THE DOCTOR'S DIAGNOSIS.
ON going to dinner, Marion was not much surprised to hear that the
pastor had requested to be excused from the table on the plea of a
headache. Mrs. Asbury was preparing tea and toast, which the servant
stood waiting to take up on a tray. At this moment Ethel came running
up, her face flushed, exclaiming,—
"Mamma, may I stay with Mr. Angus? He is sitting in the chair with
his eyes shut, and he looks real sick."
"I'll carry the tray myself," said Mrs. Asbury, glancing at her
husband. "No, Ethel, stay here till I come back."
"He is worse than usual," she explained presently, as she brought
back the food untouched. "Ethel, dear, as soon as you have eaten,
you may go to him. Strange what an influence she has,"—turning to
the family. "He asked it as a favor, if I could spare her."
Mr. and Mrs. Asbury were so occupied with anxiety about Mr. Angus,
whose strength seemed always on the point of giving way, that they
did not notice Marion's abstraction. As they were rising from the
silent meal, she asked,—
"Can I have the horse and buggy, uncle? I want to drive to N—. I am
going for Dr. Moore to see Mary Falkner."
"Why not ask him to make a professional call on Mr. Angus?"
"You might propose it to him, but I doubt whether he would require a
surgeon."
"That's so; but I mean to have a serious talk with him as soon as he
recovers from this attack. It is wicked for him to neglect these
warnings."
Annie eagerly offered to accompany Marion to N—; but she only desired
to be alone to have time to recall fleeting memories, to reconcile
coincidences, and decide how it was best for her to make her surmises
known to Mr. Angus.
She had driven slowly over the four miles to N— before her final
decision was reached. It would be cruel to hold out hopes which might
prove fallacious. "No, I must go home, to make sure. Then, if it be
as I hope and believe what a joy." Marion stopped, wholly unable to
express in words the deep emotions which agitated her. All the time
she was tying her horse to the post, she was saying to herself,—
"Did she mean murder? An accident is not murder."
It was with a real effort that she roused herself to tell the
physician her errand. He had just returned from a long drive to
visit a patient, and told her he would accompany her at once after
eating his dinner, and return in the cars.
On the way Marion related all that she knew of Mary's case, and then
described the arrangements at the Home for the Sick.
Her enthusiasm made him laugh. "I know all about that," he explained.
"I was one of the staff of house surgeons there at one time, and I
can say it is truly a home. Very few, even of the wealthiest, can
command the care and skill which falls to the lot of the poorest
patient there. I remember a wealthy lady coming with a valuable
servant who had fractured her arm. When the patient was comfortably
placed in bed she was leaving the room, when she met Dr. B-, the
pastor and superintendent.
"'I want to recommend to your special attention the woman I have just
brought here,' she began.
"'Certainly, madam,' was his polite answer as he passed into the
ward, 'certainly; all our patients have special attention. She shall
be well cared for.'"
"I have taken many patients there," rejoined Marion, her eye kindling
with pleasure. "I should say that if there were any favorites, they
are the very sickest and poorest, and sometimes the most repulsive.
But after all, the care of their bodies is only one part. They are
led to think of the end of life, and in their enforced seclusion,
with the most loving influences about them, they often, very often,
come to better thoughts of their Maker, and go out with new hopes and
new resolutions in regard to life."
Dr. Moore was introduced to the patient by Marion, who only said that
he had called as her friend, to find out whether she could be
relieved by treatment from her spasms of pain. He made a careful
diagnosis of her case, after which he gave her some powders for
temporary relief, bade her take courage, and returned to Marion,
who was waiting in the buggy.
"I have been to the station, Doctor," she explained "and there is no
train to N- for a couple of hours, so I will take you home. I see by
your face that you have good news for me."
"Nonsense! A doctor's face goes for nothing. He has to train it to
look expressionless, or he would soon get into trouble."
"You can't deceive me, Doctor. I know you are going to say she can be
relieved."
"I will say more. She will always be lame, one limb being shorter
than the other, but, with the help of a thick sole to her shoe,
I don't see why she should not walk about with as little difficulty
as you and I do."
Marion gave a cry of joy, clasping her hands. "O Doctor!" she
exclaimed, "what a blessed profession yours is! If I were a man
I would be a physician before any other calling. I do thank you
so much. How soon may I take her to New York?"
"I've been thinking," he said, gayly, "of indulging myself with a
trip to the city. How would it do for you to see Dr. B— and engage
a bed for her, and leave me to take her there?"
