CHAPTER XI.
THE NIGHT-BELL RINGS.
"A bad beginning leads to a bad ending."--_Livy_.
The next few days passed quietly. Dr. Luttrell professed himselfperfectly satisfied with his patient's progress. In spite of hisdelicate aspect, and the terrible hardships he had experienced, RobertBarton proved that he had a fair amount of recuperative power. Perhapshis youth was in his favour, and it was soon evident that he had anaturally sanguine temperament. His nature was singularlyill-balanced, he was always in extremes--either in the depths ofdepression or else unaccountably excited. Olivia would sometimes findhim crouching over the fire with his head between his hands in a stateof morose misery. And at other times she would hear him whistling afew bars from some opera in quite a light-hearted way.
"If you do not mind, Olive, I think that Barton had better come downto-morrow afternoon," Marcus observed one evening. "He will get on allthe faster." And as Olivia made no objection to this the matter wassettled.
Marcus secretly wondered how Robert Barton could take things quite socoolly. Perhaps it might be partly owing to his enfeebled state, buthe certainly did not seem to trouble himself much about the future. "Ifeel as if I should pull through now," he said, once. "I only wanted ahelping hand to lift me out of the slough of despond. When I am a bitstronger, doctor, I must paint a pot-boiler or two," and Marcus hadquietly assented to this.
"I have made up my mind what I must do, Livy," continued Dr. Luttrelllater on that same evening, when he had arranged that his patientshould come downstairs. "You know that nice Mrs. Randall in theModels; well, she has a lodger, but she expects that he will leave herin a week or so, as he has work at a distance. I might take the roomfor Barton, it is a clean, tidy little place. And Mrs. Randall is amotherly sort of woman, and will look after him."
"Oh, what a good idea, Marcus."
"Yes, it came into my head when I was leaving the Models yesterday.And I had half a mind to go back and ask the price of the room, but Iwas in such a hurry. I would pay her a month in advance, and we woulduse some of Mr. Gaythorne's money in buying him what he wants for hispainting. I have no idea what sort of an artist he is, but it seemsthe only thing he can do."
"Oh, how pleased he will be, poor fellow," exclaimed Olivia, "butsurely he is not well enough to leave us just now, and in thisweather?" for a hard frost had set in.
"Not for another week, perhaps, but we must not let him think himself afixture here. We have had him ten days already."
Marcus had not repented of his philanthropy, he was too highlyprincipled for that, but though he would not have confessed it to hiswife for worlds, he was a little alarmed at the responsibility sosuddenly thrown on him.
Barton seemed such a happy-go-lucky, casual sort of person. Thegentlemanly tramp was not a bad name for him. He was not quite open,either. In Dr. Luttrell's opinion he ought by this time to haveconfided in them fully. "He is a bit shifty and hazy about things," hesaid to himself, "and I shall be glad when Livy and I have the house toourselves."
"Ten days," repeated Olivia, thoughtfully; "is it so long as that,Marcus? How time flies when one is busy! Do you know, dear, I havesuch an odd feeling sometimes. I feel as though that poor fellow wassent to us for some special purpose, that we had a sort of missiontowards him. It is not that I want him, for of course his being heremakes so much work for Martha, but all the same, I do not wish you tolose sight of him."
"My dear child," returned Marcus, rather impatiently, "am I likely tolose sight of him when I am at the Models at least three times a week?"
"No, but we can see him so much better under our own roof," shereplied, quietly. "We must not get tired of him too soon. Yes, youare tired, dear," laying her hand affectionately on his. "Do you thinkI do not know that, although you are so good about it, and nevergrumble, but it will be trying to us both when he comes downstairs."
"Yes, and one hardly knows how to treat him," returned Marcus, feelingit a relief to utter his thoughts. "He is clever and refined, and Isuppose we must allow that he is a gentleman, but it is impossiblesomehow to trust him, or to feel at one's ease with him. There issomething that fascinates and yet repels one."
"I know what you mean," replied Olivia, thoughtfully, "but somehow Ilike him in spite of everything; Marcus, what a blessing it is to thinkthat I went to Galvaston House this afternoon, and so I shall be freeto-morrow," for Olivia's sunny, nature always looked on the bright sideof things.
That night a wonderful thing happened. The night-bell rang.
That sound so dreaded by the hard-worked doctor was like a triumphal_reveille_ in Marcus's ears. And Robert Barton's muttered "poor devil"as he turned on his pillow would not have been endorsed.
