CHAPTER IV.—(Continued.)
During the long weeks of Joel Burns's illness and convalescence, he had become much attached to James Egerton. And when the medical student quitted Burnsville, after carrying Mr. Burns through the fever in triumph, the latter felt more grateful than words would express. It is true, young Egerton remained at his bedside by direction of the physician whose pupil he was: still the manner in which he had discharged his duties won the heart of the patient. So, when at length he was preparing to depart, Joel Burns endeavored to think of some way to manifest his appreciation which would be acceptable to the youth. This was difficult. Both were of refined natures, and it was not easy to bring the matter to pass. Mr. Burns, at length, after expressing his grateful sense of his devotion, plainly told Egerton that he would delight to be of service to him if it were possible.
'I feel obliged to you, Mr. Burns,' said the student; 'but it is not just that I should excite such emotions in your breast. Let me confess that while I do respect and esteem you, it is love of my profession, and not of any individual, which has led me to use more than ordinary care while attending to your case. I have a firm belief in the method of my principal, and it is a labor of love with me to endeavor to demonstrate the truth of his theory in the treatment of typhus fever. Your case was a magnificent one. My master is right, and I know it.'
'Now you take just the ground I admire; you enable me to say what before I hesitated to speak of,' said Mr. Burns, warmly. 'Tell me honestly how you are situated. Can I not aid in affording you still further advantages for study and practical observation?'
'Mr. Burns,' replied the student, 'it is my turn to feel grateful—grateful for such genial recognition of what I am, or rather what I hope to make myself. Something of your own history I have learned in this place—this place of your own creation—and I may say there are points of analogy between your own early struggles and mine. But I must depend on myself. To accept aid from you would weaken me, and that you would not wish to do.'
'Go,' said Mr. Burns, with enthusiasm; 'go, and God go with you. But promise me this: let me hear from you regularly. Let me not lose sight of one of whom I hope so much.'
'That I promise with pleasure.'
Then he turned to find Sarah, to bid her good by. She was running across the lawn, but stopped abruptly on hearing her name called.
'Little maiden,' said the young man, 'I am going away. We shall have no more races together. When I see you again, it won't do for either of us to romp and run about.'
'Why? Are you not coming to see us till you are old?'