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Doctor Luttrell's First Patient

<h3> CHAPTER XX. </h3> <h3> "SOMEBODY'S CRUTCH." </h3> "Of all the paths that lead to a woman's love Pity's the straightest."—Beaumont and Fletcher. One afternoon in October Olivia sat at her work in the front parlour. She was expecting Greta to join her, and more than once she had looked at the clock on the mantelpiece as though wondering at her lateness. The folding-doors were open; the young couple had taken advantage of their improved circumstances to add to their scanty stock of furniture. The dining-table and mahogany chairs bought second-hand in Dr. Luttrell's bachelor days and the small, ugly chiffonier had been moved into the smaller and duller back room, and the front parlour had been transformed into a dainty sitting-room. Greta's skilful fingers and good taste had been placed at her friend's service. To gratify Marcus's love of comfort two really handsome saddle-back chairs were beside the fireplace, and a little round table occupied the centre of the room. A second-hand writing-table with drawers had been picked up in the city as a great bargain and appropriated for Marcus's use. Over it hung the sketch of Dot and the kitten, long ago presented by the grateful artist. The pretty blue carpet and curtains gave an air of finish. By Marcus's desire the folding-doors were always kept open, and Olivia no longer felt herself stifled for want of air. This afternoon the little sitting-room looked at its best. A bowl of dark-red cactus dahlias stood on the table, an offering from Alwyn, and a magnificent Lilium auratum, a gift from Greta, blocked up the dining-room window. When the door-bell rang Olivia laid down her work with a pleased smile, and the next moment Greta entered the room. "How late you are, you naughty girl," she said, kissing her affectionately. "I have been sewing for the last hour." "Yes, I know; something unforeseen detained me," and then Greta dropped her eyes in sudden embarrassment and blushed. "Oh, Olive dear, can you guess what I have to tell you this afternoon?" and then Olivia looked at her steadily. "Do you mean," she began, anxiously—but Greta, blushing still more rosily, interrupted her, "Yes, I do mean it; and, Olive, dear friend, truest of friends, you must congratulate me, for I am so happy." "You take my breath away, Greta. Are you and Alwyn actually engaged?" "Yes, dear, we settled it this afternoon; but, of course—of course, I have known for weeks what he meant and wished. He has gone round now to tell his father, and will be here presently. Dear Olive, why are you so silent? Are you not glad about this?" "I am glad that anything should make you happy," returned Olivia, gently. "And you know how deeply interested I am in your and Alwyn's welfare. But forgive me, Greta, if I ask one question. Are you sure, are you perfectly sure, that this step will be for your happiness——" Then Greta looked at her in surprise, and there was a reproachful expression in her grey eyes. "Sure! when I have loved him all these months. My dear Olive, what can you mean? Alwyn is the only man I could ever marry." "Oh, how it relieves me to hear you say that Dear Greta, I am so fond of you both. Alwyn is charming; but until you said that I was afraid to congratulate you. You know my views on this subject, dear. Do you remember how we talked on the beach at Eastbourne? I am afraid that more than once I made you a little sad; but I was thinking of this. I knew then in my own mind that Alwyn had begun to care for you, and I wanted you to have plenty of time for consideration." "Oh, yes; you made your meaning clear to me even then," returned Greta, smiling; "but, indeed, no consideration was necessary. When Alwyn came to me and said quite simply that he loved me and wanted me to be his wife, I just put my hand in his without a word. It almost shocked me to see his gratitude. He kept saying over and over again that he was not worthy of me; that he knew he had done nothing to win my respect, and I should not be able to look up to him. Oh, Olive, he quite broke down when he said this, but I soon comforted him. 'I only remember two things,' I said to him,—'that you love me, and that you need me.' And after that we understood each other." "Dearest Greta. Aunt Madge was right when she told me that you were born into the world to be somebody's crutch." "Did she say that?" and Greta's eyes had a dreamy look in them; "but I tell Alwyn that I mean to lean on him. Indeed, Olive, you must not undervalue him. Alwyn is stronger than you think. He has repented truly and deeply of all his boyish mistakes, and those who love him should utterly and for ever wipe out the record of his past. See how devotedly his father loves him; his forgiveness was absolute." "Dear, you need not say any more;" and Olivia embraced her with tears in her eyes. "I can only wish you all the happiness