"Pardon my remark," I said, at last, in a low tone, "but I gather from
your words that some man has come between yourself and your husband."
"Between myself and my husband!" she echoed in surprise. "Why, no,
Doctor. You don't understand me. I love my husband, and he has no love
for me!" Her statement was certainly a most unusual one. She was by no
means a simple-minded woman, but, on the contrary, clever and
intelligent, with a thorough knowledge of the world. It therefore
seemed astounding that she should make this remarkable confession. But
I controlled my surprise, and responded--
"You are, unfortunately, but one wife among thousands in exactly the
same position. If we only knew the composition of the ancient
love-philtre it would be in daily requisition. But, unfortunately,
medical science is unable to influence the passion of the heart."
"Of course," she sighed. Then, with her eyes cast down upon the small
table beside which she was sitting, she added, "I suppose, if the truth
were known, you consider me very foolish in making this confession to
you, a comparative stranger?"
"I do not consider it foolishness at all," I hastened to assure her. "A
neglected wife must always excite sympathy."
"And have I yours?"
"Most assuredly," I answered. "It is evident, from my diagnosis, that
you are suffering from sudden and abrupt alterations in the feelings.
You are more especially subject to a feeling of malaise, accompanied by
mental depression, as at this moment. Therefore, I must endeavour to
remove the cause. As regards the affection you bear your husband, I
would presume to remind you of the very true adage which declares that
`Love begets love.'"
"Ah," she interrupted, "that is untrue in my case."
"Am I, then, to understand that your husband is attracted by some other
person?"
"I really don't know; I do not know what to think. He is indifferent--
that is all."
"What difference is there in your ages?"
"I am thirty. He is fifty-eight."
"Ah!" I exclaimed. "And am I to presume that your marriage was a
loveless one?"
"Not at all," she answered quickly. "I was very fond of him, and he
made some pretence of affection."
"And how many years have you been married?"
"Three," she responded.
According to "Debrett" she had married five years ago, but for such
small untruths a woman may always be forgiven.
I looked at her, unable to entirely satisfy myself regarding her. She
seemed suffering from an agitation which she was striving with all her
might to control. That her nervous organisation was impaired was no
doubt correct, but it struck me that the cause of it all was some sudden
and terrible shock to the system.
"I assure you that you have my sympathy in your mental distress," I said
at length. "There have always been fatalists who have argued that we
must accept without question what is sent us, that we must bow in
submission to a `will' without really seeking to find out what the
`will' is."
"Yes," she said thoughtfully. "It is quite impossible not to admit that
the increased knowledge of the laws which regulate the visible universe
has increased our living faith and added to the glory of the Almighty,
while it has made it more difficult for men to make gods after their own
image and use them for their own purposes."
"Exactly," I said. "Modern medicine is teaching us every day that much
bodily suffering is due to man's wilful neglect of the beneficent laws
of Nature. That diseases are due to ignorance and disregard of law, and
are not `sent' as scourges by a petulant and capricious deity, is
clearly a doctrine which in no way dims the glory of God."
"I quite agree," she responded. Then, in a low tone, more confidential
than before, she added, "You, Doctor, have expressed sympathy for me in
my distress, and I look to you for assistance. Curious though it may
seem, I have scarcely a single friend in whom I can confide."
"I shall respect your confidence, as is my duty," I answered, "and will
do my best to stifle your craving for stimuli."
"But the love of my husband?"
"Endeavour to live uprightly and honestly, and show him your true worth
above all other women," I said. "It is the only way."
"I have done so," she answered sadly, "but have failed."
"Do not give up. A man is never wholly proof against a good woman,
especially if that woman be his wife."
A silence fell between us.
"And may I count upon your aid in all this, Doctor?" she asked, with
some hesitation.
"Certainly," I responded. "If I can give you any advice, I shall always
be pleased to do so."
"But my husband must know nothing. Recollect I have consulted you
unknown to him."
"As you wish, of course."
"And, in future, if I wish to see you, may I call at your surgery?"
"If you desire," I replied. "But I am only _locum tenens_ for my
friend, Doctor Raymond, who is in the country. Perhaps I may go into
practice in the country afterwards."
"And leave me!" she exclaimed anxiously. "I hope not."
"I shall still consider you my patient," I said.
"No," she said. "I trust that you will regard me as more than a mere
patient--as your friend."
"I am honoured by your friendship," I replied. "And if I can, at any
time, do anything to assist you in this mental trouble of yours, I will
do it with pleasure."
I had, during our conversation, been attracted by her frankness of
manner and the evident sorrow which weighed so heavily upon her. She
had confessed to me, and we had now become friends. My position was a
curious one: the adviser of a woman who was wearing out her heart for
her husband's love. It was not altogether devoid of danger either, for
her ladyship was an exceedingly attractive woman.