Olivia indeed had been alarmed for a moment by the unaccustomed sound,and thought drowsily that the house must be on fire, but she was soonwide awake and hushing Dot.
"Go to sleep, girlie, it is only someone come to see dada," she said,rocking her little one. Dot had been startled and was cross inconsequence, and it was sometime before she could be pacified.
The next minute Marcus came back fully dressed. "I must go round to15, Brunswick Place," he said, hurriedly. "Don't expect me back tillyou see me," and then she heard him running downstairs.
"He expects to be detained, so I suppose some poor baby is to enterthis wintry world," she thought, as she composed herself to sleep, butshe little guessed the terribly hard work that was before Marcus.
It was early morning and Martha had already crept softly past her doorin her stocking' feet, as she would have said, so as not to wake MissBaby, before Dr. Luttrell let himself in with his latchkey.
He looked sadly jaded, but utterly refused to lie down and have a nap."I will have my tub and some breakfast instead," he observed. "Theygave me some hot coffee a couple of hours ago. My word, it is freezinghard still. Tell Martha to give us a good-sized rasher of ham."
"Is the poor thing all right," asked Olivia presently, when they wereseated at their breakfast, with Dot crawling between them. Then forthe moment Dr. Luttrell looked puzzled.
"What poor thing--oh," with a laugh, "I see what you mean now, but itwas nothing of that sort. I have not had such a business since myhospital days," he went on; "poor Livy, you would not have slept socomfortably if you had known. It was a case of delirium tremens; anelderly man, too, and his poor daughter was frightened out of her wits;but she behaved splendidly; you women have pluck; I must tell you thatshe actually helped me when the man-servant was afraid to come near hismaster."
"Oh, Marcus, he might have hurt you," and Olivia turned pale--perhapsit is as well that doctors' wives know so little about their husbands'experiences.
"Oh, we had plenty of that sort of business at Bart's," he returned,coolly; "but I shall have to get him a nurse. I must see after one atonce, or poor Miss Williams will be worn out; will you give me anothercup of tea, Livy?"
"Are they new people too, Marcus, like the Stanwell's?" but Dr.Luttrell shook his head.
"No, they have lived in the place for years, but Mr. Williamsquarrelled with Dr. Bevan, and his daughter dared not send for him, andas I was the nearest medical man, the servant came to me; it was just afluke, that's all."
"Is there only one daughter, Marcus?"
"Well, my dear, it was not likely that I questioned Miss Williams abouther family, but I imagine she is the only daughter; poor girl, I feltsorry for her; there have been plenty of briers besetting her path, Ishould say; as the poet writes so feelingly, she has had more kicksthan halfpence," and as usual, when Marcus began to joke, Olivia tookthe hint and left off questioning him.
The little parlour looked a haven of comfort to Robert Barton's eyes ashe entered it that afternoon, leaning on Dr. Luttrell's arm.
Olivia was sitting at needlework as usual, with Dot playing at herfeet, and sprawling on the rug in exact imitation of Jet the blackkitten; she rose at once with a bright, welcoming smile, and arrangedthe cushions in the easy
-chair.
"I daresay you are glad to be down again," she said, kindly, as Bartonsank back in them rather heavily; "but you must be careful, you are farfrom strong yet."
"Thanks, I am tolerably fit," but the weak, shaking hand rathercontradicted this.
"Oh, what a pretty child! I should like to make a sketch of her. Willyou come to me, little one?" And Robert Barton's smile was so winningthat Dot crawled to him at once, and hauled herself up by the help ofone finger.
Olivia gave her husband a quick glance which he quite understood;"there cannot be much harm in him if he likes children," this was whather look meant, and even Marcus was touched and surprised when he sawhis little daughter put up her round face to be kissed, and then makeplayful dabs at him.
"What a darling she is--rather like you, Mrs. Luttrell, but she has alook of the doctor too. I have always been fond of children, they arenever afraid of me," and this speech completely won the young mother'sheart.
"He is really very distinguished-looking," she said to herself, as shewatched him playing with Dot; "he is dreadfully thin, and, of course,Uncle Fergus's clothes are too big for him, but no one could helpseeing that he is a gentleman."
They began to talk presently in quite a friendly way, and after a timeOlivia said, quite simply:
"Your name is not really Robert Barton, is it?" She had blurted thisout almost without thinking.
"Well, no," he returned, reddening a little, "but I have been callingmyself by that name for the last month or two, it was handy," and hisface twitched. "I did not care to carry my father's name into theplaces I have been obliged to frequent lately."
