"I care not a brass farthing about professional etiquette," said I; "it
is my opinion that you are doing a noble work. And I know of one case,
at least, where your diagnosis was better than mine!"
More I could not say. He flushed redly and took my hand, shaking it
warmly. Then all at once he dropped the somewhat strained elevation of
manner in which he had told his story, and began to speak with the
innocent confidence and unreserve of a child. He was obviously much
pleased at my inferred compliment.
"Ah!" he said, "I know what you mean. But then, you see, you did not
know James MacLandsborough's life history. He was my father's gardener.
I knew his record and the record of his father before him. It was
nothing but an old complaint, for which I had treated him over and over
again--working, that is, on the basis of a recent chill. In your place
and with your data I should have done what you did. In fact, I admired
your treatment greatly."
We talked a long while, so long, indeed, that I forgot all about Dr.
Campbell, and it was dusk before I found myself at Mr. Roger's door
saying "Good-night."
"If I might venture to say so," he stammered, holding my hand a moment
in his quick nervous grasp, "I would advise you not to mention your
visit here to your friend, Dr. Campbell."
"I am afraid I must," I replied; "I had an appointment with him which I
have unfortunately forgotten in the interest of our talk!"
"Then I much fear that it is not 'Good-night' but 'Good-bye' between
us!" he murmured sadly, and went within.
And even as he had prophesied so it was.
* * * * *
"Sir," said Dr. Campbell, "I shall be sorry to lose your society, but
you must choose between that house and mine. I have special and family
reasons why I cannot be intimate with any visitor to Mr.----ah, Roger!"
I had found the doctor lying on his couch, as was his custom, his
curious Oriental tray beside him, and an acrid tang in the air; but at
my first words about my visit he shook off his dreamy abstraction and
sat up.
"To tell you the truth, Campbell," I said, as calmly as possible, for,
of course, I could not allow any one (except Nance) to dictate to me, "I
was singularly interested in the young man, and--he told his tale, as it
seemed to me, quite frankly. If I am not to call upon him, I must ask
you as to your reasons for a request so singular."
"It is not a request, McQuhirr," said the doctor, passing his hand
across his brow as if to clear away moisture. "It is only a little
information I give you for your guidance. If you wish to visit this
young man--well, I am deeply grieved, but I cannot receive you here, or
have any intercourse with you professionally."
"That is saying too much or too little," I replied; "you must tell me
your reasons."
Then he hesitated, looking from side to side in a semi-dazed way.
"I would rather not--they are family reasons!" he stammered, as he
spoke.
"There is such a thing as the seal of the profession," I reminded him.
"Well," he said at last, "I will tell you. That young man is my nephew,
the son of my elder brother. His name is not Roger, but Roger Campbell.
His mother was my poor brother's housekeeper. He married her some time
after his first wife's death. This boy was their child, and, like a
cuckoo in the nest, he tried from the first to oust his elder
brother--the child of the dead woman. Indeed, but for my interference
his mother and he would have done it between them; for my brother was
latterly wholly in their hands.
"Finally this lad went to college, and coming here one summer after the
breaking up of the classes he must needs fall in love with Ailie--my
daughter, that is. What?--You never knew that I had a daughter! Ah,
Alec, I was not always the man you see me--I too have had ambitions. But
after--well, what use is there to speak of it? At any rate, young Roger
Campbell fell in love with my Ailie, and she, I suppose, liked it well
enough, but like a sensible girl gave him no immediate answer. Then
after that came his half-brother, who was heir to the little property on
Loch Aweside, and he too fell in love with Ailie. There was no girl
like her in all the Glen of Kells; and as for him, he was a tall,
handsome, fair lad, not crowled and misshapen like this one. Well, Ailie
and he fell in love, and then Roger's mother moved heaven and earth to
disinherit Archie. It was for this cause that I went up to Inchtaggart
and watched my brother during the last weeks of his life. The woman
fought like a wild cat for her son, but I and Archie watched in turns.
It was I who found the will by which Archie inherited all. In three
months Ailie and he were married. Roger Campbell failed in his
examinations the same year, and the next mother and son came back here
to her native village to live on their savings.
