Johnny Ludlow Third Series Part 31

He took the wasted, fevered hand in his, and laid his soothing fingers on the damp brow. Miss Tamlyn went away for a minute's respite from the sick-room.

"Bertie, my boy!"

"Why didn't you come before, Arnold?" was the low, weak answer; and the breath was laboured and the voice down nowhere. "I have wanted you. Aunt Bessy would not write; and papa thought you would not care to come down from London, just for me."

"But I would, Bertie--had I known you were as ill as this."

Bertie's hands were restless. The white quilt had knots in it as big as peas, and he was picking at them. Dr. Knox sat down by the low bed.

"Do you think I am dying?" suddenly asked Bertie.

It took the doctor by surprise. One does not always know how to answer such home questions.

"I'll tell you more about it when I've seen you by daylight, Bertie. Are you in any pain?"

"Not a bit now: that's gone. But I'm weak, and I can't stir about in bed, and--and--they all look at me so. This morning papa and Shuttleworth brought in Dr. Green. Any way, you must know that I shall not get to be as well as I used to be."

"What with one ailment and another, with care, and pain, and sorrow, and wrong, it seems to me, Bertie, that very few of us are well for long together. There's always something in this world: it is only when we go to the next that we can hope for rest and peace."

Bertie lifted his restless hands and caught one of Dr. Knox's between them. He had a yearning, imploring look that quite pained the doctor.

"I want you to forgive me, Arnold," he said, the tears running down.

"When I remember how wicked I was, my heart just faints with shame.

Calling all of you hideous names!--returning bitter words for kind ones.

When we are going to die the past comes back to us. Such a little while it seems to have been now, Arnold! Why, if I had endured ten times as much pain, it would be over now. You were all so gentle and patient with me, and I never cared what trouble I gave, or what ill words I returned.

And now the time is gone! Arnold, I want you to forgive me."

"My dear boy, there's nothing to forgive. If you think there is, why then I forgive you with all my heart."

"Will G.o.d ever forgive me, do you think?"

"Oh, my boy, yes," said the doctor, in a husky tone. "If we, poor sinful mortals, can forgive one another, how much more readily will He forgive--the good Father in heaven of us all!"

Bertie sighed. "It would have been so easy for me to have tried for a little patience! Instead of that, I took pleasure in being cross and obstinate and wicked! If the time would but come over again! Arnold, do you think we shall be able to do one another good in the next world?--or will the opportunity be lost with this?"

"Ah, Bertie, I cannot tell," said Dr. Knox. "Sometimes I think that just because so few of us make use of our opportunities here, G.o.d will, perhaps, give us a chance once again. I have not been at very many death-beds yet, but of some of those the recollection of opportunities wasted has made the chief sting. It is only when life is closing that we see what we might have been, what we might have done."

"Perhaps He'll remember what my pain has been, Arnold, and how hard it was to bear. I was not like other boys. They can run, and climb, and leap, and ride on horseback, and do anything. When I've gone out, it has been in a hand-carriage, you know; and I've had to lie and lie on the sofa, and just look up at the blue sky, or on the street that tired me so: or else in bed, where it was worse, and always hot. I hope He will recollect how hard it was for me."

"He saw how hard it was for you at the time, Bertie; saw it always."

"And Jesus Christ forgave all who went to Him, you know, Arnold; every one; just for the asking."

"Why, yes, of course He did. As He does now."

Mr. Tamlyn came into the room presently: he had been out to a patient.

Seeing that Bertie was half asleep, he and Dr. Knox stood talking together on the hearthrug.

"What's that?" cried the surgeon, suddenly catching sight of the movement of the restless fingers picking at the counterpane.

Dr. Knox did not answer.

"A trick he always had," said the surgeon, breaking the silence, and trying to make believe to cheat himself still. "The maids say he wears out all his quilts."

Bertie opened his eyes. "Is that you, papa? Is tea over?"

"Why, yes, my boy; two or three hours ago," said the father, going forward. "Why? Do you wish for some tea?"

"Oh, I--I thought Arnold would have liked some."

He closed his eyes again directly. Dr. Knox took leave in silence, promising to be there again in the morning. As he was pa.s.sing the dining-room downstairs, he saw Mr. Shuttleworth, who had just looked in.

They shook hands, began to chat, and Dr. Knox sat down.

"I hear you do not like Lefford," he said.

"I don't dislike Lefford: it's a pretty and healthy place," was Mr.

Shuttleworth's answer. "What I dislike is my position in it as Tamlyn's partner. The practice won't do for me."

"A doubt lay on my mind whether it would suit you when you came down to make the engagement," said Dr. Knox. "Parish work is not to every one's taste. And there's a great deal of practice besides. But the returns from that must be good."

"I wouldn't stay in it if it were worth a million a-year," cried Mr.

Shuttleworth. "Dockett takes the parish; I make him; but he is not up to much yet, and of course I feel that I am responsible. As to the town practice, why, I a.s.sure you nearly all of it has lain on me. Tamlyn, poor fellow, can think of nothing but his boy."

"He will not have him here long to think of, I fear."

"Not very long; no. I hear, doctor, he is going to offer a partnership to you."

"He has said something about it. I shall take it, if he does. Lefford is my native place, and I would rather live here than anywhere. Besides, I don't mind work," he added, with a smile.

"Ah, you are younger than I am. But I'd advise you, as I have advised Tamlyn, to give up the parish. For goodness' sake do, Knox. Tamlyn says that at one time he had not much else _but_ the parish, but it's different now. Your father had all the better practice then."

"Shall you set up elsewhere?"

"Not at present," said Mr. Shuttleworth. "We--I--perhaps you have heard, though--that I and Bessy are going to make a match of it? We shall travel for a few months, or so, and then come home and pitch our tent in some pleasant sea-side place. If a little easy practice drops in to me there, well and good: if not, we can do without it. Stay and smoke a cigar with me?"

Arnold looked at his watch, and sat down again. He wanted to ask Mr.

Shuttleworth about Miss Carey's illness.

"The cause of her illness was the loss of that bank-note," said the surgeon. "They accused her of stealing it, and wanted to give her into custody. A little more, and she'd have had brain-fever. She was a timid, inexperienced girl, and the fright gave her system a shock."

"Miss Carey would no more steal a bank-note than you or I would steal one, Shuttleworth."

"Not she. I told Mrs. Knox so: but she scoffed at me."

"That Miss Carey is innocent as the day, that she is an upright, gentle, Christian girl, I will stake my life upon," said Dr. Knox. "How the note can have gone is another matter."

"Are you at all interested in finding it out?" questioned Mr.

Shuttleworth.