will keep out all the cold and wet. Oilskins and macintoshes always
acts on me rheumatically, and gives me pains all over in the jynts; so I
puts on as many reg'lar coats and weskits as I can get on one above
another, and wraps up my legs. But in all that long time, it's no use,
the cold creeps in somewhere like the thin edge of a wedge, and lets in
ever so much more, and though we mostly gets a shilling or so a day more
than the conductors, I don't know but what I'd rather have their life,
on account of the jumping up and down.
"I get very tired of it by the time night comes; but a good sleep and
the little bit of home comfort one gets seems to put one right before
morning, though, I'm blest if I think a sea captain could know much less
of his children than we 'bus drivers do of ours. But there, it can't
last for ever, and I s'pose some day I shall be lifted off my box as Sam
was. Couldn't get down, poor chap, for he stuck to it right to the very
last, though his missis wanted him to lay up long before.
"`Just for a few days, Sam,' she says, but he shook his head, poor chap,
thinking of pay night, and not wanting to go on his club; and so she
used to wait at a corner for him, and bring him drops of warm broth and
cups of tea, and little things she thought he'd fancy, for the poor
fellow was like a horse off his feed; but it was all of no use.
"I used to drive mostly the 'bus that went afore his and used to see
her, pale-faced and anxious, waiting at the corner till he came, which
was only ten minutes after mine--this being a busy time, you know; and
Sam and I having been friends, I used to nod to her, for it's no use to
come the reg'lar s'loot with the whip you know. But, as I said afore,
it was all no use; and Sam got worse and worse--reg'lar touched, poor
chap--and one night, as he was coming back off his last journey, pulls
up sudden like aside the road gives the office with his whip to the
conductor, and then drops the reins. Held out to the very last he had,
like a Briton, and then as I said they had to lift him down, when the
conductor sent him home in a cab, collected the fares, then got up and
drove the rest of the journey himself.
"Terrible bad Sam was, poor chap, and first one and then another of us
went to sit up with him, for he was delirious best part of the time. My
turn came twice over, and I went after I'd had a bit of supper--tripe
and onions, and a drop o' dog's nose we had that night, and out and out
it was, too, for my missus said that them as sat up with sick people
ought allus to have something supporting--which I say, you know, just to
show that we didn't have tripe and onions every night; for, you know,
the wages wouldn't run to it.
"So I gets there and finds all made comfortable and him bedded down for
the night--for his missus was as good a sort as ever a driver married:
snug bit of fire; kettle singing on the hob; easy chair aside the fire,
Sam's medicine on a little table, ready to give him when he woke up; one
of his rugs to wrap round me when I got shivery towards morning; and my
medicine on the chimney-piece--drop of gin, tumbler, teaspoon, and
sugar, with half a lemon on a plate.
"`I'll come down about five, and make you a cup of tea,' says Sam's
wife.
"`No you won't,' I says gruffly. `I'll call you about seven,' I says,
`for I must be off then; so you'd better get a good-night's rest.'
"She didn't say much, for, poor thing! she'd got into a way then of
breaking down and crying at the least word; but she went and
straightened Sam's bed a bit, just as you've seen a woman do when the
bed don't want touching; then she leaned over and kissed him, and went
off upstairs with the children.
"Plain furnished place theirs was; but, bless you, it was like a little
palace, for Sam's wife had a knack of making things show off to the best
advantage, and that, too, without being one of them horrible cleaning
women, who seems to think as furniture and carpets was made a purpose to
be rubbed up and shook, while floors wasn't for nothing else but
scrubbing.
"Sam seemed fast asleep, and after giving a look at him I made myself as
comfortable as I could in the easy chair, with the rug, in front of the
fire, and sat there thinking about the onions I had for supper. Not as
I wanted to, you know, but onions is things as will make you think about
'em afterwards, and that ain't the worst of it, for they takes precious
good care that every one else shall know you've had 'em. About
half-past two I had a weak mixing of gin and water, and all that time
poor Sam hadn't stirred; but just as I'd finished my glass, which was
about three, for I took time over it and smoked a pipe, sending all the
smoke up the chimney--just as I'd done I heard Sam stir and say
something; but he was quiet again directly, and my orders were to wait
till he asked for his medicine. So all I had to do was to sit still and
wait.
