Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 22, Number 89, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 July 1901 — The Doctor’s Dilemma [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Doctor’s Dilemma

By Hesba Stretton

CHAPTER Xl—(Continued.) • That was my sentence of banishment. She had only addressed me once during the conversation. It was curious to see how there was no resentment in her manner towards my father, who had systematically robbed her, whilst she treated me with profound wrath and bitterness. The report of my father’s illness had spread before I reached home, and sufficiently accounted for our .visit to Jersey, and the temporary postponement of my last trip to England before our marriage. My mother, Johanna and I kept our own counsel, and answered the many questions asked us as vaguely as the Delphic oracle. I wrote to Tardif, telling him I was going for an indefinite period to London, and that if any difficulty or danger threatened Olivia, I begged of him to communicate with my mother, who had promised me to befriend her as far as it lay in her power. My poor mother thought of her without bitterness, though in deep regret. To Olivia herself I wrote a line or two, finding myself too weak to resist the temptation. I said: “My Dear Olivia —I told you I was about to be married to my cousin Julia Dobree; that engagement is at an end. I am obliged to leave Guernsey, aud seek my fortune elsewhere. It will be a long time before I can see you again, if I ever have that great happiness. Whenever you feel the want of a true and tender friend, my mother is prepared to love you as if you were her own daughter. Think of me also as your friend. “MARTIN DOBREE.” CHAPTER XII. I left Guernsey the day before my father and Julia returned from Jersey. Mj* immediate future was not as black as it might have been. I was going direct to the house of my friend Jack Senior, who had been my chum at college. He, like myself, had been hitherto a sort of partner to his father, the wellknown physician, Dr. Senior, of Brook street. They lived together in a highly respectable but gloomy residence, kept bachelor fashion, for they had no wom-an-kind at all belonging to them. The father and son lived a good deal apart, though they were deeply attached to one another. Jack had his otvn apartments, and his own guests, in the spacious house, and Dr. Senior had his. The first night, as Jack and I sat up together in the long summer twilight, I told him everything —as one tells a friend n hundred things one cannot put into words to any person who dwells under the same roof, and is witness of every circumstance of one’s career.

As I was talking to him, every emotion and perception of my brain, which had been in a wild state of confusion and conflict, appeared to fall into its proper rank. I was no longer doubtful as to whether I had been the fool my father called me. My love for Olivia acquired force ffnil decision. My judgment that it w;ould have been a folly and a crime to marry Julia became confirmed. “Old fellow,” said Jftck, when I had finished, “you are in no end of a mess.” “Well, I am,” I admitted; “but what am I to do?” “First of all, how much money have you?” he asked. “I'd rather not say,” I answered. “Come, old friend,” he said, in his most persuasive tones, “have you fifty pounds in hand?” “No,” I replied. “That's bad!” he said; “but it might be worse. I’ve lots of tin, and we always went Bhares.” - “I must look out for something to do to-morrow,” I remarked. “Ah, yes!” he answered dryly, “you might go as assistant to a parish doctor, or get a berth on board an emigrant ship. There are lots of chances for a young fellow. I tell you what,” he suit}, “I’ve a good mind to marry Julia myself. I’ve always liked her,i and we want a woman in the house. That would put things straighter, wouldn’t it?” “She would never consent to leave Guernsey,” I answered, laughing. “That was one reason why she was so glad to marry me.” “Well, then,” he said, “would you mind me having Olivia?” “Don’t jest about such a thing,” I replied; "it is too serious a question with me.” “You are, really in love!” he answered. "I will not jest at it. But I am ready to do anything to help yon, old boy.” So It proved, for he and Dr. Senior did their best during the next few weeks to find a suitable opening for me. I made their house my home, and was treated as a most welcome guest in it. Still the time was irksome. They were busy whilst I was unoccupied. My mother’s letters did not tend to raise my spirits. The tone of them was umfqrmly sad. Sim told me the flood of sympathy for Jul*hud risen very high indeed; from which I concluded that the public ihdignation agnigst myself must have risen to the same tide mark. Julia had resumed her old occupations, but her spirit wns quite broken. Johanna Carey had offered to go abroad with her, but she had declined. A friend of Julia's, said my mother in another letter, had come to stay with her, and endeavor to rouse her. It was evident she did not like this Kate Dultrey, herself, for the dislike crept out unawares through ail the gentleness of her phrases. "She says she is the same age as Jhlia,” she wrote, “but she is probably some yenrs older; for as she does uot belong to Guernsey we have no opportunity of knowing.” I laughed when I read that. “Your father admires her very much,” she added. , There wns not a word about Olivia. Sark itself was never mentioned, and it might have sunk into the sen. My aya ran over every letter first with the hope of catching that name, but I could not find it. This persistent silence on my mother's part wns very trying. I had been away from Guernsey two months, and Jack was making arrangements for a long absence from London aa soon aa the season was over, leaving

