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The Doctor's Dilemma by Hesba Stretton

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"What are you reading, Martin?" asked my father, who had just come in,
and was painfully fitting on a pair of new and very tight kid gloves. I
read the passage aloud, without comment.

"Very good," he remarked, chuckling, "upon my word! I did not know there
was any thing as rich as that in the old book! Who says it, Martin? A
very wise preacher he was, and knew what he was talking about. Had seen
life, eh? It's as true as--as--as the gospel."

I could not help laughing at the comparison he was forced to; yet I felt
angry with him and myself.

"What do you say about my mother and Julia, sir?" I asked.

He chuckled again cynically, examining with care a spot on the palm of
one of his gloves. "Ha! ha! my son"--I hated to hear him say "my
son"--"I will answer you in the words of another wise man: 'Most
virtuous women, like hidden treasures, are secure because nobody seeks
after them.'"

So saying, he turned out of the room, swinging his gold-headed cane
jauntily between his fingers.

I visited Sark again in about ten days, to set Olivia free from my
embargo upon her walking. I allowed her to walk a little way along a
smooth meadow-path, leaning on my arm; and I found that she was a head
lower than myself--a beautiful height for a woman. That time Captain
Carey had set me down at the Havre Gosselin, appointing me to meet him
at the Creux Harbor, which was exactly on the opposite side of the
island. In crossing over to it--a distance of rather more than a mile--I
encountered Julia's friends, Emma and Maria Brouard.

"You here again, Martin!" exclaimed Emma.

"Yes," I answered; "Captain Carey set me down at the Havre Gosselin, and
is gone round to meet me at the Creux."

"You have been to see that young person?" asked Maria.

"Yes," I replied.

"She is a very singular young woman," she continued; "we think her
stupid. We cannot make anything of her. But there is no doubt poor
Tardif means to marry her."

"Nonsense!" I ejaculated, hotly; "I beg your pardon, Maria, but I give
Tardif credit for sense enough to know his own position."

"So did we," said Emma, "but it looks odd. He married an Englishwoman
before. It's old Mere Renouf who says he worships the ground she treads
upon. You know he holds a very good position in the island, and he is a
great favorite with the seigneur. There are dozens of girls of his own
class in Guernsey and Alderney, to say nothing of Sark, who would be
only too glad to have him. He is a very handsome man, Martin."

"Tardif is a fine fellow," I admitted.

"I shall be very sorry for him to be taken in again," continued Emma;
"nobody knows who that young person may be; it looks odd on the face of
it. Are you in a hurry? Well, good-by. Give our best love to dear Julia.
We are busy at work on a wedding-present for her; but you must not tell
her that, you know."

I went on in a hot rage, shapeless and wordless, but smouldering like a
fire within me. The cool, green lane, deep between hedge-rows, the banks
of which were gemmed with primroses, had no effect upon me just then.
Tardif marry Olivia! That was an absurd, preposterous notion indeed. It
required all my knowledge of the influence of dress on the average human
mind, to convince myself that Olivia, in her coarse green serge dress,
had impressed the people of Sark with the notion that she would be no
unsuitable mate for their rough, though good and handsome fisherman.

Was it possible that they thought her stupid? Reserved and silent she
might be, as she wished to remain unmolested and concealed; but not
stupid! That any one should dream so wildly as to think of Olivia
marrying Tardif, was the utmost folly I could imagine.

I had half an hour to wait in the little harbor, its great cliffs rising
all about me, with only a tunnel bored through them to form an entrance
to the green island within. My rage had partly fumed itself away before
the yacht came in sight.




CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH.

OVERHEAD IN LOVE.


Awfully fast the time sped away. It was the second week in March I
passed in Sark; the second week in May came upon me as if borne by a
whirlwind. It was only a month to the day so long fixed upon for our
marriage. My mother began to fidget about my going over to London to pay
my farewell bachelor visit to Jack Senior, and to fit myself out with
wedding toggery. Julia's was going on fast to completion. Our trip to
Switzerland was distinctly planned out, almost from day to day. Go I
must to London; order my wedding-suit I must.

But first there could be no harm in running over to Sark to see Olivia
once more. As soon as I was married I would tell Julia all about her.
But if either arm or ankle went wrong for want of attention, I should
never forgive myself.

"When shall we have another run together, Captain Carey?" I asked.

