Book: Uncle Max

R >> Rosa Nouchette Carey >> Uncle Max




I was sure that a half-smile of approbation came to his lips as he
looked round the room; he lifted his eyebrows as though in surprise as
he noticed everything,--the neat hearth, white boards, and bright window,
and lastly the comfortable appearance of the bed, with its scarlet quilt
and clean sheets.

'This is quite a transformation-scene, Miss Garston,' he said, in an
approving tone. 'No wonder you were not at home in the afternoon. My
patient looks cheery too: one would think I had set the fairy Order to
work.' I felt that this was meant for high praise, and I received it
graciously. I knew I had worked well and achieved wonders; but then I had
Hope's strong arms to help me: it had been straightforward work, too,
with no complication: any charwoman could have done it as well. I was
sorry that his commendation set Mrs. Marshall's tongue going; she became
so voluble, in spite of her cough, that I was obliged to enforce silence.

Mr. Hamilton's visit was very brief. I asked him to prescribe for the
baby, but he said nothing ailed it in particular; it had always been
sickly, and had been so neglected of late, most likely sour food had been
given it. Mrs. Tyler, the next-door neighbour, who had looked after it,
was a thoughtless body. 'You must take it in hand yourself, Miss
Garston,' he finished; 'keep it warm and clean, and see the food properly
prepared: that will be better than any medicine.' And then he went off
with his usual abruptness, only I saw him stop at the gate to give
pennies to Janie and little Jock.

There was still so much to do that I determined to spend the whole day at
the cottage. I sent off all the dirty things for Mrs. Tyler to wash at
home, for she was so noisy and untidy that I did not care to have her on
the premises, and I thought granny could sit in Mrs. Marshall's room and
hold baby while Peggy waited on me and ran errands.

Hope worked splendidly: when she had scoured the kitchen and front
passage, she went upstairs and scrubbed the two rooms where granny and
the children slept. I had made a potato pie with some scraps of meat
Peggy had brought from the butcher's, and had seen the dish emptied by
the hungry children. When I had fed the sandy cat and had had my own
dinner, which Mrs. Barton had packed in a nice clean basket, and had
peeped at my patient, I went upstairs to help Hope, and Peggy went
with me. The state of the sleeping-rooms had horrified me in the morning;
the windows had evidently not been open for weeks, and the sheets on
granny's bed were black with dirt. Hope had washed the bedstead, and
Peggy had lighted a fire, that the room might be habitable by night. Tim
came up while we were busy, and stared at us. I was helping Peggy drag
the mattresses and bedclothes into the passage. The open windows and the
wet boards reeking with soft soap evidently astonished him.

'Where be us to sleep to-night?' quoth Tim; 'it is colder than in the
yard.' But Peggy, who was excited by her work, bade him hold his tongue
and not stand gaping there blocking up the passage.

I had been singing over my work, just to put heart into all of us and
make us forget what a very disagreeable business it was, when Tim again
made his appearance and said there was a gentleman in the kitchen. 'He
thought he knowed him, but wasn't sure, but he had asked for the lady.'
I went down at once, and found it was Mr. Tudor; he was sitting very
comfortably by the fire, with all the children round him; little Janie
was on his knee; her face was clean, and her pretty curls had been nicely
brushed, so I did not mind her cuddling up to him, and I knew he was fond
of children and always ready to play with them.

He put her down and shook hands with me, and said the vicar had sent him
to look after me, as he could not come himself. I thought he looked a
little amused at my appearance; and no wonder. I had quite forgotten that
I had tied a handkerchief over my head to keep the dust from off my hair;
with my holland bib-apron and sleeves, and pinned-up dress, I must have
looked an odd figure; but when I said so he laughed, and observed that he
rather admired my novel costume: it reminded him of a Highland peasant he
had once seen.

'Was that you who were singing just now, Miss Garston?' he asked
presently, looking at me with some attention.

'Yes,' I returned. 'You seem surprised. Surely you have heard me sing at
Hyde Park Gate?' But he shook his head very decidedly.

'I should not have forgotten your voice if I had once heard it,' he said,
in such a pleasant manner that the straightforward compliment did not
embarrass me. 'You ought not to let such a talent rust, Miss Garston: the
vicar must utilise you for our Penny Readings.'

I was horrified at this notion, and told him very seriously that nothing
would induce me to sing on a platform, but that it was not my intention
to let it rust, only I had my own ideas how best to utilise it.

