_ CHAPTER XVI. BUSY DAYS
"Rely upon it, the spiritual life is not knowing or learning, but doing. We only know so far as we can do; we learn to do by doing; and we learn to know by doing; what we do truly, rightly, in the way of duty, that and only that we are."--
Rev. Frederick Robertson.
When Alwyn heard that Greta was downstairs, he brightened perceptibly. "She is a dear creature," he said; "except in looks she has not changed a bit. She used to be rather a pretty girl,--interesting-looking, that was the word for Greta; but she is very graceful still. Will you give my love to her, Mrs. Luttrell? I shall hope to see her to-morrow or the next day," and then he turned wearily on his pillow, as though talking were too great an effort.
The following afternoon Greta came earlier; but, as she was unable to stay long, Olivia found an opportunity of going round to Mayfield Villas.
It was just in the gloaming,--Aunt Madge's rest hour, as she called it,--and there was unmistakable gladness in her voice, when Olivia's tall figure appeared on the threshold. "Welcome, welcome, little stranger," she said, merrily; "do you know, Livy, that you have played truant for four whole days. I was just thinking of sending Deb round this evening to know if anything were the matter. Oh, I see," as her bright, penetrating glance read her niece's face. "You have something wonderful to tell me. Draw up your chair and I will be as quiet as a mouse. I am a splendid listener, as my dear Fergus used to say."
"Something wonderful," repeated Olivia, breathlessly. "Why, Aunt Madge, I feel as though I were in the third volume of a sensational novel. What do you think? Robert Barton, whom Marcus found starving on a doorstep, is Mr. Gaythorne's long-lost son, Alwyn."
It was evident that Mrs. Broderick was intensely surprised, for she quite flushed up with excitement.
"Go on. Tell me everything from the beginning. I will not interrupt," she said, quickly, and Olivia, nothing loath, gave a graphic account of the afternoon at Galvaston House.
"Is it not grand, Aunt Madge?" she finished, but Mrs. Broderick's voice was not so steady as usual as she answered,--
"So the blessing has come to him, and he will have his heart's desire; but there is a heavy load laid on him, too, poor, stricken man. Oh, Livy, we must just pray for him until he is able to pray for himself."
"His brain is really much clearer to-day," returned Olivia; "he spoke quite sensibly to Marcus, only his speech is a little affected. He asked why his son had left the house, and then Marcus told him that he was weak and needed rest, and that I was taking care of him.
"'Crampton will see that he has all he requires,' he said, and Mrs. Crampton came over of her own accord last night. Do you know, Aunt Madge, I felt so ashamed of her seeing him in that bare little room, and I tried to explain to her that it was only a sort of disused lumber room, but she soon made plenty of suggestions for his comfort. She has sent a pair of thick curtains for the window, and a big rug that nearly covers the floor, and a softer mattress and another pillow. And now the room looks so cosy. Marcus quite stared when he went up this morning. It was quite touching to see Mr. Alwyn with her. He actually kissed her and called her his dear old 'Goody.' I find she has lived with them ever since they were quite children. I think she was Olive's nurse. And the fuss she made over him, calling him her 'poor, ill-used lamb.' It almost made me cry to hear her."
"Poor fellow, he has certainly had his fill of husks."
"Yes, indeed; but Mrs. Crampton is determined to kill the fatted calf now. The things she sends over would feed half a dozen prodigal sons,--game and soups, and jellies and fruit. She says her master has given her
carte blanche, and that the doctor has laid a great stress on nourishment, so of course we can say nothing."
"Well, Livy, your life is not exactly stagnant just now."
"No, indeed; but, oh, there is one thing I forgot to tell you. Marcus has another patient,--that is number five. Actually the surgery bell rang twice yesterday."
Mrs. Broderick clapped her hands. Then she said, in a teasing voice, "Are you not glad that you kept Martha?" and Olivia laughed.
"Why, Aunt Madge," she said in an amused tone, "Marcus actually proposed this morning that we should get an older and more capable servant, but I told him I would rather work twice as hard than part with Martha; she is such a good, willing little soul."
