MEDICAL ATTENDANCE GRATIS, INCLUDING PHYSIC.
As a matter of course, the discovery of the codicil, and the grave
charge it served to establish against Dr. West, could not be hid under a
bushel. Deerham was remarkably free in its comments, and was pleased to
rake up various unpleasant reports, which, from time to time, in the
former days had arisen, touching that gentleman. Deerham might say what
it liked, and nobody be much the worse; but a more serious question
arose with Jan. Easy as Jan was, little given to think ill, even he
could not look over this. Jan, if he would maintain his respectability
as a medical man and a gentleman, if he would retain his higher class of
patients, he must give up his association with Dr. West.
The finding of the codicil had been communicated to Dr. West by Matiss,
the lawyer, who officially demanded at the same time an explanation of
its having been placed where it was found. The doctor replied to the
communication, but conveniently ignored the question. He was "charmed"
to hear that the long-missing deed was found, which restored Verner's
Pride to the rightful owner, Lionel Verner; but he appeared not to have
read, or else not to have understood the very broad hint implicating
himself, for not a word was returned to that part, in answer. The
silence was not less a conclusive proof than the admission of guilt
would have been; and it was so regarded by those concerned.
Jan was the next to write. A characteristic letter. He said not a word
of reproach to the doctor; he appeared, indeed, to ignore the facts as
completely as the doctor himself had done in answer to Matiss; he simply
said that he would prefer to "get along" now alone. The practice had
much increased, and there was room for them both. He would remove to
another residence--a lodging would do, he said--and run his chance of
patients coming to him. It was not his intention to take one from Dr.
West by solicitation. The doctor could either come back and resume
practice in person, or take a partner in place of him, Jan.
To this a bland answer was received. Dr. West was agreeable to the
dissolution of partnership; but he had no intention of resuming practice
in Deerham. He and his noble charge (who was decidedly benefiting by his
care, skill, and companionship, he elaborately wrote), were upon the
best of terms; his engagement with him was likely to be a long one (for
the poor youth would require a personal guide up to his fortieth year,
nay, to his eightieth, if he lived so long); and therefore (not to be
fettered) he, Dr. West, was anxious to sever his ties with Deerham. He
should never return to it. If Mr. Jan would undertake to pay him a
trifling sum, say five hundred pounds, or so he could have the entire
business; and the purchase-money, if more convenient, might be paid by
instalments. Mr. Jan, of course, would become sole proprietor of the
house (the rent of which had hitherto been paid out of the joint
concern), but perhaps he would not object to allow those "two poor old
things, Deborah and Amilly, a corner in it." _He_ should, of course,
undertake to provide for them, remitting them a liberal annual sum.
In writing this--fair, nay liberal, as the offered terms appeared to the
sight of single-hearted Jan--Dr. West had probably possessed as great an
eye as ever to his own interest. He had a shrewd suspicion that, the
house divided, his, Dr. West's, would stand but a poor chance against
Jan Verner's. That Jan would be entirely true and honourable in not
soliciting the old patients to come to him, he knew; but he equally knew
that the patients would flock to Jan unsolicited. Dr. West had not lived
in ignorance of what was going on in Deerham; he had one or two private
correspondents there; besides the open ones, his daughters and Jan; and
he had learned how popular Jan had grown with all classes. Yes, it was
decidedly politic on Dr. West's part to offer Jan terms of purchase. And
Jan closed with them.
"I couldn't have done it six months ago, you know, Lionel," he said to
his brother. "But now that you have come in again to Verner's Pride, you
won't care to have my earnings any longer."
"What I shall care for now, Jan, will be to repay you so far as I can.
The money can be repaid: the kindness never."
"Law!" cried Jan, "that's nothing. Wouldn't you have done as much for
me? To go back to old West: I shall be able to complete the purchase in
little more than a year, taking it out of the profits. The expenses will
be something considerable. There'll be the house, and the horses, for I
must have two, and I shall take a qualified assistant as soon as Cheese
leaves, which will be in autumn; but there'll be a margin of six or
seven hundred a year profit left me then. And the business is
increasing. Yes, I shall be able to pay him out in a year, or
thereabouts. In offering me these easy terms, I think he is behaving
liberally. Don't you, Lionel?"