"Any day you like, my boy," he answered; "your days of liberty are
growing few and short now, eh? I've never had a chance of trying it
myself, Martin, but they are nervous times, I should think. Cruising in
doubtful channels, eh? with uncertain breezes? How does Julia keep up?"

"I can spare to-morrow," I replied, ignoring his remarks; "on Saturday I
shall cross over to England to see Jack Senior."

"And bid him adieu?" he said, laughing, "or give him an invitation to
your own house? I shall be glad to see you in a house of your own. Your
father is too young a man for you."

"Can you take me to Sark to-morrow?" I asked.

"To be sure I can," he answered.

It was the last time I could see Olivia before my marriage. Afterward I
should see much of her; for Julia would invite her to our house, and be
a friend to her. I spent a wretchedly sleepless night; and whenever I
dozed by fits and starts, I saw Olivia before me, weeping bitterly, and
refusing to be comforted.

From St. Sampson's we set sail straight for the Havre Gosselin, without
a word upon my part; and the wind being in our favor, we were not long
in crossing the channel. To my extreme surprise and chagrin, Captain
Carey announced his intention of landing with me, and leaving the yacht
in charge of his men to await our return.

"The ladder is excessively awkward," I objected, "and some of the rungs
are loose. You don't mind running the risk of a plunge into the water?"

"Not in the least," he answered, cheerily; "for the matter of that, I
plunge into it every morning at L'Ancresse. I want to see Tardif. He is
one in a thousand, as you say; and one cannot see such a man every day
of one's life."

There was no help for it, and I gave in, hoping some good luck awaited
me. I led the way up the zigzag path, and just as we reached the top I
saw the slight, erect figure of Olivia seated upon the brow of a little
grassy knoll at a short distance from us. Her back was toward us, so she
was not aware of our vicinity; and I pointed toward her with an assumed
air of indifference.

"I believe that is my patient yonder," I said; "I will just run across
and speak to her, and then follow you to the farm."

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "there is a lovely view from that spot. I recollect
it well. I will go with you, Martin. There will be time enough to see
Tardif."

Did Captain Carey suspect any thing? Or what reason could he have for
wishing to see Olivia? Could it be merely that he wanted to see the view
from that particular spot? I could not forbid him accompanying me, but I
wished him at Jericho.

What is more stupid than to have an elderly man dogging one's footsteps?

I trusted devoutly that we should see or hear Tardif before reaching the
knoll; but no such good fortune befell me. Olivia did not hear our
footsteps upon the soft turf, though we approached her very nearly. The
sun shone upon her glossy hair, every thread of which seemed to shine
back again. She was reading aloud, apparently to herself, and the sounds
of her sweet voice were wafted by the air toward us. Captain Carey's
face became very thoughtful.

A few steps nearer brought us in view of Tardif, who had spread his nets
on the grass, and was examining them narrowly for rents. Just at this
moment he was down on his knees, not far from Olivia, gathering some
broken meshes together, but listening to her, with an expression of huge
contentment upon his handsome face. A bitter pang shot through me. Could
it be true by any possibility--that lie I had heard the last time I was
in Sark?

"Good-day, Tardif," shouted Captain Carey; and both Tardif and Olivia
started. But both of their faces grew brighter at seeing us, and both
sprang up to give us welcome. Olivia's color had come back to her
cheeks, and a sweeter face no man ever looked upon.

"I am very glad you are come once more," she said, putting her hand in
mine; "you told me in your last letter you were going to England, and
might not come over to Sark before next autumn. How glad I am to see you
again!"

I glanced from the corner of my eye at Captain Carey. He looked very
grave, but his eyes could not rest upon Olivia without admiring her, as
she stood before us, bright-faced, slender, erect, with the heavy folds
of her coarse dress falling about her as gracefully as if they were of
the richest material.

"This is my friend, Captain Carey, Miss Olivia," I said, "in whose yacht
I have come over to visit you."

"I am very glad to see any friend of Dr. Martin's," she answered, as she
hold out her hand to him with a smile; "my doctor and I are great
friends, Captain Carey."

"So I suppose," he said, significantly--or at least his tone and look
seemed fraught with significance to me.

"We were talking of you only a few minutes ago, Dr. Martin," she
continued; "I was telling Tardif how you sang the 'Three Fishers' to me
the last time you were here, and how it rings in my ears still,
especially when he is away fishing. I repeated the three last lines to
him:

'For men must work, and women must weep;
And the sooner it's over, the sooner to sleep.
So good-by to the bar, with its moaning.'"