"It was hard work keeping awake between four and five, but I managed it;
for I took off my boots, and walked up and down the room softly, trying
to count up how many streets I passed on the near side from Piccadilly
to the Mansion House and how many coming back again; and though I tried
at it for an hour, I never got it right, for the streets seemed to dodge
from one side to the other, and bothered me; but I kept awake, and sat
down at five o'clock, feeling rather shivery, to another taste of gin
and water, and all that time poor Sam never moved--only breathed softly
when I went to listen.
"Seven o'clock came at last by Sam's watch, standing in the little
sand-castle on the chimney-piece; and then I called his wife gently, and
in a few minutes more she was down, and wanted to get me some breakfast;
but I said `No!' for I knew it would be ready at home; and I was just
going when I heard her give a shriek by the bedside, and down she went
upon the floor--fainted dead away.
"He never give more than a sigh, mum, or I must have heerd him; for my
eyes never closed that night, and though p'raps last time I looked I
ought to have seen it, yet, not thinking of anything, my sight being not
so keen as that of his own wife, who, poor woman! I lifted into a
chair, and called for help.
"That's what the bits of crape are for, mum, it's a way we have with us.
What complaint? Well, I only have my ideas, and thinks that if you run
a hoss too hard he's soon wore out, and I fancy as men can be run too
hard as well. It seems to me as Natur' never meant men to keep on day
after day all them hours at a stretch; and though it ain't like hard
labour, yet you're at it all the time; and, besides, what were Sundays
made for if not for a rest? Seems to me, mum, that if a day of rest
hadn't been wanted, Sunday would have been left out altogether, and we
should have gone right on from Saturday to Monday at once.
"P'raps 'tain't for me to complain; but I have my own ideas about poor
Sam."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
HAVING PATIENCE.
Much living in London and the constant unvarying round of life does tell
upon the constitution as in the case of the poor driver, and I was
feeling heavy and sad beyond my wont in a way that excited the notice of
my friends. The Hendricks were the first to speak about it, and with
affectionate solicitude Mr Hendrick begged that I would listen to his
advice.
"You know how bad I was," he said, "and what the country did for me. Go
and spend a month or two by the seaside."
"And what is to become of my London friends and my poor?" I said.
"What is to become of your London friends and your poor," he said
quickly, "if you droop from over work, take to your bed, and die. Come,
take my advice. Why, Hetty," he said, "how would it be if she went and
stayed with the Ross's in Cornwall?"
"Cornwall?" I exclaimed, "so far away?"
"So far away," he said laughing, "why no part of England's far away now.
You can start from Paddington at mid-day and be there the same night.
Besides, John Ross is a medical man and a sensible fellow. He is a dear
friend of mine, and I'll be bound to say he and his wife and the Cornish
air will send you back better than ever."
"Are--are they very grand people," I faltered.
"Grand? no. They've a nice place and garden and are doing well, but
they've known what it was to struggle, and are simplicity itself. I
know them as well almost as I know myself. We went down and stayed with
them when we were married and very welcome the sum we paid for board and
lodging was to them then. They kept nothing from us and I remember well
the poor fellow's struggles and despair.
"`Don't take on about it darling don't, pray,' little Mrs Ross would
whisper. `Have patience and all will be well,' and she'd leave her
untouched breakfast and kneel at her husband's feet so that she could
lay her hands upon his breast and let her blue eyes look up appealingly
in his.
"`How can I be patient?' he exclaimed angrily, and frowning as he spoke.
But his anger was not such but that he could caressingly rest one hand
upon the soft wavy hair, and draw the loving head closer to his bosom.
`But there; go and sit down: it's eleven now, and we shall never have
done breakfast. Give me another cup of tea.'
"`But you have not drunk that, dear,' said Mrs Ross gently, as she
returned to her seat at the breakfast-table.
"`Haven't I?' said her husband absently. `Oh! no, of course not. But,
there; I don't want any breakfast, this constant anxiety frets away
appetite.'
"`But you will have something for that case last night, love? You were
there from twelve till five.'
"Mr Ross smiled, as he replied, `Yes, I shall have something--thanks,
and blessings, and that sort of payment. The people were too poor to go
to old Tomkins--too proud to go to the union--so they came to me, and of
course I went. That was right, was it not?'
