VII
Friends
The Doctor's modest establishment consisted of two rooms over thepost-office. Here his shingle swung idly in the Summer breeze orresisted the onslaughts of the Winter storms. The infrequent patientseldom met anyone else in the office, but in case there should be two atonce, a dusty chair had been placed in the hall.
Both rooms were kept scrupulously clean by the wife of the postmaster,who lived on the same floor, but the bottles ranged in orderly rows uponthe shelves were left severely alone, because the ministering influencelived in hourly dread of poison.
Here the family physician of East Lancaster lived out his monotonousexistence. When he had first taken up his abode there, he had set up hishousehold gods upon the hill, in company with his countrymen. He soonfound, however, that his practice was confined to the hill, and that,for all he might know to the contrary, East Lancaster was unaware of hisexistence.
It was the postmaster who first set him right. "If you're a-layin' outto heal them as has the money to pay for it," he had said, "you'll haveto move. This yere brook, what seems so innocent-like, is the chalk markthat partitions the sheep off from the goats. You'll find it so in everyplace. Sometimes it's water, sometimes it's a car track, and sometimes adeepo, but it's always there, though more 'n likely there ain't no realline exceptin' the one what's drawn in folks' fool heads. I reckon,bein' as you're a doctor, you're familiar with that line down the middleof human's brains. Well, this yere brook is practically the same thing,considerin' East and West Lancaster for a minute as brains, the which isa high compliment to both."
So, at the earliest possible moment, the Doctor had cast in his fortuneswith the "quality." East Lancaster affected refined astonishment atfirst, but when the resident physician, who had long enjoyed the deeprespect of the community, had been gathered to his fathers, DoctorBrinkerhoff became the last resort. His skill was universally admitted,but no one went to his office, for fear of meeting undesirablestrangers. It was thought to be in better taste to pay the double feeand have the Doctor call, even for such slight ailments as boils and cutfingers.
The man was mentally broad enough to be amused at the eccentricities ofEast Lancaster, though his keen old eyes did not fail to discern that hewas merely tolerated where he had hoped to find friends. Within thenarrow confines of his establishment, he cultivated a serene andcomfortable philosophy. To suit himself to his environment when thatenvironment was out of his power to change, to seek for the good ineverything and resolutely refuse to be affected by the bad, to believesteadfastly in the law of Compensation--this was Doctor Brinkerhoff'screed.
On Wednesday and Saturday evenings, he was received as an equal by twoof the aristocratic families. On Sunday mornings, he never failed toattend church. Before the last notes of the bell died away, he wasalways in his place. After the service, he hurried away, making courtlyacknowledgments on every side to the formal greetings.
Sunday afternoons, precisely at half-past four, he went up the hill toHerr Kaufmann's and spent the evening. This weekly visit was the leavenof Fraeulein Fredrika's humdrum life. There was a sort of romance aboutit which glorified the commonplace and she looked forward to it withrepressed excitement. Poor Fraeulein Fredrika! Perhaps she, too, had herdreams.
In many respects the two men were kindred. Their conversations werefrequently perfunctory, but lacked no whit of sustaining grace for that.Talk, after all, is pathetically cheap. Where one cannot understandwithout words, no amount of explanation will make things clear. Acrossimpassable deeps, like lofty peaks of widely parted ranges, soul greetssoul. Separated forever by the limitations of our clay, we live and dieabsolutely alone. Even Love, the magician, who for dazzling momentsgives new sight and boundless revelation, cannot always work his charm.A third of our lives is spent in sleep, and who shall say whatproportion of the rest is endured in planetary isolation?
June came through the open windows of the house upon the brink of thecliff and the Master dozed in his chair. The height was glaring, becausethere were no trees. The spirit of German progress had cut down everyone of the lofty pines and maples, save at the edges of the settlement,where primeval woods, sloping down to the valley, still flourished.
Fraeulein Fredrika sat with her face resolutely turned to the west. Itwas Sunday and almost half-past four, but she would not look for theexpected guest. She preferred to concentrate her mind upon somethingelse, and when the rusty bell-wire creaked, experience all the emotionof a delightful surprise.
