 Chapter 7 of Dr. LaTrell's First Patient by Rosa Neuchette Carey. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Blowing Bubbles. How pleasant it is to be acquainted with new and clever things, Aristophanes. Marcus certainly carried his head a little higher than usual that evening, as for Olivia she trod on air, as she sat at her needlework later on, waiting until Marcus returned from his second visit to Galveston House. Her thoughts were busy about the future. Marcus would soon have a large practice. It was all very well for Aunt Maj to be sententious and say that one swallow does not make a spring. But already the second harbinger of good luck had put in an appearance. There was no fear of parting with Martha now before long Olivia was building magnificent castles. The house next door to Galveston House was too let. It had a garden and a small conservatory. And Marcus had once remarked that it was just the house for a medical man. The reception rooms were good and there was a capital stable. Supposing we were ever rich enough to take Kempton Lodge, she said to herself. Marcus threw back his head and indulged in a hearty laugh when he heard where his wife's imagination had landed her. Kempton Lodge, my dear child, why do you not suggest Princess Gate or Belgravia? My own thoughts have not gone further than a new great coat this winter. I'm afraid my old one is getting a little seedy. And that this remarkable Olivia's airily constructed fabric dissolved into nothingness. To blow bubbles is an enchanting pastime even with grown up children. The big bright colored bubbles soar into the air and look so beautiful before they burst. One is gone but another takes its place just as rainbow tinted and gorgeous. There are people who blow endless bubbles until their lives end who cannot be induced to discontinue the harmless pursuit. Life is so hard and dreary, they say. The wheels of drudgery are forever turning and grinding. Let us sit in the sun a little and float our fairy balls. What if they are dreams and never come to anything, the dreams, and the sunlight have made us happy? There is plenty of time in which to do our work. Marcus laughed at his wife's fancies, but he never crushed them ruthlessly. Poor little Livy, he thought, why should she not build her air castles if they make her happy, and perhaps after all who knows? But Marcus did not finish his sentence even to himself. But the next day when he went to May Brickville's to fetch his wife home, he had a good deal to say about his new patients. I am in luck, he said, as he stood warming himself before the fire while the two women watched him. I thought, of course, when they sent for me that it was because I was the nearest doctor and that perhaps their own medical man was engaged in an imminent case like that. It is impossible to wait. But no, it was nothing of the kind. Mrs. Stanwell told me herself she is in such a nice little person, Livy, that they have only been a few months at Fairfax Lodge, and that before that they had lived in Yorkshire. Being strangers in the place, they were sadly perplexed on the subject of doctors until the nurse told her mistress that she had seen me going in and out of Galveston House, and this decided Mrs. Stanwell to send for me as I was able to do the child good. They are ridiculously grateful. I'm likely to have another patient there. Mrs. Stanwell has an aunt living with her and she is ailing. I've only taken a hasty diagnosis of the case, but I'm going again tomorrow. I am half afraid the poor old lady is in a bad way. It is a long lane that has no turning, Marcus, observed Aunt Maj. There you must take Oliver away. She has been wearying the past half hour to get back to Dot, but as they left her alone in the firelight she said to herself, Dear things, how happy they look. At their age life is so dreadfully exciting. I believe myself. Marcus will get on. He is really clever and never spares himself, but I doubt if Livy or I will ever be so interested in anyone as we are in Marcus's first patient. Olivia would have endorsed this sentiment readily before long. Mr. Gaythorne became an important factor in her daily life. The friendship between them ripened rapidly. Olivia kept to her resolution of never going to Galveston House unless she were specially invited, but every three or four days a message from the old man reached her. Olivia, whose only dissipation had been a weekly tea with Aunt Maj, and a bi-annual call at the vicarage without tea, according to Mrs. Tolman's mood, found these afternoons at Galveston House very stimulating. At first she was sorry when Mr. Gaythorne gave up sitting in the winter garden and ensconced himself in the library, but she soon changed her opinion when he began to show her his curiosities and rare prints. He had so much to tell her about the birds and butterflies in the museum as he called the inner ruin that the hours flew past as she listened to him, and it was always with real regret that she took her leave when the time came for her to go home. Aunt Maj and Marcus find me so much more interesting ever since you have taken me in hand, she said once, I try and repeat all you tell me, but of course I forget half. Very often Marcus helps me to remember he has read so much on these subjects you see. Perhaps it was this artless speech that led to Mr. Gaythorne showing Marcus a case of furious insects, and Dr. Latrell had been so fascinated, so utterly engrossed, that the old man much flattered had cordially invited him into the museum. Marcus, who had still much time on his hands, often spent a pleasant hour or two with his patient, Mr. Gaythorne lent him books and gave him choice brands of cigars. Olivia was highly delighted at these evident marks of favor, but it troubled her that Mr. Gaythorne never liked them to come together. Olivia was always invited pointedly when Marcus's visit had been paid, and now then he would ask Dr. Latrell to have a chat with him after dinner. Once when Olivia had ventured to hint her disapproval of this, he had answered with unwanted irritability. I like to take my pleasure as singly, Mrs. Latrell. I am sorry if I keep you from your husband. I am a selfish old misanthrope, I am afraid, but Olivia, alarmed by this decided acerbity, hastened to assure him that her remark had meant nothing. It is so natural of me to want Marcus to share my pleasure. She said so sweetly that Mr. Gaythorne was mollified. Even Marcus noticed a decided improvement in his patient's manner. He was less irritable and contradictory and was evidently grateful for the relief he had derived from his doctor's treatment. The bare civility with which he had at first tolerated Marcus soon changed into greater cordiality. Dr. Latrell's intelligence could appreciate Mr. Gaythorne's culture and learning. Before long they were on the best of terms, but it was Olivia who was the prime favorite. When Olivia's face appeared on the threshold, Mr. Gaythorne's eyes brightened under their rugged brows and his voice insensibly softened. To her and her only, he showed his real self. He has a strange, complex nature, she said once to her husband. He is very reserved, there are some things of which he never speaks. He has not once mentioned his son. I should not have known he had one. Only I saw the name of Alwyn Gaythorne in a book. I thought your first name was John. I said rather heedlessly. So it is John Alwyn. He returned that book belonged to my son, but his voice was so constrained that I did not venture to say more. Depend upon it, there is a mystery there, Marcus. Perhaps Alwyn the younger is a nihilist return Marcus and a teasing voice. Probably he is at Portland at the present moment undergoing his sentence. No wonder poor Mr. Gaythorne is such a recluse, but Olivia refused to be entertained by this bad homage. I am quite an earnest, she returned with that grave error, so you need not trouble yourself to be ridiculous, Marcus. Why should he talk so much of his daughter and never mention his only son? According to you, he is almost as silent on the subject of his wife. Oh, that is different, she answered hastily. He once said to me that he could never bear even to hear her name mentioned, that it upset him so. I was a happy man as long as she lived, he said so sadly, but it was all up with me when I lost her. She was a peacemaker. She always kept things smooth. Her name was Olivia too. Poor old boy was Marcus' irrelevant remark at this. Yes, he is a strange mixture. Went on Olivia thoughtfully. He has an affectionate nature, but he is hard too. He could be terribly hard, I'm sure of that. And then see how good he is to those poor traverses and to Aunt Maj. Could anyone be more generous? And yet he is not liberal by nature that very day that he sent Mrs. Crampton to the models with all those good things. Jellies and beef tea and chicken and actually two bottles of port wine. He was as angry as possible with Beebe because she had broken his medicine glass. Mrs. Crampton had orders to deduct the price of the glass from her wages. I always do that. He said to me it teaches them to be careful, but poor Beebe cried about it afterwards. I call it real mean of master. Beebe had said it is the first thing that ever I broke in this house and it was all through arrows getting between my feet. It is not the few pence I mind for we have good wages paid down on the day. But I call it shabby of master to be down on a poor servant girl like that. His servants don't seem to love him. Went on Olivia. They serve him well because it is their interest to do so. But even Mrs. Crampton who has been with him 20 years does not dare to contradict him. Anyhow he is liberal to us return Marcus patting his waistcoat pocket for he had that morning received his first check. Marcus's first act had been to go to the coal merchant and order in a ton of excellent coal. Then he had gone home and told his wife in a peremptory tone to put on her hat and jacket. I'm going to take you to Harvey and Phelps to get a new dress and jacket he said severely. I'm not going to put up with that rusty old surgeon any longer. And Olivia had remonstrated in vain against such extravagance. It was all very well to blow bubbles and furnish Kempton lodge from Garrett to basement. But when it came to spending Marcus's first check. Marcus dear she said imploringly my old dress is quite tidy. I put new braid around it yesterday and I would so much rather you got a new gray coat even not match. Notice that your present one was dreadfully shabby. Of course I shall get a new coat to return Dr. Latrell Cooley. Then at the thought of this lavishness