Dr. Sevier Part 50

"This is a statement," he said.

"Of what?"

"Of the various loans you have made me, with interest to date."

"Yes?" said the Doctor, frigidly.

"And here," persisted the happy man, straightening out a leg as he had done the first time they ever met, and drawing a roll of notes from his pocket, "is the total amount."

"Yes?" The Doctor regarded them with cold contempt. "That's all very pleasant for you, I suppose, Richling,--shows you're the right kind of man, I suppose, and so on. I know that already, however. Now just put all that back into your pocket; the sight of it isn't pleasant. You certainly don't imagine I'm going to take it, do you?"

"You promised to take it when you lent it."

"Humph! Well, I didn't say when."

"As soon as I could pay it," said Richling.

"I don't remember," replied the Doctor, picking up a newspaper. "I release myself from that promise."

"I don't release you," persisted Richling; "neither does Mary."

The Doctor was quiet awhile before he answered. He crossed his knees, a moment after folded his arms, and presently said:--

"Foolish pride, Richling."

"We know that," replied Richling; "we don't deny that that feeling creeps in. But we'd never do anything that's right if we waited for an unmixed motive, would we?"

"Then you think my motive--in refusing it--is mixed, probably."

"Ho-o-oh!" laughed Richling. The gladness within him would break through. "Why, Doctor, nothing could be more different. It doesn't seem to me as though you ever had a mixed motive."

The Doctor did not answer. He seemed to think the same thing.

"We know very well, Doctor, that if we should accept this kindness we might do it in a spirit of proper and commendable--a--humble-mindedness.

But it isn't mere pride that makes us insist."

"No?" asked the Doctor, cruelly. "What is it else?"

"Why, I hardly know what to call it, except that it's a conviction that--well, that to pay is best; that it's the nearest to justice we can get, and that"--he spoke faster--"that it's simply duty to choose justice when we can and mercy when we must. There, I've hit it out!" He laughed again. "Don't you see, Doctor? Justice when we may--mercy when we must! It's your own principles!"

The Doctor looked straight at the mantel-piece as he asked:--

"Where did you get that idea?"

"I don't know; partly from nowhere, and"--

"Partly from Mary," interrupted the Doctor. He put out his long white palm. "It's all right. Give me the money." Richling counted it into his hand. He rolled it up and stuffed it into his portemonnaie.

"You like to part with your hard earnings, do you, Richling?"

"Earnings can't be hard," was the reply; "it's borrowings that are hard."

The Doctor a.s.sented.

"And, of course," said Richling, "I enjoy paying old debts." He stood and leaned his head in his hand with his elbow on the mantel. "But, even aside from that, I'm happy."

"I see you are!" remarked the physician, emphatically, catching the arms of his chair and drawing his feet closer in. "You've been smiling worse than a boy with a love-letter."

"I've been hoping you'd ask me what's the matter."

"Well, then, Richling, what is the matter?"

"Mary has a daughter."

"What!" cried the Doctor, springing up with a radiant face, and grasping Richling's hand in both his own.

Richling laughed aloud, nodded, laughed again, and gave either eye a quick, energetic wipe with all his fingers.

"Doctor," he said, as the physician sank back into his chair, "we want to name"--he hesitated, stood on one foot and leaned again against the shelf--"we want to call her by the name of--if we may"--

The Doctor looked up as if with alarm, and John said, timidly,--"Alice!"

Dr. Sevier's eyes--what was the matter? His mouth quivered. He nodded and whispered huskily:--

"All right."

After a long pause Richling expressed the opinion that he had better be going, and the Doctor did not indicate any difference of conviction. At the door the Doctor asked:--

"If the fever should break out this summer, Richling, will you go away?"

"No."

CHAPTER x.x.xVII.

PESTILENCE.

On the twentieth of June, 1858, an incident occurred in New Orleans which challenged special attention from the medical profession. Before the month closed there was a second, similar to the first. The press did not give such matters to the public in those days; it would only make the public--the advertising public--angry. Times have changed since--faced clear about: but at that period Dr. Sevier, who hated a secret only less than a falsehood, was right in speaking as he did.

"Now you'll see," he said, pointing downward aslant, "the whole community stick its head in the sand!" He sent for Richling.

"I give you fair warning," he said. "It's coming."

"Don't cases occur sometimes in an isolated way without--anything further?" asked Richling, with a promptness which showed he had already been considering the matter.