DR. SONES SUCCEEDS.
I have no title to aspire,
Yet when you sink I seem the higher.—_Swift_.
The greatest professor and proficient in any science loves it not
so sincerely as to be fully pleased with any finer effort than he
can himself produce—_Lacon_.
Dr. Sones had pursued his investigations till he had made the great
discovery of a test for the active principle of the poisonous fungi. He
clearly demonstrated that the poison of the deadly Russian fungus was
identical with that absorbed by the handkerchiefs which Mrs. Crowe’s
maid had given to Mr. Mole. Here then was the detection of a horrible
crime! He of course lost no time in communicating these important
results to Mr. Mole, whose triumph was complete. They held long
deliberation as to what was to be done. In the minds of both these
experts there was no doubt of the guilt of Mr. Crowe; but was it
advisable to bring his guilt home to him? They decided it was not
possible, nor was it expedient even were it in their power. But Mr.
Mole determined to do one thing that would test the matter pretty
closely. He wrote a learned and exhaustive paper for the Medical
Society of the Hospital on “The Physiological and Chemical Tests of the
Poisonous Principles of Fungi,” and read it. Mr. Crowe, who was the
chairman of the Society, wrote, an hour or two before the meeting, that
“important engagements would prevent him having the extreme pleasure of
being present that evening to hear Mr. Mole’s deeply interesting paper.”
Dr. Wilson occupied his place, and so highly did he and the rest of the
staff and students present think of the monograph that it was ordered
to be printed and circulated at the Society’s expense. Mr. Mole
received the warm congratulations of the audience, and it was felt that
he had conferred honour on his _alma mater_ by his original research.
The next morning, when Mr. Crowe heard the report of the evening’s
work—the nature of the long course of investigations, the Russian
treatise which had fallen so strangely into his assistant’s hands, the
discovery of the tests and the other points that indicated, as by the
finger of an avenging angel, his guilt and downfall—he knew Mole was
on his track, knew that he was in his power, and that his doom had
come. He was alone with his crime; his murdered wife was avenged. He
turned from his pupils, who eagerly questioned him as to his opinion on
this and the other points of Mole’s paper, went into his laboratory,
seized a bottle of prussic acid, drank its contents, and was a corpse
before his class had left the lecture theatre. Everybody attributed the
awful tragedy to jealousy of Mole’s success. Two men knew the secret,
and kept it. Two women guessed it, and told their suspicions.
Gradually, like a bad vapour spread by the law of diffusion of gases,
all the world had an inkling of the crime. But Mole and Sones held
their peace; and when the former was elected to the vacant chair of
physiology at St. Bernard’s, there was only one man besides the
occupier of the post who knew the steps by which it had been reached.
Mr. Mole proved a failure; his great monograph was all the original
work he ever did, and he lived a poor and obscure man. He never married
Janet, after all, so that her Egyptian gentleman misled her no less
than the little physiologist. Dr. Sones still occupies his old
quarters, and now and then gets a thrill of ecstatic delight as he
makes some new discovery in his favourite study; and though he does
not acquire a fortune, he gets what he values more—a little fame
from time to time in the chemical journals of Europe. His good sister
still befriends his poor clients; and even his Board of Guardians
acknowledges that, in the medical officer of the south ward of their
parish and his estimable sister, they have full value for the salary
they pay their doctor. This has actually been admitted at the Board,
and nobody opposed it—a fact going far to prove that the officer must
either be a very good or an exceedingly bad one.
* * * * *
When Mildred returned to England, she found amongst her correspondence
a prospectus of the new hospital and nursing home, with a note from
Sister Agnes, asking her to visit the little colony and hospital on her
return. Mildred seemed to see in all this the hand of Providence
pointing her future course. Was it not strange that her meeting with
Elsworth, and the history of his work, should have aroused her interest
in, and awakened a desire to promote a similar scheme on a large scale,
and immediately on her return to find that the same idea had occurred
to her good friend, Sister Agnes? The prospectus declared that the new
hospital scheme had proved perfectly feasible, all that was wanting was
the necessary money to develop and extend it. For this object a
drawing-room meeting was to be held in Kensington Gore in a few days,
and Sister Agnes earnestly besought her presence. Mildred was not long
in finding her way down to the East End, and assuring her friends at
Nightingale Home of her interest in the good work they had so well
begun. She paid such frequent visits that at last Aunt Janet jokingly
remarked that she fully expected soon to see her don the habit of a
sisterhood, unless perchance anybody should come along to forbid the
sacrifice.
As she said this, she held up a letter which she had received that
morning from Elsworth, announcing his intention to return at once to
England, inasmuch as the news had reached him from his men of business,
that his father, Major Elsworth, was dead, he having been seized with a
fit of apoplexy while engaged at a meeting of the Theosophical Society
of Benares.
When Elsworth received the news of his father’s death, he felt that he
could no longer remain in Spain. Apart from the necessity of visiting
England on business, he yearned to be nearer his newly found friends.
