The Story of a Doctor's Telephone Part 49

When he arrived at his destination he was met at the door by a well-dressed, handsome young man. "Just come into this room for a few minutes, Doctor. My wife says they are not quite ready for you in there."

"Who is the patient?" asked the doctor as he walked into the room indicated.

"The baby boy."

"The baby boy!" exclaimed the doctor. "I didn't know the little rascal had got here."

"Yes, you were out of town. My wife and I thought that ended the matter but he got here just the same."

"Mighty glad to hear it. How old is he?"

"Just ten days."

"Pretty fine, isn't he?"

"You bet! I wouldn't take all the farms in these United States for him."

"To be sure. To be sure," laughed the doctor. He picked up a little volume lying open on the table. "Do you like Omar?" he asked, aimlessly turning the pages.

"Very much. I don't always get the old Persian's meaning exactly. Take this verse," he reached for the book and turning back a few pages read:

"The moving finger writes; and having writ, Moves on; nor all your piety nor wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a line, Nor all your tears wash out a word of it.

That sounds pretty but it has something in it that almost scares a fellow--he doesn't know why."

The nurse appeared in the doorway and announced that the doctor might come in now. Both men rose and went across the hall into the bedroom.

The doctor shook hands with the baby's mother. "Where did you get this?"

he asked, laying his hand on the downy little head.

"He came out of the everywhere into the here," she quoted, smiling.

"Nurse, turn the baby's face up so the doctor can see his eyes. They're greatly inflamed, Doctor," she said.

The doctor started. "Bring a light closer," he said sharply.

While the light was being brought he asked, "Did this inflammation begin when the baby was about three days old?"

"He was exactly three days old."

"And been growing worse ever since?"

"Yes. Dr. Brown was with me when he was born. He came in the next day and everything was all right. Then he was called to Chicago and I didn't know enough about babies to know that this might be serious."

"_You_ ought to have known," said the doctor sternly, turning to the nurse.

"I am not a professional nurse. I have never seen anything like this before."

The light was brought and the nurse took the baby in her arms. The doctor, bending over it, lifted the swollen little lids and earnestly scrutinized the eyes. _The cornea was entirely destroyed!_

"O G.o.d!" The words came near escaping him. Sick at heart he turned his face away that the mother might not see. She must not know the awful truth until she was stronger. He gave some instructions to the nurse, then left the room followed by the baby's father.

"Stop for a few minutes, Doctor, if you please. I'd like to ask you something about this," and both resumed their seats, after Mr. Ardmore had closed the door.

"Do you think the baby's eyes have been hurt by too much light?"

"No by darkness--Egyptian darkness."

The young man looked at him in wonder.

"What is the disease?"

"It is Ophthalmia Neonatorum, or infantile sore eyes."

"What is the nature of it?"

"It is always an infection."

"How can that be? There has been n.o.body at all in the room except Dr.

Brown and the nurse."

The doctor did not speak. There came into his mind the image of Mary as she had asked so earnestly, "How are they to know? Who is to tell them?"

Leaning slightly forward and looking the young man in the face he said, "I do not know absolutely, but _you_ know!"

"Know what?"

"Whether or not your child's eyes have had a chance to be infected by certain germs."

"What do you mean, Doctor?" asked the young father in vague alarm.

Slowly, deliberately, and with keen eyes searching the other's face the doctor made reply:

"I mean that the sins of the fathers are visited upon the children."

There was bewildered silence for an instant then a wave of crimson surged over neck, cheek and brow. It was impossible to meet the doctor's eyes. The young man looked down and made no attempt to speak. By and by he said in a low voice, "It's no use for me to deny to you, Doctor, that I have been a fool and have let my base pa.s.sions master me. But if I had dreamed of any such result as this they wouldn't have mastered me--I know that."

"The man that scorns these vile things because of the eternal wrong in them will never have any fearful results rising up to confront him."

"All that has been put behind me forever, Doctor; I feel the truth and wisdom of what you say. Just get my boy's eyes well and he shall never be ashamed of his father."

The doctor looked away from the handsome, intelligent face so full at that moment of love and tenderness for this new son which had been given into his care and keeping, and a wave of pity surged over him. But he must go on to the bitter end.

"You have not understood this old Persian's verse," he said, taking up the little book again. "Tonight his meaning is to be made plain to you."

Slowly he read:

"The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on; nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it."