He looked curious at this, but I changed the subject by asking him if he
would like to see Mrs. Marshall. He hesitated, coloured slightly as
though the question were distasteful, then he put down Janie from his
knee,--for the child had clambered up again,--and said the vicar had
undertaken the case, as he was rather new to the work, but he would see
her if I wished it.

I was provoking enough to say that I did wish it, for I wanted him to
see the comfortable appearance of the room that he so dreaded to enter.
I felt sorry for Mr. Tudor in my heart that his work should be so
distasteful to him: he was a fine, manly young fellow, who would have
made a splendid sailor or soldier, but sick-rooms and old women were not
to his taste, and yet he was very gentle and sympathising in his manners,
and all the poor people liked him.

Granny was dozing by the fire, and the baby was asleep on the mother's
bed, and as I opened the door I quite enjoyed Mr. Tudor's start of
astonishment at the changed scene. I did not let him stay long, but I
thought his kind looks and pleasant voice would cheer poor Mary. He said
very little to either her or Elspeth, but what he said was sensible and
to the point.

I sent him away after this, for my work was waiting for me. He went off
laughing, and protesting that he had no idea that I had taken up the
_role_ of a charitable charwoman, and that the vicar would remonstrate
with me on the subject.

I think we all felt the brighter for Mr. Tudor's little visit, though he
had said nothing specially clever; but he was an honest, genial creature,
and I liked him thoroughly. I stopped at the cottage late that evening,
for Mrs. Marshall wanted a letter written to her husband, and I could not
refuse to do it. I was almost too tired to enjoy Kingsley that night, and
found myself dozing over it, so I shut it up and went to bed.

Mr. Hamilton did not make his appearance until later the next day, when
I was presiding over the children's dinner. I had just carried in a plate
of lentil soup to granny, whom I now kept entirely in the sick-room, as
she was too old to bear the children's noise, and the constant draughts
from the opening door would soon have laid her on a sick-bed. I had baby
in my lap, and was feeding her when he looked in on us.

I rose at once to follow him into the sick-room, but he waved me back.

'Do not disturb yourself, Miss Garston; you all look very comfortable.
Jock, are you trying to swallow that spoon? You will find it a hard
morsel.' And then he went into the other room, and, to my surprise, we
did not see him again.

I left a little earlier that evening, as I knew Uncle Max meant to pay me
a visit; but it was already dark when I closed the little gate behind me.
I had not gone many paces when I heard footsteps behind me, and, somewhat
to my dismay, Mr. Hamilton joined me.

'Have you only just finished your day's work?' he said, in evident
surprise. 'This will never do, Miss Garston; we shall have you knocking
yourself up if you use up your time and strength so recklessly, and I
want you for another case.'

'I am quite prepared for that,' I answered; but I am afraid my voice was
a little weary. 'You called on me yesterday, Mr. Hamilton. I was sorry to
be out, but there was so much to do that I stayed at the cottage until
quite late in the evening.'

'Just so,' in rather a vexed tone. 'The village nurse will be on a
sick-bed herself if this goes on.'

'Oh, what nonsense!' I returned, laughing, for I forgot for the moment in
the darkness that I was speaking to the formidable Mr. Hamilton. 'I do
not always mean to work quite so hard. Mr. Tudor called me a charitable
charwoman last evening; but this is an exceptional case,--so many
helpless beings, and such shocking mismanagement and neglect. When I put
things on a proper footing I shall not spend so much time there.'

'What do you mean by putting things on a proper footing?' he asked, with
some show of interest.

'When the place has been properly cleaned it will be kept tolerably tidy
with less labour. Hope Weatherley has been hard at work for two days, and
things are now pretty comfortable.'

'I suppose--excuse me if the question seems impertinent, but I imagine
that you paid Hope out of your own purse?'

'For those two days, certainly. It was necessary for my own comfort,
speaking selfishly, that the place should be made habitable. My nursing
would have been a mere mockery unless we could have got rid of the dirt,'

'You are perfectly right. I had no idea you were such a practical person.
But, if you will allow me to give you a hint, Marshall earns good wages,
and there ought to be sufficient money to pay for a moderate amount of
help.'

'I told Mrs. Marshall so this morning,' I returned, pleased to find
myself talking with such ease to Mr. Hamilton; but he seemed quite
different to-night; evidently his _brusquerie_ was a mere mannerism that
he laid aside at times; he had lost that sneering manner that I so much
disliked. I remembered Uncle Max said that he was kind-hearted and
eccentric.

