AN UNCOMMITTED CRIME.

Patea Mail, Volume VIII, Issue 1018, 6 April 1883, Page 4

AN UNCOMMITTED CRIME.

The Story op a Young Surgeon. I was sitting in my little surgery, immersed in that gloomy apathy which had now become almost a second nature when a visitor was announced. He came carelessly into the room, and seated himself negligently in my easy chair. His whole bearing proclaimed a man of weaurTand leisure. His attire was faultless : his lavender kid gloves fitted his hands without a wrinkle. A diamond pin of great brilliance, and evidently of the finest water, gleamed amidst the folds of his snowy linen. He had pale aristocratic features, dark brown eyes, long wavy hair and full whiskers. An easy nonchalance, tempered somewhat with haughtiness, seemed to be the prevailing expression of his face, marred and obscured, as the breath obscures a bright mirror, by the unmistakeable impress of dissipation and excess—the mark of the prodigal and spendthrift. But there was something more than dissipation lurking in the corners, and peeping from under the long lashes of his dark, deepset eyes—a something uncertain, undefinable, yet denoting evil. I could compare this man to Eothing but a panther—sleek, glossy, eautiful, looking harmless enough, but withal treacherous, deceitful and danger ous. You will, perhaps, wonder that I should have studied this man so intently l ' at our first meeting. He gave me the opportunity, for all this time he was studj’ing me. Sitting carlessly in a chair, twirling bis glossy hat between his hands, his eyes took a deliberate, not to say impertinent survey of my person and appearance. So I thought I could do no better than return the compliment. What I made of him I have told you. What he made of mo of course it is impossible for me to say ; but he appeared satisfied (I could see that in his face) that I would answer his purpose, whatever that purpose might be. Something more than the ordinary duties of my profession, 1 felt convinced. “ You arc a surgeon, Mr Irving, I think,” he began, in an easy, affable manner, very pleasant and very gentlemanly. I thought it rather a singular question for him to ask, considering there was a plate on my door legibly inscribed, James Irving, Surgeon, but I kept mj T surprise to myself and answered him in the affirmative. “ You appear to be quite a young man ?” was his next observation, I made answer that I was quite as young as I appeared to be ; in fact I made no mystery of my age, not being a woman, and if he had any curiosity on the subject I would gratify him by telling him that I was in my twenty-fourth year. He laughed quite heartily at my reply, put aside the mask, as it were, which he had been wearing, and became confidential at once. “ Do not bo offended at my questions,” he said, pleasantly. “ I require a delicate service at your hands, and it is necessary

that I should acquaint myself with a few particulars concerning you as a preliminary.” I remarked that was but right, and he proceeded in his examination, for such undoubtedly it was. “ How long have you been in the practice ?” was the next question. “ Six months,” I answered. “ I graduated in Edinburgh, received ray diploma, and come to Carlisle to practise.” I did not tell him why I had preferred Carlisle, where I was alone and friendless, to wy native place, where I was so well known, and I need not hesitate to write it, respected. I am not one to lay my sorrows before a stranger, or claim the pity of a heedless world. I kept my sad secret securely locked in ray own breast — had done so since that bitter day that cast a blight over all my future life. “ You are from Edinburgh, then?” “ Yes.” (To he continued.)