Westways: A Village Chronicle Part 83

She was sorry to have had to be so positive, but was pleased to be done with the matter in dispute. She little knew the young soldier. When he was certain that the consultant would come, he began to consider what he would do if his aunt did simply refuse to see Dr. Askew. She might, in fact, be as resolute as her nephew.

In her trouble about her husband's mishap, Ann Penhallow hardly regarded her niece's unpleasant share in the sad ending of the rummage-sale-it was relatively of no moment. Nor would the girl herself have been willing to discuss it. John Penhallow should have held his tongue, and now all Westways must be laughing-and she would never-never-forgive him. Evidently her aunt had scolded him about that consultation. She had a little curiosity to know how he had taken it and how he looked when he came to match the will of his young manhood against the unreasonable obstinacy of the woman he had been taught to obey. She observed next day at breakfast that John was more than usually gay, as he asked if there were any errands. There were none. He loitered about waiting and at last went out to the back porch where he stood a minute looking over the box hedge which bounded the garden. Leila was busy taking tribute from the first roses of the summer days. As she bent over, she let them fall one by one into the basket at her feet. Now and then she drew up her tall figure, and seemed to John as she paused to be deep in thought. When she became aware of his approach, she fell again to harvesting roses.

He said, "Leila, before I go to the mills, I want to talk with you about what is troubling me. In fact-"

Without looking up she broke into his attempt to explain himself, "I am in no mood to discuss anything, John Penhallow."

He was frankly puzzled. Of the many Leilas, this was a new acquaintance, but he said quietly, "It is necessary to make a statement-I want first to explain."

She refreshed her rising anger with words. "I do not want any explanation-there are things no woman can pardon. I was insulted."

"My dear Leila, upon my honour I do not know what you mean."

She was near to saying, "I am not yours, or dear." Something in the look of the attentive face and the calmness of his manner put her on guard, and she said only, "That is, I presume, because you are not a woman."

He said, "I do not regret that, but you clearly are thinking of one thing and I of another. It must be the rummage-sale. I have no desire to discuss that sorrowful business, Miss Grey. You have quite misapprehended me. It is of Uncle Jim I want to talk-in fact, to ask advice."

"I did not understand," she said, flus.h.i.+ng a little. His formal manner was very unpleasant, and to be called Miss Grey was ridiculous. If he had shown anger or even annoyance it would have eased the situation. He went on to explain himself, rather aware of her embarra.s.sment and not altogether sorry for her mishap.

"I said I want help-advice. I have sent for Prof. Askew. Aunt Ann has telegraphed him not to come. I wired him to disregard her message. He has answered me that he will be here at the house, if the train is on time, about six to-day. It is our last hope, but it is a hope. Aunt Ann must see this gentleman-I say she must. Now, how can it be managed?"

Leila let fall a handful of roses into the basket and faced him. "Take time," he said. "I do really need help-how can I make Aunt Ann see this famous surgeon? Take time," he repeated.

Here was for Leila a rather astonis.h.i.+ng revelation of resolute aggressive manhood-a new John Penhallow. Relieved to have been taken out of her angry mood, she stood still a moment while he waited on her counsel. "There is but one way," she said, "it is the only way. I do not like it-whether you will be willing to accept it, I do not know."

"And still you advise it?"

"I do not."

"Well, what is it?"

"At about six every afternoon, when Uncle Jim is asleep, Aunt Ann is almost certain to be in her little library-room. Take Dr. Askew in, present him, and walk out. She will hate it, but she is sure to be what she is always to a guest. He will have his chance."

"Thank you, Miss Grey."-How she hated that!-"You have helped me." He touched his army cap in salute and left her alone. At the garden gate he looked back-Miss Grey was also looking back, and vexed at being thus caught bent down again and cut buds and roses with sharp nips of the scissors.

It was not in the nature or breeding of John Penhallow to like Leila's plan for securing to the surgeon a chance to impose on a reluctant woman a clearly stated opinion which otherwise she might have the courage to disregard. But what else could he do? A little after six he met the carriage far down the avenue and walked slowly to the house with the younger McGregor and the surgeon.

"You are most welcome," said John. "Dr. McGregor has, I trust, told you of our difficulties with my aunt?"

Askew smiled. "Yes; it is no uncommon case. I may add that Dr. McGregor's letters have satisfied me that an immediate operation offers the only and too long delayed chance of success. I must, of course, see Mrs. Penhallow-the sooner the better."

"Yes-pray follow me." He led the way across the hall, opened the library door, and said to the astonished lady, "Prof. Askew, Aunt Ann." Then he went out.

Well aware of being trapped, Mrs. Penhallow stood up and apparently at perfect ease said, "You must have had a very tiresome journey."

