Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 34, Number 10, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 October 1901 — The Doctor's Dilemma [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Doctor's Dilemma

By Hesba Stretton

CHAPTER XXV. “I 'will send the child to you in a cab on Wednesday,” the woman said, ns I rose and made my way towards the hall; “you have not tol<T me your .address.” I paused for a moment. Dared I tell her my address? Yet my money was paid, and if I did not, I should lose both it and the refuge I had bought with It. Besides I should awaken suspicion and inquiry by silence. It was a fearful risk to run; yet it seemed safer than a precipitous retreat. I gave her my address, and saw her write it down on a slip of paper. In the afternoon the little girl arrived quite alone, except that a man had been hired to carry a small box for her, and to deliver her into my charge. This was a great relief to me, and I gladly paid the shilling he demanded. The child was thinly and shabbily dressed for our long journey, and there was a forlorn loneliness about her position, left thus with a stranger, which touched me to the heart. We were alike poor, helpless, friendless. “I’m so glad!” she said with a deepdrawn sigh of relief; “I was afraid I should never go, and school is such a heavenly place!” TJte words amused yet troubled me; they were so different from a child’s ordinary opinion. “It’s such a hateful place at Mrs. Wilkinson’s,” she went on, “everybody calling me at once, and scolding me; and there are such a many people to run errands for.” "What is your name, my dear?” I asked, sitting down on my box and taking her on my lap. Such a thin, stunted little woman, precociously learned in trouble! Yet she nestled in my arms like a true child, and a tear or two rolled ■down her cheeks, as if from very tentment. “Nobody has nursed me like this since ■mother died,” she said. “I’m Mary; but father always called me Minima, because I was the-least in the house. He kept a boys’ school out of London, in Epping Forest, you know; and it was so,heavenly! All the boys were good to me, and we used to call father Dominie. Then he died, and mother died just before him; and he said, ‘Courage, Minima! God will take care of my little girl.’ So the boys’ fathers and mothers made a subscription for me, and they got a great deal of money, a hundred pounds; and somebody told them about this school, .where I can stay four years for a hundred pounds, and they all said that was the best thing they could do with me. But I’ve had to stay with Mrs. Wilkinson nearly two months, because she could not find a governess to go with me. I hate hers I detest her; I should like to spit at her!” “Hush! hush!” I said, drawing hbr head down upon my shoulder again. “Then there is Mr. Foster,” she. continued, “he torments me so. He likes to make fun‘of me, and tease me, till I can’t bear to go into his room. You’d hate Mr. Foster, and Mrs. Foster, if you only knew them.” “Why?” I asked in a whisper. My voice sounded husky to me, and my throat felt parched. The child's impotent rage and hatred struck a slumbering eh.ord within me. “Oh! they are horrid in every way/’ she said; “they frighten me. He is fond of tormenting anything, because he’s cruel. But they are very poor—poor as Job, Mrs. Wilkinson says, and I’m glad. Aren’t you glad?” The question jarred in my memory against a passionate craving after revenge, which had died away in the quiet and tranquility of Sark. Ought I to do anything for him? Was there anything I could do to help him? "He is ill, too,” pursued the child; “I heard him say once to Mrs. Foster, he knew he should die like a dog.” ._ Ill! dead! My heart beat faster and faster as I pondered over these words. Then I should be free Indeed; his death would release me from pondage, from terror, from poverty—those three evils which dogged my steps. I had never ventured to let my thoughts run that way, but this child’s prattling had now forced them into it. Richard Foster ill--dying! what ought I to do? There was one thing only that I could do, only one little sacrifice I could make for him whom I had vowed, in childish ignorance, to love, honor and cherish in sickness and in health, until death parted us. A home was secured to me for twelve months. I had enough money still to last me until then. My diamond-ring, which had been his-own gift to me on our wedding day, would be valuablo to him. Sixty pounds wbuld be a help to him. I set the child gently away from me, and wrote my last letter to my husband. Both the Tetter and the ring I enclosed in a little box. A great thump against the door brought a host of fears upon me. But before I could stir, the insecure handle gave way, and no one more formidable appeared’ than the landlady of the house, carrying before her a tray on which was set out a sumptuous tea, consisting of buttered crumpets nnd shrimps. She put it down on my dressing table and stood surveying it and us with an expression of benign exultation. “Those ns are going into soring parts,” she said, “ought to get a good English meal afore they start. And this, my masJgr says, is a testimonial to you.” I' could hardly control my laughter, nnd I could not keep back the tears. It was a long time now since any one ha<L shown me so much kindness and sympathy as this. The dull face of the good ■woman was brightened by her kind-heart-ed feeling, and instead of thanking her I put my lips to het-^beek. The next morning found us in France. From Ilonfleur to Falaise warm, genial sunshine filled the air. The slowly moving train carried us through woods where the autumn seemed but,a few days old. Wc passed through miles upon miles of orchards, beneath which lay huge, pyramids of apples. Truck-loads of them stood at every station. The sHr was scented by them. ChildrA were pelting »ne soother with them. It was almost ttke going into s new world, and I breath-

