Mary of Marion Isle

Chapter IV
Somerville Black

It is doubtful whether all London held a happier man than was Andrew that night. Of course he was not finally and openly engaged, but then how good were Rose’s reasons against such a course. How noble and unselfish! She thought of her father as a loving daughter should; she thought of him, Andrew, believing – though what put such a mad idea into her head he could not conceive – that he might wish to change his mind; she thought of what he would feel if by any chance their open betrothal came to an end, and he knew that thereby he had caused her name to be breathed upon; she thought, too, of how he might be hampered if he married very young and without sufficient means. In short, she thought of everybody and everything but herself. Oh! indeed she was a pearl above price, a woman whom a king might be glad to marry, an angel, one almost too good for this world. And she had let him kiss her, not once but often, and he knew – oh! full surely – that never, never would she have allowed this unless her heart told her that he was the one man on earth to whom she wished to give that holy right.

He walked back to Justice Street treading so lightly that figuratively he seemed to float, a precious sensation which is granted occasionally to the young. Mrs. Josky saw him coming from her point of vantage on the doorstep and, like Dr. Somerville Black, at once diagnosed the case.

«He’s been and gone and done it,» she said to herself. «Poor young man!»

Then she fled to prepare the supper.

A little later she arrived with that meal to find Andrew gazing rapturously at the ceiling.

«Anything wrong with the plaster, Mr. West?» she asked, «or are you expecting an angel to come down into Justice Street, because if so, I fancy you will have to wait a long while.»

«I was only thinking, Mrs. Josky.»

«What of? Medicines and such-like?» Then her eye fell upon the rose. «You had better put it in water,» she said, pointing to that flower, «for I think you’ve seen the best of it. Or perhaps you would like to press it, for then, being wired, it will hold together a long time, until you want to throw it away or get another.»

«That’s a good idea,» said Andrew, and going to a shelf he took down a massive medical work (it chanced to be on diseases of the heart), and reverently deposited the rose between the pages.

«Better put some tissue-paper round it,» suggested Mrs. Josky, «or it will stain the pretty picture» (which was one of the pectoral cavity cut open to reveal the organs within).

Again Andrew obeyed while Mrs. Josky watched him gloomily.

«Is that a very rare sort of rose, Mr. West,» she asked while she pretended to arrange the plates, «that you take such particular care of it? Or is there some other reason?»

Andrew could resist no longer. He must communicate his joy, and here was an ideal confidante, one who would triumph with him, and understand.

«There is another reason, Mrs. Josky,» he said solemnly. «This flower means a great deal to me; it is the gift of the lady whom I love.»

«Is it, indeed, Mr. West? Well, it is pretty and it didn’t cost her much, but does the lady love you?»

«Oh! yes, I think so. There are some things which young and innocent girls don’t say right out, you know, Mrs. Josky. But in view of what passed —» and he paused.

«Ah! kisses and the rest, I suppose. I’ve heard of them before, I have indeed. But what did pass, Mr. West? If you feel moved to tell me, I’ll tell you what I think.»

So Andrew told her at great length and with an extraordinary wealth of detail, nor, although it agonized her to know that the chops were getting cold, did Mrs. Josky attempt to cut him short.

«I forgot,» said Andrew, when at length the history came to an end. «I promised secrecy; however, as you don’t know who the lady is, it doesn’t matter.»

«No, I don’t know, so of course it doesn’t matter. But I was trying to think this business out, Mr. West. You are kind of engaged to some one you met suddenlike, but she isn’t engaged to you?»

«No, now you mention it, Mrs. Josky, not exactly engaged.»

«In short, the hook’s in your mouth, but not in hers, and a year hence you are to find out whether she likes the taste of the bait.»

«I should never have thought of calling it a hook, Mrs. Josky.»

«Of course not, nobody does who is the right side of thirty. But somehow I didn’t treat Josky like that, all take and no give, so to speak; and what’s more, I don’t think he would have stood it, if I had, for he wasn’t romantic, wasn’t Josky. ’Now you make up your mind, Emma,’ he said to me, ’for I’ve got five minutes to spare for this job and no longer.’»

«Perhaps,» suggested Andrew, «the temperament of the late Mr. Josky and my own differ somewhat.»