"Will you, Doctor?" She gave him a glance brimful, overflowing with
delight, and he answered,—
"Yes, I will do all that. I shall be glad of the opportunity to see
the Home once more. Now Marion, I have earned a right to ask you a
question. Why don't you get married?"
Marion threw back her head and laughed heartily. "Your question is so
entirely unexpected, Doctor, that I shall have to think before I
answer. Well, first, I am too busy to go about the country and select
the right man. Second, I have formed such an elevated idea of the
being whom I would be willing to see in that relation, that in case
I had leisure I should be appalled at the difficulties in my path.
Thirdly, I am just as happy now as I can be. I have my good old
Hepsey and James Kelly, and all my poor people to take care of now.
I'm sure I can't imagine what I should do, even with my ideal man."
The laugh which followed was heart whole.
"Nevertheless," urged Dr. Moore, "describe this ideal man to me."
"His image is scarcely distinct enough for that. First of all, he
must be a man who loves God and his neighbor as himself, as our
Saviour has commanded."
"Humph! I don't know him, but go on."
"He must be both strong and tender, firm and gentle, courageous,
kind, and courteous, capable of sympathy both in joy and grief.
He must be humble in his opinion of himself." Here a sudden
reflection checked her, and she added, softly, "Not too humble," then
came to an abrupt pause.
"Appearance and manners," suggested the doctor, without glancing
at her.
"Poor or rich is of no consequence; but he must have ability.
Whatever his calling is, he must excel in it."
"Physician preferred, probably."
"Ye-es, or some kindred profession."
"Lawyer, eh?"
"No; oh, no, indeed, not a lawyer!"
"Minister to a foreign court, perhaps?"
"No, not connected with politics in any way."
"There is nothing left but a shoemaker, or a country parson.
Merchants of every grade watch the bills in Congress with eagle eyes.
But how does he look?"
"Like an athlete." Suddenly catching a twinkle in her companion's
eye, Marion's cheeks and brow became suffused, and she burst out,
"How ridiculous I have made myself! I never thought so much of my
husband before in all my life."
"I'm well acquainted with him," said the doctor, demurely. "He's all
right; even your parents would be satisfied with him."
"What can you mean, Doctor?" She was startled now. "Was there ever
such a man?"
They had reached his home, and he quietly resigned the lines to her
hand. Just as he stepped to the ground, he fixed an earnest eye on
her as he said,—
"The portrait is excellent, even to the too humble."
"Doctor! Dr. Moore!" called out Marion, as with an arch smile he was
turning away, "you haven't given me your bill. I shall go to-morrow
to see Dr. B--, and will write you at once; A friend of Mary's is to
bear all expenses of her recovery; and, Doctor, I haven't told you
how very, very grateful I am to you."
"For approving your choice of a husband?"
"You know, Doctor, I was thinking of some thing very remote from an
ideal man, whom it is very unlikely I shall ever see. I may tell Mary
now, mayn't I?"
"Certainly. And in the pleasure you will have in telling her the good
news, you will forgive an old friend of your father for making a
careful diagnosis of your heart."
He gave her another quizzical glance and turned away.
"How absurd he is!" murmured the young lady. "How could I have been
betrayed into such nonsense? I wonder whether he was in earnest, in
saying he knew any one to whom the description would fit. He would be
a wonder of goodness, and I—"
Here Marion astonished the faithful old horse, who was going on in
his quiet jog, by a sudden jerk of the lines and a peremptory order
to quicken his pace. On consulting her watch, she found it nearly
five o'clock. She must call at the thread and needle store, give Mary
the joyful hope recovery, and then hasten home.
To one who is always looking to her Father in heaven for the gifts
which flow into her daily life it is not surprising, but only an
increased reason for gratitude, when unlooked-for mercies are
bestowed.
So it was with the poor cripple. As Marion cautiously conveyed to her
the opinion of Dr. Moore that her suffering might be relieved, and in
time perhaps she might be restored to active life and its duties,
the quick gasp, the tightened clasp of her emaciated hands,
the moistened eye raised in silent gratitude to God, were the only
tokens of the fervent thankfulness which almost overcame her.
When Marion had explained the doctor's view of her case, she went on:
"You must give your pastor the credit of the plan. He was just
sending a telegram to the Home when I met him at the station, and—
and"—she hesitated, surprised at herself for her reluctance to talk
of Mr. Angus—"he offered to bear all the expense of having you
conveyed to New York. But I speedily convinced him that I had the
first claim to that privilege."
"How good God is, raising up friends for me on every side!"
"Good by, Mary, for the present. I shall expect to see you very soon
in one of the nice beds at the Home for the Sick."