_I TALK WITH DOCTOR BRYERLY_
Doctor Bryerly had, indeed, arrived at half-past twelve o'clock at night.
His summons at the hall-door was little heard at our remote side of the old
house of Knowl; and when the sleepy, half-dressed servant opened the
door, the lank Doctor, in glossy black clothing, was standing alone, his
portmanteau on its end upon the steps, and his vehicle disappearing in the
shadows of the old trees.
In he came, sterner and sharper of aspect than usual.
'I've been expected? I'm Doctor Bryerly. Haven't I? So, let whoever is in
charge of the body be called. I must visit it forthwith.'
So the Doctor sat in the back drawing-room, with a solitary candle; and
Mrs. Rusk was called up, and, grumbling much and very peevish, dressed and
went down, her ill-temper subsiding in a sort of fear as she approached the
visitor.
'How do you do, Madam? A sad visit this. Is anyone watching in the room
where the remains of your late master are laid?'
'No.'
'So much the better; it is a foolish custom. Will you please conduct me to
the room? I must pray where he lies--no longer _he_! And be good enough to
show me my bedroom, and so no one need wait up, and I shall find my way.'
Accompanied by the man who carried his valise, Mrs. Rusk showed him to his
apartment; but he only looked in, and then glanced rapidly about to take
'the bearings' of the door.
'Thank you--yes. Now we'll proceed, here, along here? Let me see. A turn to
the right and another to the left--yes. He has been dead some days. Is he
yet in his coffin?'
'Yes, sir; since yesterday afternoon.'
Mrs. Rusk was growing more and more afraid of this lean figure sheathed in
shining black cloth, whose eyes glittered with a horrible sort of cunning,
and whose long brown fingers groped before him, as if indicating the way by
guess.
'But, of course, the lid's not on; you've not screwed him down, hey?'
'No, sir.'
'That's well. I must look on the face as I pray. He is in his place; I here
on earth. He in the spirit; I in the flesh. The neutral ground lies there.
So are carried the vibrations, and so the light of earth and heaven
reflected back and forward--apaugasma, a wonderful though helpless engine,
the ladder of Jacob, and behold the angels of God ascending and descending
on it. Thanks, I'll take the key. Mysteries to those who _will_ live
altogether in houses of clay, no mystery to such as will use their eyes and
read what is revealed. _This_ candle, it is the longer, please; no--no need
of a pair, thanks; just this, to hold in my hand. And remember, all depends
upon the willing mind. Why do you look frightened? Where is your faith?
Don't you know that spirits are about us at all times? Why should you
fear to be near the body? The spirit is everything; the flesh profiteth
nothing.'
'Yes, sir,' said Mrs. Rusk, making him a great courtesy in the threshold.
She was frightened by his eerie talk, which grew, she fancied, more voluble
and energetic as they approached the corpse.
'Remember, then, that when you fancy yourself alone and wrapt in darkness,
you stand, in fact, in the centre of a theatre, as wide as the starry floor
of heaven, with an audience, whom no man can number, beholding you under a
flood of light. Therefore, though your body be in solitude and your mortal
sense in darkness, remember to walk as being in the light, surrounded with
a cloud of witnesses. Thus walk; and when the hour comes, and you pass
forth unprisoned from the tabernacle of the flesh, although it still has
its relations and its rights'--and saying this, as he held the solitary
candle aloft in the doorway, he nodded towards the coffin, whose large
black form was faintly traceable against the shadows beyond--'you will
rejoice; and being clothed upon with your house from on high, you will not
be found naked. On the other hand, he that loveth corruption shall have
enough thereof. Think upon these things. Good-night.'
And the Swedenborgian Doctor stepped into the room, taking the candle with
him, and closed the door upon the shadowy still-life there, and on his own
sharp and swarthy visage, leaving Mrs. Rusk in a sort of panic in the dark
alone, to find her way to her room the best way she could.
