The Surgeon's Daughter by Walter Scott (summer beach reads .txt) 📗

in the vehicle. The one, a gentleman in a riding dress, sprung out, and having received from the Doctor an assurance that the lady would receive tolerable accommodation in his house, he lent assistance to his companion to leave the carriage, and with great apparent satisfaction, saw her safely deposited in a decent sleeping apartment, and under the respectable charge of the Doctor and his lady, who assured him once more of every species of attention. To bind their promise more firmly, the stranger slipped a purse of twenty guineas (for this story chanced in the golden age) into the hand of the Doctor, as an earnest of the most liberal recompense, and requested he would spare no expense in providing all that was necessary or desirable for a person in the lady's condition, and for the helpless being to whom she might immediately be expected to give birth. He then said he would retire to the inn, where he begged a message might instantly acquaint him with the expected change in the lady's situation.

“She is of rank,” he said, “and a foreigner; let no expense be spared. We designed to have reached Edinburgh, but were forced to turn off the road by an accident.” Once more he said, “Let no expense be spared, and manage that she may travel as soon as possible.”

“That,” said the Doctor, “is past my control. Nature must not be hurried, and she avenges herself of every attempt to do so.”

“But art,” said the stranger, “can do much,” and he proffered a second purse, which seemed as heavy as the first.

“Art,” said the Doctor, “may be recompensed, but cannot be purchased. You have already paid me more than enough to take the utmost care I can of your lady; should I accept more money, it could only be for promising, by implication at least, what is beyond my power to perform. Every possible care shall be taken of your lady, and that affords the best chance of her being speedily able to travel. Now, go you to the inn, sir, for I may be instantly wanted, and we have not yet provided either an attendant for the lady, or a nurse for the child; but both shall be presently done.”

“Yet a moment, Doctor—what languages do you understand?”

“Latin and French I can speak indifferently, and so as to be understood; and I read a little Italian.”

“But no Portuguese or Spanish?” continued the stranger.

“No, sir.”

“That is unlucky. But you may make her understand you by means of French. Take notice, you are to comply with her request in everything—if you want means to do so, you may apply to me.”

“May I ask, sir, by what name the lady is to be”—

“It is totally indifferent,” said the stranger, interrupting the question; “You shall know it at more leisure.”

So saying, he threw his ample cloak about him, turning himself half round to assist the operation, with an air which the Doctor would have found it difficult to imitate, and walked down the street to the little inn. Here he paid and dismissed the postilions, and shut himself up in an apartment, ordering no one to be admitted till the Doctor should call.

The Doctor, when he returned to his patient's apartment, found his wife in great surprise, which, as is usual with persons of her character, was not unmixed with fear and anxiety.

“She cannot speak a word like a Christian being,” said Mrs. Gray.

“I know it,” said the Doctor.

“But she threeps to keep on a black fause-face, and skirls if we offer to take it away.”

“Well then, let her wear it—What harm will it do?”

“Harm, Doctor!” Was ever honest woman brought to bed with a fause-face on?”

“Seldom, perhaps. But, Jean, my dear, those who are not quite honest must be brought to bed all the same as those who are, and we are not to endanger the poor thing's life by contradicting her whims at present.”

Approaching the sick woman's bed, he observed that she indeed wore a thin silk mask, of the kind which do such uncommon service in the elder comedy; such as women of rank still wore in travelling, but certainly never in the situation of this poor lady. It would seem she had sustained importunity on the subject, for when she saw the Doctor, she put her hand to her face, as if she was afraid he would insist on pulling off the vizard.

He hastened to say, in tolerable French, that her will should be a law to them in every respect, and that she was at perfect liberty to wear the mask till it was her pleasure to lay it aside. She understood him; for she replied, by a very imperfect attempt, in the same language, to express her gratitude for the permission, as she seemed to regard it, of retaining her disguise.

The Doctor proceeded to other arrangements; and, for the satisfaction of those readers who may love minute information, we record, that Luckie Simson, the first in the race, carried as a prize the situation of sick-nurse beside the delicate patient; that Peg Thomson was permitted the privilege of recommending her good-daughter, Bet Jamieson, to be wet-nurse; and an oe, or grandchild, of Luckie Jaup was hired to assist in the increased drudgery of the family; the Doctor thus, like a practised minister, dividing among his trusty adherents such good things as fortune placed at his disposal.

About one in the morning the Doctor made his appearance at the Swan Inn, and acquainted the stranger gentleman, that he wished him joy of being the father of a healthy boy, and that the mother was, in the usual phrase, as well as could be expected.

The stranger heard the news with seeming satisfaction, and then exclaimed, “He must be christened, Doctor! he must be christened instantly!”

“There can be no hurry for that,” said the Doctor.

“We think otherwise,” said the stranger, cutting his argument short. “I am a Catholic, Doctor, and as I may be obliged to leave this place before the lady is able to travel, I desire to see my child received into the pale of the Church. There is, I understand, a Catholic priest in this wretched place?”

“There is a Catholic gentleman, sir, Mr. Goodriche, who is reported to be in orders.”

“I commend your caution, Doctor,” said the stranger; “it is dangerous to be too positive on any subject. I will bring that same Mr. Goodriche to your house to-morrow.”

Gray hesitated for a moment. “I am a Presbyterian Protestant, sir,” he said, “a friend to the constitution as established in Church and State, as I have a good right, having drawn his Majesty's pay, God bless him, for four years, as surgeon's mate in the Cameronian regiment, as my regimental Bible and commission can testify. But although I be bound especially to abhor all trafficking or trinketing with Papists, yet I will not stand in the way of a tender conscience. Sir, you may call with Mr. Goodriche, when you please, at my house; and undoubtedly, you being, as I suppose, the father of the child, you will arrange matters as you please; only, I do