A wonderful stillness seemed to have fallen, and not even a bird
twittered or uttered a note in the hot midsummer sunshine. Once from
the distance came the low soft murmur of the weir, but that died away,
and scarcely a leaf rustled, so that when the doctor spoke, his firm
deep tones sounded as if all nature in that lovely country-home were
listening for the verdict he was about to deliver to the stricken man.
"James Scarlett," he said firmly, "I hold a double position here: I am
your old friend--I am your doctor."
"Yes," said Scarlett in a whisper, but without changing his position.
"I am going to speak the simple truth; I am going to hide nothing. I am
about to give you plain facts. Will you trust me?"
"Yes. I have always trusted you."
"Will you believe me? I need not swear?"
"No, Jack, no," said Scarlett, letting his hands fall from his haggard
face. "I believe your word: I do indeed."
"You asked me not to leave you."
"Yes: for heaven's sake, stay."
"I will not leave you; and if I can, I'll bring you back to health."
"Yes," said Scarlett, shuddering. "And you will not let them drag me
away. Jack!--Kate has been planning it with Arthur--an asylum--and I
dare not speak, I should be so violent, and make it worse."
"You shan't be dragged away, old man, and you need not fancy that any
such plans are being made."
"Even if it came to the worst," said Scarlett pitifully, "you could keep
me down. O Jack, I could not bear it; I'd sooner die!"
"Let me speak out at once, my dear boy," said the doctor. "The terrible
shock to your nerves has made you so weak that you fancy all these
things. It is the natural outcome of such a state as yours. Now,
listen: you said you would believe me."
"Yes, yes; and I will."
"I am glad you have spoken. I knew all this; but I am not sorry you
indorsed it. You are haunted by a horrible dread that you are about to
lose your reason."
"Yes," moaned Scarlett; "and it is so hard--so hard!"
"Then you may take this comfort to your heart: you are not in the
slightest degree likely to become insane; and, what is more, I am as
good as certain that, sooner or later, you will recover your health."
"Jack!"
"You said that you would trust in me."
"Yes--I did--and I will try--so hard. There, I am trying--you see how I
am trying. Stand by me, Jack, and help me. Tell me what to do--do you
hear! Tell me what to _do_!"
"I will," cried Scales. "Give me your hand. Stand up--like a man.
Now, grasp it firmly. Firmly, man; a good grip.--That's better. Now,
listen! What are you to do?"
"Yes: tell me quickly. My own strength is gone."
"I'll tell you, then," said the doctor. "Give yourself up to me as if
you were a man who could not swim."
"Don't talk about the water, Jack. For God's sake, don't!"
"I _will_ talk about the water, and you shall listen. Now, then, you
must act as if you were helpless and I a strong swimmer. You must trust
to me. Recollect, if you struggle and fight against me, you must
drown--morally drown: the black waters will close over your spirit, and
nothing that I can do will save you. Now, then, drowning man, is it to
be trust in the swimmer?--That's right!" he cried, as Scarlett placed
his hands upon his arm--"that's well. I won't leave you, James
Scarlett, till you are sound and strong as I am now!"
The stricken man made an effort to speak, but the words would not come.
He could only gaze wistfully in his friend's face, his wild eyes looking
his gratitude, while they seemed to promise the fidelity of a dog.
"That's right, old fellow. Now, we pretty well understand each other,
only I've got to preach at you a little. First of all, I must have full
confidence, you know. You must come to me with every symptom and
sensation."
"I will tell you everything," said Scarlett humbly.
"And I would just make up my mind to meet my troubles like a man. You
have yours now; and they come the more painfully after a long course of
prosperity and happiness; but even then, old fellow, life is too good a
gift to talk of throwing it away."
Scarlett shuddered, and the doctor watched him narrowly.
"Existence accompanied by a most awful fit of neuralgia would not be
pleasant; but all the same I would not refuse it, even with those
conditions, for the intervals when the neuralgia is not stinging you are
about the most delicious moments by contrast that can be imagined."
"Yes, yes; of course."
"Well, then, now let us go and join them on the lawn. What do you say
to beginning to fight the nervous foe at once?"
"Yes, at once," said Scarlett, speaking as if under the influence of the
doctor.
"Come along, then; and we shall master yet."
Scarlett hesitated and hung back; but the doctor did not speak. He
could see that his patient was trying to avoid his eye. Once Scarlett
glanced up, but the look was rapid as lightning. He saw that the doctor
was watching him, and he avoided his look again instantly, like a
schoolboy who had committed some fault. At the end of a minute, though,
he gradually raised his eyes again, slowly and furtively, and in a way
that troubled the doctor more than he would have cared to own; but he
had his consolation directly in finding his patient gazing fully at him
while Scarlett uttered a low sigh of satisfaction, as if he rejoiced at
being in charge of a stronger will than his own; and then, without a
word, they moved towards the lawn.