'We had a long talk,' I went on. 'Marshall sends the money regularly, and
I am to manage it. Mrs. Tyler is to wash for us, and I think we can
afford to have Hope for at least an hour a day, to do the rough work;
Peggy is so little to do everything.'

'Heaven help poor Peg!' he ejaculated; 'for she will soon have all those
children on her hands. Mrs. Marshall cannot last long. Well, Miss
Garston, how many hours do you intend to spend at the cottage daily?'

'I should think two hours in the morning and an hour and a half in the
late afternoon or evening might do, unless there be a change for the
worse, or Elspeth falls ill; she is very old and feeble.'

'She was half starved, poor old creature,--fairly clemmed, as they say
in the North. Here we are at your place, Miss Garston. How bright and
inviting your parlour looks! I wonder if I may ask to come in for a few
minutes, while I tell you about the other case?'

Of course I could not do less than invite him to enter, after that; but
I am afraid my manner lacked enthusiasm, and betrayed the fact that I was
unwilling to entertain Mr. Hamilton as a guest, for when I saw his face
in the lamplight he was regarding me with some amusement.

'Cunliffe has done me no end of mischief,' he said, as he offered to
relieve me of my wraps: 'that unfortunate speech has strongly prejudiced
you against me. Confess, now, you think me a very disagreeable person,
because I happened to disagree with you that evening.'

'Certainly not on that account,' I returned, falling into the trap; and
then we both laughed, for I had as good as owned that I thought him
disagreeable. That laugh made us better friends. I felt I no longer
disliked him: it was certainly not his fault that Providence had given
him that type of face, and I supposed one could get used to it.

'I was in an evil mood that afternoon,' he went on, and then I knew
instinctively that he wanted to efface his satirical words from my
memory. 'Things had gone wrong somehow,--for this world of ours is a
mighty muddle sometimes.' And here he gave an impatient sigh. 'It is a
relief to human nature to vent one's spleen on the first handy person
that crosses one's path, and, pardon me for saying so, you were just a
little aggressive yourself,' looking at me rather dubiously, as though
he were not quite sure how I should take this hit. My conscience told me
that I had been far from peaceable; on the contrary, I had been decidedly
cross; not that I would confess that this was the case, so I only
returned mildly that I considered that he had been hard on me that day,
and had handled my pet theory very roughly.

'Come, now you are talking like a reasonable woman, and I will plead
guilty to some severity. Let me own that I distrusted you, Miss Garston.
I have a horror of gush, and what I call the working mania of young
ladies, and you had not proved to me then that you could work. At the
present day, if a girl is restless and bad-tempered, and cannot get on
with her own people, she takes up hospital-nursing, and a rare muddle she
makes of it sometimes. I own hospital work is better than the convent of
the Middle Ages, where the troublesome young ladies were safely immured;
but, as I said before, I distrust the hysterical restlessness of the
age.'

'No doubt you have a fair amount of argument on your side,' I replied,
so meekly that he looked at me, and then got up from his chair and said
hastily that I was tired, and he was thoughtless to keep me waiting for
my tea.

'Let me give you some, while you tell me about the case,' was my
hospitable reply; for, though I felt no special desire to prolong our
_tete-a-tete_, mere civility prompted my offer.

He hesitated, then, to my surprise, sat down again, and said he would be
very much obliged if I would give him a cup of tea, as he was tired too,
and had to go farther and keep his dinner waiting.

I went out of the room to remove my hat and speak to Mrs. Barton. When
I came back he was standing before Charlie's photograph, and evidently
studying it with some attention, but he made no remark about it; and I
told him of my own accord that it was the portrait of my twin-brother,
who had died two years ago.

'Indeed! There is no likeness; at least I should not have known it was
your brother. This is often the case between relations,' he continued
hastily, as though he feared he had hurt me. 'What a snug little berth
you have, Miss Garston, and everything so ship-shape too! I suppose that
is your piano; but I am afraid you will have little time to practise.'
And then, as I handed him his tea, he threw himself down in the
easy-chair and seemed prepared to enjoy himself.

Looking at Mr. Hamilton this evening, I could have believed he had two
sides to his character: he presented such a complete contrast to the Mr.
Hamilton in Uncle Max's study that I was quite puzzled by it. He had
certainly a clever face, and his smile was quick and bright; it was only
in rest that his mouth looked so stern and hard. I found myself wondering
once or twice if he had known any great trouble that had embittered him.

