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Doctor Luttrell's First Patient

<h3> CHAPTER XIX. </h3> <h3> DAME FORTUNE SMILES. </h3> "Of pleasures, those which occur most rarely give the greatest pleasure."—Epictetus. Dr. Luttrell's fit of pessimism did not last long. The very next day he had a sharp twinge of remorse, when he went round to Galvaston House to take leave of his patient, and Mr. Gaythorne put a slip of folded paper in his hand. "I am an old man," he said,—and his thin fingers held the young doctor's hand in a firm grasp,—"and I am using an old man's privilege. I know what a hard, up-hill fight life is at present to you, and I should like to ease the burden a little," and to Marcus's intense and overwhelming surprise he found it was a cheque for five hundred pounds. Marcus never could remember what he said, but his first attempt to stammer a few words of gratitude for this unexpected and magnificent gift was promptly checked. "It is all very well," observed Alwyn rather gloomily when Olivia told him of his father's munificence. She had shed tears of joy when Marcus had shown her the cheque. "My father has settled up accounts with Dr. Luttrell after his own fashion, but he has not paid my debts." And then in a deeply moved voice, "There are some debts that cannot be paid. 'I was a stranger and ye took me in.' How many doors do you suppose, Mrs. Luttrell, would have opened to a starving outcast that Christmas night?" and then his blue eyes flashed with an expression of intense feeling that became him well. "I shall never be able to repay either of you. I shall never try," he went on. "Do you know, as I lay on that doorstep too weak and stiff to move, and the doctor bent over me, it seemed to me, in my dazed condition, as though it were the face of a beneficent angel. God bless you both, for you have made a man of me." And then he lifted the kind, womanly hand to his lips. Olivia missed her friends at Galvaston House, sorely, but she had more time to devote to Greta. One day they had a pleasant outing together. Greta, who still hankered after her old home, had proposed that she and Olivia should go down to Medhurst together. "It is only an hour's journey," she observed, "And there is a dear old inn where we could have tea. And just now it will be at its best. The horse-chestnuts will be out in the Grange garden, and the pink and white may at Ivy Dene." And Olivia consented readily. But though she thoroughly enjoyed the little expedition, and fell in love with Medhurst and the old church, the longed-for visit was only productive of disappointment to Greta. Ivy Dene, in Olivia's eyes, was not a desirable abode. The rooms were low and cramped, and had a mouldy, disused smell in them. Even the little three-cornered drawing-room with the bay-window overlooking the village green and the elm-tree did not please her. The solitary old man in a smock-frock, with a red handkerchief knotted loosely round his lean old throat, might be a picturesque object in the distance, but on wet days she fancied even the green might be a dreary outlook. As they sat over their tea in the little inn parlour she gave her opinion in her usual downright fashion. "Dear Greta," she said, "I do not advise your taking this step. Ivy Dene Lodge would want a good deal of money spent on it to make it decently habitable. And even if it were painted and papered from garret to basement it would never be a really comfortable house. All those small rooms opening into each other are so inconvenient. And then it is damp. I am sure Marcus would say so; and then I am certain you would be moped to death. There are no young people at the Grange. Only that stout, middle-aged couple we met in the pony-carriage, and the vicar is old and a widower. I do think it would be terribly dull for you." And Greta owned rather regretfully that her friend was right. Her poor little air-castles had crumbled into nothingness. Her longings for the sweet country air and rustic quiet were doomed to be frustrated. In her heart she felt that Olivia was wise. A solitary life at Ivy Dene would hardly content her. And after all was she so ready to leave Brompton? She had found friends there—real friends—the Luttrells and Mrs. Broderick and the Gaythornes, and though she still felt terribly lonely in her big house, perhaps it would be better for her to wait a little. "I suppose I should feel rather like a ghost if I tried to settle here," she said, presently. "I do not think so badly of poor little Ivy Dene as you do. It would be quite large enough for me, but somehow Medhurst itself seems changed." After tea they walked to the Grange, and asked leave to go into the garden, and Greta showed her friend the lime walk, and the orchard and the big elm-tree where they had swung their hammock. "I think it looks just as lovely as it did in the old days," she said as they