me in charge, when I received the following letter from Johanna Carey: “Dear Martin —Your father and Julia have been here this afternoon, and have confided to me a very sad and very painful secret, which they ask me to break gently to you. You must come home again for a season. Even Julia wishes it, though she cannot stay in the same house with you, and will g\to her own with her friend Kate Daltrey. Your father cried like a child. He takes it more to heart than I should have expected. Yet there is no immediate danger; she may live for some months yet. My poor Martin, you will have a mother only a few months longer. Three weeks ago she and I went to Sark, at her own urgent wish, to see your Olivia. I did not then know why. She had a great longing to see the unfortunate girl who had been the cause, of so much sorrow to us all, but especially to her, for she has pined sorely after you. We did not find her in Tardif’s house, but Suzanne directed us to the little graveyard half a mile away. We followed her there, and recognized her, of course, at the first glance. She is a charming creature, that I allow, though I wish none of us had ever seen her. Your mother told her who she was, and the sweetest flush and smile came across her face! They sat down side by side on one of the graves, and I strolled away, so I do Hot know what they said to one another. Olivia walked down with us to the Havre Gosselin, and your mother held her in her arms and kissed her tenderly. Even I could not help kissing her. “Now I understand why your mother longed to see Olivia. She knew then—she has known for months that her days are numbered. When she was in London last November she saw the most skillful physicians, and they all agreed that her disease was incurable and fatal. Why did she conceal it from you? Ah, Martin, you must know a woman’s heart, a mother’s heart, before you can comprehend that. Your father knew, but no one else. “Do not come before you have answered this letter, that we may her for your return. Write by the next boat,

and come by the one after. Julia will have to move down to the new house, and that will be excitement enough for one day. Your faithful, loving cousin, “JOHANNA CAREY.” I. read this letter twice, with a singing in my ears and a whirling of my brain, before I could realize the meaning. Then I refused to believe it. No one knows better than a doctor how the most clever head among us may be at fault. My mother dying of an incurable disease! Impossible! I would go over at once and save her. She ought to have told me first. Who could have attended her so skillfully and devotedly as her only son? My mother had consulted Dr. Senior himself when she had been in London. He did not positively cut off all hope from me, though I knew well he was giving me encouragement in spite of his own carefully formed opinion. He asserted emphatically that it wns possible to alleviate her sufferings and prolong her life, especially if her mind was kept at rest. There was not a question ns to the necessity for my immediate return to heP. But there was still a day for me to tarry in London. “Martin,” said Jack, “why have you never followed up the clue about your Olivia —the advertisement, you know? Shall we go to those folks in Gray’s Inn Road this afternoon?” It had been in my mind all along to do so, but the listless procrastination of idleness had caused me to put it off from time to time. Besides, whilst I was absent from the Channel Islands my curiosity appeared to sleep. It was enough to picture Olivia in her lowly home in Sark. Now that I was returning to Guernsey, and the opportunity was about to slip by, I felt more anxious to seize it. I would learn all I could about Olivia's family and friends, without betraying any part of her secret. Of course there was not the smallesrt difficulty in finding the office of Messrs. Scott and Brown. There did not seem much business going on, and our appearance was hailed with undisguised satisfaction. The solicitors were two inferior, common-looking men, but sharp enough to l/e a match for either of us. We both felt It, as if we. had detected a snake in the grass by its rattle.-I grew wary by Inetinct, though I had not come wMi any intention to tell them what I knew of Olivia. My sole idea had been to learn something myself, not to impart any information. But when I was face to face with these men my basinet, and the management of it, did not seem quite so simple as it had done until then.