«There ain’t no doubt about that, Mr. West. They differs a lot. Well, there it is, you’ve gone through the top and one day you’ll come out at the bottom, and then you’ll know how you like it. Everybody does that kind of thing; why, I did myself before I met Josky. And now I’ll take those chops down and warm them up.»

«I don’t want any chops,» murmured Andrew.

«But you’ll eat them all the same to support you through the trials of this mortal life,» and she departed, leaving him wondering.

Somehow the tale of his perfect romance had not been as enthusiastically received as he could have hoped. But then Mrs. Josky was – well, Mrs. Josky, and could hardly be expected to understand.

As a matter of fact that good woman understood with almost painful clearness.

«She’s a baggage, is that Rose Watson,» she said, addressing a vagrant black-beetle in the kitchen which she had failed to squash, «with no more heart than a dead heifer. She’s keeping him hanging on, poor boy, while she looks round to see if she can’t do better. Well, after all, her looks are her fortune, as the saying goes, and she mustn’t be blamed if she takes them to the highest market. Still, I’m sorry for him, poor boy, for he thinks the world of her. It’s just like the measles and he’s got to get through with them, and that’s all there is about it.»

Three days later Andrew went to tea again at Red Hall, but somehow never got a word alone with Rose, for Sister Angelica and a friend were constantly in evidence, and however long he sat seemed determined to sit longer. On the famous Elizabethan table, however, he observed a new set-out of china which, being a young man of taste and having some knowledge of such things, he was well aware must have been as costly as it was beautiful.

«What a pretty tea-service,» he remarked.

«Yes,» replied Rose, colouring. «Isn’t it kind of Doctor Somerville Black? He sent them to me with a charming note to make up for those which he broke in the passage.»

«Oh!» said Andrew. «I thought Sister Angelica broke them by running the tray into his back.»

«Yes, I did,» said Angelica, «it was so dark with all the doors shut and no gas lit.»

Then the subject dropped, but Andrew left the rest of his tea undrunk in the lovely Sèvres cup. Rose observed it as she observed everything, and took an opportunity to touch his hand and give him one of her most angelic glances. Also, when he went away, she pressed it and gave him another heavenly look, and once more he walked home on air, yet feeling as if there were something just a little wanting. Also, he wished that the opulent Somerville Black would keep his antique Sèvres tea-services to himself.

As time went on he wished it a great deal more, since Somerville Black always seemed to be about the place. His interest in the young woman with the three personalities was apparently insatiable; also, it spread to other of Dr. Watson’s cases. As it happened, however, Andrew saw very little of him. Chance, or something else, so arranged matters that they did not come across each other. Once they met upon the doorstep of Red Hall when the jovial doctor favoured him with a jest or two, asking him which member of the «floral kingdom» attracted his attention in the house. At first Andrew could not understand the riddle, but afterwards remembered that there is a plant called Angelica and another named Rose. Occasionally he saw the fine carriage drawn by high-stepping horses speeding down the Whitechapel streets and inside of it caught sight of the doctor, looking more imposing and larger than ever in a resplendent fur-lined coat. One cold day, about this time too, he met Rose in the street, and noticed that she also was wearing a very beautiful long fur garment made of the finest sealskin with a collar and cuffs apparently of sable, which became her graceful figure very well indeed. He told her so, whereon she coloured and changed the subject. Afterwards he remembered that his cousin Clara had a somewhat similar coat which their uncle, Lord Atterton, had given to her and that she had told him it cost a hundred guineas. So he supposed that Rose’s garment must be an imitation, or perhaps one that she had inherited from her mother, since he was sure that her father could never have afforded to pay so much for such an article.

He made some allusion to the matter to Sister Angelica, who acknowledged it with a watery and vacuous smile and, like Rose, changed the subject. After this, although he was the most innocent and unsuspecting of men, it must be confessed that Andrew did sometimes wonder whence had come those wondrous furs.

So perhaps did her own father, who once then they came from visiting a patient together, observed Rose passing them on the further side of the road, remarked in his distrait manner that she seemed to be very finely dressed, then coloured a little as though a thought had struck him, and looked down at the pavement.

