He did not go to Barton. He had made up his mind that that was one of the pleasures of life which he should forego. At Barton he knew that he would see Mary day by day, and he could not trust himself to be near her constantly and yet refrain from saying the words which would make both of them miserable. He had conquered himself once, but he was not sure that he would be as strong a second time.
This perpetual struggle in which he was engaged—this constant endeavour to crush out of his life the passion which alone made life endurable to him, left him worn and weak, so it was not surprising that, when a coach drove up to his cottage one day, after many months had passed, and Mrs. Horneck stepped out, she was greatly shocked at the change which was apparent in his appearance.
“Good heaven, Dr. Goldsmith!” she cried when she entered his little parlour, “you are killing yourself by your hard work. Sir Joshua said he was extremely apprehensive in regard to your health the last time he saw you, but were he to see you now, he would be not merely apprehensive but despairing.”
“Nay, my dear madam,” he said. “I am only suffering from a slight attack of an old enemy of mine. I am not so strong as I used to be; but let me assure you that I feel much better since you have been good enough to give me an opportunity of seeing you at my humble home. When I caught sight of you stepping out of the coach I received a great shock for a moment; I feared that—ah, I cannot tell you all that I feared.”
“However shocked you were, dear Dr. Goldsmith, you were not so shocked as I was when you appeared before me,” said the lady. “Why, dear sir, you are killing yourself. Oh, we must change all this. You have no one here to give you the attention which your condition requires.”
“What, madam! Am not I a physician myself?” said the Doctor, making a pitiful attempt to assume his old manner.
“Ah, sir! every moment I am more shocked,” said she. “I will take you in hand. I came here to beg of you to go to Barton in my interests, but now I will beg of you to go thither in your own.”
“To Barton? Oh, my dear madam——”
“Nay, sir, I insist! Ah! I might have known you better than to fancy I should easier prevail upon you by asking you to go to advance your own interests rather than mine. You were always more ready to help others than to help yourself.”
“How is it possible, dear lady, that you need my poor help?”