‘I remembered afterwards the forced display she made, after Miss Tyrrell left the room, of a valentine. But I took no notice at the time; my head was full of Sophy.
‘It was on that very day that John Brouncker, the gardener to all of us who had small gardens to keep in order, fell down and injured his wrist severely (I don’t give you the details of the case, because they would not interest you, being too technical; if you’ve any curiosity, you will find them in the Lancet of August in that year). We all liked John, and this accident was felt like a town’s misfortune. The gardens, too, just wanted doing up. Both Mr Morgan and I went directly to him. It was a very awkward case, and his wife and children were crying sadly. He himself was in great distress at being thrown out of work. He begged us to do something that would cure him speedily, as he could not afford to be laid up, with six children depending on him for bread. We did not say much before him, but we both thought the arm would have to come off, and it was his right arm. We talked it over when we came out of the cottage. Mr Morgan had no doubt of the necessity. I went back at dinner-time to see the poor fellow. He was feverish and anxious. He had caught up some expression of Mr Morgan’s in the morning, and had guessed the measure we had in contemplation. He bade his wife leave the room, and spoke to me by myself.
‘“If you please, sir, I’d rather be done for at once than have my arm taken off, and be a burden to my family. I’m not afraid of dying, but I could not stand being a cripple for life, eating bread, and not able to earn it.”
‘The tears were in his eyes with earnestness. I had all along been more doubtful about the necessity of the amputation than Mr Morgan. I knew the improved treatment in such cases. In his days there was much more of the rough and ready in surgical practice; so I gave the poor fellow some hope.
‘In the afternoon I met Mr Bullock.
‘“So you’re to try your hand at an amputation to-morrow, I hear. Poor John Brouncker! I used to tell him he was not careful enough about his ladders. Mr Morgan is quite excited about it. He asked me to be present, and see how well a man from Guy’s could operate; he says he is sure you’ll do it beautifully. Pah! no such sights for me, thank you.”
‘Ruddy Mr Bullock went a shade or two paler at the thought.
‘“Curious! how professionally a man views these things. Here’s Mr Morgan, who has been all along as proud of you as if you were his own son, absolutely rubbing his hands at the idea of this crowning glory, this feather in your cap! He told me just now he knew he had always been too nervous to be a good operator; and had therefore preferred sending for White from Chesterton. But now any one might have a serious accident who liked, for you would be always at hand.”
‘I told Mr Bullock, I really thought we might avoid the amputation; but his mind was preoccupied with the idea of it, and he did not care to listen to me. The whole town was full of it. That is a charm in a little town, everybody is so sympathetically full of the same events. Even Miss Horsman stopped me to ask after John Brouncker with interest; but she threw cold water upon my intention of saving the arm.
‘“As for the wife and family, we’ll take care of them. Think what a fine opportunity you have of showing off, Mr Harrison!”
‘That was just like her. Always ready with her suggestions of ill-natured or interested motives.
‘Mr Morgan heard my proposal of a mode of treatment by which I thought it possible that the arm might be saved.
‘“I differ from you, Mr Harrison,” said he. “I regret it, but I differ in toto from you. Your kind heart deceives you in this instance. There is no doubt that amputation must take place – not later than to-morrow morning, I should say. I have made myself at liberty to attend upon you, sir; I shall be happy to officiate as your assistant. Time was when I should have been proud to be principal, but a little trembling in my arm incapacitates me.”
‘I urged my reasons upon him again; but he was obstinate. He had, in fact, boasted so much of my acquirements as an operator, that he was unwilling I should lose this opportunity of displaying my skill. He could not see that there would be greater skill evinced in saving the arm; nor did I think of this at the time. I grew angry at his old-fashioned narrow-mindedness, as I thought it; and I became dogged in my resolution to adhere to my own course. We parted very coolly; and I went straight off to John Brouncker to tell him I believed that I could save the arm, if he would refuse to have it amputated. When I calmed myself a little, before going in and speaking to him, I could not help acknowledging that we should run some risk of locked jaw; but, on the whole, and after giving most earnest conscientious thought to the case, I was sure that my mode of treatment would be best.