Olivia was stricken dumb. Marcus made his purchases with great discretion. The gray tweed and warm jacket to match suited Olivia's tall supple figure perfectly. He had a momentary debate with himself before he ventured on a modest black straw hat with velvet trimmings. But in the end the order was given. Oh Marcus how could you exclaim to Livy who was at fever point by this time. Old your tongue Livy return Marcus cohumidly. I mean my wife to be well dressed for once in her life. Now I must go to the tailors for that great coat. There won't be much of Mr. Gaythorn's check left by the time I get home. We shall want the balance for Christmas groceries. Olivia groaned in spirit over Marcus's recklessness but she could not bear to damp his enjoyment. She unburdened her mind to Mrs. Broderick the next day. Don't you think it would have been wiser to have put it by for a rainy day? She said anxiously but Aunt Mad did not seem quite to share this opinion. My dear she said truly I think Marcus knows what he is about. It would never do for him to go to those good houses in a shabby great coat. A little outlay is sometimes a good investment. Oh yes but I was thinking of the dress and jacket and that hat Aunt Madge. Oh well we must forgive Marcus that extravagance. It hurt his pride to see you calling at Galveston house in that old surged dress. He is not really in provident Livy. You have enough in hand for present necessities and there will be something coming in next month. Oh dear yes and do you know Aunt Madge they have sent from Marcus to attend the lodger at number 17. He is a music teacher and very respectable and can afford to pay his doctor. So that is swallow number three. Then I am sure you can wear your new dress with an easy conscience and then Olivia's last scruples vanished. Olivia looks so distinguished in her gray twi that Marcus made her blush by telling her that she'd never look so handsome. Mr. Gaithon gave her an odd penetrating glance when she entered the library. I hardly knew you Mrs. Latrell he said dryly and then his manner changed and softened. That was her favorite color he said. Olive was always a gray bird. She liked soft subdued tints. She was a bit of a puritan. I often told her so. I'm glad you like my new dress returned Olivia simply. My husband chose it for me. He has such good taste. You need not tell me that Mrs. Latrell and again Olivia blushed like a girl at the implied compliment. Mr. Gaithon was looking over a portfolio of watercolor paintings. Olivia had not yet seen them and she was full about spoken admiration as Mr. Gaithon placed one after another before her. They are all the work of a young artist who died at Rome. He said I bought them of his widow. They are very well done. He a great promise poor fellow. If he had lived he would have done good work. These were merely pop boilers as he called them. Little things he painted on the spur of the moment. To me they are perfectly beautiful returned Olivia. Those two are so lovely that I could not choose between them. Please let me look at them a little longer. Mr. Gaithon I want to tell Aunt Madge about them. And Olivia who was always charmingly natural in her movements propped her chin on her hands and looked long and earnestly at the pictures. Their beauty lay in the soft rich coloring and a certain suggestiveness in the subject. One was a little gray church on a hillside. The church was ruinous and out of repair. The church yard full of weeds and thistles. A storm had just broken and an old shepherd and a ragged smock had taken refuge in the porch. His rough looking dog at his feet. The bowed figure and nodded hands and the peaceful look in the wrinkle face were wonderfully striking. The patient eyes turned upwards were gazing at the rainbow. Does a love token I reckon were the words written underneath the sketch. Olivia could almost hear them through the parted lips. Ruins and thistles and weeds and a broken storm and beyond them the message of peace. Written on the bright tints of the rainbow for one simple heart to read. Aunt Madge would understand that she said to herself she would like that picture best but this is just as beautiful to my mind. The second sketch was equally suggested. It was a cornfield with poppies growing in it under the hedge in the cool shade lay a brown baby asleep. A dish tied up in a blue handkerchief and a stone bottle laid beside the infant. An old terrier kept watch over them both. Keeping watch and ward was the title of this picture. It was certainly very well painted. A breeze seemed rippling through the corn in the nook where the child lay. There were festoons of honeysuckle and dog roses and long sprays of traveler's joy. The stumpy gray terrier sitting erect at his post of duty was full of significance and individuality. The mother was evidently among the reapers in the far distance. One would never be tired of looking at that corn field observed Olivia and the Mr. Gaythorne smiled at her enthusiasm. He would not spoil her enjoyment by pointing out to her one or two defects that he had already noticed. By and by he called her to pour out the coffee. Mr. Gaythorne never indulged in afternoon tea. This is not much like Christmas whether he said looking out at the cold, middling rain. The forecast promise a change however. I suppose I must not ask if you dislike Christmas. It would not be a fair question at your age. No indeed I love it dearly. I've only had one sad Christmas. The year dear mother died. It is my birthday too that makes it doubly festive. I'm so glad I was born on such a beautiful day. That is why my second name is Noel. And you hold high festival on it. Well we cannot do much Marcus and I always go to the early service. That is how we begin the day. And then he always has some little present on the breakfast table. It is the one day in the year we always dine without match. She is such an invalid you see that very little tires her. But on Christmas day we first dine with her quietly and have an early tea then come home. We are generally back by six o'clock and have a long evening by ourselves. Do you spend Christmas day quite alone Mr. Gaythorn? Yes quite alone he returned gloomily. But I have plenty of ghosts to visit me and his face twitched and he stooped over the pictures as he spoke. End of chapter seven. Chapter eight of Dr. La Trelle's First Patient by Rosa Neuchette Carey. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Tis a love token I reckon. It is in men as in soils where sometimes there is a vein of gold which the owner knows not of. Dean Swift. Marcus I have an idea. Olivia had been sitting for some time in a brown study staring into the red caverns where the yellow fire elves were beating out their rainbow gold on their glowing hissing anvils. It was in the gloaming and the little sitting room was warm and cozy. Dot was on her mother's lap toasting her pink toes gleefully and chuckling over them in baby fashion. And Marcus who had finished his day's work had left off trying to read by the light of the flickering flame and was indulging in a furtive dose. He roused up when Olivia's clear voice broke the silence. Marcus do you hear me? I have such a nice plan. Is it a riddle? He returned lazily. I give it up. Then he contemplated his small daughter with much satisfaction. I wonder none of you advanced women have ever turned your attention to baby language he observed presently. We are studying the ape vocabulary you know. Dot has got quite a little language of her own. As far as I can make out each sentence is finished off with a gurgle do. Something between the gobble gobble of a turkey and the coup of the ring do. I suppose it all means something. Means something and Olivia kissed the little rings of curly hair with passionate fondness. Of course my girly means something. I understand her as well as possible. She is scolding the fire because it has burnt her dear little toes. Look she is showing them to me. Naughty fire to burn my baby and thereupon followed one of those maternal and infantile duets which appear such hopeless jargon to the masculine mind. To Marcus it had a lulling effect as eyes began to blink drowsily again but Olivia who had passed a solitary day was not disposed for silence. You are not a bit curious about my plan dear she said presently. I have been thinking so much of that sad, sad speech of Mr. Gaythorns yesterday. I cannot bear to think of him alone all Christmas day with only the ghosts of happier years to haunt him. There is no need for him to be alone. Return Marcus coolly. He could invite us to supper. Why don't you propose it, Livy? You seem to say anything that comes into your head. A good bowl of steaming punch would drive all the gray and black spirits away. I would undertake to amuse him but Olivia only looked at him rebukingly. Marcus it is so tiresome that you will always joke when I want to be serious. Now do give me a straightforward answer if you can. Shall you have any visitors to pay on Christmas day? My dear child how can you expect me to answer in that offhand way and without consulting my visiting list? Well if you must know as Olivia uttered an impatient exclamation I shall have to go up to the models after tea to see that poor woman who was confined yesterday. The baby is not likely to live and then I shall look in on Traverse. I don't suppose I shall be out more than an hour. So that we'll do nicely returned his wife in a satisfied tone. Marcus do you know I've made it my mind to pay Mr. Gaythorne a surprise visit on Christmas evening. We are always back by six and I know he does not dine until half past seven. Do you think I dare venture? You see I've never been without an invitation yet. And you actually mean to beard the lion in his den and Douglas in his hall spouted Marcus. And then in his ordinary voice well you might try it if you like but I should not be surprised if you got snubbed. Christmas ghosts have aghast the effect and rubber man up the wrong way. Oh I will take my chance of that return to Olivia cheerfully. Now I will put Dot to bed and leave you to finish your nap in peace. Thank goodness was on the tip of Marcus's tongue but he refrained and only curled himself up a fresh in his easy chair. He had sat up late over his books the previous night wasting lamp oil and coals as his wife had remarked rather severely and the cold air with a touch of frost and it had made him sleepy. Olivia had been bristling all day like a blissful porcupine with little plans and surprises. First she had actually saved out of Aunt Maja's Christmas gift enough money to buy Marcus another of Thackeray's novels. Last