you deserve." "In that case my happiness would be little enough; but, of course, I know what you mean. And, Olive, for the first time in my life I can say with truth that I have found my vocation. It will be such a privilege to be allowed to take care of Alwyn; he is far from strong, and he will need care for a long time. I wonder if you know the feeling I have about that? With Dr. Luttrell you cannot have had it. You have never been anxious about him; and then he has always taken care of you. But I shall always have to think for Alwyn." "Oh, you are right there!" "We shall think for each other," she went on, fearing that she had admitted too much. "And there is one thing of which I am certain that I shall have every right to be proud of him. Do you know what his father says? that he has genius, unmistakable genius, and he is no mean judge. 'Mark my words, he will be an R.A. yet;' he only said that to me a few days ago." "Marcus thinks the same; but, Greta, there is one thing: if you marry Alwyn, you will have to take his father too; you can never separate them." "Those were Alwyn's very words," returned Greta, with a soft flush which made her look years younger; "but, indeed, I love him already for Alwyn's sake, and because he is so good to him. Oh, Olive dear, if you knew the joy it will be to me to have someone for whom I can care again. I do not want my life to be too easy or free from responsibility; but I do want it to be real, actual life. Mrs. Broderick and I were only talking about it yesterday. She says what single women miss in their lives is some absorbing interest; a work that shall fill up all the crannies." "Oh, Aunt Madge is very strong on that point. I remember, before I knew Marcus, that we had wonderful talks on this subject. She used to be so fond of quoting Carmen Sylva's speech, 'A woman does not become a mother, she is a mother from her birth. A woman's family satisfies her vocation, but does not create it.' And she used to tell me to mother my pupils. 'You must love them hard,' she would say, 'and live their young lives as well as your own;' but, thank God, we can always find objects for our love. I should make you laugh, Greta, if I told you how I mapped out my future as an old maid; but I am quite sure I should have made a good one." Just then the door-bell rang, and Alwyn entered; he looked eager and excited. "Well, has she told you?" were his first words, as Olivia met him with outstretched hands; and then, as she warmly congratulated him, his eyes glowed with feeling. "I have not deserved such a prize, have I, Mrs. Luttrell? but Greta has promised to make the best of me. Will you forgive me if I take her away for a little? My father is most impatient to welcome his new daughter, and he will only excite himself if we keep him waiting." "Go with him, Greta, dear," returned Olivia; "Mr. Alwyn will bring you back to us." And then Greta rose at once, though she looked a little shy. As Olivia stood at the door watching them as they crossed the road, Marcus came up Harbut Street. "Where are those two going?" he asked, curiously. "I thought Miss Williams was to spend the evening with us." Then Olivia linked her arm in his and drew him into the passage. "Oh, do come in, Marcus," she said, breathlessly. "I cannot talk at the street-door, and I have such a lot to tell you." Then Marcus put down his hat and drew off his gloves with exasperating slowness. "We have been married nearly three years," he said, flecking the dust off his coat-collar, "but I never remember the day when, as you so elegantly express it, you had not a 'lot to tell me.'" "Yes, but something has really happened," she returned, ignoring this provoking speech. "Oh, indeed," was the cool answer; "so they have settled it at last, have they? Well, I have changed my opinion lately. Gaythorne may not be quite up to the mark, but he will make a good husband. I suppose he is taking her across for the parental blessing?" And then Olivia admitted that this was the case. "I am so glad that you really do not mind," she said, in a relieved tone; "but I fancied you would not approve. You almost said as much one day." "Oh, even great intellects change their opinions sometimes," returned Marcus, dryly; "Sir Robert Peel and Gladstone, for example. And then most people know their own business best. Perhaps if you were to cross-examine me severely I might own that Alwyn Gaythorne is not the man I should have selected for your interesting friend, but as she has chosen him, she is evidently of another opinion, and this is one thing in his favour, he is thoroughly in love with her, and really, take him all in all, he is not a bad fellow," and Olivia, who understood her husband perfectly, was quite content with this opinion. When Marcus went upstairs to wash his hands, whistling the air of "My old Dutch," she knew he was quite as much excited as she was. When Greta came back she looked