"I do not like it, doctor," said Tardif: "there's no hope in it. Yet to
sleep out yonder at last, on the great plain under the sea, would be no
bad thing."

"You must sing it for Tardif," added Olivia, with a pretty
imperiousness, "and then he will like it."

My throat felt dry, and my tongue parched. I could not utter a word in
reply.

"This would be the very place for such a song," said Captain Carey.
"Come, Martin, let us have it."

"No; I can sing nothing to-day," I answered, harshly.

The very sight of her made me feel miserable beyond words; the sound of
her voice maddened me. I felt as if I was angry with her almost to
hatred for her grace and sweetness; yet I could have knelt down at her
feet, and been happy only to lay my hand on a fold of her dress. No
feeling had ever stirred me so before, and it made me irritable.
Olivia's clear gray eyes looked at me wonderingly.

"Is there anything the matter with you, Dr. Martin?" she inquired.

"No," I replied, turning away from her abruptly. Every one of them felt
my rudeness; and there was a dead silence among us for half a minute,
which seemed an age to me. Then I heard Captain Carey speaking in his
suavest tones.

"Are you quite well again, Miss Ollivier?" he asked.

"Yes, quite well, I think," she said, in a very subdued voice. "I cannot
walk far yet, and my arm is still weak: but I think I am quite well. I
have given Dr. Martin a great deal of trouble and anxiety."

She spoke in the low, quiet tones of a child who has been chidden
unreasonably. I was asking myself what Captain Carey meant by not
leaving me alone with my patient. When a medical man makes a call, the
intrusion of any unprofessional, indifferent person is unpardonable. If
it had been Suzanne, Tardif, or Mother Renouf, who was keeping so close
beside us, I could have made no reasonable objection. But Captain Carey!

"Tardif," I said, "Captain Carey came ashore on purpose to visit you and
your farm."

I knew he was excessively proud of his farm, which consisted of about
four or five acres. He caught at the words with alacrity, and led the
way toward his house with tremendous strides. There was no means of
evading a tour of inspection, though Captain Carey appeared to follow
him reluctantly. Olivia and I were left alone, but she was moving after
them slowly, when I ran to her, and offered her my arm on the plea that
her ankle was still too weak to bear her weight unsupported.

"Olivia!" I exclaimed, after we had gone a few yards, bringing her and
myself to a sudden halt. Then I was struck dumb. I had nothing special
to say to her. How was it I had called her so familiarly Olivia?

"Well, Dr. Martin?" she said, looking into my face again with eager,
inquiring eyes, as if she was wishful to understand my varying moods if
she could.

"What a lovely place this is!" I ejaculated.

More lovely than any words I ever heard could describe. It was a perfect
day, and a perfect view. The sea was like an opal, changing every minute
with the passing shadows of snow-white clouds which floated lazily
across the bright blue of the sky. The cliffs, Sark Cliffs, which have
not their equal in the world, stretched below us, with every hue of gold
and bronze, and hoary white, and soft gray; and here and there a black
rock, with livid shades of purple, and a bloom upon it like a raven's
wing. Rocky islets, never trodden by human foot, over which the foam
poured ceaselessly, were dotted all about the changeful surface of the
water. And just beneath the level of my eyes was Olivia's face--the
loveliest thing there, though there was so much beauty lying around us.

"Yes, it is a lovely place," she assented, a mischievous smile playing
about her lips.

"Olivia," I said, taking my courage by both hands, "it is only a month
now till my wedding-day."

Was I deceiving myself, or did she really grow paler? It was but for a
moment if it were so. But how cold the air felt all in an instant! The
shock was like that of a first plunge into chilly waters, and I was
shivering through every fibre.

"I hope you will be happy," said Olivia, "very happy. It is a great risk
to run. Marriage will make you either very happy or very wretched."

"Not at all," I answered, trying to speak gayly; "I do not look forward
to any vast amount of rapture. Julia and I will get along very well
together, I have no doubt, for we have known one another all our lives.
I do not expect to be any happier than other men; and the married people
I have known have not exactly dwelt in paradise. Perhaps your experience
has been different?"

"Oh, no!" she said, her hand trembling on my arm, and her face very
downcast; "but I should have liked you to be very, very happy."

So softly spoken, with such a low, faltering voice! I could not trust
myself to speak again. A stern sense of duty toward Julia kept me
silent; and we moved on, though very slowly and lingeringly.