"Not very," he returned, as he accepted a seat.

Then the little lady sat up and said, "You must pardon me if I say that this consultation has been brought about by my nephew against my husband's wishes."

"And your own?"

"Yes, my own."

"I so understand it. May I say in my defence that I missed your telegram and only saw it when it was sent after me on the train, but now I am here." She had not the courage to say what she would have liked to say, and he went on. "General Hanc.o.c.k saw me a day or two back. What he said of your husband gave me at once a personal interest in him. Isn't it odd how one is brought to realize what a small place our world is? I was at Port Delaware before the war ended and saw there-I was on inspection duty-a Confederate Colonel, Henry Grey-a prisoner. Is he not a relation of the handsome Miss Grey we met on the avenue?"

"My niece. He is my brother."

"Indeed! I gave some advice about his wound-it was not serious. May I talk to you a little about your husband?"

She felt herself cornered, and could not escape without discourtesy, of which she was quite incapable; "Or," he added, "may I not rather talk first to Colonel Penhallow, and later to you? It is, I take it, his view of this very grave matter which naturally influences you."

For the briefest of moments she made no reply. Then she stood up and felt the force conveyed in the personality of George Askew, as he towered over her, a man of unusual height. She looked up at the large kind face the long sad wards knew so well. The lines of thought were deeply graven below a broad forehead thinly crowned with yellow hair now fast greying. He showed no sign of impatience. "Yes," she said, "that will be better-you must see Mr. Penhallow before you talk to me. If he consents to do what you want to do-I-Well, Dr. Askew, I am just now too angry to reason. Have the kindness to follow me."

She was unwilling to give her husband any more choice than John Penhallow had given her. If the Colonel became irritable and declined to accept the visit of this impressive personage as a surgeon, well, that must of course end the matter. But as he went upstairs behind her, there arose in her mind a storm-battered hope.

The surgeon was smiling and so far pleased. He was greatly interested in the case he was about to see. It had excited some discussion as unusual, and the unusual in surgery or medicine has many times been the guide to broad highways of usefulness where the daring of the one has made easy the way for the many. Now he meant to win the confidence of the man, if he proved sane enough to reason. He might also have to make more complete his conquest of this coldly civil hostess. It was for him an old game, and he played it with tact and skill.

She paused at the door. "Pray wait a moment, Doctor. No-he has wakened, I hear him." He stopped her.

"Before we see the Colonel-before I see him-I want you to be heartily in accord with any decision we may reach. There are but two courses which seem to me possible, and I do want you to feel sure that either you will have to watch a mind crumble hopelessly or, if we succeed, see one of those amazing recoveries which are like the dawning of day. I say this most earnestly, because your hearty help may be wanted. If he says no to our decision, his fate may really rest with your will to stand by me."

This was pretty hard, and no time was given for discussion. She looked up at the kind pleading face, and while feeling that she must yield, hesitated-so distinctly hesitated that the surgeon's brow became severely grave as the furrows between the eyes deepened in growing wonder. He took her hand as if to get into some personal touch with a woman whose opposition he could not understand. "You will help me? In this man's condition a word may win or lose a game in which the stake is a life-oh, that is little-or the restoration of a n.o.ble, useful mind. I know you will help me."

She looked down, and said faintly, "Yes."

"Thank you." He smiled-"Bless me! what a little hand," he said, as he let it fall.

She opened the door and as he followed her, stepped aside, saying bravely, "Here is a friend, James. You will like to see Dr. Askew."

He took the chair she set at the bedside, while the Colonel regarded him suspiciously, saying, "I think I heard of you after Gettysburg."

"Yes, I took care of General Hanc.o.c.k. A lot of us went down to help. Curious case his-a ball hit the pommel of his saddle and drove a nail into his leg."

"Yes, I heard of it. It was thought they were firing nails-queer that!"

Askew seized on the moment of illumined intelligence, wondering what dull surgeon had set in this man's mind an obsession which forbade all other opinion. "Hanc.o.c.k will suffer long-but now, about you-did no one think you could be relieved by an operation? Take your time to answer me."

Penhallow, groping in the confusion of remote memories, returned, "I seem to recall-yes-it was talked of-"

"But not done? Some one is responsible for these years of pain. You do suffer?"

"Oh, my G.o.d! yes. I try to bear it." His eyes filled. "Is it too late?"

"No," said Askew, "it is not." What doubt he had he put aside.

"Then we will see to-morrow."

"An operation!" said Ann, alarmed. A look conquered her. "You will do, James, whatever Dr. Askew wishes?"

"I will-but don't make me talk any more, Ann-my head aches."