"Morning, Doctor. Hardly expected to find you at home. Thought you'd
be on your rounds."
The speaker was mounted on a rather restive cob, which he now checked by
the gate of the pretty cottage in one of the Northwood lanes; and as he
spoke he sprang down and placed his rein through the ring on the post
close by the brass plate which bore the words--"Pierce Leigh, M.D.,
Surgeon, etc.," but he did not look at the ring, for his eyes gave a
furtive glance at the windows from one to the other quickly.
He was not a groom, for his horse-shoe pin was set with diamonds, and a
large bunch of golden charms hung at his watch chain, but his coat, hat,
drab breeches, and leggings were of the most horsey cut, and on a near
approach anyone might have expected to smell stables. As it was, the
odour he exhaled was Jockey Club, emanating from a white pocket
handkerchief dotted with foxes' heads, hunting crops and horns, and
saturated with scent.
"My rounds are not very regular, Mr Wilton," said the gentleman
addressed, and he looked keenly at the commonplace speaker, whose ears
stood out widely from his closely-cropped hair. "You people are
dreadfully healthy down here," and he held open the garden gate and drew
himself up, a fairly handsome, dark, keen-eyed, gentlemanly-looking man
of thirty, slightly pale as if from study, but looking wiry and strong
as an athlete. "You wished to see me?"
"Yes. Bit off my corn. Headache, black spots before my eyes, and that
sort of thing. Thought I'd consult the Vet."
"Will you step in?"
"Eh? Yes. Thankye."
The Doctor led the way into his flower-decked half-study,
half-consulting room, where several other little adornments suggested
the near presence of a woman; and the would-be patient coughed
unnecessarily, and kept on tapping his leg with the hunting crop he
carried, as he followed, and the door was closed, and a chair was placed
for him.
"Eh? Chair? Thanks," said the visitor, taking it by the back, swinging
it round, and throwing one leg across as if it were a saddle, crossing
his arms and resting his chin there--the while he stared rather
enviously at the man before him. "Not much the matter, and you mustn't
make me so that I can't get on. Got a chap staying with me, and we're
going after the pheasants. I say, let me send you a brace."
"You are very good," said the Doctor, smiling rather contemptuously,
"but as I understand it they are not yet shot?"
"Eh? Oh, no; but no fear of that. I can lick our keeper; pretty sure
with a gun. Want to see my tongue and feel my pulse?"
"Well, no," said the Doctor, with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "I
can pretty well tell."
"How?"
"By your looks."
"Eh? Don't look bad, do I?"
"Rather."
"Something nasty coming on?" said the young man nervously.
"Yes; bad bilious attack, if you are not careful. You have been
drinking too much beer and smoking too many strong cigars."
"Not a bad guess," said the young man with a grin. "Last boxes are
enough to take the top of your head off. Try one."
"Thank you," was the reply, and a black-looking cigar was taken from the
proffered case.
"Mind, I've told you they are roofers."
"I can smoke a strong cigar," said the Doctor, quietly.
"You can? Well, I can't. Now then, mix up something; I want to be
off."
"There is no need to give you any medicine. Leave off beer and tobacco
for a few days, and you will be all right."
"But aren't you going to give me any physic?"
"Not a drop."
"Glad of it. But I say, the yokels down here won't care for it if you
don't give them something."
"I have found out that already. There, sir, I have given you the best
advice I can."
"Thankye. When am I to come again?"
"Not until you are really ill. Not then," said the Doctor, smiling
slightly as he rose, "for I suppose I should be sent for to you."
"That's all then?"
"Yes, that is all."
"Well, send in your bill to the guv'nor," said the young man, renewing
his grin; "he pays all mine. Nice morning, ain't it, for December?
Soon have Christmas."
"Yes, we shall soon have Christmas now," said the Doctor, backing his
visitor toward the door.
"But looks more like October, don't it?"
"Yes, much more like October."
"Steady, Beauty! Ah, quiet, will you!" cried the young man, as he
mounted the restive cob. "She's a bit fresh. Wants some of the dance
taken out of her. Morning.--Sour beggar, no wonder he don't get on,"
muttered the patient. "Take that and that. Coming those games when I'm
mounting! How do you like that? Wanted to have me off."
There was a fresh application of the spurs, brutally given, and after
plunging heavily the little mare tore off as hard as she could go, while
the Doctor watched till his patient turned a corner, and then resumed
his walk up and down the garden--a walk interrupted by the visit.
"Insolent puppy!" he muttered, frowning. "A miserable excuse."
"Pierce, dear, where are you?" cried a pleasant voice, and a piquant
little figure appeared at the door. "Oh, there you are. Shall I want a
hat? Oh, no, it's quite mild." The owner of the voice hurried out like
a beam of sunshine on the dull grey morning, and taking the Doctor's arm
tried to keep step with him, after glancing up in his stern face, her
own looking merry and arch with its dimples.
"What is it, Jenny?" he said.
"What is it, sir? Why, I want fresh air as well as you; but don't
stride along like that. How can I keep step? You have such long legs."
"That's better," he said, trying to accommodate himself to the little
body at his side.
"Rather. So you have had a patient," she said.
"Yes, I've had a patient, Sis," he replied, looking down at her; and a
faint colour dawned in her creamy cheeks.
"And you always grumbling, sir! There, I do believe that is the
beginning of a change. Who was the patient?"
The Doctor's hand twitched, and he frowned, but he said, calmly enough,
"That young cub from the Manor."
"Mr Claud Wilton?" said the girl innocently; "Oh, I am glad. Beginning
with the rich people at the Manor. Now everyone will come."
"No, my dear; everyone will not come, and the sooner we pack up and go
back to town the better."