"That may be a matter of opinion, Jan," was Lionel's answer. "He has
stood to me in the relation of father-in-law, and I don't care to
express mine too definitely. He is wise enough to know that when you
leave him, his chance of practice is gone. But I don't advise you to
cavil with the terms. I should say, accept them."
"I have done it," answered Jan. "I wrote this morning. I must get a new
brass plate for the door. 'Jan Verner, Surgeon, etc.,' in place of the
present one, 'West and Verner.'"
"I think I should put Janus Verner, instead of Jan," suggested Lionel,
with a half smile.
"Law!" repeated Jan. "Nobody would know it was meant for me if I put
Janus. Shall I have 'Mr.' tacked on to it, Lionel?--'Mr. Jan Verner.'"
"Of course you will," answered Lionel. "What is going to be done about
Deborah and Amilly West?"
"In what way?"
"As to their residence."
"You saw what Dr. West says in his letter. They can stop."
"It is not a desirable arrangement, Jan, their remaining in the house."
"They won't hurt me," responded Jan. "They are welcome."
"I think, Jan, your connection with the West family should be entirely
closed. The opportunity offers now: and, if not embraced, you don't know
when another may arise. Suppose, a short while hence, you were to marry?
It might be painful to your feelings, then, to have to say to Deborah
and Amilly--'You must leave my house: there's no further place for you
in it.' Now, in this dissolution of partnership, the change can take
place as in the natural course of events."
Jan had opened his great eyes wonderingly at the words. "I marry!"
uttered he. "What should bring me marrying?"
"You may be marrying some time, Jan."
"Not I," answered Jan. "Nobody would have me. They can stop on in the
house, Lionel. What does it matter? I don't see how I and Cheese should
get on without them. Who'd make the pies? Cheese would die of chagrin,
if he didn't get one every day."
"I see a great deal of inconvenience in the way," persisted Lionel. "The
house will be yours then. Upon what terms would they remain? As
visitors, as lodgers--as what?"
Jan opened his eyes wider. "Visitors! lodgers!" cried he. "I don't know
what you mean, Lionel. They'd stop on as they always have done--as
though the house were theirs. They'd be welcome, for me."
"You must do as you like, Jan; but I do not think the arrangement a
desirable one. It would be establishing a claim which Dr. West may be
presuming upon later. With his daughters in the house, as of right, he
may be for coming back some time and taking up his abode in it. It would
be better for you and the Misses West to separate; to have your
establishments apart."
"I shall never turn them out," said Jan. "They'd break their hearts.
Look at the buttons, too! Who'd sew them on? Cheese bursts off two a
day, good."
"As you please, Jan. My motive in speaking was not ill-nature towards
the Misses West; but regard for you. As the sisters of my late wife, I
shall take care that they do not want--should their resources from Dr.
West fail. He speaks of allowing them a liberal sum annually; but I fear
they must not make sure that the promise will be carried out. Should it
not be, they will have no one to look to, I expect, but myself."
"They won't want much," said Jan; "just a trifle for their bonnets and
shoes, and suchlike. I shall pay the house-bills, you know. In fact, I'd
as soon give them enough for their clothes, as not. I dare say I should
have it, even the first year, after paying expenses and old West's five
hundred."
It was hopeless to contend with Jan upon the subject of money,
especially when it was _his_ money. Lionel said no more. But he had not
the slightest doubt it would end in Jan's house being saddled with the
Misses West; and that help for them from Dr. West would never come.
Miss West herself was thinking the same--that help from her father never
would come.
This conversation between Jan and Lionel had taken place at Verner's
Pride, in the afternoon subsequent to the arrival of Dr. West's letter.
Deborah West had also received one from her father. She learned by it
that he was about to retire from the partnership, and that Mr. Jan
Verner would carry on the practice alone. The doctor intimated that she
and Amilly would continue to live on in the house with Mr. Jan's
permission, whom he had asked to afford them house-room; and he more
loudly promised to transmit them one hundred pounds per annum, in stated
payments, as might be convenient to him.
