This I said with bitterness, for I remembered the time when I had wept in the shadowy woods of Meadow Brook, and if for a moment I experienced a feeling of satisfaction in knowing that what I suffered then, he was suffering now, I can only plead woman’s nature as an apology. ’Twas but for a moment, however, and then, casting off all such feelings, I spoke to him kindly of his wife, telling him he could be happy with her if he tried, and that if he were not, it was probably as much his fault as hers. Brighter days, too, would come, I said, when his practice would not be limited to three patients, one of whom was too poor to pay, and another was already convalescent, while the third was in the last stages of her disease, and would need his services but a few days longer.
“You are my good angel, Rose,” said he, when at last we reached my uncle’s door, “and your words inspire me with courage. Come and see us often, for the sight of you does me good, and God knows how much I stand in need of sympathy. Farewell.”
He pressed my hand, and hastily raising it to his lips, turned away, dreading, as I well knew, a return to the sick-room, where naught would greet him save reproachful complaints, and where the dark eyes, which had first won his admiration, would flash angrily upon him. In the hall, I stood for a time, pondering in my mind some way by which I could assist him, and I even thought of feigning sickness myself for the sake of adding another patient to his list! But this, I knew, he would easily detect, and possibly he might misconstrue my motive for so doing, and this project was abandoned, and I entered the parlor in quest of my aunt, who, I learned from one of the servants, was in her own room, suffering from a severe headache. She had taken a violent cold, which, by the next morning, had developed itself into a species of influenza, at that time prevailing in the city. Added to this was a general debility and prostration of the nerves, brought on by her recent trouble and anxiety concerning Herbert.
My uncle, who was always alarmed when she was ill, wished for medical advice; but to this she objected, as Dr. Mott, the family physician, was absent, and she knew of no other, whom she dare trust. Instantly I thought of Dr. Clayton. If she could be prevailed upon to employ him, I knew she would like him, for I could testify to his extreme kindness in a sick-room, and good nursing was what she most needed. When I suggested that he should be called, she at first refused; but before night, being much worse, she consented, and never had I experienced a moment of greater happiness than when I hastened to the kitchen with a message for John, who was to go immediately for Dr. Clayton. Then taking my uncle aside, I explained to him the straitened circumstances of the young physician, hinting to him, that prompt remuneration for his services would undoubtedly be acceptable.
“Yes, yes, I understand,” said he; “you want me to pay him to-day.”
Here we were interrupted by the ringing of the door-bell. Dr. Clayton had come, and the result was as I had hoped. My aunt was greatly pleased—he was so kind and gentle, humoring all her fancies, and evincing withal so much judgment and skill, that she felt confidence in his abilities; and when he was gone, expressed herself as preferring him even to Dr. Mott, “who,” she said, “was getting old and cross.”
As he was leaving the house, my uncle placed in his hand a five dollar bill, whereupon the doctor turned very red, and asked if he were not expected to call again.
“Certainly, certainly,” said my uncle, who, manlike, hadn’t the least bit of tact; “keep coming until Charlotte is well. I only paid you for this call to please Rosa.”
Instead of the displeased, mortified look, which I expected to see on the doctor’s face, there was an expression of deep gratitude, as he turned his eyes towards me; and I thought there was a moisture in them, which surprised me, for I did not then know how much that five dollars was needed: it being the exact amount requisite for the payment of the girl, who refused to remain with them another day unless her wages were forthcoming. To such straits are people, apparently in easy circumstances, sometimes reduced.
For more than a week my aunt was confined to her room, while the doctor came regularly, always staying a long time, and by his delicate attentions winning golden laurels from his patient, who was far better pleased with him than with the fussy old man, who, being always in a hurry, only stopped for a moment, while he looked at her tongue, felt her pulse, and recommended blistering and bleeding, with a dose of calomel, neither of which Dr. Clayton believed to be a saving ordinance, and indispensable to the comfort and recovery of his patients. By this, I do not mean anything derogatory to the good old custom of tormenting folks to death before their time, but having a faint remembrance of certain blisters, which, together with cabbage leaves and the tallowed rags, once kept me in a state of torture for nearly a week, to say nothing of the sore mouth, the loose teeth, and the tightly-bandaged arm, I cannot help experiencing a kind of nervous tremor at the very mention of said prescriptions.