At the appointed hour, he came, and the colour of dead rose petalsbloomed on the Fraeulein's withered face. "Herr Doctor," she said, "it ismost kind. Mine brudder will be pleased."
"Wake up!" cried the Doctor, with a hearty laugh, as he strode into theroom. "You can't sleep all the time!"
"So," said the Master, with an understanding smile, as he straightenedhimself and rubbed his eyes, "it is you!"
Fraeulein Fredrika sat in the corner and watched the two whom she lovedbest in all the world. No one was so wise as her Franz, unless it mightbe the Herr Doctor, to whom all the mysteries of life and death were asan open book.
"To me," said the Doctor, once, "much has been given to see. My Fatherhas graciously allowed me to help Him. I am first to welcome the soulthat arrives from Him, and I am last to say farewell to those He takesback. What wonder if, now and then, I presume to send Him a message ofmy faith and my belief?"
The Master's idea of satisfying companionship was not a flow ofuninterrupted talk, marred by much levity. He merely asked that hisfriend should be near at hand, that he might communicate with him whenhe chose. When he had a thought which seemed worthy of dignifiedinspection, he would offer it, but not before.
On this particular afternoon, Lynn was exceedingly restless. Likemany other men, to whom the thing is impossible, he vaguely fearedfeminisation. The variety of soft influences continually about himhad a subtle, enervating effect.
Iris was reading, his mother was writing letters, and Aunt Peace wasendeavouring to entertain him with reminiscences of her early youth.When life lies fair in the distance, with the rosy hues of anticipationtransfiguring its rugged steeps and yawning chasms, we are young, thoughour years may number threescore and ten. On that first day when we lookback, either happily or with remorse, to the stony ways over which wehave travelled, losing concern for that part of the journey which is yetto come, we have grown old.
"That is very interesting," said Lynn, when Aunt Peace had finished herdescription of the first school she attended. "I think I'll go out for awalk now, if you don't mind. Will you tell mother, please, when shecomes down?"
He went off at a rapid pace and made a long, circling tour of EastLancaster, ending at the bridge, where he, too, leaned over and lookedinto the sunny depths of the stream. Doctor Brinkerhoff's sign, wavingin the wind, gave him an idea. Accidentally, he had hit upon his need;he hungered for the companionship of his kind.
But Doctor Brinkerhoff was not at home, and the deserted corridorsechoed strangely beneath his tread. He walked the length of the longhall a few times, because there seemed nothing else to do, and theDoctor's cat, locked in the office, mewed piteously.
"Poor pussy!" said Lynn, consolingly, "I wish I could let you out, but Ican't."
Up the hill he went, his nameless irritation already sensibly decreased.After all, it was good to be alive--to breathe the free air, feel thewarm sun upon his cheek and the springy turf beneath his feet.
"Someone is coming," announced Fraeulein Fredrika. "I think it will bethe Herr Irving."
"Herr Irving," repeated the Master. "Mine pupil? It is not the day forhis lesson."
"Perhaps someone is ill," suggested the Doctor.
But, as it happened, Lynn had no errand save that of pure friendliness.His buoyant spirits immediately gave a freshness to the time-worn themesof conversation, and they talked until sunset.
"It is good to have friends," observed the Master. "In one's wideacquaintance every person has his own place. You lose on
e friend,perhaps, and you think, 'Well, I can get along without him,' but it isnot so. We have as many sides as we know people, and each acquaintancesees a different one, which is often only a reflection of himself.
"This afternoon, we have been speaking of Truth, and how it is thatthings entirely opposite each other can both be true. The Herr Doctorsays it is because Truth has many sides, but I say no. Truth is oneclear white light and we are sun-glasses with many corners. Prisms, Ithink you say. If the light strikes a sharp edge, it breaks into manycolours. To one of us everything will be purple, to another red, and toyet one more it will be all blue. If we have many edges, we see manycolours. It is only the person who is in tune, who lets the light passwith no interruption, who sees all things in one harmony, and Truth asit is."
"Yes," said the Doctor, "that is all very true. When we oppose ourpersonal opinion to the thing as it is, and have our minds set upon whatshould be, according to our ideas, it makes an edge. I think it is thefinest art of living to see things as they are and make the best ofthem. There is so little that we can change! If the colours break overus, it is the fault of our sharp edges and not of the light."