paced down the smooth velvety lawn. And even Olivia allowed that the Grange had not disappointed her. It was a fine, picturesque-looking house, and as they passed to the front, she had a glimpse of a handsome hall panelled in oak. "If you could only live at the Grange," she said, and Greta smiled. Mrs. Broderick told her niece that she was growing very gay and worldly. Actually Marcus had taken her and Greta to the Royal Academy one afternoon, and they had sat in the Park afterwards. And Olivia in her new spring dress and hat had looked the embodiment of youth and freshness, and another afternoon they had gone to St. James's Hall to hear Sarasate. "Livy has had more work than play. I mean her to enjoy herself a little," he said when Aunt Madge accused him playfully of spoiling his wife, but Olivia refused to endorse this. "No one could be happier," she told herself day after day. Marcus's practice was certainly improving, and he was getting very intimate, too, with Dr. Bevan, and it was already settled between them that he should look after Dr. Bevan's patients while he was away in August. Dr. Bevan had an extensive practice and was not young, and Dr. Luttrell suspected that he would soon take a partner. He had complained more than once lately that he was sadly overworked, but Marcus never could be sure if these hints were intentionally dropped. To be Dr. Bevan's partner would be the acme of his ambition, but in that case a good house would be absolutely necessary. Olivia had only been joking when she had made the observation. She had no idea that Marcus even entertained such an idea for a moment, but Marcus, who had his foot on the first rung of the ladder, was eager to climb. All his spare time was spent in study. He still went to the Models, to gain experience he would say, but in reality because the people loved to have him, and because it gratified his organ of benevolence. As the summer wore on the weather became exceedingly hot and oppressive, and Greta, who had taken a small house at Eastbourne for July and August, insisted on carrying off Olivia and Dot for the first month. "It would be doing me the greatest kindness," she said almost tearfully as she gave the invitation, "for how could I enjoy anything alone? Dr. Luttrell has promised to run down from Saturday to Monday, and perhaps we could even induce him to stay longer, and it would do Dot so much good." And it was this last consideration that had the greatest weight with Olivia. "But oh, Marcus! how am I to leave you?" she began in rather a dismal voice. But Marcus soon proved to her that he was only too willing to part with her. "My good child," he said, "the idea of your hesitating for a moment. Miss Williams is behaving like a brick, and she had planned it all beforehand, too. Do you suppose she would have taken a house, if she had not meant you and Dot to go too?" "But, Marcus," she pleaded, "I do not really need the change; you only said yourself the other day that I had never looked so well." "Yes, and Eastbourne will enable you to keep well," he returned, cheerfully. "Think of a month of sea breezes; does not your maternal heart swell at the idea of Dot in a big sun-bonnet, stumping over the beach with her spade and bucket? Why, you and Miss Williams will be as happy as the day is long." "Oh, no; not without you, Marcus," returned Olivia, tenderly. "Do you think any enjoyment would be perfect without my husband?" But as Marcus quietly reasoned with her, she yielded at last with a good grace. "I could not well refuse, Aunt Madge, could I?" she said to her usual confidante, "when Greta wanted me so; and then it will do baby so much good. Marcus declares that Martha will manage all right, and that he will not be dull; and he has promised to spend a whole week with us if he can. And really, it is so very, very kind of Greta, and she is so happy about our coming." "You are a wise woman, Livy," replied Aunt Madge. "And I am proud of you, and so is Marcus, for we both of us know you are making a brave effort. Deb shall give Martha a helping hand, now and then, when I can spare her. And Marcus has promised to have a cup of tea and chat with me sometimes on his way home from the Models. By-the-bye, when do Mr. Gaythorne and Mr. Alwyn return?" But Olivia could not answer this question. Galvaston House would not be ready for them until the end of July. She knew that in his last letter to Marcus, Alwyn had spoken of their going on to Scarborough. He had given a good account of his father, he was less feeble and walked better; but Bournemouth was too relaxing, and they both felt the need of more bracing air. "I shall keep him away until September, unless he turns restless," he had finished, and Marcus had strongly commended this. Greta sometimes heard from Alwyn. He wrote to her from time to time, and she would read his letters to Olivia. The house