A PRESCRIPTION.
As may be imagined, the dinner which was soon afterwards partaken of by
the family was anything but a cheerful meal. For the first time Io sat
opposite to her husband gloomy and silent, scarcely touching the food
before her.
“Are you not well, my love?” asked Oscar anxiously. “I ought not to
have suffered you to walk to church in the heat.”
“It did me no harm; it was my own will to walk,” replied Io coldly.
Oscar gave an uneasy, questioning glance. Io did not choose to meet it.
“I don’t want his pity,” she said to herself.
There was a long, dreary pause, which only Thud filled up by a vigorous
onslaught on the mutton. He had almost satisfied his appetite, and was
beginning, in nautical phrase, to get his talking-tackle on board, when
the circle was joined by Pinfold.
“Ha! ha! happy to catch you just at dinner-time. I hope our friend
Thud has left something for me!” cried the jovial doctor, as he laid
down his sun-hat and umbrella, and wiped his heated forehead. Then,
advancing to the table, Pinfold greeted his god-daughter in very
paternal fashion. The doctor considered himself to be a privileged
person, one who need never wait for an invitation, being always certain
to find a welcome.
Mr. Coldstream intensely disliked the intrusion, and the vulgar
familiarity of his guest. Oscar had been on civil terms with Pinfold
during his first sojourn at Moulmein, but intimate he never had been.
The two men had nothing in common between them: the mirth of the one
had been refined wit, like a sparkle over deep waters; the fun of the
other had the coarse scent of the oil-fed torch. But Oscar resolved
to show no sign of dislike towards one whom his wife regarded as her
oldest friend; Pinfold should always have a seat at the table of her
who had sat on his knee when she was a little rosy-cheeked child. Oscar
would endure the doctor’s society, and not betray, even by a look, that
he found that it required some self-command to do so.
“Why, my dear,” said Pinfold, addressing himself to Io, “you don’t look
well; you are losing your roses!”
“I am quite well. Please sit down, dear Dr. Pinny. I am afraid that the
meat is a little cold.”
“I must come rather earlier next time,” said the doctor, taking a
seat.――“Well, Thud, what new discoveries have you been making in
science?――A little more fat, Coldstream, if you please.”
“I’ve been directing my attention to the moon,” said Thud sententiously,
laying down the knife and fork which he had been diligently plying.
“No doubt the moon is flattered by the attention shown to her. Ha!
ha! ha! I am not surprised at your thoughts being turned in a lunatic
direction. How often have you seen the new moon rise in the east?”
“Often,” replied Thud, looking surprised at the question.
“Clever dog! you have then seen what no one else ever saw!” cried the
doctor.
“You don’t mean to say that the moon ever rises in the _west_!” cried
Thucydides Thorn, which set the doctor off laughing again. When he had
recovered his gravity, Pinfold resumed his questioning.
“May I ask what discoveries you have made in the lunatic direction?”
“I’ve made no decided discoveries yet,” replied Thud; “but a theory is
gradually developing itself in my brain.”
“Ah! that brain. It will have some day to be put into spirits and
deposited in a museum!” cried the doctor.
“I’ve no objection,” said the young philosopher, who was rather
gratified by the idea; “but it must be after I’m dead.”
This gave the doctor another uproarious fit of mirth, which almost
occasioned a choke.
“Now for your theory,” he cried, as soon as he had recovered his breath.
“I can’t talk whilst you laugh so,” said Thud.
“Come, I’ve had my laugh out; I want to hear your original views
regarding our satellite,” said Pinfold.
“Some philosophers declare that the moon has no atmosphere,” began Thud,
as if commencing a lecture.
“That is, I believe, pretty generally acknowledged,” observed
Coldstream. “Most powerful telescopes have been brought to bear upon
the moon, and no trace of atmosphere has been discovered.”
“Not on the surface, I grant you,” said Thud sententiously. “What
I maintain is that the atmosphere is _under_ the surface, so that no
telescope can reveal it. I have an idea,” Thud glanced up towards the
ceiling, as if the idea were floating somewhere above the heads of
his hearers――“I’ve a notion that the moon is full of air, something
like a balloon, and that as that air expands by the action of heat, or
contracts, the moon assumes the shape of the orb or crescent.”
Again the doctor gave way to his mirth. “You would make out the queen
of night to be a kind of big bladder-ball! O Thucydides Thorn, when
will you leave off playing at ninepins! You put up your wooden theories
to let us have the fun of knocking them down.”
“It is I who knock down old wooden theories like ninepins,” said Thud,
blinking like an offended owl. “I am aiming after something original
and new. We learn by finding out the mistakes of our elders. Every
generation stands on the heads of the last.”
The doctor threw himself back on his chair, half convulsed with
laughter. “A difficult kind of intellectual gymnastics,” he cried.
“Of course, at the top of the philosophical pyramid will stand――Mr.
Thucydides Thorn.” The doctor glanced at Io, expecting to see her join
in his mirth, but her grave, pale face reflected no spark of amusement.
“I say, Coldstream, you’ll have to put your wife under my care,” said
the doctor abruptly; “she has neither appetite for her food nor spirit
for a joke.”
“I am a little uneasy about her,” began Oscar, but the doctor rather
rudely cut him short.
“You’d better be more than a little uneasy; I never saw her look so ill
and pale in my life.”
“I have a slight headache,” said Io, rising. It was very unpleasant
to her to have attention called to her looks, so she made an excuse
for retiring which was at least a true one. Pinfold followed his
god-daughter as far as the door of her room, to put a few questions
and feel her pulse. He then returned to the dining-room, where he found
Oscar alone, and looking exceedingly anxious. A terrible dread had
arisen in the mind of Coldstream that he was to be chastised through
the sufferings of his young wife.
“I can’t find out that there’s anything particular the matter with
Io,” said Pinfold, resuming his seat; “but she’s out of spirits. And
no wonder: flowers always lose their colour if kept in the darkness
of a cellar. My pretty god-child needs more light, more sunshine, more
cheerful society. She――by nature full of fun, the merriest, most lively
of girls――cannot keep up her spirits whilst she never sees a smile on
the face of her husband.”
Pinfold had resolved on getting to the bottom of the mystery of Mr.
Coldstream’s melancholy; the doctor had often revolved in his mind how
to approach so delicate a subject, and now, seeing the evil affecting
his favourite’s happiness, the old man resolved on throwing false
delicacy aside. Coldstream had to endure close questioning, and bore it
as he might have done the pain of an operation, only lancet and knife
would not have inflicted suffering so acute to a sensitive nature. To
Pinfold’s questions Oscar returned short, straightforward replies. As
he had perceived that the chaplain had suspected him of freethinking,
so he was perfectly aware that the doctor doubted his sanity, and
Oscar determined to lay that question to rest. No, none of his family
had ever been mentally afflicted; he himself had never been in youth
subject to depression; he had never been bitten by dog or fox.
“Then why are you so changed――so gloomy?” asked Pinfold. “Any pecuniary
trouble? Perhaps you have fallen into debt?”
Coldstream shook his head. “I have neither lent nor borrowed; I have no
anxiety connected with money.”
“Then what _is_ on your mind?” asked the baffled inquisitor.
“That question hardly lies within the province of a medical man,” said
Coldstream rather sternly, for patience had been strained to the utmost
point.
Even Pinfold saw that he had gone too far. Rising, he concluded the
disagreeable interview with a few emphatic injunctions:――
“I’m going to send Io a tonic, but her best tonic would be a more
cheerful home. You must amuse her and make her happy. You can do more
for your wife’s health, mark me, Coldstream, than the whole college of
physicians can do.”