"We are getting very serious," observed Lynn. "For my part, I take eachday just as it comes."
"One day," repeated the Master. "How many possible things there are init! What was it the poet said of Herr Columbus? Yes, I have it now. 'Oneday with life and hope and heart is time enough to find a world.'"
"That is the beauty of it," put in the Doctor. "One day is surelyenough. An old lady who had fallen and hurt herself badly said to meonce: 'Doctor, how long must I lie here?' 'Have patience, my dearmadam,' said I. 'You have only one day at a time to live. Get all thecontent you can out of it, and let the rest wait, like a bud, till thesun of to-morrow shows you the rose.'"
"Did she get well?" asked Lynn.
"Of course--why not?"
"His sick ones always get well," said Fraeulein Fredrika, timidly. "Minebrudder's friend possesses great skill."
She was laying the table for the simple Sunday night tea, and Lynn saidthat he must go.
"No, no," objected the Master, "you must stay."
"It would be of a niceness," the Fraeulein assured him, very politely.
"We should enjoy it," said the Doctor.
"You are all very kind," returned Lynn, "but they will look for me athome, and I must not disappoint them."
"Then," continued the Doctor, "may I not hope that you will play for mebefore you go?"
"Certainly, if I have Herr Kaufmann's permission, and if I may borrowone of his violins."
"Of a surety." The Master clattered down the uncarpeted stairs andreturned with an instrument of his own make. Without accompaniment, Lynnplayed, and the Doctor nodded his enthusiastic approval. Herr Kaufmannlooked out of the window and paid not the slightest attention to theperformance.
"Very fine," said the Doctor. "We have enjoyed it."
"I am glad," replied Lynn, modestly. Then, flushed with the praise, andhis own pleasure in his achievement, he turned to the Master. "How am Igetting on?" he asked, anxiously. "Don't you think I am improving?"
"Yes," returned the Master, dryly; "by next week you will be onePaganini."
Stung by the sarcasm, Lynn went home, and after tea the group resolveditself into its original elements. Herr Kaufmann and the Doctor sat intheir respective easy-chairs, conversing with each other by means ofsilences, with here and there a word of comment, and Fraeulein Fredrikawas in the corner, silent, too, and yet overcome with admiration.
"That boy," said the Doctor, at length, "he has genius."
The crescent moon gleamed faintly against the sunset, and a waywornrobin, with slow-beating wings, circled toward his nest in one of themaples on the other side of the valley. The fragrant dusk sheltered thelittle house, which all day had borne the heat of the sun.
"Possibly," said the Master, "but no heart, no feeling. He is alltechnique."
There was another long pause. "His mother," observed the Doctor, "doyou know her?"
"No. I meet no women but mine sister."
"She is a lovely lady."
"So?"
It was evident that the Master had no interest in Margaret Irving, butthe Doctor still brooded upon the vision. She was different from anyoneelse in East Lancaster, and he admired her very much.
"That boy," said the Doctor, again, "he has her eyes."
"Whose?"
"His mother's."
"So?"
The interval lengthened into an hour, and presently the kitchen clockstruck ten. "I shall go now," remarked the Doctor, rising.
"Not yet," said the Master. "Come!"
They went downstairs together, into the shop. It had happened before,though rarely, and the Doctor suspected that he was about to receive thegreatest possible kindness from his friend's hands. Herr Kaufmanndisappeared into his bedroom and was gone a long time.
The room was dark, and the Doctor did not dare to move for fear ofstepping upon some of the wood destined for violins. A cricket in thecorner sang cheerily and ceased suddenly in the middle of a chirp whenthe Master came back with a lighted candle.
"One moment, Herr Doctor."
He whisked off again and presently returned, holding under his armsomething that was wrapped in many pieces of ragged silk. One by onethese were removed, and at last the treasure was revealed.
He held it off at arm's length, where the light might shine upon itsbeauty, and well out of reach of a random touch. The Doctor said theexpected thing, but it fell upon deaf ears. The Master's fine face wasalight with more than earthly joy, and he stroked the brown breastslovingly.
"Mine Cremona!" he breathed. "Mine--all mine!"