'Well, I must tell you about poor Phoebe Locke,' he began suddenly. 'I
want you to find out what you can do for her. The Lockes are respectable
people: Phoebe and her sister were dressmakers. They live a little lower
down,--at Woodbine Cottage.

'Some years ago spinal disease came on, and now Phoebe is bedridden. She
suffers a good deal at times, but her worst trouble is that her nerves
are disordered, most likely from the dulness and monotony of her life.
She suffers cruelly from low spirits; and no wonder, lying all day in
that dull little back room. Her sister cannot sit with her, as Phoebe
cannot bear the noise of the sewing-machine, and the sight of the outer
world seems to irritate her. The neighbours would come in to cheer her
up, but she does not seem able to bear their loud voices. It is
wonderful,' he continued musingly, 'how education and refinement train
the voice: strange to say, though my voice is not particularly low, and
certainly not sweet, it never seems to jar upon her.'

'Very likely not,' I returned quickly; 'no doubt she depends upon you for
all her comforts: to most invalids the doctor's visit is the one bright
spot in the day.'

'It seems strange that we do not project our own shadows sometimes, and
make our patient shiver,' he said, with a touch of gruffness. 'It is
little that I can do for Phoebe, except order her a blister or ice when
she needs it. One cannot touch the real nervous suffering: there is where
I look to you for help; a little cheerful talk now and then may lighten
her burden. Anyhow, it would be a help for poor Miss Locke, who has a sad
time of it trying to earn food for them both. There is a little niece
who lives with them, a subdued, uncanny little creature, who looks as
though the childhood were crushed out of her; you might take her in hand
too.'

'I wonder if Phoebe would like me to sing to her,' I observed quietly.
'I have found it answer sometimes in nervous illnesses.'

I thought my remark surprised him.

'It is a good idea,' he said slowly. 'You might try it. Of course it
would depend a great deal on the quality of voice and style of singing.
I wonder if you would allow me to judge of this,'--looking meaningly at
the piano; but I shook my head at this, and he did not press the point.

We had very little talk after this, for he went away almost directly,
first arranging to meet me at Mrs. Marshall's about four the next day and
go with me to Woodbine Cottage.

'You will find plenty of work, Miss Garston,' were his final words, 'so
do not waste your strength unnecessarily.' And then he left the room, but
came back a moment afterwards to say that his sisters meant to call on
me, only they thought I was hardly settled yet: 'we must get Mr. Cunliffe
to bring you up to Gladwyn: we must not let you mope.'

I thought there was little chance of this, with Uncle Max and Mr. Tudor
always looking after me. Mr. Hamilton had hardly closed the door before
Uncle Max opened it again.

'So the enemy has tasted bread and salt, Ursula,' he said, looking
excessively pleased: 'that is right, my dear: do not give way to absurd
prejudices. You and Hamilton will get on splendidly by and by, when you
get used to his brusque manner.' And, though I did not quite endorse this
opinion, I was obliged to acknowledge to myself that the last half-hour
had not been so unpleasant after all.




CHAPTER X

A DIFFICULT PATIENT


I had a little talk with granny the next day.

Mrs. Marshall was dozing uneasily, and I was sitting by granny, nursing
the baby, and waiting for Mr. Hamilton, when I felt her cold wrinkled
hand laid on mine.

'What is it, Elspeth?' I asked, thinking she wanted something.

'What put it in your head, my bairn, to do the Lord's work? that is what
I am wanting to know. I have been listening to you this morning singing
like a bird about the house, with all the bit creatures chirping about
you, and I said to myself, "What could have put it into her head to leave
all her fine friends, and come and wait on the likes of us old and sick
folk and young bairns?"'

I do not know what there was in this speech that made me cry, but I
know I had some difficulty in answering, but I told her a little about
Charlie, and how sad I was, and how I loved the work, and she patted my
hand softly all the time.

'Never fret, my bairn. You will not be lonely long: the Lord will see to
that. He would not let you work for Him and do nothing for you in return.
Nay, that is not His way. Look at me: as doctor said the other day, I
have dreed my weird; few and evil have been my days, like Jacob, but here
I sit like a lady by the fire, warm and comfortable and hearty, thank
God; and Andrew's wife lies on her death-bed, poor woman.'

'Yes; but, Elspeth, you sit there in the dark.'

'Eh, but it is peaceful and quiet-like, and the Lord bides with me, "and
darkness and light are both alike to him,"' finished Elspeth reverently.
And then I heard the click of the gate, and rose hastily, only the baby
cried as I laid her on Elspeth's lap, and I had to stay a moment to
pacify her.