I had written the prescription and handed it to her, but, apparently in
no mood to allow me to go, she did not rise.
While I had been busily writing at the little escritoire her manner had
apparently changed, for she was no longer the serious, nervous woman of
ten minutes before, but quite gay and vivacious, with a look of triumph
in her fine, dark eyes.
"I am very glad, Doctor Colkirk, that you have promised to assist me,"
she said, laughing merrily and stretching out her tiny foot from beneath
the hem of her skirt with a distinct air of coquetry. "I feel sure that
we shall be excellent friends."
"I hope so," I replied. "But you must be careful of your general
health, and persevere with the treatment."
"I don't care much for chemists' concoctions," she laughed. "It's very
good of you to have given me this prescription, but I don't propose to
make use of it."
"Why not?" I inquired in quick surprise.
"Because I only described to you imaginary symptoms," she laughed
mischievously. "I enjoy a glass of port immensely after dinner, but
further than that never touch stimulants, nor have any inclination for
them."
"So you have deceived me," I said severely, for it seemed as though she
wished to poke fun at me.
"Yes. But I hope you will forgive me," she answered, laughing.
"I cannot see what motive you can have in calling me in to describe a
malady from which you are not suffering. A doctor's time is valuable."
"I had a motive."
"And pray what was it?"
"Well, I wished to make your acquaintance," she answered boldly, without
hesitation.
"You adopted a rather unusual course," I remarked, somewhat annoyed.
"I think, under the circumstances, this little ruse of mine may possibly
be forgiven," she answered. "I am not the first woman who has called in
a doctor professionally merely in order to make his acquaintance."
"And for what reason did you wish to know me?"
"I trust you are not annoyed with me?" she exclaimed. "You must admit
that I acted the part of the nervous woman so well that even you, a
medical man, were, deceived."
"I admit that you have taken an unfair advantage of me," I answered
calmly, wondering why she should thus have sought my acquaintance.
"But you will forgive me, Doctor, won't you?" she urged.
"If you will tell me the reason you were so desirous of meeting me."
"I wanted to know you."
"Why?"
"I had seen you in the distance many times, and desired to become
personally acquainted with you."
"For what reason?"
She hesitated, and I thought I detected a faint blush upon her cheek.
"I--well, I wished to number you among my friends."
"Then I presume that the story regarding your husband is also a
fiction?" I said, surprised that I had previously formed such an
entirely wrong impression of her.
"No, not exactly," she responded. "I hope to have the pleasure of
introducing you to him some day ere long."
"I shall of course be delighted," I answered in a tone which I fear did
not convey any desire on my part to be honoured by the baronet's
acquaintance. "But, having deceived me as you have to-day, I confess
that my confidence is somewhat shaken."
She laughed and raised her hand to her hair.
"Ah! it is always best to commence by being enemies and to end by being
friends."
"You intend, then, that we shall be friends?"
"Of course. That is the reason why I asked you to call on me."
"But where have you seen me?"
"Oh, in lots of places," she answered vaguely. Her attitude was very
strange. Could it be possible that she had seen me, and, becoming
attracted by my personal appearance, had found out who and what I was?
Was it possible that she intended that I should be her lover?
The thought flashed across my mind as she sat there smiling upon me,
displaying an even row of pearly teeth, while her face was radiant with
triumph and happiness. I had promised friendship to this woman, who had
so cleverly formed my acquaintance.
"Tell me one place where we have met," I asked, for, to my knowledge, I
had never set eyes upon her before that morning.
"You were having supper at the _Savoy_ with your friend, Doctor Raymond,
one night three weeks ago," she answered. "On the following evening you
both dined together at the exhibition at Earl's Court."
"And you saw us at both places?" I exclaimed, surprised.
"Yes," she laughed. "You see how well acquainted I have been with your
recent movements."
"I had no idea that any lady had been taking an interest in my
unimportant self," I laughed.
Yes, it was true, this woman was seeking to fascinate me by those wiles
so purely feminine. But I laughed within myself, for I was fortunately
proof against it all. The incident was decidedly amusing. Of a verity
the doctor is bound to steel his heart against many feminine
blandishments.
Ere the words had left my lips, however, our conversation was
interrupted by a woman's voice outside the room, crying merrily--
"Nora! Nora! Where are you? We shall be so awfully late!"
And an instant later a young girl, dressed to go out, burst gaily into
the room. She drew back with a quick word of apology when she
recognised that her ladyship was not alone, but at sight of her I sat
there dumb-stricken and rigid as a statue.
Was I dreaming? Could it be, after all, only a mere chimera of an
excited imagination? No; I knew myself to be in full possession of all
my faculties. The mystery was inscrutable. There before me, somewhat
abashed by her own unceremonious intrusion, her soft cheeks slightly
flushed, radiant and in perfect health, stood my dead wife in the flesh!