"You love her very much?" said the quiet voice at my side, not much
louder than the voice of conscience, which was speaking imperiously just
then.

"I esteem her more highly than any other woman, except my mother," I
said. "I believe she would die sooner than do any thing she considered
wrong. I do not deserve her, and she loves me, I am sure, very truly and
faithfully."

"Do you think she will like me?" asked Olivia, anxiously.

"No; she must love you," I said, with warmth; "and I, too, can be a more
useful friend to you after my marriage than I am now. Perhaps then you
will feel free to place perfect confidence in us."

She smiled faintly, without speaking--a smile which said plainly she
could keep her own secret closely. It provoked me to do a thing I had
had no intention of doing, and which I regretted very much afterward. I
opened my pocket-book, and drew out the little slip of paper containing
the advertisement.

"Read that," I said.

But I do not think she saw more than the first line, for her face went
deadly white, and her eyes turned upon me with a wild, beseeching
look--as Tardif described it, the look of a creature hunted and
terrified. I thought she would have fallen, and I put my arm round her.
She fastened both her hands about mine, and her lips moved, though I
could not catch a word she was saying.

"Olivia!" I cried, "Olivia! do you suppose I could do any thing to hurt
you? Do not be so frightened! Why, I am your friend truly. I wish to
Heaven I had not shown you the thing. Have more faith in me, and more
courage."

"But they will find me, and force me away from here," she muttered.

"No," I said; "that advertisement was printed in the _Times_ directly
after your flight last October. They have not found you out yet; and the
longer you are hidden, the less likely they are to find you. Good
Heavens! what a fool I was to show it to you!"

"Never mind," she answered, recovering herself a little, but still
clinging to my arm; "I was only frightened for the time. You would not
give me up to them if you knew all."

"Give you up to them!" I repeated, bitterly. "Am I a Judas?"

But she could not talk to me any more. She was trembling like an
aspen-leaf, and her breath came sobbingly. All I could do was to take
her home, blaming myself for my cursed folly.

Captain Carey and Tardif met us at the farm-yard gate, but Olivia could
not speak to them; and we passed them in silence, challenged by their
inquisitive looks. She could only bid me good-by in a tremulous voice;
and I watched her go on into her own little room, and close the door
between us. That was the last I should see of her before my marriage.

Tardif walked with us to the top of the cliff, and made me a formal,
congratulatory speech before quitting us. When he was gone, Captain
Carey stood still until he was quite out of hearing, and then stretched
out his hand toward the thatched roof, yellow with stone-crop and
lichens.

"This is a serious business, Martin," he said, looking sternly at me;
"you are in love with that girl."

"I love her with all my heart and soul!" I cried.




CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH.

IN A FIX.


Yes, I loved Olivia with all my heart and soul.

I had not known it myself till that moment; and now I acknowledged it
boldly, almost defiantly, with a strange mingling of delight and pain in
the confession.

Yet the words startled me as I uttered them. They had involved in them
so many unpleasant consequences, so much chagrin and bitterness as their
practical result, that I stood aghast--even while my pulses throbbed,
and my heart beat high, with the novel rapture of loving any woman as I
loved Olivia. If I followed out my avowal to its just issue, I should be
a traitor to Julia; and all my life up to the present moment would be
lost to me. I had scarcely spoken it before I dropped my head on my
hands with a groan.

"Come, come, my poor fellow!" said Captain Carey, who could never see a
dog with his tail between his legs without whistling to him and patting
him, "we must see what can be done."

It was neither a time nor a place for the indulgence of emotion of any
kind. It was impossible for me to remain on the cliffs, bemoaning my
unhappy fate. I strode on doggedly down the path, kicking the loose
stones into the water as they came in my way. Captain Carey followed,
whistling softly to himself, and, of all the tunes in the world, he
chose the one to the "Three Fishers," which I had sung to Olivia. He
continued doing so after we were aboard the yacht, and I saw the boatmen
exchange apprehensive glances.

"We shall have wind enough, without whistling for it, before we reach
Guernsey," said one of them, after a while; and Captain Carey relapsed
into silence. We scarcely spoke again, except about the shifting of the
sails, in our passage across. A pretty stiff breeze was blowing, and we
found plenty of occupation.

"I cannot leave you like this, Martin, my boy," said Captain Carey, when
we went ashore at St. Sampson's; and he put his arm through mine
affectionately.