‘He was a sensible man. I told him the difference of opinion that existed between Mr Morgan and myself. I said that there might be some little risk attending the non-amputation; but that I should guard against it, and I trusted that I should be able to preserve his arm.
‘“Under God’s blessing,” said he, reverently. I bowed my head. I don’t like to talk too frequently of the dependence which I always felt on that holy blessing, as to the result of my efforts; but I was glad to hear that speech of John’s, because it showed a calm and faithful heart; and I had almost certain hopes of him from that time.
‘We agreed that he should tell Mr Morgan the reason of his objections to the amputation, and his reliance on my opinion. I determined to recur to every book I had relating to such cases, and to convince Mr Morgan, if I could, of my wisdom. Unluckily, I found out afterwards that he had met Miss Horsman in the time that intervened before I saw him again at his own house that evening; and she had more than hinted that I shrunk from performing the operation, “for very good reasons, no doubt. She had heard that the medical students in London were a bad set, and were not remarkable for regular attendance in the hospitals. She might be mistaken; but she thought it was, perhaps, quite as well poor John Brouncker had not his arm cut off by —. Was there not such a thing as mortification coming on after a clumsy operation? It was, perhaps, only a choice of deaths!”
‘Mr Morgan had been stung at all this. Perhaps I did not speak quite respectfully enough; I was a good deal excited. We only got more and more angry with each other; though he, to do him justice, was as civil as could be all the time, thinking that thereby he concealed his vexation and disappointment. He did not try to conceal his anxiety about poor John. I went home weary and dispirited. I made up and took the necessary applications to John; and, promising to return with the dawn of day (I would fain have stayed, but I did not wish him to be alarmed about himself ), I went home, and resolved to sit up and study the treatment of similar cases.
‘Mrs Rose knocked at the door.
‘“Come in!” said I, sharply.
‘She said she had seen I had something on my mind all day, and she could not go to bed without asking if there was nothing she could do. She was good and kind; and I could not help telling her a little of the truth. She listened pleasantly; and I shook her warmly by the hand, thinking that though she might not be very wise, her good heart made her worth a dozen keen, sharp, hard people, like Miss Horsman.
‘When I went at daybreak, I saw John’s wife for a few minutes outside of the door. She seemed to wish her husband had been in Mr Morgan’s hands rather than mine; but she gave me as good an account as I dared to hope for of the manner in which her husband had passed the night. This was confirmed by my own examination.
‘When Mr Morgan and I visited him together later on in the day, John said what we had agreed upon the day before; and I told Mr Morgan openly that it was by my advice that amputation was declined. He did not speak to me till we had left the house. Then he said – “Now, sir, from this time, I consider the case entirely in your hands. Only remember the poor fellow has a wife and six children. In case you come round to my opinion, remember that Mr White could come over, as he has done before, for the operation.”
‘So! Mr Morgan believed I declined operating because I felt myself incapable. Very w
ell! I was much mortified.
‘An hour after we parted, I received a note to this effect –
‘“Dear Sir – I will take the long round to-day, to leave you at liberty to attend to Brouncker’s case, which I feel to be a very responsible one.
‘“J. MORGAN.”
‘This was kindly done. I went back, as soon as I could, to John’s cottage. While I was in the inner room with him, I heard the Miss Tomkinsons’ voices outside. They had called to inquire. Miss Tomkinson came in, and evidently was poking and snuffing about. (Mrs Brouncker told her that I was within; and within I resolved to be till they had gone.)
‘“What is this close smell?” asked she. “I am afraid you are not cleanly. Cheese! – cheese in this cupboard! No wonder there is an unpleasant smell. Don’t you know how particular you should be about being clean when there is illness about?”
‘Mrs Brouncker was exquisitely clean in general, and was piqued at these remarks.