"The mere choice of this place showed their spite against me, but that
is not the worst. Ever since that day they have devoted themselves to
discrediting me in my profession. And you, who know these people, know
to what an extent they have succeeded. My practice has shrunk to
nothing--almost. Even the patients I have, when they do call me in,
send secretly for my enemy before my feet are cold off the doorstep.
Yet I have no redress, for I have never been able to bring a case of
taking fees home to him. Ah! if only I could!"
Dr. Ignatius fell back exhausted, for towards the last he had been
talking with a vehemence that shook the casements and set the prisms of
the little old chandelier a-tingling.
"And that is why I say you must choose between us," he said. "Is it not
enough? Have I asked too much?"
"It is enough for me," I said; "I will do as you wish!"
Now I did not see anything in his story very much against the young man;
but, after all, the lad was nothing to me, and I had known Dr. Ignatius
a long time.
So I asked him how it came that the young man was called Roger and not
Campbell.
"Oh!" he said, "that is the one piece of decent feeling he has shown in
the whole affair. He called himself Campbell Roger when he came here.
You are the only person who knows that he is my nephew."
* * * * *
I was glad afterwards that I had made him the promise he asked for. I
never saw him in life again. Dr. Ignatius Campbell died two days after,
being found dead in bed with his tiny pipe clutched in his hand. I went
up that same day, and in conjunction with Dr. John Thoburn Brown of
Drumfern, found that our colleague had long suffered from an acute form
of heart disease, and that it was wonderful how he had survived so long.
The body was lying at the time in the room where he died. The
maid-servant had gone to stay with relatives in the village, not being
willing to remain all night in the house alone; for which, all things
considered, I did not greatly blame her. I asked if there was anything I
could do, but was informed that all arrangements for the funeral had
been made. It was to be on the Friday, two days after.
I drove up the glen early that morning, and found a tall young man in
the house, opening drawers and rummaging among papers. I understood at
once that this was Mr. Archibald Campbell of Inchtaggart. I greeted him
by that name, and he responded heartily enough.
"You are Dr. McQuhirr," he said; "my father-in-law often spoke about you
and how kind you were to him. You know that he has left all his books,
papers, and scientific apparatus to you?"
"I did not know," I said; "that is as unexpected as it is undeserved,
and I hope you will act precisely as if such a bequest had not existed.
You must take all that either you or your wife would care to possess."
"Oh!" he cried lightly, "Ailie could not come. She has been ill lately,
and as for me, I would not touch one of the beastly things with a
ten-foot pole. Come into the garden and have a smoke."
There Mr. Archibald Campbell told me that he had arranged for a sale of
the doctor's house and all his effects as soon as possible.
"Better to have it over," he said, "so you had as well bring up a
conveyance and cart off all the scientific rubbish you care about. I
want all settled up and done with within the month."
He departed the night after the funeral, leaving the funeral expenses
unpaid. He was a hasty, though well-meaning young man, and no doubt he
forgot. When I came up on the Monday of the week following, I
discovered that the account had been paid.
* * * * *
After I had made my selection of books and instruments, besides taking
all the manuscripts (watched from room to room by the Drumfern lawyer's
sharp eye), I strolled out, and my steps turned involuntarily towards
the little house covered with creepers where I had seen the young man
Roger. I felt that death had absolved me from my promise, and with a
quick resolve I turned aside.
The same woman opened the door an inch or two. I lifted my hat and
asked if her son was in. She held the door open for me without speaking
a word and ushered me into the model-strewn little parlour. I cast my
eyes about. On the table lay the discharged account for the funeral
expenses of Dr. Ignatius Campbell!
In another moment the door opened and the young man came in, paler than
before, and with the slight halt in his gait exaggerated.
"How do you do, Mr. Campbell?" I said quietly, holding out my hand.
He gave back a step, almost as if I had struck him. Then he smiled
wanly. "Ah! he told you. I expected he would; and yet you have come?"
He spoke slowly, the words coming in jerks.