Poor fellow, he felt the need of “congenial sympathy”—at least, so he
said to himself. The death of his father and the thoughts of Mildred
(and Aunt Janet) combined to make him think that gipsies and cholera
patients did not completely fill the void in his heart. Aunt Janet had
corresponded with him, and spoke in such terms of Mildred that he would
have been foolish not to take encouragement from her tone and follow up
his advantage. Aunt Janet was evidently developing into a match-maker.
She was, in fact, so impressed with Elsworth that, highly as she valued
Mildred, she did not consider her a whit too good for such a man. A
girl’s women-folk usually think no man is good enough to marry her.
Very likely they are right; still, there are some Elsworths yet in the
world.
Six months after Mildred’s visit to Granada, Elsworth, the exile,
returned to London. His first visit was to St. Bernard’s. Having
entered as a perpetual student, he had the right to all the advantages
of the hospital for life. He saw the warden and several of the staff,
explained the reasons of his absence, and requested that his name might
at once be put down for the appointments he had the right to hold. As
it happened, there was a vacant house-physicianship just then at his
service, and, as he was very popular at the place, he went into
residence almost at once.
It was not long before he looked up Aunt Janet and Mildred. That was
the arrangement on his surface mind—his deeper soul said “Mildred and
Aunt Janet,” but he did not permit this to be audible to his own ears.
He feared she was too high for him; her wealth had placed a barrier
between her and his striving. Still, he could call upon Aunt Janet, and
that would be something towards keeping up the acquaintance with
Mildred.
As soon as it became known that Elsworth had turned up again, he had
visits from many old friends. Alas! some of his former acquaintances
were dead; others had gone hopelessly to the dogs. Many were in good
practice—some in London, others in the country. A few had spent the
interval in going backwards and forward as surgeons in ships trading to
the Antipodes: but there were at least a dozen fellows who, having
failed to pass any of their examinations, were still hanging about the
hospital, which was heartily ashamed of them, while they divided their
time impartially between the dissecting-room and the neighbouring
taverns. Of course, it was not to many of these Elsworth told the story
of his going, but it soon oozed out. Was he chaffed? Not the least. The
lowest mind, the most besotted intellect admires and respects the
genuine conversion of a sinner, even as the angels rejoice at the fact.
Not that Elsworth would now, in the strength he had imbibed from his
long communion with God, have cared in the least for the jeers of these
men. He was quite strong enough now to
“Take temptation by the head and hair.”
He was very popular with all the staff, but still more with the
patients and the nurses; not quite so popular with the students. They
might tax his energies to the utmost; he never tired of helping them to
learn all they could learn honestly and fairly, but with him it was
patient first and pupils next; no tricks were played upon the occupants
of any beds in his wards. He had been just two months in his post as
resident physician, when the secretary of the hospital sent for him to
his office, to ask him if he would like to take a rather valuable
appointment as resident surgeon to the Nightingale Hospital. He had
been told by Miss Mildred Lee that he was just the man they wanted for
their new charity.
The secretary was compelled to give the invitation himself, as the
staff would not even recognise the place. When the doctors heard of the
new hospital, they poured their scorn and contempt upon it. “The newest
fad of the faddists;” “the humanitarian craze of the shrieking
sisterhood;” “the college of all the antis,” and the like complimentary
epithets were bestowed upon it.
Of course none of them would give it the least of their countenance or
support, and all would have dealt hardly with any friends who helped it.
Elsworth thought he would like this position above all things, and lost
no time in calling upon Mildred for further particulars. He learned
from Aunt Janet that her niece had absolutely made over the great bulk
of her fortune to the trustees of the new buildings, and had besides
interested some wealthy friends who rendered valuable assistance; and
that, so convinced were they that he was the man for the post of
medical superintendent, that they begged him to accept it, with the
stipend of £500 a year. Elsworth did not hesitate, but accepting the
offer at once, set to work to elaborate a scheme for the efficient
conduct of an institution so consonant with his ideal of what a true
hospital should be.
At first it was not proposed to establish a Medical School, as it would
involve too great an expenditure for their present means. But such an
institution would ultimately be included in the work proposed, as they
considered that it was perfectly possible efficiently to educate men
for the medical profession, if they were of worthy material, without
entailing suffering, shame, or loss on man, woman, or child.
Of course Aunt Janet knew perfectly well that Mildred and Elsworth
loved each other, though neither had given her any real cause for
speaking on the subject. The great difficulty was the heiress’ wealth;
to a man of Elsworth’s principle this would ever prove a barrier to any
avowal of his passion. He would have hidden his love to his life’s end,
sooner than be suspected of designs upon her fortune. By the death of
his father, he was in a position to maintain a wife in a sufficient
luxury, for the Major had left him a very handsome provision, but this
was far below what he considered enough for Mildred. When, however, her
niece had finally disburdened herself of the greater portion of her
golden encumbrance, Aunt Janet thought that as an equilibrium was more
nearly approached, he might be encouraged a little; and she did not
hesitate to let him know he might avow himself with some prospect of
success.