‘“If you please, ma’am, I could not leave John yesterday to do any house-work, and Jenny put the dinner-things away. She is but eight years old.”
‘But this did not satisfy Miss Tomkinson, who was evidently pursuing the course of her observations.
‘“Fresh butter, I declare! Well now, Mrs Brouncker, do you know I don’t allow myself fresh butter at this time of the year? How can you save, indeed, with such extravagances!”
‘“Please, ma’am,” answered Mrs Brouncker, “you’d think it strange, if I was to take such liberties in your house as you’re taking here.”
‘I expected to hear a sharp answer. No! Miss Tomkinson liked true plain-speaking. The only person in whom she would tolerate round-about ways of talking was her sister.
‘“Well, that’s true,” she said. “Still, you must not be above taking advice. Fresh butter is extravagant at this time of the year. However, you’re a good kind woman, and I’ve a great respect for John. Send Jenny for some broth as soon as he can take it. Come, Caroline, we have got to go on to Williams’s.”
‘But Miss Caroline said that she was tired, and would rest where she was till Miss Tomkinson came back. I was a prisoner for some time, I found. When she was alone with Mrs Brouncker, she said –
‘“You must not be hurt by my sister’s abrupt manner. She means well. She has not much imagination or sympathy, and cannot understand the distraction of mind produced by the illness of a worshipped husband.” I could hear the loud sigh of commiseration which followed this speech. Mrs Brouncker said –
‘“Please, ma’am, I don’t worship my husband. I would not be so wicked.”
‘“Goodness! You don’t think it wicked, do you? For my part, if … I should worship, I should adore him.” I thought she need not imagine such improbable cases. But sturdy Mrs Brouncker said again –
‘“I hope I know my duty better. I’ve not learned my Commandments for nothing. I know whom I ought to worship.”
‘Just then the children came in, dirty and unwashed, I have no doubt. And now Miss Caroline’s real nature peeped out. She spoke sharply to them, and asked them if they had no manners, little pigs as they were, to come brushing against her silk gown in that way? She sweetened herself again, and was as sugary as love when Miss Tomkinson returned for her, accompanied by one whose voice, “like winds in summer sighing,” I knew to be my dear Sophy’s.
‘She did not say much; but what she did say and the manner in which she spoke, was tender and compassionate in the highest degree; and she came to take the four little ones back with her to the vicarage, in order that they might be out of their mother’s way; the older two might help at home. She offered to wash their hands and faces; and when I emerged from my inner chamber, after the Miss Tomkinsons had left, I found her with a chubby child on her knees, bubbling and spluttering against her white wet hand, with a face bright, rosy, and merry under the operation. Just as I came in, she said to him, “There, Jemmy, now I can kiss you with this nice clean face.”
‘She coloured when she saw me. I liked her speaking, and I liked her silence. She was silent now, and I “lo’ed a’ the better.” I gave my directions to Mrs Brouncker, and hastened to overtake Sophy and the children; but they had gone round by the lanes, I suppose, for I saw nothing of them.
‘I was very anxious about the case. At night I went again. Miss Horsman had been there; I believe she was really kind among the poor, but she could not help leaving a sting behind her everywhere. She had been frightening Mrs Brouncker about her husband; and been, I have no doubt, expressing her doubts of my skill; for Mrs Brouncker began:
‘“Oh, please, sir, if you’ll only let Mr Morgan take off his arm, I will never think the worse of you for not being able to do it.”
‘I told her it was from no doubt of my own competency to perform the operation that I wished to save the arm; but that he himself was anxious to have it spared.
‘“Ay, bless him! he frets about not earning enough to keep us, if he’s crippled; but, sir, I don’t care about that. I would work my fingers to the bone, and so would the children; I’m sure we’d be proud to do for him, and keep him; God bless him! it would be far better to have him only with one arm, than to have him in the churchyard, Miss Horsman says –’
‘“Confound Miss Horsman!” said I.
