Doctor Luttrell's First Patient

by Rosa Nouchette Carey

  CHAPTER XV.

  "THEY WERE BOTH TO BLAME."

  "It befits a son to be dutiful to his father."--_Plautus_.

  As Alwyn uttered these despairing words Greta shrank back in alarm, butOlivia, with a reassuring smile, put her hand gently on his arm.

  "Do not talk so wildly, Mr. Alwyn," she said, soothingly; "you arefrightening poor Miss Williams. How can you have killed your fatherwhen he is not dead? My husband has only just left me. He seemshopeful about him; he thinks consciousness is returning; but he musthave perfect quiet. Even our voices may disturb him--that is why Imust beg you to come back with me at once."

  "You are not deceiving me, Mrs. Luttrell?" returned Alwyn,suspiciously. "You are sure that he is not dead?"

  "Quite sure," she returned, quietly; and then again Greta put out herhand.

  "You will come with us, will you not, Alwyn?" she said, with sisterlytenderness; "there is so much that I have to hear and that you musttell me, and we must not talk here. To think that we should have metlike this, by accident--if there be such a thing as accident in thislife of ours. But no; it was Providence that brought me to thishouse." And as Olivia followed them down the dark shrubbery she couldhear her quiet tones still talking, as though to a younger brother.

  Olivia was too tired to do more than wonder vaguely as she listened;the sight of her own little parlour and Martha's sturdy figurearranging the tea-table gave her a pleasant revulsion of feeling. WhenMartha whispered confidentially, as she brought in the lamp, "Theseed-cake is nicely baked; hadn't I better bring it in, ma'am?" Oliviagave a little hysterical laugh. After all that tragedy it was so oddto think of freshly baked cakes.

  "Yes, yes, and make the tea quickly," she said, waving off the littlehandmaiden impatiently; and Martha, somewhat affronted and vaguelyalarmed, retreated to the kitchen.

  "What's come over the mistress?" she said to herself. "I have neverknown her so huffy." But Olivia, with difficulty recovering hercalmness, busied herself in ministering to her guests.

  "Mr. Alwyn," she said, gently, "you must rest on that couch--you arejust worn out; but a cup of tea will do you good. Greta, you must stopand have some too. Do you know this is the first time you have enteredthis house? Dot is asleep. I am going up to see her now. Would youlike to come too?"--for she guessed intuitively that the girl waslonging to question her--and Greta, with a grateful look, followed herat once.

  Olivia kissed the sleeping child with her usual tenderness. How shelonged to lie down beside Dot and sleep off her overpowering weariness;but the day's work was not over.

  Greta, who had only just glanced at the little one, put her armssuddenly round Olivia and drew her down beside her.

  "Mrs. Luttrell," she said, breathlessly, "tell me what it all means.What has happened to Alwyn, and what makes him talk so strangely? Doyou know, for one moment, I believed him! In the old time they oftenquarrelled--but of course it is paralysis." And then Olivia told herall that had occurred that afternoon.

  Greta listened with painful attention; then her eyes filled with tears.

  "And he never knew that his mother and Olive were dead," she observed."Oh, Mrs. Luttrell, how sad--how terribly sad it all is! No wonder helooked bewildered, poor fellow; it must have been such an awful shockto hear that, and then to see his poor father fall at his feet."

  "Yes, and he had been ill too; think of all the hardships he has beenthrough." And Greta shivered as Olivia said this.

  "How little I thought," she said, "that when you were telling me aboutthe poor young artist that Dr. Luttrell had found on the doorstep onChristmas night, that it was Alwyn Gaythorne, my old playmate andfriend!" Then she added, with a sigh, "What would his poor mother havesaid? She and Olive almost worshipped that boy."

  "We ought not to leave him too long alone," observed Olivia, wearily."I promised my husband that I would look after him. We must coax himto take some food, and then he must go to bed; he is very weak still,and all this has exhausted him." And as Greta evidently shared heranxiety, they went back to the parlour.

  They found Alwyn pacing the room restlessly. He stopped and lookedrelieved as Greta entered.

  "I was afraid you had gone," he said, abruptly. "Do you know youpassed me in the street this morning? You had that thing on"--touchingher sealskin mantle--"but you were not looking at me. I thought it wasa ghost, and then I tried to follow you, but some vehicles got in myway, and then you disappeared."

  "I wish I had seen you," she said, softly. And then Alwyn resumed hisrestless walk.

  It was with difficulty that Olivia could induce him to come to thetable, and then he could not eat; his eyes looked feverishly bright,and his cough made Greta glance at him anxiously.

  When tea was over Olivia left the room for a little. Alwyn had utterlyrefused to go to bed until he had seen Dr. Luttrell; he was evidentlytormented by remorse for his hardness to his father, and Olivia thoughtthat he might unburden himself more freely to his old friend; and shewas right. On her return she found them talking together, and thestrained, hunted look had left Alwyn's eyes.