For now, it should be explained, Andrew, being fully qualified, was acting as a kind of assistant to Dr. Watson. There was no agreement between them; they were not partners, nor was he paid. As he was so rarely paid himself, this detail appeared to escape the doctor’s mind, nor, he being in funds, did it occur very vividly to that of Andrew. He had gravitated towards the Red Hall surgery and begun to work there, that was all. Moreover, soon this work became of a very engrossing character, for the doctor’s practice, as is common with those of a more or less gratis nature in a populous neighbourhood, was very large indeed and absorbed all Andrew’s time. In fact, soon he found himself working about twelve hours a day, to say nothing of night calls, and with little leisure left for anything else, no, not even to visit Rose.

At intervals, however, that charming young lady did ask him to tea, though generally this happened on days when he chanced to be exceptionally busy and could not possibly be spared. It is difficult to leave Whitechapel mothers under certain circumstances when they have no one else to look after them, even to partake of tea with one’s adored.

It was in connection with some most unusual case of this character, that once more he came into contact with Dr. Somerville Black. The details do not in the least matter, but the upshot of it was that Andrew, confronted by frightful and imminent emergency and with no one at hand to consult, resorted to an heroic surgical treatment which he had once read of as possible, though there was no clear record of its ever having been followed with success. Having done all he could, he ran out from the place with the object of finding Dr. Watson, leaving some local midwife in charge of the patient. In the main street he met a carriage blocked by an accident to an omnibus, and standing by it, Dr. Somerville Black who had descended to see what had happened and, as a matter of fact, was returning after taking tea at Red Hall.

The doctor caught sight of him, and with his usual keenness guessed from his face that he was in trouble.

«What’s wrong, Brother West?» he asked in his jovial tones.

Andrew stopped and remembering only that here was a famous physician, briefly detailed the circumstances.

«By Jove!» said the doctor, «that’s interesting. I’ve given up that sort of work, but if you will allow me, I should like to have a look at the case, for I remember one like it when I was a medical student, and I have got half an hour to spare.»

Andrew, of course, was delighted and they returned together to the mean tenement house.

«I’ll tell you what,» said Somerville Black when he had finished his examination, «this is a thing that Clinton ought to see. You know who I mean, Sir Claude Clinton, the great obstetrician. He’s a friend of mine, and if you will wait here I’ll drive off and see if I can find him. Your treatment has been tremendous, my friend; I’ve never known such a thing attempted, but I’m not sure that you haven’t hit on the right line of action.»

Then off he went, and within a little over an hour was back with Sir Claude Clinton, a quiet, brave-faced man.

Again there was an examination, at the end of which Sir Claude turned and said to Andrew, with a little bow:

«I congratulate you on your courage and skill. I should scarcely have dared to attempt such an operation myself, and that it should have been carried out at the right moment with only the assistance of a person like that,» and he nodded towards the parish midwife, «is almost unprecedented. Unless complications supervene, as is of course possible and even probable, I think that the woman should live and be none the worse. Anyhow, it was a great achievement which so far has been successful. With your leave I will meet you in consultation over this case to-morrow, should the patient still live. If she dies, perhaps you will let me have a telegram. Here is my address.»

Then he departed. A few minutes later, after giving some medical directions, Dr. Somerville Black and Andrew followed him from the house. In the street outside where his carriage stood, the former said suddenly:

«What are you doing now, West? Working for our friend, Brother Watson, in his extensive but unremunerative practice?»

«Yes,» answered Andrew, «and I don’t know which is the more remarkable, the extent or the unremunerativeness.»

«Ah! just as I thought. Well, look here, my young friend, if you will allow me to say it, I’ve taken a fancy to you. Don’t be mistaken, I’m some judge of character though little else, for my medical reputation, as Clinton there would tell you if you asked him, is more or less a sham – I mean, it is not founded on real attainments like Clinton’s. Now I’ve added you up pretty thoroughly and I see your weak points, which are many. For instance, you are a dreamer and an idealist, both of which qualities are mistakes in our trade, also so nervous that you will probably wear yourself out and die before you have reached my age, which is fifty-eight, whereas I, who am neither of these, hope to live another twenty years at least. Now tell me, ain’t I right?»

«As to the first part of your diagnosis, I should say yes,» answered Andrew. «As to the rest, perhaps so. I neither know nor care.»