"Of course, as long as Mr. Alwyn keeps his room we shall have plenty of running about, and Dot is cutting some more teeth, and is rather fretful, so our hands are full; but the only thing that troubles me is that I see so little of Marcus. He is out most of the evening, either at Galvaston House or in Brunswick Place. Alas, things are no better there, and if this influenza epidemic comes on, as the doctors predict, he will have a busy spring."
"No doubt, but as we have only to live one day at a time, we will not trouble our heads about that. Well, you have given me food enough for some days. I shall send Deb round to-morrow evening to inquire after the invalids, but you must not come again until you are more at leisure. Teething troubles and the care of a sick man are enough for any woman."
"Dear Aunt Madge!" exclaimed Olivia, affectionately. "If I could only be as unselfish as you. I do believe you never think of yourself at all."
"Nonsense," returned Mrs. Broderick, "I am an old bundle of selfishness. Well, I shall be thinking of those two poor things. My heart aches for that young man, but I pity his father, too. I was reading about the deaf man with an impediment in his speech this morning; it is the lesson for to-day, you know, and I could not help pondering for some time on those words, 'Jesus took him apart from the multitude.' Just as though quiet and stillness were needed for the healing. I think that is the lesson that sickness teaches us; the poor sufferer is led apart to wait for the word of healing; sometimes he waits long, but the time has not been lost. 'Lord, it is good for us to be here;' I think some of us will say that when our painful sojourning at the Mount of Suffering is over. Yes, it is good for us to have drunk of His cup without complaining."
Aunt Madge's eyes had a dreamy look in them; the beautiful voice vibrated in Olive's ear like music; but as she stooped to kiss her, somewhat awed by her unusual solemnity, the old kind smile returned to her lips.
"Good-bye, Livy darling, my love, and congratulations to Marcus."
Olivia was putting a good face on things, but Marcus, oppressed with the heavy responsibility of three serious cases, hardly knew how hard she worked from morning to night. Dot, feverish and fretful, was always wanting to be in her mother's arms. Martha, with all her willingness, was too young and inexperienced to be a very efficient help; so, although Olivia always wore a bright expression when Marcus came in for his meals, and chatted to him in her old cheerful way, she was often too weary to sleep.
It was a relief, therefore, when Alwyn was able to leave his room and lie on the couch downstairs. Greta's afternoon visits were then a real boon; she could leave them together while she went out and did her business.
Olivia's healthy, robust constitution always needed fresh air and regular exercise. Confinement to the house tried her, and the small rooms and low ceilings at No. 1, Galvaston Terrace, were certainly rather cramping. Half an hour's brisk walk always refreshed her and acted like a tonic. She would look in at Mayfield Villas for ten minutes and give her report of the invalids, and then come back to tea looking so fresh and invigorated that Alwyn once told her that she was as good as a whiff of moorland air.
Alwyn was slow in recovering from that terrible shock. His nerves had suffered severely, and at times his restlessness and depression were sad to see.
"If he could only be reconciled to his father," Greta would sigh; "but the thought of another interview seems to terrify him. He is so painfully morbid," she went on, "and distrusts himself. He is afraid of saying and doing the wrong thing; somehow he seems to have lost all faith in his father's love."
"'I long for his forgiveness. I know that I have been a bad son,' he said, yesterday. 'But he will never believe in my penitence.' Oh, it is dreadful the way he talks and works himself up."
"Marcus says it is a good deal owing to nervous exhaustion," returned Olivia; "but he is very sorry for him. Mr. Gaythorne has begged more than once to see him; he is evidently craving for a sight of him, but Marcus dare not bring them together yet. Mr. Gaythorne is only just able to sit up, and he is very weak. And then while Mr. Alwyn is in this nervous state he is hardly to be trusted."
"Yes, we must be patient, I suppose. I have perfect faith in Dr. Luttrell's opinion," and then her manner changed, and she said, mournfully, "Do you know how badly he thinks of father? He is afraid he will never leave his bed again."
"Yes, I know; and Dr. Bevan agrees with him. Poor Greta, I am so sorry for you," and she laid her hand affectionately on her shoulder.
