“Then I fear you have formed a very low estimate of the sacred responsibilities of my profession, or of the characters of those who represent it. The true physician combines the offices of surgeon, doctor, nurse, and friend.”
“Mrs. Peterson is almost destitute, and to a great extent dependent on charity; consequently you need not expect to collect any fee.”
“Knowing her poverty, I attend the family gratuitously.”
“Is not your charity-list a very long one?”
“Could I divest myself of sympathy with the sufferings of those who compose it I would not curtail it one iota; for I feel like Boerhaave, who once said, ‘My poor are my best patients; God pays for them.’”
“Then, after all, you are actuated merely by selfishness, and remit payments in earthly dross,—in ‘filthy lucre,’—in order to collect your fees in a better currency, where thieves do not break through nor steal?”
“‘He that oppresseth the poor reproacheth his Maker; but he that honoreth Him, hath mercy on the poor.’ If a tinge of selfishness mingle with the hope of future reward, it will be forgiven, I trust, by the great Physician, who, in sublimating human nature, seized upon its selfish elements as powerful agencies in the regeneration of mankind. An abstract worship of virtue is scarcely possible while humanity is clothed with clay, and I am not unwilling to confess that hope of eternal compensation influences my conduct in many respects. If this be indeed only subtle selfishness, at least we shall be pardoned by Him who promised to prepare a place in the Father’s mansion for those who follow His footsteps among the poor.”
She looked up at him, with a puzzled, searching expression, that arrested his attention, and exclaimed,—
“How singularly honest you are! I believe I could have faith if there were more like you.”