Doctor Luttrell's First Patient

by Rosa Nouchette Carey

"What a pity!" observed Olivia, regretfully. "And poor Miss Williams is so nice."

"Oh, I have no fault to find with her," he returned, in a softer voice. "She was a good creature, and my Olive was very fond of her. At one time she was always in our house, and she and Alwyn—let me see, what was I saying?" interrupting himself with a frown of vexation. "No, there is no harm in the girl, and I shall always wish her well, for my little Olive's sake. But it would be painful for us both to meet." He stopped, sighed heavily, and then, shading his eyes, sat for some minutes without speaking.

Olivia rose at last. Her visit had not been a pleasant one; the subjects of conversation had been unlucky. She was vexed with herself, and yet it was no fault of hers. For once Mr. Gaythorne did not try to detain her, but there was no want of cordiality in his manner as he bid her good-bye.

"I shall see you to-morrow," he said; "you had better come early, as the afternoons are so short," but before she had closed the door he seemed again lost in thought.

That evening Robert Barton was in high spirits, and talked in a most sanguine manner of his future. He would set about a picture for the Royal Academy at once. He had his subject ready. A group in the casual ward that had greatly impressed him. He had sketched it roughly with an old, battered lead-pencil he had picked up. He discussed it with animation all tea-time.

"It is just the sort of thing to take the fancy of the public," he said. "I shall take pains with it and work it up, patches and all. It will be sure to sell." And Marcus applauded this resolution.

During the rest of the evening Robert Barton was excellent company. He told stories—pathetic stories and comical ones, until Olivia put down her work to listen. And Marcus's laugh had more than once brought Martha out of the kitchen.

But towards the end of the evening, when Olivia brought him a cup of hot cocoa, his gaiety suddenly vanished, and he looked at her a little sadly.

"To-morrow evening I shall be missing my kind nurse and hostess," he said, gently, "and shall be wishing myself back in this cosy parlour," and then he added, abruptly, "Look here, Mrs. Luttrell, I am not much of a hand at making pretty speeches, but if ever I can do a good turn for you and the doctor I shall be proud and happy to do it."

"He is very grateful, Marcus," observed Olivia, as she lingered a moment by her husband's side. "There were tears in his eyes as he said that. Poor fellow, I cannot help liking him. There is something débonnaire and boyish about him, in spite of all he has been through, and certainly he has been very amusing this evening, but," with a little caressing touch, "how nice it will be when we are alone again!" And Marcus smiled assent.