The letter was read three times over by both sisters. Amilly did not
like it, but upon Deborah it made a painfully deep impression. Poor
ladies! Since the discovery of the codicil they had gone about Deerham
with veils over their faces and their heads down, inclined to think that
lots in this world were dealt out all too unequally.
At the very time that Jan was at Verner's Pride that afternoon, Deborah
sat alone in the dining-room, pondering over the future. Since the
finding of the codicil, neither of the sisters had cared to seat
themselves in state in the drawing-room, ready to receive visitors,
should they call. They had no heart for it. They chose, rather, to sit
in plain attire, and hide themselves in the humblest and most retired
apartment. They took no pride now in anointing their scanty curls with
castor oil, in contriving for their dress, in setting off their persons.
Vanity seemed to have gone out for Deborah and Amilly West.
Deborah sat there in the dining-room, her hair looking grievously thin,
her morning dress of black print with white spots upon it not changed
for the old turned black silk of the afternoon. Her elbow rested on the
faded and not very clean table-cover, and her fingers were running
unconsciously through that scanty hair. The prospect before her looked,
to her mind, as hopelessly forlorn as she looked.
But it was necessary that she should gaze at the future steadily;
should not turn aside from it in carelessness or in apathy; should face
it, and make the best of it. If Jan Verner and her father were about to
dissolve partnership, and the practice henceforth was to be Jan's, what
was to become of her and Amilly? Taught by past experience, _she_ knew
how much dependence was to be placed upon her father's promise to pay to
them an income. Very little reliance indeed could be placed on Dr. West
in any way; this very letter in her hand and the tidings it contained,
might be true, or might be--pretty little cullings from Dr. West's
imagination. The proposed dissolution of partnership she believed in:
she had expected Jan to take the step ever since that night which
restored the codicil.
"I had better ask Mr. Jan about it," she murmured. "It is of no use to
remain in this uncertainty."
Rising from her seat, she proceeded to the side-door, opened it, and
glanced cautiously out through the rain, not caring to be seen by
strangers in her present attire. There was nobody about, and she crossed
the little path and entered the surgery. Master Cheese, with somewhat of
a scorchy look in the eyebrows, but full of strength and appetite as
ever, turned round at her entrance.
"Is Mr. Jan in?" she asked.
"No, he is not," responded Master Cheese, speaking indistinctly, for he
had just filled his mouth with Spanish liquorice. "Did you want him,
Miss Deb?"
"I wanted to speak to him," she replied. "Will he be long?"
"He didn't announce the hour of his return," replied Master Cheese. "I
wish he _would_ come back! If a message came for one of us, I don't care
to go out in this rain: Jan doesn't mind it. It's sure to be my luck!
The other day, when it was pouring cats and dogs, a summons came from
Lady Hautley's. Jan was out, and I had to go, and got dripping wet.
After all, it was only my lady's maid, with a rubbishing whitlow on her
finger."
"Be so kind as tell Mr. Jan, when he does come in, that I should be glad
to speak a word to him, if he can find time to step into the parlour."
Miss Deb turned back as she spoke, ran across through the rain, and sat
down in the parlour, as before. She knew that she ought to go up and
dress, but she had not spirits for it.
She sat there until Jan entered. Full an hour, it must have been, and
she had turned over all points in her mind, what could and what could
not be done. It did not appear much that could be. Jan came in, rather
wet. On his road from Verner's Pride he had overtaken one of his poor
patients, who was in delicate health, and had lent the woman his huge
cotton umbrella, hastening on, himself, without one.
"Cheese says you wish to see me, Miss Deb."
Miss Deb turned round from her listless attitude, and asked Mr. Jan to
take a chair. Mr. Jan responded by partially sitting down on the arm of
one.
"What is it?" asked he, rather wondering.
"I have had a letter from Prussia this morning, Mr. Jan, from my father.
He says you and he are about to dissolve partnership; that the practice
will be carried on by you alone, on your own account; and that--but you
had better read it," she broke off, taking the letter from her pocket,
and handing it to Jan.
He ran his eyes over it. Dr. West's was not a plain handwriting, but Jan
was accustomed to it. The letter was soon read.