"What, sell the practice?"
"Sell the practice," he cried contemptuously. "Sell the furniture, Sis.
One man--fool, I mean--was enough to be swindled over this affair.
Practice! The miserable scoundrel! Much good may the money he
defrauded me of do him. No, but we shall have to go."
"Don't, Pierce," said the girl, looking up at him wistfully.
"Why?" he said angrily.
"Because it did do me good being down here, and I like the place so
much."
"Any place would be better than that miserable hole at Westminster,
where you were getting paler every day, but I ought to have been more
businesslike. It has not done you good though; and if you like the
place the more reason why we should go," he cried angrily.
"Oh, Pierce, dear, what a bear you are this morning. Do be patient, and
I know the patients will come."
"Bah! Not a soul called upon us since we've been here, except the
tradespeople, so that they might get our custom."
"But we've only been here six months, dear."
"It will be the same when we've been here six years, and I'm wasting
time. I shall get away as soon as I can. Start the New Year afresh in
town."
"Pierce, oh don't walk so fast. How can I keep up with you?"
"I beg your pardon."
"That's better. But, Pierce, dear," she said, with an arch look; "don't
talk like that. You wouldn't have the heart to go."
"Indeed! But I will."
"I know better, dear."
"What do you mean?"
"You couldn't go away now. Oh, Pierce, dear, she is sweet! I could
love her so. There is something so beautiful and pathetic in her face
as she sits there in church. Many a time I've felt the tears come into
my eyes, and as if I could go across the little aisle and kiss her and
call her sister."
He turned round sharply and caught her by the arm, his eyes flashing
with indignation.
"Jenny," he cried, "are you mad?"
"No, only in pain," she said, with her lip quivering. "You hurt me.
You are so strong."
"I--I did not mean it," he said, releasing her.
"But you hurt me still, dear, to see you like this. Oh, Pierce,
darling," she whispered, as she clung to his arm and nestled to him;
"don't try and hide it from me. A woman always knows. I saw it from
the first when she came down, and we first noticed her, and she came to
church looking like some dear, suffering saint. My heart went out to
her at once, and the more so that I saw the effect it had on you.
Pierce, dear, you do love me?"
"You know," he said hoarsely.
"Then be open with me. What could be better?"
He was silent for a few moments, and then he answered the pretty,
wistful eyes, gazing so inquiringly in his.
"Yes," he said. "I will be open with you, Sis, for you mean well; but
you speak like the pretty child you have always been to me. Has it ever
crossed your mind that I have never spoken to this lady, and that she is
a rich heiress, and that I am a poor doctor who is making a failure of
his life?"
"What!" cried the girl proudly. "Why, if she were a princess she would
not be too grand for my brave noble brother."
"Hah!" he cried, with a scornful laugh; "your brave noble brother!
Well, go on and still think so of me, little one. It's very pleasant,
and does not hurt anyone. I hope I'm too sensible to be spoiled by my
little flatterer. Only keep your love for me yet awhile," he said
meaningly. "Let's leave love out of the question till we can pay our
way and have something to spare, instead of having no income at all but
what comes from consols."
"But Pierce--"
"That will do. You're a dear little goose. We must want the Queen's
Crown from the Tower because it's pretty."
"Now you're talking nonsense, Pierce," she said, firmly, and she held
his arm tightly between her little hands. "You can't deny it, sir. You
fell in love with her from the first."
"Jenny, my child," he said quietly. "I promised our father I would be
an honorable man and a gentleman."
"And so you would have been, without promising."
"I hope so. Then now listen to me; never speak to me in this way
again."
"I will," she cried flushing. "Answer me this; would it be acting like
an honorable man to let that sweet angel of a girl marry Claud Wilton?"
"What!" he cried, starting, and gazing at his sister intently. "Her own
cousin? Absurd."
"I've heard that it is to be so."
"Nonsense!"
"People say so, and where there's smoke there's fire. Cousins marry,
and I don't believe they'll let a fortune like that go out of the
family."
"They're rich enough to laugh at it."
"They're not rich; they're poor, for the Squire's in difficulties."
"Petty village tattle. Rubbish, girl. Once more, no more of this.
You're wrong, my dear. You mean well, but there's an ugly saying about
good intentions which I will not repeat. Now listen to me. The coming
down to Northwood has been a grave mistake, and when people blunder the
sooner they get back to the right path the better. I have made up my
mind to go back to London, and your words this morning have hastened it
on. The sooner we are off the better."
"No, Pierce," said the girl firmly. "Not to make you unhappy. You
shall not take a step that you will repent to the last day of your life,
dear. We must stay."
"We must go. I have nothing to stay for here. Neither have you," he
added, meaningly.
"Pierce!" she cried, flushing.
"Beg pardon, sir; Mr Leigh, sir."
They had been too much intent upon their conversation to notice the
approach of a dog-cart, or that the groom who drove it had pulled up on
seeing them, and was now talking to them over the hedge.
"Yes, what is it?" said Leigh, sharply.
"Will you come over to the Manor directly, sir? Master's out, and
Missus is in a trubble way. Our young lady, sir, Miss Wilton, took
bad--fainting and nervous. You're to come at once."
Jenny uttered a soft, low, long-drawn "Oh!" and, forgetful of everything
he had said, Pierce Leigh rushed into the house, caught up his hat, and
hurried out again, to mount into the dog-cart beside the driver.
"Poor, dear old brother!" said Jenny, softly, as with her eyes
half-blinded by the tears which rose, she watched the dog-cart driven
away. "I don't believe he will go to town. Oh, how strangely things do
come about. I wish I could have gone too."