a little flushed and agitated, and, at a sign from Alwyn, Olivia took her upstairs. "What is it, dear?" she said, gently, as Greta shed a few tears; "was not Mr. Gaythorne nice to you?" "Nice?" repeated Greta, with a little sob; "he was as dear as possible. If I had been Olive he could not have been more gentle. I tell Alwyn that I shall be quite spoiled between them, but somehow as he talked to me I could not help thinking of poor father and of my mother. How happy mother would have been, for she was always so fond of Alwyn." "Yes; dear, I understand." "Yes, and Alwyn understands, too. He told me so just now. He said that though this was the happiest day of his life, he could not help missing his mother and Olive. Olivia, do you know that Mr. Gaythorne means us to live with him? I was just a little bit frightened when I heard that, and I am afraid Alwyn saw it, for he spoke about it afterwards." "Does he wish it himself?" Olivia was careful to reserve her own opinion. Both she and Marcus had their own views on this subject. "I do not know what he really wishes, and it was too soon to discuss things, but he did say that he thought that his father ought not to be left alone, and, of course, he is right, and it is for him to decide," and then she gave an embarrassed little laugh. "Mr. Gaythorne was very good to me, but you know what an autocrat he is. He wants it to be soon, very soon. Oh, he quite took my breath away, and I could see Alwyn was sorry for me. He thinks it is the impatience of the disease and that we must humour him a little. Alwyn was so beautifully gentle with him and so considerate for me, but he saw how overwhelmed I was." "Yes, one wants quiet at first to realise one's happiness," returned Olivia, sympathetically. "Now I am going to make the tea, and you shall join us when you like." But when she got downstairs she found Alwyn alone. He was pacing up and down as though he were anxious. "Where is Marcus?" she asked at once. "Oh, someone wanted him at No. 25, Sligo Street. I was to tell you that," and then, with a change of tone, "I hope my father did not really upset Greta." "Oh, no; she was only a little overwhelmed." "No wonder! You know what my father is, Mrs. Luttrell. He never will wait for anything. If a thing is to be done it must be done at once. Only yesterday I was laughing at him, and telling him he would have made an excellent slave-driver. He is immensely pleased and excited, and he treated Greta as though she were a princess. He has fine manners, you will allow that, but the dear girl looked dreadfully shy and embarrassed. And then, to put her at her ease, he wanted her to promise that she would marry me as soon as possible. It was no use trying to hush him, for he would have his say. I got her away at last by pretending you would be waiting tea for us. Oh, here she comes," and his face brightened as he hurried to his fiancée's side. Greta had recovered her tranquillity, and when Marcus entered she received his congratulations as happily as possible. Olivia went over to Galvaston House the next day. Mr. Gaythorne was evidently expecting her. "Well," he said, holding her hand, "I suppose you have come to congratulate me on my new daughter. I tell Alwyn he is a lucky dog. A sweet girl and three thousand a year. Not that either he or I care about the money,—there will be plenty for Alwyn, plenty. I was telling them both last night," he went on, "that there must be no delay and nonsense. In my state of health any procrastination would be foolish. I want to see him with a good wife. Crampton is all very well, but a wife will understand him better. The house will hold us all. With the exception of the library and my own bedroom, it will all belong to them. Alwyn can refurnish the drawing-room, if he likes; and there is that little room on the first floor, opening into the conservatory, that would make a charming morning-room for Greta. He can have carte blanche to do what he likes, and she and Crampton will manage the house between them, so what is the use of waiting?" And as Olivia noted the old man's feverish excitement she could not help thinking that a short engagement would be best, and when Alwyn walked with her to Mayfield Villas she told him so. "I quite agree with you," was his answer. "Dr. Luttrell and I had a talk over things last night, but I do not mean Greta to be bothered with plans and preparations until she has had a few days' quiet You do not know her as well as I do, Mrs. Luttrell. Greta is so unselfish, so absolutely self-less, that she will do anything for the good of those she loves. In the old days she always yielded her wishes to Olive, and she is just as ready to do so now," and, as Alwyn said this with his bright, winning smile, Olivia was not quite so sure, after all, that Greta had made a mistake. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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