"You have a father then, Mr. Barton?" in an interested tone.
"Oh, yes, and a mother and a sister, though I have heard nothing ofthem for half a dozen years."
"Oh, not so long as that, surely," and then Olivia looked at him withkindly gravity. "Why, you could only have been a boy when you lefthome."
"I am older than you think, Mrs. Luttrell--I shall soon beeight-and-twenty--but I was young enough, certainly, when they shuntedme off. Confession may be good for the soul," he went on, with areckless laugh; "but it is not particularly pleasant. As I told yourhusband, I quarrelled with my people. It was my own fault in a greatmeasure; but I do not mean to take all the blame; if they had treatedme differently, things would not have come to this; but this is allancient history; if a man sows thistles he must expect a harvest of thesame. I have had my evil things certainly, and perhaps I deservedthem."
"And you wish now that you had acted differently;" then such a look ofintense pain crossed Robert Barton's face that Olivia was quitestartled.
"I would give my right hand if those months could be blotted out," hesaid, vehemently. "You know the proverb, Mrs. Luttrell--'Give a dog abad name, and hang him'--well, they were for hanging me, I meanfiguratively, so I took the bit between my teeth and bolted."
"It seems to me, Mr. Barton," she said, thoughtfully, "that your onechance to retrieve the past is to find out your own people. Isuppose"--hesitating a little--"that they are in a position to helpyou?"
"Most certainly they are; we lived mostly abroad, but always in goodstyle; the house we had at Medhurst was only taken on lease for a shorttime; it was my father's fancy never to stay long in one place; he wasfond of travelling; when I am strong enough to brave the weather, Iwill go down to Medhurst and hunt up an acquaintance or two; there mustbe someone who knew him; but the doctor will not give me leave yet."
"Did my husband say anything to you about the future?" asked Olivia,tentatively; then Robert Barton's face, that had grown suddenly old andhaggard, brightened up.
"He told me some old gentleman, a friend of yours, had been awfullykind, and that he would be able to take a room for me for a month, andget me some canvas and colours. If I only had my tools, I could take asketch of your little girl at once, just as she is now with the kitten.I could call it 'Play-fellows,' just a small thing, you know, but itwould be sure to take. I do not paint badly, although I have not mademy mark yet, but I have sold two or three small pictures besidespot-boilers. I could begin to-morrow if only I had my easel andpalette," and his tone was so eager, that Olivia promised to consulther husband, and, if he approved, to go herself for the necessarythings.
When Marcus came in he told them at once that he had been round to theModels. "The room will be vacant next Tuesday, Barton," he said,briskly, "and I have settled with Mrs. Randall that you will take itfor a month. It is a poor place, of course, but in my opinion it isnot so bare as your present diggings, and it is very clean andcomfortable, so you may be sure of board and lodging for a month. Youwill have to be careful, you know," he went on, "as long as thisweather lasts. You must not think of moving about the country just yetor you will be laid up again," and then Olivia chimed in, and after alittle consultation it was arranged that Olivia should go to thepicture-shop at the corner of Harbut Street the next morning.
Robert Barton made a list of things required. He was in such goodspirits all tea-time, and told such amusing stories of his life inParis, that even Marcus, tired as he was, was much entertained.
"He is really a well-informed fellow," he observed, when Barton hadretired. "I am not so sure that we shall find him in the way, afterall. He told us that story about the artist's model in quite a racyfashion. He seems to be up to date in his notions. I am a bit curiousto find out if he can paint or if it is only tall talk, but hecertainly seems bent on it. Now I must turn in, for I am dead beat.Oh, by-the-bye, Livy, I told Miss Williams that you would go round andsee her to-morrow afternoon. It would really be a charity," as Oliviaseemed very much astonished at this. "The poor girl is so lonely, shehas no brothers and sisters, and as far as I can find out no friendseither."
"No friends, Marcus--and they live in one of those nice houses inBrunswick Place, and keep a man-servant!"
"Oh, I daresay they have a few acquaintances," returned Dr. Luttrell,with a yawn. "Most likely it has been impossible for her to havefriends. When I proposed sending you to cheer her up, she looked quitegrateful. Poor soul, you will like her, Olive. She is just your sort;no nonsense about her, plenty of feeling, but nothing hysterical."
"Marcus," observed Olivia, slipping her hand through his arm, andspeaking very deliberately, "do you not think we had better have thosecards printed? our visiting acquaintance is so much increased," andthen Marcus laughed and turned down the lamp.
Doctor Luttrell's First Patient Page 11