«Also you are very inexperienced, for book learning with a certain amount of hospital work is not experience as I understand it. But you have the insight of a fine temperament and with it courage, otherwise you could never have conceived and carried out that operation on the good woman in there at the critical instant and without assistance, one from which, as he said, Clinton himself would have shrunk. Also you have youth on your side, to regain which I would give back all that I have won in life. The upshot of it is that I like you, West, especially as you are a gentleman which I ain’t quite, and – are you open to an offer?»

«What sort of an offer?» asked Andrew astonished.

«Something of this kind. You come to me as an assistant, not as a partner, mind you, with a salary of, let us say, £500 a year to begin with. Then if you do as well as I expect you will, the partnership can follow, and in a few years’ time when you are old enough and I die or grow tired of it, the whole bag of tricks, which means one of the finest businesses in London, £8000 a year, for that’s what my books have averaged lately after deducting twenty per cent for expenses.»

Andrew heard and, understanding the magnitude and unusual nature of the offer made by one of the great men of the profession to a complete novice like himself, flushed with pride and pleasure. Yet oddly enough, his first impulse was to refuse. Why? He did not know exactly. The opening offered was splendid and made bona fide: Dr. Watson could easily replace him with some other young man anxious to gain experience, and after all, however democratic one might be, the atmosphere of Park Lane was more agreeable than that of Whitechapel. No, it was none of these things; it was that there existed some antagonism between the offerer and himself, not a personal antagonism, for individually, within his limitations, he liked Somerville Black whose essential goodness he recognised, as much as Somerville Black liked him, but rather one of circumstance. It was the facts of life that antagonized them, their interests, he felt, were directly opposite upon some vital matter which at the moment his mind did not define. All he knew was that it existed and would continue to exist, and on account of it he wished to say No.

Then another idea came to him, namely, that if he said Yes, he might be able to marry Rose within a year. By that time he was sure that he would have established himself firmly with Somerville Black and, loving him as he was quite certain that she did, that his prospects would be such that she would no longer feel it her duty to postpone their union.

These reflections settled the matter.

«Thank you,» he said. «It is awfully good of you, seeing what you are and what I am, and I’ll come when it is convenient for Doctor Watson to let me go. Indeed, I am very much flattered.»

«No, you ain’t, young man,» answered Black with one of his jolly laughs. «You think me a successful Society doctor, a kind of quack, not fit to hold a candle to men like Clinton, or even Watson, and in a way you are right. But I am not altogether a quack, as I think I could prove to you if I were to take the trouble to tell you all that has been passing through your mind during the last few minutes, which I think I can guess pretty well. Learn to control your features, West, it is one of the first duties of a doctor; and don’t let your eyes advertise your thoughts. Just one more thing, don’t think that I am a man to take advantage of my position and money to do another any wrong. Never, never. I have to see my road pretty clear before I set foot on it, and it must be a straight one. Now I am off. This afternoon’s job has cost me more than ten guineas already. Drop me a line to say when you can come and we will settle the details in any way you like. Good-bye, give my love to the Flower-garden at Red Hall, if you are going that way, and tell Sister Rose – oh! well, never mind.»

He bustled off to his carriage, leaving a stream of chaff behind him as was his fashion. At its door, however, he halted and calling Andrew to him, suddenly became professional.

«Look here,» he said, «about that case of yours yonder. You’ve done everything possible, or so Clinton would say, but I tell you there is a great deal more to do. I believe you have saved the woman’s life; now it remains for you to save her mind. The probability is, although Clinton would never think of it, that when she understands what has happened, she will go mad. If you can prevent that, I shall think even better of you than I do.»

I am not certain that he is not a big doctor after all, although he is jealous of Clinton because of his European reputation, thought Andrew, as he watched Somerville Black’s carriage disappear amidst the motley equipages of the squalid street.

Chapter V
Arabella

As it happened, Andrew did visit the «Flower-garden» at Red Hall that afternoon, because Rose, for him the queen of all flowers, had asked him to tea. Owing to circumstances that have been set out, he arrived a little late for which he was reproached by Rose, who opened the front door for him.

«Oh! Andrew,» she said, «I did hope that you would have been in time for once, since then we might have had a few minutes together. Now that can’t be, as Angelica and my father are waiting for their tea, and immediately afterwards my cousin Emma is coming for me and we are going to the theatre where we have a box.»