"Yes, but I dare not murmur," returned the girl, in a low voice. "It would be more merciful to let him die than linger on in suffering, and"--with a little burst of feeling--"the disease that is killing him has not been brought on by his own fault. Oh, the gratitude I felt when Dr. Luttrell said that it has been latent in the system, and that only lately Dr. Bevan suspected it. But, oh, dear Mrs. Luttrell, do not wish him to live. No one who cared for him could wish it."
"Poor child. Yes, I know; Marcus explained things to me."
"He is quite himself," went on Greta, drying her eyes. "And so dear and affectionate, but it hurt me so to hear him asking my pardon for the life he had led me. 'I have not deserved such a good daughter,' he said over and over again. 'Since your poor mother died you have been my one blessing.'"
"Dear Greta, you will let these words comfort you?"
"Oh, yes; I was repeating them in my dreams all night. When he was talking to me I felt that I had got the old father back. What do you think, Mrs. Luttrell? he actually asked me if I should go on living at Brunswick Place when he was gone, and then it came into my head to tell him about Ivydene, and he was so interested. I am sure he was pleased when I told him that I should like to go back there. He actually wanted me to write to the lawyer about it. But when he saw how shocked I was at the idea, he said perhaps we had better wait a little."
Olivia thought over this conversation when Greta left her; her heart ached for the lonely girl. When Marcus came in a few minutes later, he seemed struck with her unusual gravity.
"Is there anything wrong, Livy?" he asked. "You seem in the doldrums." And as she smiled and shook her head, he continued cheerfully, "I am glad to hear it. Do you know I have actually a free evening until ten? I feel as though I was a schoolboy again, and had an unexpected holiday. In my opinion, only busy people know how to enjoy a holiday properly."
"And I am really to have you to myself for three whole hours," and Olivia's face beamed with delight. As Marcus drew his chair to the fire and took up the long-neglected book, Greta's troubles went into the background.
"Oh don't read just now," she said, imploringly; "let us talk a little first, Marcus, is it very naughty of me? but once or twice during the last few days, when you have been too busy to stay with me, or to play with Dot, I have thought that even prosperity will have its limitations; that being a successful doctor means that I shall see far too little of you."
Then Marcus drew back his head with one of his boyish laughs.
"Oh, Livy, what a child you are! have you just found out that? How delightfully illogical a woman can be! It stands to reason that I cannot be in two places at once."
"Oh, of course your patients will want you, and I am not really grumbling. Do you suppose that I shall not be proud of your success? I was only trying to tell you that, in spite of all our difficulties and little petty troubles, I have been perfectly happy."
"Especially on Saturday evenings, when you totted up your little red book, and the balance was always on the wrong side. I have seen you pull an uncommonly long face on those occasions. I am not quite sure about the perfect happiness then." Then, as Olivia looked reproachfully at him, his teasing manner changed.
"Dear Olive," he said, tenderly, "I am not really laughing at you. I understand quite well what you mean. I am not such an old married man that I cannot appreciate a compliment like that, when my wife tells me with her own lips that my society can sweeten even poverty and hardship.
"You are quite right, love; prosperity will have its limitations; these pleasant evening hours will often have to be sacrificed. But in all professions we must take the rough with the smooth. We must just put our shoulder to the wheel, you and I, and 'Doe the nexte thinge,' eh, Livy?"
"Oh, yes," she answered, eagerly, "and yours is such a grand work. I have always been so thankful you are a doctor. When I was quite young I used to tell mother that I wanted to marry a clergyman. But I think a doctor comes next. Oh, Marcus, did you ever read Whittier's verses on this subject? Greta brought me his poems and read them to me. I think I know the last two verses by heart,--
"'Beside the unveiled mysteries
Of life and death go stand
With guarded lips and reverent eyes
And pure of heart and hand.
The good physician liveth yet
Thy friend and guide to be,
The Healer by Gennesaret
Shall walk thy rounds with thee.'"
And as Olivia repeated the lines in a voice tremulous with deep feeling, Dr. Luttrell's firm lips unbent with a moved expression.
"That is beautiful," he said. "I think those words ought to be illuminated and hung up in every doctor's waiting-room."
"'The Healer by Gennesaret
Shall walk thy rounds with thee.'" _