ed more freely the farther we traveled down into “the interior. At Falaise we exchanged the train for a small omnibus, which bore the naine “Noireau” conspicuously on its door. At length we started off on the last stage of our journey. Finally our omnibus was jolting and rumbling down some steep and narrow streets, lighted by oil lamp! swung across them. Only at the Inn where we stopped was there anything like life. I woke up Minima from her deep and heqvy sleep. “We are here at Noireau!” I said. “We have reached our home at last!” The door was opened before the child was fairly awake. A small cluster of bystanders gathered round us as we alighted, and watched our luggage put down from the .roof. Minima was leaning against me, half asleep. A -narrow vista of tall houses lay to the right and left, lost in impenetrable darkness. The strip of sky overhead was black witk midnight. “Noireau?” I asked in'll tone of interrogation. “Yes, Tnadame,” responded a chorus of voice*. “Carry me to the house of Monsieur Emile Perrier, the ayocat,” I said, speaking slowly and distinctly. The words, simple as they were, seemed to awaken considerable excitement. The landlady threw up her hands, with an expression of astonishment. Was it possible that I could have made a mistake in so short and easy a sentence? I said it over again to myself, and felt sure I was right. With renewed confidence I repeated it'aloud, with a slight variation.

“I wish to go to the house of Monsieur Emile Parrier, the avocat,” I said. But whilst they still clustered round Minima and me, giving no sign of compliance with my request, two persons thrust themselves through the circle. The <one was a man, in a threadbare brown great coat, with a largo woolen comforter wound several times about his neck; and the other a woman, in an equally shabby dress, who spoke to me in broken English. “Mees, I am Madame Perrier, and this is my husband,” she said; “come on. The letter was here only an hour ago; but all is ready. Come on; come on.” She put her hand through my arm, and took hold of Minima’s hand, as if claiming both of us. A dead silence had fallen upon the little crowd, as if they were trying to catch the meaning of the English words. But as she pushed on, leading us both, a titter for the first time ran from lip to lip. I glanced back, nnd saw Monsieur Perrier, the avocat, hurriedly putting our on jv and preparing to follow us with it along the dark street. I was too bewildered yet to feel any astonishment. We were in France, in a remote part of France, and' I did not know what Frenchmen would or would uot do. We stopped at.last gwseafte-f&e' large, handsome bouse, whii stood in the front, in the photograph!, had seen In London. “It is midnight nearly,” sa. Madame Perrier, as \fe came to a stji d s tin an d waited for her husband, thijpV ow t. He passed through the gar a g ate ’ and disappeared round the corn*, 0 f th o house, walking softly, ns if *"t- e ful not to disturb the household. 4>ei rgt w jj e reappeared round the coraerjt trying a candle, which flickered in the o l,d. Not a'word was spoken by him or _„iwife as me latter conducted us toward7Jri m . We were to enter by the back- t j, at was evident. She led us intcfrl dimly lighted room, where I could ji-4 make out what appeared to be a < iy\eflter’s bench, with a heap of wood sha' \,g S |y_ ing under it 1 1 “It is a leetle cabinet work of iL j, ns . band," suld Madame Pertier; “oudni, nlu . her is above, nnd the chamber yoU nnd leetle mees is there also. B|i the school is not there. jConie on, mee*n We went down the broad gravel 11 with the pretty garden at the side l us ' where a fountain was tinkling and *en|shing busily in the quiet night. Bij, passed the front of the house behi \;t without stopping at the door. Mai® k c led us through a cart shed into a . W, long, vaulted passage, with doors ori*! ing on each side; a black, villainous It \ Ing place, with the feeble, flickering lb V of the candle throwing on to the dai A walls a sinister gleam. Minima presa/v very close to me, and I felt a strangA quiver- of apprehension; but the thoughm that there was no escqpe from it, an< 1 no help nt hand, nerved me to folio* quietly to the end. The end brought us out into a mean, poor street, narrow even where the best