Christmas she'd given him the Newcombs and this year she had fixed on Esmond. Marcus was devoted to Thackeray and thirsted for a complete set of his works but at present only Vanity Fair and the Newcombs were on his modest bookshelves. Neither the husband nor wife thought it right to spend even those few shillings on the purchase of books when they could make use of the free library. The new copy of Esmond looked decidedly inviting with its clean uncut pages and then there was really a handsome work bag for Aunt Maj fashion by Olivia's skillful fingers out of a yard of Cretan. Olivia had already received her Christmas presents and had nothing to expect. Her new outfit and Dott's police and Martha's wages were all birthday and Christmas gifts. Nevertheless when Marcus came on Christmas Eve to hang up their scanty store of holly he was met by his wife's excited face. Oh Marcus she exclaimed I thought you would never come home. There is such a hamper from Galveston House and I am waiting for you to open it. And oh do you know dear Aunt Maj has sent us some of her delicious mince pies and a Christmas cake. She is a good old soul returned Marcus fervently. By the by Olive could not we have supper earlier for this sharp air and it is freezing hard let me tell you has made me as hungry as a hunter. And as Olivia conceded this point graciously he was induced to follow her to the small kitchen where Martha all smiles and excitement awaited them. Martha had her best dress on for she was going round to her mother's presently with her little store of Christmas gifts, a red knitted shawl for her mother and half a pound of tea, a comforter for her father and some warm cuffs for the boys and jujube red nuts and some oranges for the children to which Olivia had added a bag of mixed sweets. Martha's round eyes widened with amazement when the hamper was opened and a plump turkey and a fine York ham came to view. There were also half a dozen bottles of old port wine for Dr. Latrell with Mr. Gaythorne's compliments and a box of candied fruit and a jar of preserved ginger for his wife. Oh, Marcus is not this kind! Olivia's voice was almost awestruck. Her acquaintance with turkeys had hitherto been strictly limited to a partial view of their limp bodies as they dangled above her in the polterer's shops. Now her little larder would be filled to overflowing. Shall I step across and thank him while you put those things away? Well, you suggested, Marcus, and as Olivia agreed to this, he caught up his hat and banished. When everything was safely stowed away and Martha had been made supremely happy by the gift of two men's pies for her mother and had trotted off red in the face with excitement, Olivia busied herself in getting the supper ready. The unsightly remains of our cold shoulder of mutton had been transformed into tempting risolets. She had always treated her husband to a hot supper on Christmas Eve. Potatoes cooked in their coats and a couple of Deborah's men's pies finished off the menu to which Marcus did ample justice. Afterwards he hung up their holly, and then Olivia fetched her work basket and Marcus went on with the novel that he was reading aloud, and both of them looked at the clock in amazement when Martha's modest ring told them the evening was over. When Marcus put on his new great coat the next morning, he shrugged his shoulders as he opened the front door. Instead of the frost, he had expected the icy coldness of the air and the heavy aspect of the wintery sky were premonitory signs of a snowstorm. It is hardly fit for you to go out, he said, as Olivia joined him, but she only smiled at him. Her vigorous young strength was proof against the cold. We must hurry, Marcus, she said briskly, or we shall be late, and I want to enjoy my Christmas service, for she had already arranged to take care of Dot during the morning while Martha went to church. Marcus had his rounds and would fetch her in time for the early dinner at Maybrick Villa's. The quiet service in the warm, well-lighted church was very soothing and refreshing. As Olivia knelt beside her husband, her heart swelled with thankfulness for countless blessings. I have not deserved to be so happy, she said to herself, as she thought of her two treasures. Martha had breakfast ready for them on their return and Olivia hurried upstairs to take off her hat. She was just stepping into the dining room when Marcus caught hold of her and blindfolded her playfully. No, you are not to look yet, he said teasingly. There is a surprise in store for you, as he took his hands from her eyes, she uttered a little cry of ecstasy. On the breakfast table, propped up with books, was a small framed picture, the very cornfield with the brown baby asleep under the hedge and the old terrier guarding it that she had so admired. A card with Mr. Gaythorn's compliments and Christmas greeting was beside it. What do you think of your friend now, Olivia? But Olivia seemed to have no answer ready. Her lips trembled and the tears gathered in her bright eyes. Marcus, who was almost as pleased as she was, patted her on the shoulder kindly and bade her pour out the coffee, but for a long time Olivia could not be induced to go on with her breakfast. If only I could take it to show Aunt Maj, she said it last, but Marcus negative this at once, the picture was heavy and the damp cold air might injure it. That was a happy morning to Olivia as she played with Dot and then sang her to sleep. Then Marcus came home, he told her to wrap up as warmly as possible. The damp quite gets into one's bones, he said, and even Olivia owned that it was disagreeably cold. Aunt Maj received them with her usual kind welcome, but she looked at her niece with a queer expression. Olivia, she said, I feel as though I were living in the days of Aladdin and his wonderful lamp. I had to pinch myself this morning to be sure I was not dreaming. What do you think our dear old magician has done now? And as she pointed to the table beside her, Olivia saw the picture of the ruined church and the old shepherd in his tattered smock. Tis a love token, I reckon, repeated Aunt Maj, but her voice was not quite steady. As for Olivia, the tears were fairly running down her face. Dear Aunt Maj, I do love him for this. What do you think he has sent me the picture of the cornfield that I described to you and such a hamper of good things? Yes, an abrasive pheasants have come to me. Olivia, do you know what that picture means to me? I've just been feasting my eyes on it all the morning. I mean to get an easel and stand it at the foot of my couch with that Indian scarf of mine just draped over it. Won't it cheer me up on one of my bad days when I can't read or work and even thinking is too hard for my poor head? Tis a love token, I reckon. I shall just say that to myself. Marcus, I shall have to pay that visit, observed Olivia desperately. Oh, dear, if only we could do something in return for him. Don't laugh at me, you tiresome boy. It is all very well for you. You are doing him a good turn every day. That is why it is so grand to be a doctor. But Aunt Maj and I want to have our share, too. Take off your hat, Olivia. Interrupted Aunt Maj for a hear-deb dishing up the dinner and Marcus looks blue in the face with cold and hunger. And at this reminder, Olivia hurried. Mrs. Broderick always gave them the same dinner, a roast foul and a piece of boiled ham with plum pudding and minced pies to follow, but Deborah's cookery always gave it a different and most delicious flavor. When dinner was over, they sat by the fire and roasted chestnuts and talked softly to each other while Aunt Maj dozed. She roused up when Deb brought in the tea things and chatted in her old bright way that Marcus's professional eyes detected lassitude and, in spite of her entreaties, took his wife away rather earlier than usual. Livy observed Aunt Maj as her niece stooped over her to kiss her. I have not been able to write a note of thanks to Mr. Gaythorne yet, but will you tell him that I have not had such a Christmas gift as that since my husband left me and that I have been praying for him off and on all day that he may have his heart's desire? They are telling that. And then she sank back wearily on her pillows. End of Chapter 8. Chapter 9 of Dr. LaTrail's First Patient by Rosa Nushekari. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Christmas Guest. This life of ours is a wild, Eolian harp of many a joyous strain, but under them all there runs a loud perpetual wail as of souls in pain. Longfellow. Olivia felt that little nervous as she sent in her name by Phoebe. The girl had looked at her dubiously. I'm not sure whether Master will see you, ma'am, she said he never sees anyone on Christmas Day and Mrs. Crampton says he is but poorly. Nevertheless, at Olivia's request she had taken the message. After a brief delay she returned. Her master would see Mrs. LaTrail, but Olivia's heart beat a little quickly as she entered the library for the first time she was not sure of her welcome. The grand old room looked unusually gloomy. The tall standard lamps were in lighted and only the blazing fire and a small green reading lamp made a spot of brightness. Deep shadows lurked in the corners and the heavy bookcases and window recesses only seemed to add to the gloom. Mr. Gaythorn sat in his great ebony chair with its crimson cushions. His face looked more cadaverous and sunken than usual. The fine features looked as if they were carved. In old ivory they were so fixed and rigid. As he held out his hand to Olivia there was no smile of welcome on his face. The melancholy, deep-set eyes were somber and piercing. This is indeed a surprise, Mrs. LaTrail. I hope you will not think it an intrusion. She returned a little breathlessly. I wanted so much to see you and give you Aunt Madge's message. Somehow I could not bear to think that we were so happy and that you were sitting alone and feeling sad. Are you vexed with me for coming? She continued in her winning way. I can see you are not a bit pleased to see me. My dear Mrs. LaTrail, he said in his harsh, grating voice, it is one of my bad days and nothing on earth would yield me pleasure. I gave you warning, did I not? You are visiting a haunted man. The Christmas ghosts have been holding high revel this evening. One of them has been pointing and jibing at me forever so long. You are reaping what you have sown. That was what it said. Why do you grumble at your harvest? There is no ripening without sunshine. Young hearts must be one by love and not severity. It is your own fault, your own obstinacy, your own blindness. That is what it has