“A sad business, my dear sir. Well, well, I will not detain you. The corpse is here?”
“No, sir. I will accompany you to the late abode of your daughter.” I was glad that she had not been removed; I thought it might do his moral nature some good to see the condition to which his unnatural conduct had brought her.
THE PHYSICIAN AND THE FATHER.
Not a muscle of his countenance changed, as we ascended the wretched steps. The watcher admitted us to the poor, low room, and handing him a letter from my pocket, I said, “These are your daughter’s last words to you, which she intrusted to my keeping for you. I will not intrude upon your privacy, but will await you at my office;” and bowing, I retired, leaving him beside the corpse of his neglected child.
In less than fifteen minutes he returned, and, without any allusion to the event, thanked me for my attentions, declining a chair, saying,—
“You will please make out your bill. I wish to be ready to start early in the morning, and take the corpse with me.” He inquired for the address of an undertaker, and the present abode of her child!
I stood speechless! He was an anomaly. I measured him with my eyes; he cast his own for an instant to the floor, and then said,—
“My business habits, I fear, shock you, sir. I have been in a hurry all my life. I have never had time to think. I owe you an apology, sir—pardon me.”
I thought of the future fate of the poor child, and I must acknowledge I hypocritically, for once in my adult life, took the hand of the man I totally despised, as I asked him mildly if his daughter had not requested to be buried by the side of her husband, whom she loved so well.