«What theatre? I didn’t know any of them began before eight o’clock, and who gave you the box?» asked Andrew rather heavily, for something about all these announcements chilled him.

«The Haymarket, which takes a long time to reach by bus; also we must be early because of the crowd, and Emma has the box.»

«I see,» replied Andrew without conviction, whereon she brushed his hand with her own and after a quick glance up the passage, bent her sweet face towards him. Then, when the inevitable had happened, with a little sigh of happiness, she flitted before him into the sitting-room.

Following more slowly, for he had paused to hang up his hat, Andrew met Dr. Watson who was coming from the surgery, and stopped to report to him all that had happened in connection with his remarkable case. Watson listened entranced.

«You did right, quite right,» he said, «though I’m not certain that I should have dared. However, if Clinton has approved, all is well, for I think him the greatest authority in Europe. It was good of him to come, too, but those big men are often like that and will do for nothing what they would charge fifty guineas for if they were called in. Well, my boy, you must be tired, come and have some tea. We will talk about it afterwards.»

So they went in and drank tea out of the porridge-bowls, the best china not being in evidence, and Andrew, who had eaten little that day, devoured sundry slices of the thick bread and butter, also some marrons glacés which Rose presented to him in an elegant and expensive- looking box, after all of which he felt much refreshed.

Presently, in a rather nervous kind of way, like one who feels it incumbent on her to show an active interest in the proceedings of some one else, she asked Andrew what he had been doing.

«Well,» he answered gaily, «if you want to know, subject to your father’s consent, I have been accepting an appointment, or rather a kind of partnership in the making.»

«Indeed! Oh! do tell me about it. Will you be well paid?»

«Very well, much more than I am worth, five hundred pounds a year to begin with, which means a lot to me,» and he glanced at her with meaning.

«Five hundred pounds a year!» she exclaimed, opening her big blue eyes, while Sister Angelica, in a thin voice like that of a far echo, repeated, «Five hundred pounds a year!» from the shadows at the end of the long Elizabethan table, and even Dr. Watson, awaking from his reveries, looked extremely interested. «Who offered you that?» and again Sister Angelica echoed, «Who offered you that?»

«You would never guess though. It was a friend of yours, Doctor Somerville Black.»

Rose’s face fell.

«Really,» she said in a voice so quiet that it was almost stern, «and what are you to do? Go somewhere to look after the patients whom he sends away to that watering-place of which he is so fond?»

«No,» answered Andrew, «I am to stop here to help him in London.»

«Oh! that will be delightful for you,» she said, smiling mechanically. «And now I must try on my new dress before Emma comes to fetch me, so good-bye, An – I mean Mr. West – I do congratulate you. I do indeed.» Then for one moment she let her beautiful blue eyes rest on his, and turning, glided away.

As it happened, doubtless by the merest accident, Dr. Somerville Black found himself for a little while in the box that was occupied by Rose and her cousin Emma at the Haymarket that night. Being busy he did not stop long, which in a sense did not trouble him as he was no playgoer, and in fact had not been inside a theatre for years. Arriving in the middle of an act, he waited until its end and then asked what it was all about. Rose, with the very same sweet smile and the very same glance of the perfect eyes that had entranced Andrew in the afternoon, explained to the best of her ability, which was not very well, since she had no natural gift towards synopsis.

«Ah!» said the doctor with a yawn, «most thrilling, I have no doubt, but I find real life quite interesting enough for me. You see, I have just come here from a death-bed, that of a lady who was rather great in her quiet way and who has suffered from cancer for three years without a murmur. So the sham sufferings of that painted minx at so much a night don’t move me very deeply, but I am glad that you young people like them, having none of your own. By the way, I know the lady; she’s consulted me several times and never paid my bill, and I who have seen more of her than you have, can tell you that she is uncommonly plain and has an execrable figure which goes out wherever it ought to come in and goes in wherever it ought to come out.»

«Oh! Doctor,» said Rose, «how can you say such things of the beautiful Elfrida Verney?»

«Perhaps because she hasn’t paid my bill, or perhaps because they happen to be true. It isn’t easy to disentangle human motives even if they chance to be one’s own. By the way, did you see young West before you left home? And if so, had he any more news of that case in Hozier’s Lane?»