been saying over and over again. He shivered slightly as he said this and held out his thin hands to the blaze. He had not asked her to sit down, but Olivia drew a small chair forward and seated herself. Do not listen to them any longer, she said gently. You are ill and sad, and so everything looks black and hopeless. Let me talk to you instead. I want to tell you how we have spent our day. Olivia had a charming voice as she went on with her simple narrative, the muscles of Mr. Gaythorn's face insensibly relaxed. Hesitation, nervousness, a touch of self-consciousness even would have repelled him, but her gentleness and childlike directness seemed to soothe him in spite of himself. And as she repeated Mrs. Broderick's message, though he shrugged his shoulders and muttered for Shaw, she could see that he was gratified, and in his remark, that Mrs. Broderick must be a very emotional person, did not daunt her. If I manage his emotional I am too, she said softly, do you know what I said when I saw that picture of the old shepherd looking at the rainbow? I love him for this. And dear Mr. Gaythorn, I meant it, touch, nonsense. But as Olivia took his hand and held it in her firm grasp, there was a sudden moisture in the old man's eyes. No one has loved me since my two olives left me, he muttered, if only one had been spared to me only one, but I am left here alone with my sorrow and remorse. You are not really alone, she returned soothingly. Why do you speak as if your wife and daughter had ceased to love you? Do you imagine for one moment that they forget you? It would do you good to talk to Aunt Match, she has such wonderful ideas about all that. Some people, people like Mrs. Tolman, our vicar's wife, laugh at her and call her fanciful, but to me she is so real. Why should it not be true, she went on with gathering excitement, nothing that is good can die, love is eternal and it is only pain and grief and sin that can come to an end. That is what Aunt Match says and she does more than say it, she lives it. Of course, she misses her husband dreadfully, they were everything to each other, but he never seems dead like other women's husbands, if you know what I mean by that, she seems to keep step with him somehow and think his thoughts. I've heard her say once that it is just as though a high wall separated them, I cannot see him or hear him, but I know he is just the other side of the wall, only he has all the sunshine and I have to grope alone in the shadows. Oh, she is right there, I know what it is to grope among shadows. My dear young lady, laying his hand heavily on her arm, Mrs. Broderick must be a wonderful woman and I hope to see her someday and I'm not above caring for our good woman's prayers, but our cases are not exactly similar. I dare say not, return to Libya, hesitatingly, no indeed and Mr. Gaythorne's heavy eyebrows drew together. Look here, Mrs. Latrell, what sort of comfort do you suppose a man can have in thinking of his wife when he knows he is acted contrary to her desires when he has failed to carry out even the wishes expressed on her deathbed? What would you say to that man? I would say that he must be very unhappy and that no doubt circumstances were too hard for him. Perhaps he did his best, but it is not always possible for dying people to judge rightly, they may make mistakes. No, it was I who made all the mistakes and there was such anguish in the old man's eyes as he said this that Olivia almost started, but God helped me if it were to come over again I should do the same. Mrs. Latrell, you do not know me, it is my whim to be generous now and then. I like to give and it costs me nothing, but I am a hard domineering man when people oppose and anger me, I can be relentless. It is not easy for me to forgive even when the offender is my own flesh and blood and I am no hypocrite, I must speak the truth that all costs. And yet we expect our father to forgive us but turned Olivia almost to herself but Mr. Gathorn hurt her and a strange expression crossed his face. That is what she always said, my olive, but it never seemed to make any difference to me. Ah well, it is no use talking, some spirits refuse to be laid, but this is poor entertainment my dear and on your birthday too. Please do not say that, I should love to stay, but I must not. It is late now and Marcus will be waiting for me and Olivia rose as she spoke and now before I go may I ring for the lamps to be lighted, there is something uncanny in this darkness and the fire is getting hollow too. Well well, do as you like, was the abrupt answer, I'm going to have my dinner here tonight, it is warmer and so Olivia had her way. As she bad him good night, he said a little wistfully, you can come tomorrow afternoon if you like, I have those views of Venice and Florence to show you. I had an old Florentine palace for six months, the year before my little olive died, that was our last happy year. Of course I will come, she replied smiling at him, but as she left the room she sighed, had she really exercised those evil spirits or would they return again with tenfold force? Remorse, that was the word he used, this was the canker worm that was robbing him of peace. It is not easy for me to forgive even if the offender is my own flesh and blood. How sad it was to hear him say that. I think after all I did him some little good, she thought as she groped her away cautiously through the dark shrubbery, that hard rigid look had quite disappeared before I left. I have a feeling somehow that one day he will open his heart to me and tell me his trouble. Every now and then he drops a word or two, perhaps this evening if I had not been so hurried he would have spoken out. Olivia's warm heart was full of pity for the lonely man sitting beside his desolate hearth, but she was young and as the heavy gate closed after her and she hurried across the road, a sudden vision of her own bright little parlour with Marcus waiting for her rose blissfully before her. Marcus would have returned long ago and would be wondering at her delay. She knew what he was doing, cutting the pages of Esmond for the evening reading, how charmed he had been with her gift, although he had pretended to be angry at her extravagance. A few particles of snow pouted her as she rang the bell. Marcus answered it himself, Lydia, my dear child, he said quickly what an age you have been coming to the kitchen a moment I want to speak to you and Martha is upstairs. No, not there, catching hold of her arm as she absolutely turned the handle of the parlour door. I said to the kitchen, oh Marcus, what is it? An alarmed voice as she suddenly perceived his gray preoccupied look. There is something wrong with baby, but his smile reassured her, nothing is wrong, I'm only a little perplexed. That's all right and the house is not on fire and Martha is enjoying her usual health, but we've got a Christmas guest. That's all. Marcus, what can you mean when we know no one here? Is it one of your old hospital friends and why may I not go in and see him? So you shall, but I must explain matters first. I have a poor fellow in their home I picked up off a doorstep. At first I thought he was drunk and I meant to call a policeman, but I very soon found out my mistake. The poor wretch had fainted from cold and exhaustion he was simply starving. Oh how dreadful exclaimed Olivia, much shocked at this, have you given him some food? But why is he not here instead of in the sitting room? Martha has a capital fire. Yes, she has been making him some tea and luckily there was some cold bacon. He has had nothing but a penny roll and some coffee since yesterday morning. Another night of exposure and want would have killed him. I took him into the parlor because the couch was handy, but directly he spoke. I saw he was a gentleman, at least an educated man, but his clothes are threadbare. He is parted with his waistcoat for food. Now you know why I brought you in here to save you a shock. Marcus, what are we to do with him? Ah, that is what puzzles me. I have fed and warmed him and could give him money for a night's lodging, but he is not fit to move. When he tried to sit up just now, he nearly fell back from exhaustion. I should say from the look of him that he has been ill, perhaps in some hospital and has not got up his strength and he is quite young too, not more than five and 20 I should say. May I go and look at him first and then we will think what is to be done? Yes, dear, that will be best, but Libby, I really cannot wait just now. All this has hindered me so that I have not been to the traverses. I shall not belong, not more than half an hour. Libby looked rather troubled at this, but it was no use making her fuss. Marcus must do his work, but her vision of a cozy evening was sadly marred. Instead of listening to Esmond, she had to interview a strange man. Directly Marcus had gone. She went into the sitting room. She had been drawn near the fire and Marcus's easy chair was pushed back and there in that warmth and firelight with an old plaid thrown over him, the falorn wanderer lay sleeping as placidly as a child. Olivia trod on tiptoe as she crossed the room and stood beside the couch and studied him attentively. Marcus was right. Of course, he was a gentleman, in spite of his emaciated appearance and poor threadbare garments. This was evident. He was a man who had been cut and refined the waisted hands for no signs of manual labor and the filbert nails were carefully attended. Some poor prodigal fallen to low estate lay before her and yet he looked so boyish and innocent in his sleep. That Olivia's heart grew very pitiful over him. Turn him out in the winter's cold and on Christmas night too when all the merciful angels were moving between heaven and earth, when closer and the rich man's gift in the widow's might were paid into the same treasury of love, it was impossible. How soundly he was sleeping poor fellow, lulled by the very fullness of comfort, his sick hunger appeased and his bones no longer aching with cold. A fair mustache covered his mouth but Olivia, who prided herself on reading character, soon decided that the chin and lower part of the face showed signs of weakness. But as the thought passed, he reminded a pair of deep blue eyes open full on her face engaged at her in bewilderment. Where am I? he said feebly. Oh, I remember I fainted on a doorstep and some good Samaritan carried me in. Then in the same weak voice forgive me, madam, but I am afraid to rise. Lie still, please lie still until my husband comes back, returned Olivia a little nervously. How ill he looked. Preacher naturally large in the