  Greta's were swollen with weeping, but there was a smile on her lips.

  "Alwyn has been telling me his troubles," she said, simply, "and Icould not help crying over them, he has suffered so, and I felt sosorry for him. If only we had not gone abroad! But when we came backthe Grange was empty, and no one knew what had become of Alwyn. He hadquarrelled with his father, and it was supposed he had enlisted andgone to India; and he had talked so often of doing this that I thoughtit was probably the truth. Now I must go, but I shall come againto-morrow." And then she smiled at him and rose from her seat.

  "He has talked it all out and it has done him good," she observed, asshe and Olivia lingered a moment in the passage; "but if his fatherdies, Alwyn will never get over it.

  "Oh, he is much to blame," she went on; "he has been very wild, veryimprudent, utterly mad and reckless; but his poor father was to blame,too. A high-spirited lad like Alwyn would not be kept inleading-strings. Mr. Gaythorne was far too strict with him--his ownmother said so--and yet in his way he loved him. How often poor Olivewould cry about it to me.

  "Dear, dear Olive, how I loved her! And I was very fond of Mrs.Gaythorne, too, she was so sweet and motherly; she always called us herbig and her little daughter. I was so much taller than Olive; butthere"--interrupting herself--"if I begin talking about the old days atthe Grange I shall never finish."

  "But you will come to-morrow?"

  "Yes; indeed, how could I keep away? Do you know that for years Alwynand I were just like brother and sister--I don't believe he cared muchmore for Olive than he did for me. I think I understood him betterthan she did--his mother always said so. Well, good-night, dear Mrs.Luttrell; I shall come to-morrow as early as I can."

  When Olivia went back to the parlour she found Alwyn lying back in hischair looking utterly spent and exhausted.

  "I believe I shall have to take your advice and go to bed," he said."All this has taken the starch out of me, and I feel dead beat"--and helooked so ill that Olivia half thought of sending for her husband.Fortunately he came in half an hour later, and went up at once toAlwyn's room.

  He was some time with him, and then he came down and told Olivia thatshe had better fill a hot-water bottle and heat some flannel.

  "It is a sort of nervous attack," he explained, "and his teeth arechattering with cold, and he is shaking as though he were in an aguefit; but I am going to mix him a composing draught, and he will soonquiet down. I have brought him a favourable report of Mr. Gaythorne,but he is too weak to be cheered by it. This will have done him no endof harm. We shall have him in bed for the next day or two."

  Olivia gave a tired sigh, but she would not add to Marcus's burdens byselfish complaints of her own fatigue. She would have taken theeider-down off her own bed, but Marcus preferred borrowing a couple ofblankets from Mrs. Crampton. In a few minutes he returned again ladenwith warm things that the hous
ekeeper had sent for her young master'suse, and, soothed by the unaccustomed comfort and the powerfulnarcotic, Alwyn sank into an exhausted sleep.

  It was eleven o'clock before Olivia could lay her own head on herpillow. As Dot nestled to her with a sleepy cry, the young motherbreathed her nightly thanksgiving for her two blessings, and then knewno more until Martha came to pull up her blinds in the morning.

  When Marcus came across for his breakfast he seemed in excellentspirits. He had had three or four hours' rest, and, in his opinion,the stroke was a slight one. Mr. Gaythorne had regained consciousness,and, though the right arm and his speech were certainly affected, hebelieved that it was only temporary mischief.

  "Of course one knows at his age that it is the danger signal," he wenton, "but I hope with care that his life may be prolonged for years. Ishall get Dr. Bevan to look at him, as I do not care for such undividedresponsibility. And perhaps it will be well to have a nurse for a weekor two. Mrs. Crampton is not as young as she was, and it is a pity toknock her up."

  As the day wore on there were still more cheering reports. Mr.Gaythorne had said a few words almost distinctly--at least, Dr.Luttrell had understood him.

  "Where is Alwyn?" He was quite sure those were his words; but he hadseemed quite satisfied when Marcus told him he was with his wife, andhad not spoken again.

  Olivia had hoped for a talk with Aunt Madge, for it was quite threedays since she had been round to Mayfield Villas; but she found itimpossible to leave the house. Alwyn needed a great deal of attention;he was very low and depressed.

  Marcus had given orders that he was to have frequent nourishment, andas Mrs. Crampton had sent Phoebe across with a store of goodthings--soup and jelly and grapes--there were no demands on Olivia'ssimple larder. A ready-cooked pheasant would be sent for his dinner,and anything else that he could fancy.

  "Mrs. Crampton says that she knows her master would approve, so Isuppose we need not be too scrupulous," observed Marcus; but at thatmoment the surgery bell rang.