that she had taken at Eastbourne was charmingly situated. From the windows they had a view of the sea, and Beachy Head in the distance. Marcus took them down and settled them in, and after the first few days Olivia got over her homesickness and thoroughly enjoyed her life. In the mornings they were always on the beach with Dot, either reading or working, or watching the happy groups of children. In the afternoons and evenings they either drove or walked over the downs. Greta, who was resolved to spare no expense, had hired a pretty little victoria for the month. When Marcus came down for his promised week, he spent most of his time boating, and one or two days they went out in a sailing-boat and carried their luncheon with them. Both Greta and Olive proved themselves good sailors. Greta had entreated her friend to prolong her visit, but Olivia would not hear of this. "Martha had been left long enough," she said, decidedly, and she could not remain away from Marcus any longer. And Marcus was too glad to get his bright companion back to say a dissenting word. "Oh, Aunt Madge, I have had such a splendid time," were Olivia's first words when she went round to Mayfield Villas on the morning after her return. "Greta has been such a dear, she has thoroughly spoilt me; but the loveliest time of all was the week Marcus spent with us." "You look the very essence of a sunbeam, Livy," returned Mrs. Broderick, with an admiring look; "but what a nut-brown mayde you have become. Well, was Marcus pleased to get his wife and child back?" And then Olivia smiled happily, for only she knew how she had been missed. Dr. Bevan left town early in August and Dr. Luttrell took up his position as locum tenens, and in spite of the emptiness of London found plenty of work. Sometimes, as Olivia walked in the direction of Brunswick Place with Dot toddling beside her, the victoria with its bay horses would pass her. How Olivia would dimple with amusement as Marcus gravely lifted his hat to her. Ever after a victoria with bay horses figured in Olivia's châteaux d'espagne. Greta complained bitterly of her dullness when her friends had left. "Eastbourne has lost its charms," she wrote, "and the crowds of people on the Parade only make me feel more lonely. If it were not for fear of Dr. Luttrell, I should come back to Brunswick Place at once, but I dare not run the gauntlet of his sarcasms. "My one amusement is making smocks for Dot. I have finished the pale blue one and it looks lovely, and now I have begun a cream-coloured one; in spite of your stuck-up pride, Olive, you cannot prevent me from working for my darling Dot." This reproachful sentence was the outcome of a hot argument. Greta had tried in her affectionate way to lavish gifts upon her friend, but Olivia had steadily refused to allow this. "No, Greta," she had said, "you do far too much for me already. I have been treated like a princess for a whole month, but I will not have presents heaped on me. Even poor people have their feelings, you know, and rich people must respect them." But this dignified speech made no impression on Greta. "You may call it proper pride," she said, contemptuously, "but I call it selfishness, for you are just depriving me of my greatest pleasure. Well, if you choose to be stiff and obstinate you must have your way, but you cannot hinder me from finishing those smocks." And Olivia, who was full of admiration for Greta's exquisite smocking, announced graciously that the smocks were to be the exception. "I was obliged to put my foot down, Marcus," she said afterwards, "or she would have bought everything I admired. Perhaps I am proud, but no one but my husband or Aunt Madge shall buy my frocks." And as Olivia said this she held up her head, and looked so dignified and handsome that Marcus refrained from teasing her. Evidently such pride was no fault in his eyes, and it was certain that he very much enjoyed choosing his wife's gowns. Greta was the first to return. The Gaythornes stayed away until the middle of September. When Alwyn paid his first visit, Olivia was rejoiced to see the improvement in him. He had gained weight and flesh, and looked very handsome; but Marcus was less satisfied with Mr. Gaythorne. "He is an old man before his time," he observed. "I am afraid he will never throw off his invalid habits now. He can just potter about in the sunshine and amuse himself with his flowers and museum, but he will never be capable of work again. The least effort to concentrate his thoughts for more than a few minutes seems to irritate his brain. Nothing pleases him better than to creep up to the grand new studio and watch Alwyn at his work. "'I shall be proud of him yet,' he said that to me yesterday, and if you had seen his face, Livy, when he said it!" <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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