wasted face. It is sad to see anyone in such distress. She continued gently and on Christmas night too. Yes, I'm down on my luck, returned the stranger but even in his feebleness, he spoke a little recklessly. I was always Murad the unlucky. It would have been all over with me in a few hours if the doctor had not found me. I was just at the end of my tether. But here, a hard cough seemed to tear him to pieces. Lie still and try to sleep again, returned Olivia hurriedly. Then she went out of the room and summoned Martha. When Marcus returned and went in search of her, he found her airing some sheets of the kitchen fire. Marcus, she said, Martha has been lighting a fire in that little empty room where the iron bedstead is. There are the mattress and the two blankets on. I'm not mad, not me when I was ill. I'm going to make up a bed there for tonight. You think we ought to keep him then returned her husband looking at her questioningly to be sure I hardly know how we are to turn him out. But if he falls ill on our hands, a lily. If he'd be very ill, you would have to take him to a hospital. She returned quickly. We have not got the crews of oral remember. We must be just before we are generous. But he has such a terrible cough, Marcus. Oh, that is from cold and exhaustion. And as I told you before, he has evidently recovered from some severe illness, probably pleurisy or pneumonia. Well, Libby, I think you are about right. We must do our best for the poor beggar. Now and then one must help blame dogs over styles. And Marcus, whose bump of benevolence was largely developed and he believed in practical religion was sincerely grateful that his wife had fallen in with his views. I think you were sent to him to help him return to Libya softly in as much as you have done it. And to the least of these, my brethren, oh, Marcus, you know how that finishes. And Marcus smiled back at her as he left the room. End of Chapter 9. Chapter 10 of Dr. LaTrell's First Patient by Rosa Neushev-Carrie. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. A gentlemanly tramp does not enough to help the feeble up, but to support him after. Timon of Athens. When Olivia had finished her preparations, she summoned Marcus upstairs. And with an air of housewifely pride, she showed him all the arrangements she had made. In his bachelor days, Dr. LaTrell had been in the habit of picking up all sorts of miscellaneous articles at sales that he thought might be useful someday. And though Olivia had often laughed at his purchases and called them old lumber, they had often proved serviceable. The strip of faded carpet and shabby little shut-up stand intended for the surgery. And a couple of chairs had been put into the empty room. And though it looked bare enough to Marcus's eyes, and in spite of the bright little fire terribly chilly, it would doubtless be a haven of refuge to their miserable guests. He says it is just heaven, observed Marcus, when he came downstairs to his wife. The night before last, poor beggar, in the casual ward, and last night he had a few hours in some refuge. Fancy the casual ward for a gentleman's son, he said to me so bitterly, and there was actually a barrister there too, and we fraternized. It is just as I thought, Livy, he was discharged from the hospital about three weeks ago and has been roughing it ever since. Did you ask him his name, Marcus? Yes, and he hesitated. I don't believe Robert Barton is his real name. The way he gave it looked a bit shady. He is a good-looking fellow, and I can't think he is vicious. But he is one of those weak fellows who get led away. If we are to help him, he must tell us more about himself. Olivia found her hands full the next day when Marcus went up to see Barton. He found him flushed and feverish and complained of aching in his limbs. It is only a bad chill, he said, when Olivia looked grave at this report, but unless we take care of him well for a day or two it will be pneumonia or congestion of the lungs. I shall be pretty busy for the next two or three hours, afraid I must leave him to you and Martha. Don't let him talk and keep the fire up. That room is still like an ice house. Are you sure you don't mind the bother, Olivia? And though Olivia was too truthful to answer in the negative, she promised to do her best for Marcus's protege. Robert Barton looked more to advantage lying in bed in Dr. Latrell's old red striped blazer than he had done in his threadbare shabby clothes the previous night. Indeed, Olivia quite started when she saw him. He was certainly what Marcus called him, a good-looking fellow. The dark blue eyes were beautiful and full of expression. He flushed as Olivia asked him kindly how he felt. I feel pretty bad. He returned and the doctor says, why here I used not to think much of the story of the good Samaritan, but I believe in it now. Oh, if you knew what it was to feel clean linen about me again. My husband says you are not to talk, replied Olivia gently. So I must carry out his orders. There is some medicine you are to take and by and by I shall bring you some hot broth. If only your cough were easier, you would be able to sleep. But perhaps the drops will do you good. Thanks awfully. If you will put them down by me, I will take them, but please, please do not trouble about me. I am not worth it. I never was worth anything. He sighed and there were tears in his eyes. But Olivia took no notice. She put things straight and then went about her business. On her next visit she found him sleeping, but as she put down the cup of hot broth beside him he half awoke. Mother, he said in a hoarse voice, I never did it. I swear to you on my honor, I was never as bad as that. Ask Olive, she believes in me. She knows I could not be such a low cat. Mr. Barton, I brought you your broth. Will you please take it before it gets cold? And Olivia's clear voice roused Robert Barton into the dark. I was dreaming, he said, looking at her rather confusedly. I thought I was at Medhurst in the old library. Oh, what a fool I am. And there was almost a despairing look in his eyes. You are weak, or you would not dream so. And yet it must be natural to dream about your own people. I am so glad you have someone belonging to you. Last night we were afraid that you were quite friendless. Then she stopped as she remembered Marcus's injunctions. No, I am not friendless. He returned raising himself with difficulty and coughing as he spoke. Even the prodigal son had relatives, you know, a father and an elder brother, but he was better off than I. He knew where to find them. But here such a terrible fit of coughing came on that Olivia forbade him to say another word. You shall tell us all about it when you are better, she said, timely, perhaps who knows we may be able to help you find your friends. We are poor people ourselves. My husband is only just beginning to make a practice, so there is not much that we can do. Then as she stooped over him and wiped his brow, she was almost startled by the sweetness of the smile that crossed the young man's face. Not much he reiterated, but Olivia shook her head at him to inculcate silence and carried away the empty cup. When Marcus came home at dinner time, she proposed sending a note across to Galveston House to tell Mr. Gaythorne that she could not leave home that afternoon, but to her surprise, Dr. LaTrell objected to this. You know how crotchety Mr. Gaythorne is, he said quickly and it will never do to disappoint him. He might be a bit touchy, Barton will be all right and I shall be in myself the greater part of the afternoon. And then Olivia's scruples vanished. She felt Marcus had been wise when she entered the library. Mr. Gaythorne was evidently expecting her. He had a large portfolio open before him as he held out his hand to her without rising for he had still great difficulty in moving. There was a brighter look on his face. He must make the most of the daylight he said in the next moment Olivia found herself in Venice. The views were so beautiful and Mr. Gaythorne's descriptions so interesting that as usual the time passed quickly. It was not until they were drinking their coffee in the pleasant firelight that Olivia found an opportunity of narrating her husband's strange adventure of the previous evening. Mr. Gaythorne listened with his usual air of half contemptuous amusement but before she came to the end of the recital he turned upon her quickly. Do you mean that the tramp is actually in your house at this moment? He asked indignantly. Oh please don't call him that he is a gentleman. He speaks in quite an educated manner and his ways were so refined Marcus saw that at once. Pooh, nonsense, my dear Mrs. Latrell. A gentlemanly tramp is the worst kind. It is generally drink and profligacy that have dragged them down. You will be robbed or burnt in your beds. Olivia could not conceal her amusement a vivid remembrance of the flushed, weary young face of the wanderer rose before her. So boyish looking with the fair hair and golden brown moustache. I am sure he does not drink. She returned trying vainly to suppress a smile but this contradiction did not please Mr. Gaythorne. How can you know anything about it? He asked testily from your own account. He has told you nothing except that he has been in a hospital and a casual ward. There are plenty of cases of delirium tremens in both places, good heavens. And I thought Dr. Latrell was a sensible man. This is the way he takes care of his wife and child harboring a frozen out tramp. Dear Mr. Gaythorne returned to Olivia pleadingly just put yourself in my husband's place. Marcus found the poor young fellow on a doorstep and Harbit wrote not a dozen yards from his own door. Being a doctor he sought once that he must be warmed and fed or life would be in danger and Christmas night of all nights. How could he forbear in sheer humanity to take in the poor creature? And then when he found how weak he was how was he to turn him out into the streets again? He might have sent for a cab and had him driven to a hospital. No, Marcus said it was no case for a hospital at least at present. They would not have admitted him. Indeed, he could not have done otherwise. I told him so at once. What is the use of going to church and saying one's prayers if one shrinks from such a clear duty as that why we should never dare to read St. James again? And why not, may I ask because we should have set our faces against his teaching. Oh, you know what I mean, Mr. Gaythorne. And Olivia repeated the text reverently. If a brother or sister be naked and in lack of daily food and one of you say unto them go in peace, be ye clothed