"It's true, Miss Deb. The doctor thinks he shall not be returning to
Deerham, and so I am going to take to the whole of the practice,"
continued Jan, who possessed too much innate good feeling to hint to
Miss Deb of any other cause.
"Yes. But--it will place me and Amilly in a very embarrassing position,
Mr. Jan," added the poor lady, her thin cheeks flushing painfully.
"I--we shall have no right to remain in this house then."
"You are welcome to remain," said Jan.
Miss Deb shook her head. She felt, as she said, that they should have no
"right."
"I'd rather you did," pursued Jan, in his good-nature. "What do I and
Cheese want with all this big house to ourselves? Besides, if you and
Amilly go, who'd see to our shirts and the puddings?"
"When papa went away at first, was there not some arrangement made by
which the furniture became yours?"
"No," stoutly answered Jan. "I paid something to him to give me, as he
called it, a half-share in it with himself. It was a stupid sort of
arrangement, and one that I should never care to act upon, Miss Deb. The
furniture is yours; not mine."
"Mr. Jan, you would give up your right in everything, I believe. You
will never get rich."
"I shall get as rich as I want to, I dare say," was Jan's answer.
"Things can go on just the same as usual, you know, Miss Deb, and I can
pay the housekeeping bills. Your stopping here will be a saving,"
good-naturedly added Jan. "With nobody in the house to manage, except
servants, only think the waste there'd be! Cheese would be for getting
two dinners a day served, fish, and fowls, and tarts at each."
The tears were struggling in Deborah West's eyes. She did her best to
repress them: but it could not be, and she gave way with a burst.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Jan," she said. "Sometimes I feel as if there
was no longer any place in the world for me and Amilly. You may be sure
I would not mention it, but that you know it as well as I do--that there
is, I fear, no dependence to be placed on this promise of papa's, to
allow us an income. I have been thinking----"
"Don't let that trouble you, Miss Deb," interrupted Jan, tilting himself
backwards over the arm of the chair in a very ungraceful fashion, and
leaving his legs dangling. "Others will, if he wo--if he can't. Lionel
has just been saying that as Sibylla's sisters, he shall see that you
don't want."
"You and he are very kind," she answered, the tears dropping faster than
she could wipe them away. "But it seems to me the time is come when we
ought to try and do something for ourselves. I have been thinking, Mr.
Jan, that we might get a few pupils, I and Amilly. There's not a single
good school in Deerham, as you know; I think we might establish one."
"So you might," said Jan, "if you'd like it."
"We should both like it. And perhaps you'd not mind our staying on in
this house while we were getting a few together; establishing it, as it
were. They would not put you out, I hope, Mr. Jan."
"Not they," answered Jan. "I shouldn't eat them. Look here, Miss Deb,
I'd doctor them for nothing. Couldn't you put that in the prospectus? It
might prove an attraction."
It was a novel feature in a school prospectus, and Miss Deb had to take
some minutes to consider it. She came to the conclusion that it would
look remarkably well in print. "Medical attendance gratis."
"Including physic," put in Jan.
"Medical attendance gratis, including physic," repeated Miss Deb. "Mr.
Jan, it would be sure to take with the parents. I am so much obliged to
you. But I hope," she added, moderating her tone of satisfaction, "that
they'd not think it meant Master Cheese. People would not have much
faith in him, I fear."
"Tell them to the contrary," answered Jan. "And Cheese will be leaving
shortly, you know."
"True," said Miss Deb. "Mr. Jan," she added, a strange eagerness in her
tone, in her meek, blue eyes, "if we, I and Amilly, can only get into
the way of doing something for ourselves, by which we may be a little
independent, and look forward to be kept out of the workhouse in our old
age, we shall feel as if removed from a dreadful nightmare.
Circumstances have been preying upon us, Mr. Jan: the care is making us
begin to look old before we might have looked it."
Jan answered with a laugh. That notion of the workhouse was so good, he
said. As well set on and think that he should come to the penitentiary!
It had been no laughing matter, though, to the hearts of the two
sisters, and Miss Deb sat on, crying silently.
How many of these silent tears must be shed in the path through life! It
would appear that the lot of some is only made to shed them, and to
bear.