Early in the morning Mrs. Rusk came to my room to tell me that Doctor
Bryerly was in the parlour, and begged to know whether I had not a message
for him. I was already dressed, so, though it was dreadful seeing a
stranger in my then mood, taking the key of the cabinet in my hand, I
followed Mrs. Rusk downstairs.
Opening the parlour door, she stepped in, and with a little courtesy
said,--
'Please, sir, the young mistress--Miss Ruthyn.'
Draped in black and very pale, tall and slight, 'the young mistress'
was; and as I entered I heard a newspaper rustle, and the sound of steps
approaching to meet me.
Face to face we met, near the door; and, without speaking, I made him a
deep courtesy.
He took my hand, without the least indication on my part, in his hard lean
grasp, and shook it kindly, but familiarly, peering with a stern sort of
curiosity into my face as he continued to hold it. His ill-fitting, glossy
black cloth, ungainly presence, and sharp, dark, vulpine features had in
them, as I said before, the vulgarity of a Glasgow artisan in his Sabbath
suit. I made an instantaneous motion to withdraw my hand, but he held it
firmly.
Though there was a grim sort of familiarity, there was also decision,
shrewdness, and, above all, kindness, in his dark face--a gleam on the
whole of the masterly and the honest--that along with a certain paleness,
betraying, I thought, restrained emotion, indicated sympathy and invited
confidence.
'I hope, Miss, you are pretty well?' He pronounced 'pretty' as it is spelt.
'I have come in consequence of a solemn promise exacted more than a year
since by your deceased father, the late Mr. Austin Ruthyn of Knowl, for
whom I cherished a warm esteem, being knit besides with him in spiritual
bonds. It has been a shock to you, Miss?'
'It has, indeed, sir.'
'I've a doctor's degree, I have--Doctor of Medicine, Miss. Like St. Luke,
preacher and doctor. I was in business once, but this is better. As one
footing fails, the Lord provides another. The stream of life is black and
angry; how so many of us get across without drowning, I often wonder. The
best way is not to look too far before--just from one stepping-stone to
another; and though you may wet your feet, He won't let you drown--He has
not allowed me.'
And Doctor Bryerly held up his head, and wagged it resolutely.
'You are born to this world's wealth; in its way a great blessing, though a
great trial, Miss, and a great trust; but don't suppose you are destined
to exemption from trouble on that account, any more than poor Emmanuel
Bryerly. As the sparks fly upwards, Miss Ruthyn! Your cushioned carriage
may overturn on the highroad, as I may stumble and fall upon the footpath.
There are other troubles than debt and privation. Who can tell how
long health may last, or when an accident may happen the brain; what
mortifications may await you in your own high sphere; what unknown enemies
may rise up in your path; or what slanders may asperse your name--ha, ha!
It is a wonderful equilibrium--a marvellous dispensation--ha, ha!' and he
laughed with a shake of his head, I thought a little sarcastically, as if
he was not sorry my money could not avail to buy immunity from the general
curse.
'But what money can't do, _prayer_ can--bear that in mind, Miss Ruthyn. We
can all pray; and though thorns and snares, and stones of fire lie strewn
in our way, we need not fear them. He will give His angels charge over us,
and in their hands they will bear us up, for He hears and sees everywhere,
and His angels are innumerable.'
He was now speaking gently and solemnly, and paused. But another vein of
thought he had unconsciously opened in my mind, and I said--
'And had my dear papa no other medical adviser?'
He looked at me sharply, and flushed a little under his dark tint. His
medical skill was, perhaps, the point on which his human vanity vaunted
itself, and I dare say there was something very disparaging in my tone.
'And if he _had_ no other, he might have done worse. I've had many critical
cases in my hands, Miss Ruthyn. I can't charge myself with any miscarriage
through ignorance. My diagnosis in Mr. Ruthyn's case has been verified by
the result. But I was _not_ alone; Sir Clayton Barrow saw him, and took my
view; a note will reach him in London. But this, excuse me, is not to the
present purpose. The late Mr. Ruthyn told me I was to receive a key
from you, which would open a cabinet where he had placed his will--ha!
thanks,--in his study. And, I think, as there may be directions about
the funeral, it had better be read forthwith. Is there any gentleman--a
relative or man of business--near here, whom you would wish sent for?'