"`Of course, love,' replied Mrs Ross. `How could you stay away, when
you had it in your power to do good to a fellow-creature? But will the
man live, do you think?'
"Mr Ross shook his head. `I'm afraid not. He may linger on for
months; but the foundation has been sapped by excess.'
"`God help his poor family,' murmured Mrs Ross, and then she rose and
crossed the room to where her husband was irritably walking up and down
before the window. The breakfast, with its thin tea and rank butter,
lay untasted still, and a child-like little servant-girl appearing at
the door, Mrs Ross gave her a nod, and the untouched meal was removed.
"Once more alone, that anxious wife softly stole one little hand beneath
her husband's arm, and creeping closer and closer, walked with him up
and down the worn drugget, till he stopped short as if gazing from the
window, but really looking inward at his own position, his wife
refraining from speaking a word, as she anxiously watched the working of
his countenance.
"For the Ross folks, as people in Elmouth called them were in sad
straits. Some two years before, with a little money in hand, John Ross
had come to settle with his young wife in the pleasant seaside town,
having made his calculations that he would get no practice as the new
doctor for the first year--at least none to signify--but that he could
furnish his house quietly, and live decently for that first year; while
what little he did earn would go to his remaining stock of cash, and add
to what he gained during the second year, which he hoped would be
something, if not considerable, at least enough to enable them to what
he called `rub along.'
"But John Ross did not know the ignorance and prejudices of small
country towns, and he soon found that he was looked down upon with
contempt by the old practitioner; not known by those who considered
themselves the gentry of the place; and viewed generally with suspicion
by the poorer and middle classes. He might have possessed the skill of
the Royal College of Surgeons condensed into one man, but the people of
Elmouth would still have shaken their heads at him. And knowing all
this, Tomkins, the old surgeon, used to chuckle and rub his hands,
killing some, curing others, and year by year growing richer, telling
himself that the new man would soon grow tired and go, for after all
said and done, it was a great piece of impudence to come and set up in
Elmouth without his leave. Why, did not Cheeseman, his assistant, set
up in opposition after a quarrel, and go to the dogs in three months?
At least that was what old Tomkins said, for Cheeseman's going to the
dogs was really going back to London to his friends, till he could
obtain another situation as assistant.
"But things had gone very crookedly with the Ross people, and in spite
of every exertion, John Ross found himself at the end of two years and
some months penniless, and without a chance of bettering his position.
It seemed as if the people would have none of him, and again and again
he was for trying some other place. But after a long discussion his
wife and he always bore in mind the old proverb of a rolling stone
gathering no moss, and knowing that it would be like going through their
troubles again, without money, they concluded that it would be better to
fight on hopefully, keeping their poverty hidden as much as possible,
and waiting patiently for better days.
"But though it was easy enough to talk of keeping their poverty hidden,
that is no slight matter in a country town; and if John Ross and his
wife could have known all, they would have found that the Elmouth people
generally knew the extent of their wardrobes; how much to a shilling
they owed baker and butcher; how that their landlord fully expected they
would give him notice from quarter to quarter, and had promised the
first offer of the house to some one else. In short, their affairs were
made out to be so bad, that people used to shake their heads, and wonder
how folks could be so proud, and keep up appearances as them Ross's did,
when they were almost starving, Lord bless you!
"John Ross would never take any notice of the small tattling of the
people, or he might have resented the fact that Tomkins had spoken very
disparagingly of his ability. But he was too wise a man. He hoped that
times would mend, and gave every spare minute to the study of his
profession, working late into every night, and merely taking such
exercise as was absolutely necessary for his health.
"But it must not be imagined that no practice fell to his share, for the
poor flocked to him in spite of the ill success that attended his
efforts in the first year of his coming. In fact, Tomkins made great
capital out of the death of a fever patient whom Mr Ross was called in
to attend, when the young surgeon had told his wife that he was
convinced that no human power could have saved the stricken one.
However, people would talk and shake their heads, and say what a pity it
was such an inexperienced person had been called in, _et cetera_; and it
was not until the young surgeon had performed several clever cures in
advice gratis cases that the poorer people favoured him with their
patronage, giving him much trouble, few thanks, and seldom any pay.