“Do yon wish to consult my partner or me?” asked the keenest looking man. “I am Mr. Scott.” “Either will do,” I answered. “My business will be soon dispatched. Some months ago you inserted an advertisement in the Times.” “To what purport?” inquired Mr. Scott. “You offered fifty pounds reward,” I replied, “for information concerning a young lady.” A gleam of intelligence and gratification flickered upon both their faces, but quickly faded away into a sober and blank gravity. Mr. Scott waited for me to speak again, and bowed silently, as if to intimate he was all attention. “I came,” I added, “to ask you for the name and address of that young lady’s ‘ friends, as I should prefer communicat- ! ing directly with them, with a view to cooperation in the discovery of her hiding ; place. I need scarcely say I have no ! wish to receive any reward. I entirely 1 waive any claim to that, if you will ‘ oblige me by putting me into connection \ with the family.” “Havfe you no information you can im- [ part to us?” asked Mr. Scott. “None,” I answered decisively. “It is some months since I saw the advertise- , ment, and it must be nine months since , you put it into the Times. I believe it is nine months since the young lady was

mi^yng.” “About that time,” he said. “Her friends must have suffered great anxiety,” I remarked. “Very great indeed,” he admitted. “If I could render them any service it would be a great pleasure to me,” I continued; “cannot you tell me where to find them?” “We are authorized to receive any information," he replied. “You must allow me to ask if you know anything about the young Idßy in question?” “My object is to combine with her friends in seeking her,-' I said evasively. “I really cannot give you any information; but if you will put me into communication with them, I may be useful to them.”

“Well,” he said, with an air of candor, “of course the young lady’s friends are anxious to keep in the background. It is not a pleasant circumstance to occur in a family. Of course, if you could give us an ydefinite information it would be quite another thing. The young lady’s family is highly connected. Have you" seen any one answering to the description?” “It is a very common one,” I answered. “I have seen scores of young ladies who might answer to it. lam surprised that in London you could not trace her. Did you apply to the police?” “The police are blockheads,” replied Mr. Scott. “Will you be so good as to see if there is any one in the outer office,

Mr. Brown, or on the stairs? I believe I heard a noise outside.”

Mr. Brown disappeared for a few minutes; but his absence did not interrupt the conversation. There was not much to be made out of it on either side, for we were only fencing with one another. I learned nothing about Olivia's Triends. and I was satisfied he had learned nothing about her. At last we parted with mutual dissatisfaction; and I went moodily downtsairs, followed by Jack. We drove back to Brook street, to spend the few hours that remained before the train started for Southampton. “Doctor,” said Simmons, as Jack paid him his fare, with a small coin added to it, "I’m half afeared I’ve done some mischief. I’ve been turning it over and over in my head, and can't exactly see the rights of it. A gent, with a pen behind his ear, comes down, at that ortice in Gray’s Inn Road, and takes my number. But after that he says a civil thing or two. ‘Fine young gents,’ he says, pointing up the staircase. ‘Very much so,’ says I. ‘Young doctors?' he says. ‘You’re right,’ I says. ‘I guessed so,’ he says; ‘and pretty well up the tree, eh?’ ‘Ay,’ I says; ‘the light-haired gent is son to Dr. Senior, the great pheeseeciau; apd the other he comes from Guernsey, which is an island in the sen.’ ‘Just so,’ he says; ‘l’ve heard as much.’ I hope I've done no mischief, doctor?” “I hope not, Simmons,” answered Jack; “but your tongue hangs too loose, my man. Look out for a squall on the Olivia const, Martin,” he added. My anxiety would have been very great if I had not been returning immediately to Guernsey. But once there, and in communication with Tardif, I could not believe any danger would threaten Olivia from which I could not protect or rescue her. She wns of age, and had a right to act for herself. YVith two such friends as Turdif and me, no one could force her away from her chosen home. (To be continued.)

“KISSED HER TENDERLY.”