  Dr. Luttrell's services were required at number seventeen, and with anexpressive look at his wife Marcus took up his hat and hastened out.

  Olivia had expected Greta quite early, but she did not make herappearance until late in the afternoon. She had been detained, shesaid--nurse had asked her to take her place for a couple of hours. Andthen she looked anxiously at Olivia.

  "I am afraid Alwyn is ill," she observed; but Olivia assured her thatit was only a temporary break-down. "We have such good news of Mr.Gaythorne that he cannot fail to be cheered, but of course he isfretting about the loss of his mother and sister. It was such a shock,you see, and, as my husband says, we must give him time to pull himselftogether. But you do not look very well yourself, Greta; you areterribly pale."

  "Oh, that is nothing," she returned. "I suppose I was too muchexcited, for I could not sleep for hours. I seemed to be livingthrough my old life again. They were such happy days, Mrs. Luttrell;one's existence was not meagre and colourless then."

  "I wish you would tell me a little about it all," observed Olivia asshe ensconced Greta in the most comfortable chair. "You cannot imaginehow it interests me." And then Miss Williams smiled.

  "Oh, you are so sympathetic--that is your great charm; but indeed Ilove to dwell on that part of my life. You know the Gaythornes livedat Medlicott Grange. It was a quaint, picturesque, old house, coveredwith ivy, and with a lovely garden. There was a lime-walk that wasdelicious on hot summer afternoons; I can smell the limes now.

  "Mr. Gaythorne, who had been abroad a great many years, had taken afancy to the place and half thought of buying it, but he changed hismind later.

  "We lived at the Lodge, a much smaller house, looking over the villagegreen; it was rather an inconvenient house, full of small rooms allopening out of each other, and long, rambling passages; but dear motherand I were very fond of it. We liked the three-cornered littledrawing-room with its bay-window, where we could sit and work and watchthe old men in their grey smocks having a palaver under the big elm inthe centre of the green.

  "Mrs. Luttrell"--interrupting herself--"do you know Ivy Dene Lodge isto let now? I saw the advertisement in the _Standard_. Now, I shouldlove to live there again. If anything happened to poor father I know Ishould go back there; it is the only place I ever called home. Don'tyou love a village green, with geese waddling over it and a big pondwhere little bare-legged urchins are always sailing their boats, andthen the church and the lich-gate and the vicarage smothered increepers?"

  "Why, Greta, what a charming description! You quite make me long tosee it."

  "But it is not as charming as it really is; even strangers allow thatMedlicott is a pretty village. It is true that Ivy Dene has not muchof a garden--just a little patch of lawn and a mulberry tree and aflower-bed or two; but as I spent most of my time in the Grange gardenthat did not matter.

  "Dear mother was always so unselfish. She would never let me stay athome with her. She thought it good for me to be with young people ofmy own age, and so Olive and Alwyn and I were always together. Olivewas my friend, but I always looked upon Alwyn as a dear youngerbrother. He is not really much younger--only a few months--but I wasalways a little older than my age."

  "He must have been very handsome," observed Olivia, and Greta colouredslightly.

  "Yes; all the Gaythornes were handsome. Mr. Gaythorne himself was afine, stately-looking man, only a little foreign and unusual in hisdress. I was always a little afraid of him, and I never approved ofthe way he treated Alwyn. He had been over-indulged and petted in hisboyhood, but later on his father thwarted him unnecessarily. He wasalways calling him to account for some foolish imprudence. And thoughhis mother and Olive shielded him as much as possible, there were oftensad scenes at the Grange. Mr. Gaythorne had set his heart on Alwyn'sreading for the Bar. He thought he had sufficient money and influenceto warrant the hope that his only son might eventually enterParliament, but Alwyn had already secretly determined to be an artist.He detested his law studies and could not be induced to work, andspoilt all his father's plans.

  "As I told you last night," finished Greta, "they were both to blame.But at the time I could not help taking Alwyn's part. He was not goodto his father, and often lost his temper and said disrespectful things.But Mr. Gaythorne had no right to be so tyrannical.

  "When my mother died father would not hear of our living at Ivy Dene.He said he hated the place, and we went to America for a year or two,and there I heard of Olive's death. Olive had told me in her lettersof Alwyn's disappearance.

  "'There has been an awful scene,' she wrote, 'poor dear mother has beenso ill. Father thinks that Alwyn has done something very wrong, but ofcourse neither mother nor I believe it for a moment, though it cannotbe denied that appearances are terribly against him. Forgive me,dearest Greta, if I do not enlarge on this painful subject. We do notknow what has become of Alwyn; but we think he has enlisted.'

  "This was the last letter I received from Olive. Before many monthshad passed she died at Rome, and her mother did not long survive her."