"`Look at that,' said John Ross one day, as two nurses passed the window
in charge of a perambulator fitted with an awning, and containing a
fine-looking boy of some twelve months old--`look at that,' he said
bitterly. `Why, I should think what is spent upon that child in nurses
and dress would be a comfortable income for us. It is enough to make
any man envious to see how unequally money is distributed. There are
those people, the Westerns, rolling in wealth, and without labour to
gain it, while the more I fight and struggle, the worse off I am. What
do they know of trouble? Hetty, my girl,' he cried passionately, `I
wish I had never married you, to drag you down to this poverty!'
"`Hush! oh, hush, darling!' sobbed Mrs Ross, the tears streaming down
her cheeks. `Have we not been happy through it all, and have I ever
seemed to mind? Be patient, and times will brighten; but please--
please--don't--speak--'
Mrs Ross could say no more, for her sobs choked her utterance. Her
husband's words had seemed to cut her to the heart, for of late he had
grown more bitter and less hopeful. Instead of flying to his books for
comfort, and studying hard, he had grown moody and peevish in spite of
her loving attentions; and many a night while he slept had her pillow
been wet with tears as she vainly tried to pierce the cloud of gloom
that seemed to close them in on every side.
"His wife's tears were not without effect, and the next moment John Ross
was kissing them away, vowing that he would be hopeful and contented,
fighting out the battle till the very last; for, as he said, the tide
must turn some time.
"`What a bear I am, darling,' he cried, `to mope and growl as I do,
envying, hating, and maliciously regarding my neighbours because they
make money and I don't. There, never mind! I'll make old Tomkins want
me for partner yet, and--there! if you haven't sent out the breakfast
things again, and I'm as hungry as a hunter.'
"It was of no use, John Ross would not own to its being pretence. He
insisted upon the breakfast things being brought back, and ate
bread-and-butter, and drank weak tea, insisting at the same time upon
his wife partaking of the piece of toast he made for her himself.
"An hour after he was making notes, and eagerly studying up a case
reported in the medical journals, now shaking his head and calling his
wife's attention to what he considered fallacies, or great blunders, and
pointing out what would have been his course under the circumstances--
not dwelling upon it with any show of assumption, but proving all he
said step by step from the experience of those learned in the great
science of medicine.
"And in spite of her aching heart, and their poverty, Mrs Ross's eye
lighted up, and her nostrils dilated with pride as, letting her
needlework fall in her lap, she gazed upon the high, slightly bald
forehead, and deep thoughtful eye of her husband, as wrapped in the case
before him, his whole being seemed to dilate, and he in fancy performed
some great cure.
"`If he had had opportunity,' she thought to herself, and then sighing
resumed her task, one that betokened a change at hand in their little
household, with helplessness and expense attendant, and she sighed
again, but only to check herself, and look anxiously to see whether her
husband had noticed her despondency.
"But John Ross was too busily intent upon his studies, toiling on
eagerly till called to visit some unremunerative patient, from whom he
returned weary and worn to renew his work.
"Work was his only resource; and but for his constant application, life
would have been almost a burden, from the hope deferred that maketh the
heart sick.
"Two months had glided by, and their affairs were at such a low ebb that
John Ross would have given way utterly to despair, had he been alone.
But he dared not, for now it was his turn to solace and comfort.
Complaining for so long of his poverty, he had been unaware that it had
pleased heaven to make him rich--a wealth that in his blindness he could
not see, until he had thrown himself sobbing upon his knees by his
wife's bedside to pray forgiveness for his murmurings, and that heaven
would be merciful and not take away the spirit then flickering,
hovering, as it were, between this world and that which is to come.
"For there had been a bitter struggle in that little poorly-furnished
chamber, and more than once John Ross had felt that he would be left to
fight the battle alone. But the change that came had been for the
better, and now, pale and tottering when she tried to cross the room,
Hetty Ross was once more down, able no longer to give consolation, but
glad to take it herself.
"Her face was very, very pale, but at times it would light up with such
a smile of ineffable joy, that her husband would forget his studies, and
sit breathlessly watching the young mother's countenance, as in the
pride of first maternity, her gaze lingered where, in its cradle, there
was something whose breathing gently raised and let fall the warm
coverlid. Then the parents' eyes would meet, and with the husband at
the wife's feet, all worldly trouble would be forgotten in that
happiness given to all that are true of heart.
"Another month glided by, and by some means or other John Ross still
struggled on, even hopefully, for his wife had grown almost strong
again, and her strength gave energy to him in his efforts.