and fed and yet you give them not those things needful for the body what doth it profit. Marcus does not only profess as religion. Oh, finished Olivia with sparkling eyes and I feel so proud of my husband last night. Well, well, if you choose to be quixotic, it is your own affair, not mine, but Mr. Gaythorne spoke with less irritation. Now, shall we go on with the portfolio or do you want to go back to your gentlemanly tramp? Then Olivia begged to finish the pictures. I have nearly half an hour before Dott's bedtime she said cheerfully I must go and so harmony was restored. When the half hour had passed Olivia took her leave but before she reached the door Mr. Gaythorne called her back and thrust something into her hand. That will help you to provide for your tramp he said hurriedly and prevent him from eating you out of house and home. Mind you repay yourself before you lay out any for him. Do you suppose in a cynical tone that your husband's income will bear the expense of such an inmate as that and Olivia to her intense astonishment found the true crumpled bits of paper in her hand were five pound notes. Oh, there is no need for this she said in distress have you forgotten the turkey and all those good things on mage sent us a Mr. Gaythorne waved her away. Nonsense he said crossly do you suppose a trifle like that matters to me why I am not spending half my income. If you want any more you can just let me know but if you take my advice you will get rid of that fellow as soon as possible. Marcus smile when Olivia showed him the money put it away for the present he said it will buy Barton some warm clothes we can afford to give him his bit and sup for a few days he is stone broke as they call it and a few pounds may be just what he requires and put him on his feet again. When Mrs. Broderick heard of the strange guest at number one Galveston Terrace she was deeply interested and warmly commended Marcus's philanthropy. I wonder she said thoughtfully after a few minutes silence whether any of Fergus's things would fit him you know what a foolish body I have been living to keep them all this time and it gives Deb so much trouble to preserve them from malt but there we all have our crazes I have been meaning to part with them for a long time and this seems a good opportunity it does seem such a pity to touch that money it would set him up to have a few pounds in hand Olivia could not deny this and in her secret heart she thought Aunt Match could not do better with her dead husband's things it would be a real act of charity she said frankly oh Aunt Match if you could only see his clothes they are so worn and threadbare and when Martha washed his shirt and sock she almost cried over the holes and then his boots say no more my child it shall be done and at once and Mrs. Broderick's mouth looked unusually firm the very next day Marcus carried a big parcel upstairs and opened it before Robert Barton's astonished eyes Mrs. Broderick who did nothing grudgingly had put up all she thought requisite a warm suit and a great coat a pair of boots some colored flannel shirts and warm underclothing it has upset him a bit Marcus said when he re-entered the parlor he is still so weak you see he fairly broke down when I showed him the things he is very grateful by the by Livy sitting down beside her as he spoke he has been telling me more about himself tonight not much certainly he does not seem to like speaking of himself but he gave me a brief outline he has relations only he has not seen them for some years it appeared he quarreled with them or got wrong somehow in fact he owned he had been a bit wild and then things went from bad to worse with him and he had a run of ill luck it seems he is an artist and rather fond of his profession but he hurt his hand and blood poisoning came on and for some time he was afraid he would lose his right arm for months he could paint no pictures and so all his little capital was swallowed up but why did he not write to his people Marcus and make it up with them so he did but his letters never got answered and he got sick of it at last when he was pretty nearly at the end of his tether he came back to England I think he said he was in Paris then or was it Beirut? well never mind he went straight to his old home but to his horror the house was shut up and Toulette and the caretaker told him that no one had lived there for years and that she believed the party who had owned it was abroad he could get nothing more than that out of her he put up at a little wayside in that night meaning to make the inquiries in that neighborhood but the next day he felt ill and after a bit they took him to the hospital and since then he drifted up to London hoping to see his father's old lawyer and glean intelligence from him but he found he was dead his fixed intention was to go down again to the place and see the vicar and prosecute his inquiries in person but ill luck pursued him he was robbed in some wretched lodging and soon found himself in actual want but I mean if I die for it to get to met her somehow he said to me I could have found someone to identify me there not that we had been there long or my people mostly lived abroad but there must be some friends who could tell me about them it's a queer story altogether and yet not a holy improbable one but there is a mystery somewhere Libby and I'm sure of one thing that his name is not Barton I hinted as much but he only flushed up and said nothing End of Chapter 10 Chapter 11 of Dr. LaTrell's First Patient by Rosa Neuchette Carey This Libber Vox recording is in the public domain The Night Bell Rings A bad beginning leads to a bad ending Livy The next few days pass quietly Dr. LaTrell pervests himself perfectly satisfied with his patient's progress in spite of his delicate aspect and the terrible hardships he had experienced Robert Barton proved that he had a fair amount of recuperative power Perhaps his youth was in his favor and it was soon evident that he had a naturally sanguine temperament His nature was singularly ill balanced he was always in extremes either in the depths of depression or else unaccountably excited Olivia would sometimes find him crouching over the fire with his head between his hands in a state of morose misery and at other times she would hear him whistling a few bars from some opera in quite a light-hearted way If you do not mind, I'll let I think that Barton had better come down tomorrow afternoon Marcus observed one evening he won't get on all the faster and as Olivia made no objection to this the matter was settled Marcus secretly wondered how Robert Barton could take things quite so coolly perhaps it might be partly owing to his enfeeble state but he certainly did not seem to trouble himself much about the future I feel as if I should pull through now he said once I only wanted a helping hand and he left me out of the slew of despond when I am a bit stronger doctor I must paint a pot boiler or two and Marcus had quietly ascended to this I've made it my mind what I must do, Livy continued doctor Latrell later on that same evening when he had arranged that his patient should come downstairs you know that nice Mrs. Randall in the models well she has a larger but she expects that he will leave her in a week or so as he has worked at a distance I might take the room for Barton it is a clean tidy little place and Mrs. Randall is a motherly sort of woman and we'll look after him oh what a good idea Marcus yes it came into my head when I was leaving the models yesterday and I had half a mind to go back and ask the price of the room but I was in such a hurry I would pay her a month in advance we would use some of Mr. Gaethon's money and buying him what he wants for his painting I have no idea what sort of an artist he is but it seems the only thing he can do oh how pleased he will be poor fellow exclaimed Olivia but surely he is not well enough to leave us just now and in this weather for a hard frost had set in not for another week perhaps but we must not let him think himself a fixture here we have had him ten days already Marcus had not repented of his philanthropy he was too highly principled for that but though he would not have confessed it to his wife for worlds he was a little alarmed at the responsibility so suddenly thrown on him Barton seemed such a happy-go-lucky casual sort of person the gentlemanly tramp was not a bad name for him he was not quite open either in Dr. Littrell's opinion he was not by this time to have confided in them fully he is a bit shifty and hazy about things he said to himself and I should be glad when Olivia and I have the house to ourselves ten days repeated Olivia thoughtfully is it so long as that Marcus how time flies when one is busy do you know dear I have such an odd feeling sometimes I feel as though that poor fellow was sent to us for some special purpose that we had a sort of mission towards him it is not that I want him for of course his being here makes so much work for Martha but all the same I do not wish you to lose sight of him my dear child return Marcus rather impatiently am I likely to lose sight of him when I am at the models at least three times a week no but we can see him so much better under our own roof she replied quietly we must not get tired of him too soon yes you are tired dear and her hand affectionately on his do you think I do not know that although you are so good about it and never grumble but it will be trying to us both when he comes downstairs yes and one hardly knows how to treat him return Marcus feeling it a relief to utter his thoughts he is clever and refined and I suppose we must allow that he is a gentleman but it is impossible somehow to trust him to feel at one's ease with him there is something that fascinates and yet repels one I know what you mean replied Olivia thoughtfully but somehow I like him in spite of everything Marcus would a blessing it is to think that I went to Galveston house this afternoon and so I shall be free tomorrow for Olivia's sunny nature always looked on the bright side of things that night a wonderful thing happened that bell rang that sound so dreaded by the hard work doctor was like a triumphal ravelly and Marcus's ears and Robert Barton's mother poor devil as he turned on his pillow would not have been endorsed Olivia indeed had been alarmed for a moment by the unaccustomed sound and thought drowsily that the house must be on fire but she was soon wide awake and hushed in doubt go to sleep girlie it is only someone come to see Dada she said rocking her little one that had been startled and was cross in consequence and it was