"I must do my bit of fighting too," said the doctor to himself, as his
eyes fell upon Lady Martlett. "She's very handsome; she knows it; and
she wants to make me feel it; but she shall not.--Humph! How that
fellow Prayle hangs about Lady Scarlett's side. They can't always be
wanting to talk over business matters."
"Well, James, have you had a pleasant stroll?" said Aunt Sophia, as the
two men joined the group.
"Yes--very," he answered quietly.
"Have you seen how the peaches are getting on upon the little bush?" she
continued.
"I? No. I have not been in the peach-house for days."
"You don't go half often enough. Let's go now."
"What, I? N--" The poor fellow met the doctor's eye, and said hastily:
"Well, yes; I will, aunt.--Will you come too, Naomi?"
"O yes," cried the girl eagerly.
"Perhaps Lady Martlett will come and see the rosy-cheeked beauties of
the peach-house?" said the doctor half-mockingly.--"She'll give me such
a snub," he added to himself.
"Yes; I should like to see them," said her Ladyship quietly; "my
gardener tells me that they are far more beautiful than mine."
"I should have thought it impossible," cried the doctor. "Your
Ladyship's wealth and position ought to be able to secure for you
everything."
"But it does not," said Lady Martlett; "not even such a simple thing as
deference or respect."
"Ah, but money could not buy those--at least not genuine, sterling
qualities of that kind, Lady Martlett," said the doctor, as they moved
towards the end of the garden.
"So it seems, Doctor Scales."
"There are some people who even have the impertinence to look down upon
the rich who do not carry their honours with graceful humility."
"How dares he speak to me like this!" thought Lady Martlett; "but I'll
humble him yet."
"Let me see," she replied coolly; "what do you cull that class of
person--a radical, is it not?"
"Yes; I suppose that is the term."
"And I understand that there are radicals of all kinds: in politics; in
those who pass judgment on social behaviour; and even in medicine."
"That's a clever thrust," thought the doctor.--"Just so, Lady Martlett;
and I am one of the radicals in medicine."
"Of course, then, not in social matters, Doctor Scales?"
"Will your Ladyship deign to notice the tints upon these peaches?" said
the doctor evasively.--"Here is one," he said, lowering his voice, "that
seems as if it had been mocking you, when your cheek is flushed with the
exercise of riding, and you imperiously command the first poor wretch
who passes your way to open the gate."
"The peaches look very fine," said her Ladyship, refusing to notice the
remark--"much finer than mine, dear Lady Scarlett. My head-gardener
says that some disease has attacked the leaves."
"You should invite Doctor Scales over to treat the ailment," said Aunt
Sophia archly.--"My dear James, what is the matter?"
"It is too bad--it is disgraceful!" cried Scarlett, stamping his foot.
"Because I am weak and ill, every one imposes on me. That old scoundrel
has been neglecting everything."
"What! Monnick?" cried Aunt Sophia.
"Yes. No one else has the key. Ah! here you are," he said more
angrily, "look, Kate, you ought to be more particular. These keys
should be brought to you."
"What is wrong, dear?" said Lady Scarlett anxiously, as she came down
that side of the peach-house, closely followed by Prayle.
"Everything is wrong," cried the unhappy man, gazing at her wildly. "I
cannot bear it." He hurried from the peach-house, followed by the
doctor, who calmed him by degrees.
"Some of the best peaches stolen," he cried. "It is too bad; I set such
a store by them."
"And I set such store by your recovery, old fellow," said the doctor.
"That was a wretched fit of temper; but it's over now. Don't worry
about it, man; and now go and lie down till dinner-time."
"No--no: I have no wish to--"
"Mind what I say.--Yes, you have, my dear boy. Come: a quiet nap till
dinner-time, and then you will have forgotten this petty trouble, and be
fresh and cool."
Scarlett sighed and walked slowly to the house, his companion seeing him
lie down before going to his own room, and taking up a book which he
read till it was time to get ready for the evening meal. Then he made
his few simple preparations and strolled out into the garden again, to
think out his plans and go over the events of the day and the
possibility of his effecting a permanent cure. Item: to think a little
about his own sore place, and how long it would take to heal up so
thoroughly that he could always with impunity look Lady Martlett in the
face.
Volume 2, Chapter IV.