no woman who has never been anxious to know how she was

going to get the rent can understand what a blessing it is to be

independent! You are doing great things for all women, Miss Holland, and

not forgetting individual women as some people would, but _do_ try to

make girls understand that they can never be free so long as they are

dependent on somebody else for their bread and butter."

Silvia flushed. "You're not fretting because of the paltry little sum I

advanced for your rent, are you?" she said. "I thought we were friends,

and such things should not be spoken of between friends."

The woman turned to her with a face in which gratitude and some great

sorrow were contending emotions, and caught her hands and held them

tight.

"No," she said, "I don't mind being under obligations to you; I'm almost

glad to be, for the sake of knowing such a woman. You can do a kindness

without making it a burden; there are people who pay a debt as if they

were doing you a favor. The only thing I mind is that I am not more

worthy of all you have done for me."

Silvia put her hands on the other woman's shoulders. "Don't talk to me

of unworthiness," she said. "You are a brave woman and a devoted mother;

it is one of the crimes of civilization that you should lack for any

creature comforts, and you shall not any more. You shall earn what you

need yourself, and this fall I intend to start a class of girls in

domestic economy, and you shall teach them how to make these pretty

things you fashion so exquisitely."

An indescribable look of pain and rebellion passed over Mrs. Bell's

face, and she turned away from Silvia, with a quick gesture of

renunciation.

"In the meantime," Silvia went on, feeling that the time had not come to

seek any further confidence, "I am going to borrow Alice. I want to take

her up to Nutwood for a week or two, and as I'm going this noon, suppose

you gather her things together, and I'll take her right along."

The little girl gave a cry of joy, and then her face dropped. "But,

mamma," she said, "will I miss my present from Dr. Earl?"

Her mother smiled and explained that the doctor had promised to send

Allie "something better than candy" from Boston, where he had gone the

night before. "I will forward it," she said; "you can trust mother for

that."

"He has been very good to you, hasn't he?" said Silvia absently,

thinking of him once more as she had seen him first, as he bent over the

child, the sleeves rolled back from his powerful white arms while he

bathed the matted locks and set the broken leg.

"He has that," said the woman laconically. "I'm glad to have Allie go

with you, for she would miss him; he said he wouldn't be back for a

week. Now be a good girl, Allie, and do just as Miss Holland tells you,

and you will write mother a little letter every day, and mother will

write to you." She flung her arms about the child in a sudden passion of

emotion, but the eyes that looked into Silvia's as she took her hand

were dry and wretched.

"I wish you could tell me all about it," Silvia said impulsively.

"I shall, soon," she answered; "unless Fate turns kind for once, I shall

tell you all, soon, very soon."

An American Suffragette · 第 15 / 21 章