sometime before she could be pacified the next minute Marcus came back fully dressed I must go round to 15 Brunswick place he said hurriedly don't expect me back till you see me and then she heard him running downstairs he expects to be detained so I suppose some poor baby is to enter this wintry world she thought as she composed herself to sleep but she little guessed the terribly hard work that was before Marcus it was early morning and Martha had already crept softly past her door in her stocking feet as she would have said so as not to wake miss baby before dr. Latrell let himself in with his latch key he looked sadly jaded but utterly refused to lie down and have a nap I will have my tub and some breakfast he said he observed they gave me some hot coffee a couple of hours ago my word it is freezing hard still tell Martha to give us a good sized rasher of ham is the poor thing alright ask Olivia presently when they were seated at their breakfast with dot crawling between them then for the moment dr. Latrell looked puzzled what poor thing oh with a laugh I see what you mean now but it was nothing of that sort I've not had such a business since my hospital days he went on poor livie you would not have slept so comfortably if you had known it was a case of delirium tremens an elderly man too and his poor daughter was frightened out of her wits but she behaves splendidly you women have pluck I must tell you that she actually helped me when the man servant was afraid to come near his master oh Marcus he might have hurt you said Olivia turned pale perhaps it is as well that doctors wives know so little about their husbands experiences oh we had plenty of that sort of business at Barts he returned coolly but I shall have to get him a nurse I must see after one at once or poor Miss Williams will be worn out will you give me another cup of tea livie are they new people too Marcus like the Stan Wells but dr. Latrell shook his head no they have lived in the place for years but mr. Williams quarreled with dr. Bevin and his daughter did not send for him and as I was the nearest medical man the servant came to me it was just a fluke that's all is there only one daughter Marcus well my dear it was not likely that I questioned miss Williams about her family but I imagine she is the only daughter poor girl I felt sorry for her there have been plenty of briars the setting her path I should say as the poet writes so feelingly she has had more kicks than haypence and as usual men Marcus began to joke Olivia took the hint and left off questioning him the little parlor looked a haven of comfort to Robert Barton's eyes as he entered it that afternoon leaning on dr. Latrell's arm Olivia was sitting at needlework as usual without playing at her feet and sprawling on the rug in exact invitation of jet the black kitten she rose at once with a bright welcoming smile and arranged the cushions in the easy chair I dare say you were glad to be down again she said kindly as Barton sank back in them rather heavily but you must be careful you are far from strong yet thanks I'm tolerably fit but the weak shaking hand rather contradicted this oh what a pretty child I should like to make a sketch of her will you come to me little one and Robert Barton's smile was so winning that dot crawled to him at once and hauled herself up by the help of one finger Olivia gave her husband a quick glance which he quite understood there cannot be much harm in him if he likes children this was what her look meant and even Marcus was touched and surprised when he saw his little daughter put up her round face to be more modest and then make playful dabs at him what a darling she is rather like you Mrs. Latreau but she has a look of the doctor too I've always been fond of children they are never afraid of me and this speech completely won the young mother's heart he is really very distinguished looking she said to herself as she watched him playing with dot he is dreadfully thin and of course Uncle Fergus's clothes are too big for him but no one could help seeing that he is a gentleman they began to talk presently in quite a friendly way and after a time Olivia said quite simply your name is not really Robert Barton is it she had blurted this out almost without thinking well no he returned reddening a little but I have been calling myself by that name for the last month or two it was handy and his face twitched I did not care to carry my father's name into the places I have been obliged to frequent lately you have a father then Mr. Barton in an interested tone oh yes and a mother and a sister though I've heard nothing of them for half a dozen years oh not so long as that surely and then Olivia looked at him with kindly gravity why you could only have been a boy when you left home I'm older than you think Mrs. Latreau I shall soon be eight and twenty I was young enough certainly when they shunted me off confession may be good for the soul he went on with a reckless laugh but it is not particularly pleasant as I told your husband I quarreled with my people it was my own fault and a great measure but I do not mean to take all the blame if they had treated me differently things would not have come to this but this is all ancient history if a man sows this he must expect a harvest of the same I've had my evil things certainly and perhaps I deserve them and you wish now that you had acted differently then such a look of intense pain crossed Robert Barton s face that Olivia was quite startled I would give my right hand if those months could be blotted out he said vehemently you know the proverb Mrs. Latreau give a dog a bad name and hang him well they were for hanging me I mean figuratively a bit between my teeth and bolted it seems to me Mr. Barton she said thoughtfully that your one chance to retrieve the past is to find out your own people I suppose hesitating a little that they are in a position to help you most certainly they are we live mostly abroad but always in good style the house we had at Medhurst was only taken on lease for a short time it was my father s fancy in one place he was fond of travelling when I am strong enough to brave the weather I will go down to Medhurst and hunt up an acquaintance or two there must be someone who knew him but the doctor will not give me leave yet did my husband say anything to you about the future asked Olivia tentatively then Robert Barton s face that had grown suddenly old and haggard brightened up he told me some old gentleman a friend of yours had been awfully kind and that he would be able to take a room for me for a month and get me some canvas and colours if I only had my tools I could take a sketch of your little girl at once just as she is now with the kitten I could call it playfellows just a small thing you know but it would be sure to take I do not paint badly although I have not made my mark yet but I have sold two or three small pictures besides pot boilers I could begin tomorrow if only I had my easel and palette and his turn was so eager to live your promise to consult her husband and if he approved to go herself for the necessary things then Marcus came in he told them at once that he had been round to the models the room will be vacant next Tuesday Barton he said briskly and I have settled with Mrs. Randall that you will take it for a month it is a poor place of course but in my opinion it is not so bare as your present diggings and it is very clean and comfortable sure of bored and lodging for a month you will have to be careful you know he went on as long as this weather lasts you must not think of moving about the country just yet or you will be laid up again and then Olivia chimed in and after a little consultation it was arranged that Olivia should go to the picture shop at the corner of Harbott Street the next morning Robert Barton made a list of things required he was in such good spirits all tea time and told such amusing stories of his life in Paris that even Marcus, tired as he was was much entertained he is really a well informed fellow he observed when Barton had retired I'm not so sure that we shall find him in the way after all he told us that story about the artist's model in quite a racy fashion he seems to be up to date in his notions I'm a bit curious to find out if he can paint or if it is only tall talk but he certainly seems bent on it now I must turn in for I am deadbeat or by the by Olivia I told Miss Williams that you would go round and see her tomorrow afternoon it would really be a charity as Olivia seemed very much astonished at this the poor girl is so lonely she has no brothers and sisters as far as I can find out no friends either no friends Marcus and they live in one of those nice houses in Friendswick Place and keep a man serving oh I dare say they have a few acquaintances return Dr. La Troia with a yawn most likely it has been impossible for her to have friends when I propose sending you to cheer her up she looked quite grateful poor soul you will like her Olliv she is just your sort no nonsense about her plenty of feeling but nothing hysterical Marcus observed Olivia slipping her hand through his arm and speaking very deliberately do you not think we had better have those cards printed our visiting acquaintance is so much increased and then Marcus left and turned down the lamp End of Chapter 11 Chapter 12 of Dr. La Troia's first patient by Rosa Neuchette Carey this LibriVox recording is in the public domain Greta for I am the only one of my friends that I can rely on Apollo Thomas Olivia set out in good spirits to pay her call the next afternoon it was a clear frosty day sunless and excessively cold but Olivia felt a certain exhilaration in the ring of the horses hoofs on the hard road and the brisk exercise brought such a glow to her face that more than one passerby looked at her approvingly there are no cosmetics so beneficial as good health happiness and an easy conscience Olivia who had never been handsome looked so fresh and comely that many a languid beauty might have envied her Brunswick Place was considered rather a desirable spot it was quiet and retired the houses were well built and substantial looking they were chiefly inhabited by solicitors in good practice and retired army men who had private means of their own the very air was redolent of respectability and prosperity no one with a small income would have thought of settling down in Brunswick Place the man servant who admitted Olivia ushered in a chansomely furnished drawing room with the conservatory opening out of it and the next moment Miss Williams joined her to a great surprise Olivia recognized her