streets were -aarrow. A tfmall houss stood before ns; and madame unlocked the door. We were conducted into s small kitchen. There was an oi| lamp here. Madame’s face was illuminated by it. There was not a trace of refinement or culture about her, not ever the proverbial taste of a Frenchwoman in dress. The kitchen was a picture of squalid dirt and neglect. The few cooking utensils were scattered about in disorder. The stove before which we sat was rusty. Could I be dreaming of this filthy dwelling and this slovenly woman? No; it was-all too real for me. to doubt their existence for an instant. She was pouring out some cold tea into two little cups, when Monsieur Perrier made his appearaliee, his face begrimed aud his shaggy hair uncombed. He stood in the doorway, rubbing his hands, and gazing at us unflinchingly with the hard stare of a Norman peasant, whilst he spoke in rapid, uncouth tones to his wife. I turned away my head, nnd shut my eyes to this unwelcome sight. “Eat, mees,” said the woman, bringing us our food. “There is tea. We give our pupils nnd instructresses tea for supper at six o’clock; after that there is no more to eat.” We had the same vaulted passage and cart shed to traverse on our M'ay back to the other house. There we were ushered into a room containing only two beds and our two boxes. I helped Minima toundress, and tucked her up in bed. She put her arm round my neck, and drew down my head to whisper cautiously into my ear. “They’re cheats,” she said earnestly, “dreadful cheats. This isn’t a splendid place at all. Oh! whatever shall I do? Shall I have to stay, here four years?” “Hush, Minima!” I answered. “Perhaps it is better than we think now. We are tired. To-morrow we shall see the place better, and it may be splendid after all. Kiss me, and go to sleep.” I was awakened, while it was yet quite dark, by the sound of a carpenter’s tool in the room below me. Almost immedlately a. loud knock came at my door, and the harsh voice of madame called to us. “Get up, mees, get up, and come on,” she said, “to the school. Come on, quick!” The air was raw and foggy when we turned out of doors, and it was so dark

still that we could scarcely discern the outline of the walls and houses. The school, madame .informed me, was registered in the name of her head governess, not in her own; and as the laws of France prohibited any man dwelling under the same roof with a school of girls, except the husband of the proprietor, they were compelled to rent 'two dwellings. “How many pupils have you, madame?” I inquired. “We have six, mees,” she replied. “They are here; see them.” We had reached the house, and she opened the door of a long, low room. There was an open hearth, with a few logs of green wood upon it. A table ran almost the whole length of the room, with forms on each side. A high chair or two stood about. All was comfortless, dreary and squalid. But the girls who Vere sitting on the hard benches by the table were still more squalid and dreary looking. Their faces were pinched, and just now blue with -•ealu, uUu their bauds were swollen and red with chilblains.'.' Tllfy and frightened expression, and peejp*s askance at us as we went in behi.’O* madame. t “Three are English,” said madame, “and three French." SEe rapped one of the swollen hands which lay upon the table, and the girl dropped it out of sight upon her lap, with a frightened glance at the woman. Minima's fisgers tightened upon mine. The head governess, n Frenchwoman of about thirty, was now introduced to me. Breakfast was beirig brought in by one of the pupils. It consisted of a teacupful of coffee at the bottom of a big basin, which was placed before each of us, a large tablespoon to feed ourselves with, and a heaped plateful of hunches of bread. I sat down with the rest at the 1 long table, and ate my food, with a sinking nnd sorrowful heart. As soon as madame was gone. Minima flung her arms around me and bid her face in my bosom. ( “Oh!” she cried, “don’t you leave me; don’t forsake me! I. have to stay here four years, and it will kill me. I shall dig if you go away and leave me.”, “We must make the best of it, Minima,” I whispered to the child, through the hum of lessons. Her shrewd little face brightened with n smile that smoothed all the wrinkles out of it. “That’s what father said!” she cried; “he said, ‘Courage, Minima. God will take care of my little daughter.’ God has sent you to take care of me. Suppose I’d come all the way alone, and found it such a horrid place!” (To be continued.!

“MADAME UNLOCKED THE DOOR.”