‘“Thank you, Mr Harrison,” was her well-known voice behind me. She had come out, dark as it was, to bring some old linen to Mrs Brouncker; for, as I said before, she was very kind to all the poor people of Duncombe.
‘“I beg your pardon;” for I really was sorry for my speech, or rather, that she had heard it.
‘“There is no occasion for any apology,” she replied, drawing herself up, and pinching her lips into a very venomous shape.
‘John was doing pretty well: but of course the danger of locked jaw was not over. Before I left, his wife entreated me to take off the arm; she wrung her hands in her passionate entreaty. “Spare him to me, Mr Harrison,” she implored. Miss Horsman stood by. It was mortifying enough; but I thought of the power which was in my hands, as I firmly believed, of saving the limb; and I was inflexible.
‘You cannot think how pleasantly Mrs Rose’s sympathy came in on my return. To be sure she did not understand one word of the case, which I detailed to her; but she listened with interest, and, as long as she held her tongue, I thought she was really taking it in; but her first remark was as mal à propos as could be.
‘“You are anxious to save the tibia – I see completely how difficult that will be. My late husband had a case exactly similar, and I remember his anxiety; but you must not distress yourself too much, my dear Mr Harrison; I have no doubt it will end well.”
‘I knew she had no grounds for this assurance, and yet it comforted me.
‘However, as it happened, John did fully as well as I could have hoped for; of course, he was long in rallying his strength; and, indeed, sea-air was evidently so necessary for his complete restoration, that I accepted with gratitude Mrs Rose’s proposal of sending him to Highport for a fortnight or three weeks. Her kind generosity in this matter made me more desirous than ever of paying her every mark of respect and attention.
Chapter XV
‘ABOUT THIS TIME there was a sale at Ashmeadow, a pretty house in the neighbourhood of Duncombe. It was likewise an easy walk, and the spring days tempted many people thither, who had no intention of buying anything, but who liked the idea of rambling through the woods, gay with early primroses and wild daffodils, and of seeing the gardens and house, which till now had been shut up from the ingress of the townspeople. Mrs Rose had planned to go, but an unlucky cold prevented her. She begged me to bring her a very particular account, saying she delighted in details, and always questioned the late Mr Rose as to the side dishes of the dinners to which he went. The late Mr Rose’s conduct was always held up as a model to me, by the way. I walked to Ashmeadow, pausing or loitering with different parties of townspeople, all bound in the same direction. At last I found the Vicar and Sophy, and with t
hem I stayed. I sat by Sophy, and talked and listened. A sale is a very pleasant gathering after all. The auctioneer, in a country place, is privileged to joke from his rostrum; and having a personal knowledge of most of the people, can sometimes make a very keen hit at their circumstances, and turn the laugh against them. For instance, on the present occasion, there was a farmer present, with his wife, who was notoriously the grey mare. The auctioneer was selling some horse-cloths, and called out to recommend the article to her, telling her, with a knowing look at the company, that they would make her a dashing pair of trousers, if she was in want of such an article. She drew herself up with dignity, and said, “Come, John, we’ve had enough of these.” Whereupon there was a burst of laughter, and in the midst of it John meekly followed his wife out of the place. The furniture in the sitting-rooms was, I believe, very beautiful, but I did not notice it much. Suddenly I heard the auctioneer speaking to me, “Mr Harrison, won’t you give me a bid for this table?”
‘It was a very pretty little table of walnut-wood. I thought it would go into my study very well, so I gave him a bid. I saw Miss Horsman bidding against me, so I went off with full force, and at last it was knocked down to me. The auctioneer smiled, and congratulated me.
‘“A useful present for Mrs Harrison, when that lady comes.”
‘Everybody laughed. They like a joke about marriage; it is so easy of comprehension. But the table which I had thought was for writing, turned out to be a work-table, scissors and thimble complete. No wonder I looked foolish. Sophy was not looking at me, that was one comfort. She was busy arranging a nosegay of wood-anemone and wild sorrel.
‘Miss Horsman came up, with her curious eyes.