Mr. Hamilton came in and stood by us.

'Do not hurry yourself; I can easily wait a few minutes if you are not
ready. Are you sure you are not too tired to come?' he continued, looking
at me a little inquisitively, and I was certain that he noticed the trace
of tears on my face. Why was it I never could speak of my darling quite
calmly?

'I am perfectly ready, and baby has left off crying,' I returned, taking
up my basket, and then we left the house together.

'I hope you do not suffer from low spirits, like the rest of us,' he
said, in rather a kind tone, as we walked on. 'It is to be expected that
a cross-grained fellow like myself should have fits of the blues
occasionally. That is one thing I particularly admire about Cunliffe!
however worried he is, one never sees him out of humour; his ups and
downs are never perceptible. I do believe he is less selfish than other
people.'

'There is no one like Uncle Max,' I rejoined fervently.

'Is it not odd that we should suit each other so well?' he asked
presently, 'for we are complete contrasts. I can bear him to say things
to me that I would knock any other fellow down for saying. That is why I
let him preach to me, because he honestly believes what he says and tries
to act up to his profession.' He broke off here, for by this time we had
reached Woodbine Cottage, and he unlatched the gate for me.

A thin-faced child with a cropped head and clean white pinafore opened
the door, and dropped an alarmed courtesy when she saw us.

'Please sir, Aunt Susan is out, and Aunt Phoebe is very bad this
afternoon, and cannot see any one. She is lying in the dark, and I was
to let none of the neighbours in while Aunt Susan was away.'

'All right, Kitty; but Aunt Phoebe will see me.' And he walked into the
passage, and told the child to close the door gently. The room we passed
was strewn with work-material, and looked cold and comfortless, but a
small kitchen opposite had a warm cosy aspect. Mr. Hamilton passed both
rooms and tapped at a door lower down the passage, and then without
waiting for an answer entered, and beckoned me to follow him.

A dark curtain had been drawn across the window, and the dim glow of a
cindery fire scarcely gave sufficient light to discern the different
pieces of furniture. Mr. Hamilton gave vent to a suppressed exclamation
of impatience as he seized the poker, but I could not but notice the
skilful and almost noiseless manner in which he manipulated the coals.
Then he looked round for a match, and lighted a candle on the
mantelpiece, in spite of a peevish remonstrance from the patient.

'You will make my head worse, doctor: nothing but the dark eases it.'

'Nonsense, Phoebe! I know better than that,' he returned cheerfully,
and then he stepped up to the bed, and I followed him. The woman who
lay there was still young in years, she could not have been more than
three- or four-and-thirty, but every semblance of youth was crushed out
of her by some subtile and mysterious suffering; it might have been the
face of a dead woman, only for the living eyes that looked at us.

The hopeless wistful look in those eyes gave me a singular shock. I had
never seen human eyes with the same expression; they seemed as though
they were appealing against some awful destiny. Once when Charlie and
I were staying at Rutherford a beautiful spaniel belonging to Lesbia had
been accidentally shot while straying in some wood. The poor animal had
dragged himself with pain and difficulty to the garden-gate, and there we
found him. I shall never forget the wistfulness of the poor creature's
eyes when his mistress knelt down and caressed him. He died a few minutes
afterwards, licking her hand. I could not help thinking of Tito when I
first saw Phoebe Locke; for the same unreasoning anguish seemed in the
sick woman's eyes. A tormented soul looked out of them.

There was something rigid and uncompromising in the whole aspect of the
sick-room; there was nothing to tone down and soften the harsh details of
bodily suffering; everything was in spotless order; the sheets were white
as the driven snow; a formidable phalanx of medicine-bottles stood on the
small square table; there were no books, no pictures, no flowers; a
sampler hung over the mantelpiece, that was all. I saw Mr. Hamilton
glance disapprovingly at the row of bottles.

'I told Kitty to clear all that rubbish away,' he said curtly. 'Why do
you not have something pleasanter to look at, Phoebe?--some flowers, or
a canary? you would find plenty of amusement in watching a canary.'

'Birds are never still for a moment; they would drive me mad,' returned
Phoebe, in the hollow tones that seemed natural to her. 'Flowers are
better; but what have I to do with flowers? Doctor,' her voice rising
into a shrill crescendo, 'you must give me something to send me to sleep,
or I shall go mad. I think, think, think, until my head is in a craze
with pain and misery.'

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