"You will keep my secret?" I said--my voice a key or two lower than
usual.

"Martin," answered the good-hearted, clear-sighted old bachelor, "you
must not do Julia the wrong of keeping this secret from her."

"I must," I urged. "Olivia knows nothing of it; nobody guesses it but
you. I must conquer it. Things have gone too far with poor Julia, for me
to back out of our marriage now. You know that as well as I do. Think of
it, Captain Carey!"

"But shall you conquer it?" asked Captain Carey, seriously.

I could not answer yes frankly and freely. It seemed a sheer
impossibility for me to root out this new love, which I found in my
heart below all the old loves and friendships of my whole life. Mad as I
was with myself at the thought of my folly, the folly was so sweet to
me, that I would as soon have parted with life itself. Nothing in the
least resembling this feeling had been a matter of experience with me
before. I had read of it in poetry and novels, and laughed a little at
it; but now it had come upon me like a strong man armed. I quailed and
flinched before the painful conflict necessary to cast out the precious
guest.

"Martin," urged Captain Carey, "come up to Johanna, and tell her all
about it."

Johanna Carey was one of the powers in the island. Everybody knew her;
and everybody went to her for comfort and counsel. She was, of course,
related to us all; and knew the exact degree of relationship among us,
having the genealogy of each family at her fingers' ends. But, besides
these family histories, which were common property, she was also
intrusted with the inmost secrets of every household--those secrets
which were the most carefully and jealously guarded. I had always been a
favorite with her, and nothing could be more natural than this proposal
of her brother's, that I should go and tell her all my dilemma.

The house stood on the border of L'Ancresse Common, with no view of the
sea, but with the soft, undulating brows and hollows of the common lying
before it, and a broken battlement of rocks rising beyond them.

There was always a low, solemn murmur of the invisible sea, singing like
a lullaby about the peaceful dwelling, and hushing it into a more
profound quiet than even utter silence; for utter silence is irksome and
fretting to the ear, which needs some slight reverberation to keep the
brain behind it still. A perfume of violets, and the more dainty scent
of primroses, pervaded the garden. It seemed incredible that any man
should be allowed to live in such a spot; but then Captain Carey was
almost as gentle and fastidious as a woman.

Johanna was not unlike her home. There was a repose about her similar to
the calm of a judge, which gave additional weight to her counsels. The
moment we entered through the gates, a certainty of comfort and help
appeared to be wafted upon the pure breeze, floating across the common
from the sea.

Johanna was standing at one of the windows in a Quakerish dress of some
gray stuff, and with a plain white cap over her white hair. She came
down to the door as soon as she saw me, and received me with a motherly
kiss, which I returned with more than usual warmth, as one does in any
new kind of trouble. I think she was instantly aware that something was
amiss with me.

"Is dinner ready, Johanna?" asked her brother; "we are as hungry as
hunters."

That was not true as far as I was concerned. For the first time within
my recollection my appetite quite failed me, and I merely played with my
knife and fork.

Captain Carey regarded me pitifully, and said, "Come, come, Martin, my
boy!" several times.

Johanna made no remark; but her quiet, searching eyes looked me through
and through, till I almost longed for the time when she would begin to
question and cross-question me. After she was gone, Captain Carey gave
me two or three glasses of his choicest wine, to cheer me up, as he
said; but we were not long before we followed his sister.

"Johanna," said Captain Carey, "we have something to tell you."

"Come and sit here by me," she said, making room for me beside her on
her sofa; for long experience had taught her how much more difficult it
is to make a confession face to face with one's confessor, under the
fire of his eyes, as it were, than when one is partially concealed from
him.

"Well," she said, in her calm, inviting voice.

"Johanna," I replied, "I am in a terrible fix!"

"Awful!" cried Captain Carey, sympathetically; but a glance from his
sister put him to silence.

"What is it, my dear Martin?" asked her inviting voice again.

"I will tell you frankly," I said, feeling I must have it out at once,
like an aching tooth. "I love, with all my heart and soul, that girl in
Sark; the one who has been my patient there."

"Martin!" she cried, in a tone full of surprise and agitation--"Martin!"

"Yes; I know all you would urge--my honor; my affection for Julia; the
claims she has upon me, the strongest claims possible; how good and
worthy she is; what an impossibility it is even to look back now. I know
it all, and feel how miserably binding it is upon me. Yet I love Olivia;
and I shall never love Julia."

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