"They were seated at breakfast once more, when Mrs Ross spoke.
"`Such sad news, dear.'
"`What is it?' said her husband, not raising his eyes from the paper.
"`You remember saying that the Westerns, with their wealth, did not know
care?'
"`Ah--yes! one says plenty of stupid and bitter things when in trouble,'
said John Ross. `But what is it?'
"`Jane tells me their little boy is dying.'
"`Never!' exclaimed Mr Ross, starting. `What, that fine little fellow
that looked heartiest of the hearty?'
"`I fear so. Jane heard it from one of the nurses, who says the
Westerns are almost heart-broken, and the poor woman sobbed herself as
she spoke of it. It seems that they wanted to have more advice, but Mr
Tomkins said it was not necessary, and now it seems it is too late.'
"`Poor little chap!' exclaimed Mr Ross, dropping his paper, and gazing
towards the cradle where his own child lay, by whose side Mrs Ross was
now kneeling, to assure herself of its safety. `Poor little chap!' he
muttered again, and then aloud, `God forgive me, Hetty! What blind
fools we are! and I was envious of those people.'
"Father and mother were bending over the cradle, when there came the
rattle of wheels, a horse was dragged upon his haunches at the gate, the
bell rang furiously, and as Mr Ross hurriedly opened the door, the rich
Mr Western seized him by both hands.
"`For mercy's sake, Mr Ross, pray come! My poor boy's dying--half
murdered by that man,' and before he could recover from his surprise the
surgeon was hurried hatless into a brougham, thrust in almost by the
excited father, the horse was flogged, and John Ross just had time to
wave an adieu to his wife at the window before the carriage was turned,
and they were going at full gallop through the town towards the Hall.
"On their way Mr Ross learned all the particulars he could respecting
the child's illness; how the family attendant had treated it as of
little moment, and the child had gradually sunk, till as he finished his
account Mr Western exclaimed, in a voice choked with emotion.
"`And now I fear we are too late. Oh, that I had come last night!'
"`Calm yourself,' said Mr Ross. `It may be that I could do no more
than your regular attendant.'
"`Don't tell me, sir!' exclaimed the father angrily. `My child has been
neglected--shamefully neglected. That man came to my house last night
from some public dinner, and I feel sure now, though I did not detect it
then, that he was ignorant of what he was doing. But quick, sir, follow
me!'
"In another minute John Ross was in the chamber before the little
sufferer, lying pale and wasted upon its weeping mother's knees. For a
moment the young surgeon was almost unmanned, when, looking to him as
her last hope, the weeping woman raised her red eyes, and joined her
hands supplicatingly, as if to say, `Oh, save--oh, save my child!'
"Wealth was there, glancing from every article of furniture in the
handsome room, but the cold grim shade that visits the palace with the
same stern justice as the lowly cottage, seemed to be also there waiting
for a few brief moments ere he claimed his own.
"For a moment John Ross thought he was too late, and his brow knit with
disappointment; but the next instant he drew a long breath, and as if
nerving himself to the struggle with the destroyer, he threw off his
coat, knelt down, and softly lifted one blue lid, to gaze in the
contracted pupil of the child's eye, and listened to its faint, sighing
breath.
"`Cold water--towels--vinegar,' he then said, in quick, firm tones.
`Now brandy. What have you there, arrowroot? Yes; good. Now the
brandy--quick!'
"Father and servants flew to execute his commands, and in a few seconds
the tightly-closed lips were parted, and with difficulty a little brandy
and arrowroot was swallowed. Towels saturated with vinegar and water
were wrapped round the little golden head, and extemporising a fan from
an open book, the young surgeon placed the father at his child's head to
keep up a sharp agitation of the air, and ran himself to throw open the
window.
"Directly after he was back, and watching the child with an earnestness
barely equalled by its parents, as at intervals he spoke, after drawing
out his watch and referring to it from time to time.
"`Look,' he said, in short, peremptory tones: `the eyes are unclosing,
the pupils dilate already, there is a little more pulsation--that sigh
was stronger. Keep up the fanning, sir; now another towel, and colder
water.'
Fresh applications were made, and then another anxious interval ensued,
during which the dark shadow of death seemed to fade, and in a wondrous
manner light--the faintest dawn of life--seemed to return into the
child's face.