'No, none, thank you; I have confidence in you, sir.'
I think I spoke and looked frankly, for he smiled very kindly, though with
closed lips.
'And you may be sure, Miss Ruthyn, your confidence shall not be
disappointed.' Here was a long pause. 'But you are very young, and you must
have some one by in your interest, who has some experience in business. Let
me see. Is not the Rector, Dr. Clay, at hand? In the town?--very good; and
Mr. Danvers, who manages the estate, _he_ must come. And get Grimston--you
see I know all the names--Grimston, the attorney; for though he was not
employed about this will, he has been Mr. Ruthyn's solicitor a great many
years: we must have Grimston; for, as I suppose you know, though it is a
short will, it is a very strange one. I expostulated, but you know he was
very decided when he took a view. He read it to you, eh?'
'No, sir.'
'Oh, but he told you so much as relates to you and your uncle, Mr. Silas
Ruthyn, of Bartram-Haugh?'
'No, indeed, sir.'
'Ha! I wish he had.'
And with these words Doctor Bryerly's countenance darkened.
'Mr. Silas Ruthyn is a religious man?'
'Oh, _very_!' said I.
'You've seen a good deal of him?'
'No, I never saw him,' I answered.
'H'm? Odder and odder! But he's a good man, isn't he?'
'Very good, indeed, sir--a very religious man.'
Doctor Bryerly was watching my countenance as I spoke, with a sharp and
anxious eye; and then he looked down, and read the pattern of the carpet
like bad news, for a while, and looking again in my face, askance, he
said--
'He was very near joining _us_--on the point. He got into correspondence
with Henry Voerst, one of our best men. They call us Swedenborgians, you
know; but I dare say that won't go much further, now. I suppose, Miss
Ruthyn, one o'clock would be a good hour, and I am sure, under the
circumstances, the gentlemen will make a point of attending.'
'Yes, Dr. Bryerly, the notes shall be sent, and my cousin, Lady Knollys,
would I am sure attend with me while the will is being read--there would be
no objection to her presence?'
'None in the world. I can't be quite sure who are joined with me as
executors. I'm almost sorry I did not decline; but it is too late
regretting. One thing you must believe Miss Ruthyn: in framing the
provisions of the will I was never consulted--although I expostulated
against the only very unusual one it contains when I heard it. I did
so strenuously, but in vain. There was one other against which I
protested--having a right to do so--with better effect. In no other way
does the will in any respect owe anything to my advice or dissuasion. You
will please believe this; also that I am your friend. Yes, indeed, it is my
duty.'
The latter words he spoke looking down again, as it were in soliloquy; and
thanking him, I withdrew.
When I reached the hall, I regretted that I had not asked him to state
distinctly what arrangements the will made so nearly affecting, as it
seemed, my relations with my uncle Silas, and for a moment I thought of
returning and requesting an explanation. But then, I bethought me, it was
not very long to wait till one o'clock--so _he_, at least, would think. I
went up-stairs, therefore, to the 'school-room,' which we used at present
as a sitting-room, and there I found Cousin Monica awaiting me.
'Are you quite well, dear?' asked Lady Knollys, as she came to meet and
kiss me.
'Quite well, Cousin Monica.'
'No nonsense, Maud! you're as white as that handkerchief--what's the
matter? Are you ill--are you frightened? Yes, you're trembling--you're
terrified, child.'
'I believe I _am_ afraid. There _is_ something in poor papa's will about
Uncle Silas--about _me_. I don't know--Doctor Bryerly says, and he seems so
uncomfortable and frightened himself, I am sure it is something very bad. I
am _very_ much frightened--I am--I _am_. Oh, Cousin Monica! you won't leave
me?'
So I threw my arms about her neck, clasping her very close, and we kissed
one another, I crying like a frightened child--and indeed in experience of
the world I was no more.