«I saw him,» answered Rose, «but he said nothing to me about Hozier’s Lane.»

«No, of course he wouldn’t. When a man sees you, young lady, he thinks of things different to Hozier’s Lanes, and people hovering on the edge of death. I admit I do myself who am nearly forty years his senior,» and he looked at her and sighed.

«He told me,» went on Rose, hurriedly, blushing beneath those admiring eyes, «that you had asked him to come to help you in your work.»

«Yes, I did. I have a high opinion of that young man, although he has weaknesses like the rest of us. Have you anything to say against it? By your voice I gather you don’t approve.»

«Oh! no, though of course my father will miss him, and I should have thought that more experience among the poor would have been useful to him before he went into a fashionable practice.»

«Would you, indeed. Well, my dear, now that we have come to professional matters, perhaps you will allow me to form my own judgment. I’ll listen to yours on actresses or fur coats, or china, or anything that is pretty and useless, but not upon whom I should choose to be my assistant in my work, which is ugly but I hope on the whole useful, even if well paid. Now I must be off if I want to catch that lady in time, for, you see, I promised to be with her when she died and I don’t give her more than another hour or two. Here, young woman, bring a couple of boxes of those chocolates, the best you’ve got. Now good night to both of you. I hope you will enjoy the rest of the play. You’ll find my small brougham waiting outside to take you home; I’ve told the door-porter about it. I’ll come and see you soon at Red Hall; indeed, I may be down there to- morrow about that case of West’s.»

Then with a smile and a nod he was gone.

«What an interesting man the Doctor is,» said Cousin Emma, a neutral-tinted person who had been observing everything from the corner of the box.

«Yes, very,» answered Rose in the intervals of crunching up one of the chocolates with her pearl-like teeth. «But I wish he wouldn’t come here and talk about death-beds; it spoils the play.» Then taking another chocolate, she added, «Hush! the curtain is going up and we mustn’t miss anything.»

Having triumphantly pulled his case in Hozier’s Lane out of the very jaws of death and generally wound up his medical affairs with Brother Watson by inducting another young man into his honourable but unpaid share in that extensive practice, Andrew departed from Red Hall and proceeded to Harley Street. To be accurate, he did not altogether proceed since he continued to reside at Justice Street. Dr. Somerville Black had suggested that he should take rooms in his neighbourhood and even half-offered to put him up on the top floor of the great Harley Street mansion, while at the same time suggesting that he might find himself more independent elsewhere. But when Andrew brought the subject to the notice of Mrs. Josky, there was such an explosion that he never even dared to allude to it again. Growing frigid, Mrs. Josky began by asking whether he thought that he had been cheated in her house, because, if so, she was willing to produce the accounts – if she could find them, though she rather believed that she had used the most of them for Laurie’s curl-papers. However, doubtless the tradesmen would «come forward» to corroborate her statements.

When Andrew disclaimed any such idea with an almost agonized emphasis, she took another tack, or rather tacks. Was the cooking not to his taste? She knew that sometimes in Whitechapel one did not get quite the freshest fish. Herself, recently, she had been made very ill by a bad herring, but she thanked both her own God and that of the deceased Josky, who was of another sort though which she had never really understood, that the said herring, although she had bought it for him, inspired her with doubts, so that she determined to eat it herself.

Again Andrew waved his hands wildly and began to explain, till she cut him short.

Perhaps, she suggested, it was the distance that troubled him. If so she had a friend, a connection indeed, for he was a relative of Josky’s, who happened to be under certain obligations to her and owned a really tip-top hansom cab. For a very moderate sum this person, his horses and his cab would be at Andrew’s disposal day and night, «for,» added Mrs. Josky darkly, «I’ll see he don’t cheat you. He’d know better than to try it on with me, would Amos, unless he wants to see them hosses and that cab at his uncle’s, I mean, up the spout.»

Andrew murmured something about trams and buses, but again she cut him short.

«I know what it is,» she said. «It’s the neighbourhood which you think low, having as it were gone up in the world. Well, I have been considering a move myself. Give me a fortnight and I’ll see what I can do over Harley Street way. I’m told there’s a good opening for my kind of trade round about Marylebone Road.»