at once she was the tall girl in brown that she had so often noticed in church who was always alone and who looked so sad yes it was the same tired looking young face she was certain of it I'm sure I have often seen you she said as they shook hands and Miss Williams smiled I was just thinking the same of you you attend St. Matthew's do you not I've seen you with Dr. Latrell please sit down no not that chair come a little closer to the fire it is so bitterly cold and here she shivered a little I do not mind such as some people replied Olivia sturdily I'm very strong and take plenty of exercise perhaps you have not been out it is so difficult to keep warm indoors no I have not been out returned Miss Williams and then she looked at Olivia it is very kind of you to come and see me Mrs. Latrell she spoke slowly almost deliberately even taller than Olivia had thought her and very thin in spite of her pale complexion and want of animation Miss Williams had some claims to good looks she had soft gray eyes with remarkably long lashes and the coils of fair hair set off a finely shaped head my husband thought that you seemed rather lonely returned Olivia in her usual straightforward fashion than a faint color rose to Miss Williams's face yes it was so kind of him to propose it and I was very grateful I suppose he told you that I had no friends no one I mean that I could ask to come in and sit with me a little I know the next door people slightly we call at intervals and they have invited me to a party but I have never got beyond that it has been difficult for me to make friends I'm rather shy and here she broke off rather awkwardly I think I know what you mean replied Olivia when one is in trouble one wants real friends not chance acquaintances and if one has not made them just so that is precisely my case circumstances have been to blame for I think I am sociable by nature Dr. Luttrell was very quick he understood it once and he said it was not good for me to be so much alone oh he was such a comfort to me even the first moment he did not seem like a stranger I felt before half an hour was over that I could trust him implicitly and when he suggested yesterday that you should come and cheer me up I said yes at once I was very glad to come replied Olivia quickly like yourself I have no friends here with the exception of another patient of my husbands an old gentleman who lives opposite to us so I hope you will let me be of some use to you you know after a moment's hesitation Dr. Luttrell is not one to talk about his patients but he told me a little about your problem so I imagined and of course it makes it easier for me and here Miss Williams' lips trembled slightly you cannot help me or be any comfort without knowing a little oh Mrs. Luttrell is it not dreadful my poor father and such a good father too he is just killing himself I know that and you are all alone he died things were bad enough then but they have been worse since she used to be able to influence him and keep him straight but he will not listen to me have you had this to bear long and Olivia looked at her pityingly what a life for a young sensitive girl for some years ever since Daker my brother died it was a boating accident and they brought him home quite dead we thought it was the shock but Dr. Bevin who attended him then told us that it was due also to hereditary disease we dare not send for Dr. Bevin the other night though he understood him so thoroughly and was so kind my father had quarreled with him but Dr. Luttrell saw him yesterday and they had a long talk my husband always speaks so highly of Dr. Bevin yes he liked him so much he was such a comfort to me when poor mother died and I shall always be grateful to him but I dare not run the risk of exciting my father he is a little better today Dr. Luttrell says so but of course he is coming again tonight we have a good nurse so things are more hopeful but I shall have to get rid of our man he is no use Dr. Luttrell says I must have a little trouble who can help in an emergency Roberts is far too young to be any real good Olivia listened and ascended she was quick-witted enough to see that it would be better to let Ms. Williams talk and unburden herself a little the girl in spite of a naturally shy temperament seemed ready to open her heart to her perhaps Olivia's winning personality had already won her she was naturally constituted the laws of attraction and repulsion are so unaccountable some natures seem magnetic they attract and draw us almost without our own volition with others we make no way months and years of intercourse will not bind us more closely we are not on the same plane Olivia's sympathetic matter to Greta Williams the lonely girl isolated by the worst curse that can affect humanity grievous hereditary vice the innocent scapegoat of another's sin alas how many homes even in our favored land are desolated as well as desecrated from this one cause what piteous waste of sweet young life crushed under unnatural burdens the sin of England the shameful curse of disease self-indulgence Greta Williams seemed patient by nature though it was a relief to talk openly to another woman she did not complain in spite of her father's faults he was evidently very dear to her it is a disease a madness she said once but it would never do to have young people here one could not be sure and for his sake it is better not and in these few words there lay a world of tragedy to love and yet not to be sure that the object of our love will not disgrace us what misery to a refined and sensitive nature to have to blush and grow pale from very shame and terror to stretch out a helping hand to some dear one who has sunk too low to reach it ah only one rightly gauged the anguish of such a sorrow no wonder Greta Williams looked so worn and pale and that her eyes had grown sad he is worse than he has ever been she whispered presently Dr. LaTrell does not tell me but I know he was alarmed for him that night he has been so much better lately she went on with a little sob in her throat I felt almost comfortable you know because it never really lasted but he liked me to read to him and we played chess but now her voice dropped into eagerness I shall never feel quite easy again Olivia had long ago outstayed an ordinary conventional visit but Marcus had sent her for a purpose she was to try and cheer if possible comfort this poor girl so we Greta rang for tea simply stayed on and towards the end of her visit she thought her young hostess looked a shade brighter you will come and see me she said when she rose to take leave but Ms. Williams hesitated will you forgive me if I do not return your call just now I simply dare not leave the house you understand do you not Mrs. LaTrell but if you would be so very kind as to come again most certainly I will come again did you think that I should not but dear Ms. Williams you must not shut yourself up too closely or your health will suffer but Greta only smiled faintly at this I shall tell Dr. LaTrell that you have done me good she said pressing Olivia's hand how strange it seems there is no cure for such a trouble as mine and yet telling you about it has seemed to make it more bearable oh please come again soon very soon of course Olivia readily promised this it was rather a disappointment on her return to find Marcus had been in Fort T and had gone out again Robert Barton who was reading by the fire said that he would not be back for an hour or two have you had a pleasant afternoon Mrs. LaTrell he asked putting down his book and trying to stifle a yawn but though Olivia replied in the affirmative she did not vouchsafe any information of the visit when Marcus returned two hours later he found their guest had be taken himself to bed and Olivia was able to give him a graphic account of her afternoon I am very much interested in Ms. Williams she observed presently fancy her turning out to be the very tall girl in Brown at St. Matthews did your ears burn just now Olivia observed Marcus mischievously I am glad to find someone appreciates you seem to have got on like a house on fire well you will be doing good work there she said you were rather alarmed about her father that first night did she I never said so he returned dryly in some cases it is best to reserve one's opinion but of course at Mr. Williams's age it is a grave matter that he drew his chair closer to the fire life's an awful muddle living as that man said in hard times fancy the loneliness of a young creature like that why she cannot be more than two or three in twenty at her lawful protector drinking himself to death Olivia shuddered her own young life had been anxious and hard working but compared with Greta Williams it had been strewn with roses could any parents have been more honored than hers had been and then had she not always had thought mages, wires, counsel to aid her and lastly had not the sunshine of a happy love glorified it but Ms. Williams apparently had none of these things not more than others I deserve but God has given me more she thought with a swelling heart as she made her Thanksgiving that night in spite of outside weather there was plenty of life and movement in the corner house at Galveston Terrace the next day Mr. Martin began his sketch of dot he soon became so absorbed in it that he seemed to forget his weakness and lassitude Olivia watched the progress of the picture with intense delight and carried a favorable report of it on her next visit to Galveston house it is a striking likeness of my little girl she said even my husband who is not easy to please in such matters allows that he owned yesterday that Mr. Martin is certainly a good artist and he stands his business I like to watch him he looks so happy when he is painting as though he has forgotten all his troubles he is staying with us a day or two longer on account of the picture but he will certainly leave us on Thursday Mr. Gaythorn did not answer he seemed to be considering something at last he said rather abruptly yes Dr. Latrell has been telling me what a clever fellow he seems and I think I shall get him to do that picture I bought at Stan Groves wants touching up it has been injured I knew that when I bought it but it was so slight that it did not matter and I meant to get it put to rights if I send it over tomorrow or the next day do you think Mr. Barton will undertake the job it will only take him an hour or two he will gladly do so I am sure that is it the picture that my husband admired so much yes the prodigal son I bought it that day I sprained my ankle very well Mrs. Latrell it shall be sent to your house End of chapter 12