THE SPECIFIC.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LI, Issue 319, 9 January 1909, Page 3

THE SPECIFIC.

(liv .Mrs. Irwin Smart).

Doctor John Xoville, the great heart specialist, sat in lii.s consulting room in Hurley street—thinking. The afternoon hail been a slack oik' for him, the number of callers during Ins consulting hours, from three to live, fewer tiian usual, ami for race—a rare event in his career—he had seen and despatched the last of his patients before the clock struck live. Shall 1 bring in your tea, sir?" said the low voice of his well-trained manservant. "There's no uiie in the wait-mg-room, and 1 shouldn't think anv more would come to-day, sir." "Very well, bring tea, Thomas; I don't suppose there will be more patients today.

The man withdrew noiselesslv, and in an incredibly short space of 'time v.turned with the tea-tray which lie plu :• ei. on a small table beside his master's chiiu-.

The giii.'. physician looked round the comfortable room with something I strangely like a sigh. It bore the uu" Inistakeablo stamp of prosperity—the prosperity which had blessed his life and crowned his efforts—the furniture wa« 1 andsonie, the apartments luxurious, eveiytiiing spoke of success, the outward success which means so much to the outside world. The kettle fizzing noisily on. its silver stand its cheerful song and the ticking t>{ the big clock in the corner were the onlv sounds that broke the silence, for in common with most doctors' cousultiii" rooies, the apartment was situated a', the iback of the, house, and the noise of the traffic was totally unobscrvabU bet-Hid the l.eavily-cuitaiued door. Vet John Neville sighed as he turned to pour out his solitary cup of teait was a win.an's job, and one that always went against the grain with him to do. Once upon a time.—liften years ago—there had been someone to pour out his tea, but that was long, long I ago, before the days when success blessed him, and when the world would have thought his a very unenviable lot, living on about twopeuce-halfpeny a year, with the young wife whose married life had only lasted twelve months.

After her death lie devoted' liimse'f to his profession—heart and aoul—it was all he had to live for, he told himself, and, in time, the hard work brought its own reward, and his days, if not joyous, were at least full of interest, It was long since lie had missed his wife as 'he did to-night, he supposed it was one of those backwaters of thought into which the most prosaic of us drift occasionally.

The clock gave the warning for fivehe would wait till the hour struck—ho seemed to-day to have an unaccountable objection to pouring out tea for himself alone, but he must not encourage, such nonsense, and determinedly ! c took up the silver teapot, poured out a cup of tea, helped 'himself to milk and sugar, and set the cup down again upon the tray; he would wait until it got a little cooler.

The fire needed poking, he bent forward and viciously broke up the bits of baked coal, and they leapt up into a cheerful blaze. He stood listening with the poker still in one baud—his quick far had caught the sound of an electric bell—then it was not yet too late fo bell—then it was not yet too late for patients! There was a sound of rustling skins in the passage outside, and lie heard the waiting-room door close. • A lady to see you, sir, if it is not too late," sad the soft voice of Thomas. "Xo, no, show her in."

The (lortor glanced regretfully at his tea; unconsciously lie. had looked forward to the refreshing beverage, notwithstanding his delay in taking it, and now it seemed probable he would have to do without it for some time. He advanced with his gravest professional manner to meet the patient, a tall woman dressed entirely in black. Sao could not be more than seven or eight and- twenty, he decided at a glance (most of his patients were elderly); unconsciously he wondered why this woman, who from all outward appoar-a.ici-i seemed to be in perfect health, sho.ild have come to consult him. Sh bowed, lie returned the salutation, and both remained silent. "Yuit have come to consult me!" at but he said inquiringly, "You are a heart specialist?" she *iii|, looking at him with a pair if grave grey eyes. ".Many of my cases have to do with the hrn'rl "'he replied,

"Then—can—can you give me sonathjng to cure me of—of ?" "We must lirst have an examination, and see wliat is wrong," said the doctor, taking up his stethoscope. "Xo—no," and she waved him almost impatiently aside, "there is nothing wrong like-like that " "Then why ?" "Why have I come to see you'; liecause there is one. disease of the, heart worst to bear than any other—and th;i t —tJint is love."

Her voice sank almost to a whisper. Tin' doctor was for once thoroughly la km aback, never had he had such diilieulty in keeping Ids gravity—t!i-? idea was good enough for I'unch. "1 am afraid we doctors . have no rower to deal with such subjects," ho mid manfully—it would fcavc been dreadful to laugh at anybody \ylio sooned so "desperately hi earnest at this »rave, tragic-looking woman standing m front of him. '•But that is just your great mistake, she said impetuously, "where science shows itself of so little use. line you have, a power, a natural force which dominates tiro world, frequently causing incredible pain and sorrow, and yet yon acknowledge yourself unable to cope with it m any way! I suppose you consider yourself in many cases competent to cure what would be commonlv termed a physical disease of the I heart—and yet you laugh when I siig--1 .rest vou should even try to cure a malady worse than any physical trouble, lr ■indeed it does not come under that heading?" , "Perhaps we do not consider it siufieiently serious, 1 ' replied the doctor still battling with a desire to laugh. "\ou know what Shakespeare soys: 'Men have died, and worms eat».n them, hut not for love.' - ' 1

"Shakespeare was a fool—" the young ladv said, decidedly ; " how many suicides do you find taking place because of love troubles? How many girls die of decline brought on by being disappointed in what had become the very centre of their being?" "Yes—l suppose, people are foolish enough to do these things—but 1 fear we doctors can only help physical ailments."

"And it is not a physical ailment—si madness which if yon called it by any otluiv name but love, would in the cases where monev was no object have two or three specialists in attendance? Now look at my own case—" and she spread out her alius dramatically; "I am young, rich, independent. My life is cursed, made, a burden to nie through nil infatuation—you see. I call a spade a spade—for a man." The contempt with which she utterel the sex of the delinquent was worthy of ti sum-alette. "Then why don't you marry liim?" said the doctor, not without a twinkle in his eve. "That has been known before now to be a very sure cure for ,ovc - ,) , ■ 11 Tin- girl turned away, and. her liea.l drooped slightly. _ I "He hasn't asked me," she said m u I very low voice. Then turning rounil [ like some magnificent wild animal at liav, she faced the doctor with llnshin;,' eves "Ami T don't want him to!" she cried clenching her hands. '•So.iiotiims I hale him-liatc liim-hate lliin-bnt I can't help his power over ine-and when he doesn't come—when I expect him—-jlV-it'«—<>h! It's dreadful to bear! Tt' hurls Here so horribly!" And she presS cd her clasped hands over her heart. "Now there must be .sonietlnng r-idicallv wrong with me. to put me into such' a state. J used never to W so silly ; it must surely be something nlivsic'iillv wrong in my system. Cavi't vo'u "ive me some tonic—some specific to cine me' I will do anything— undergo anv course of treatment-how-cver painful--pay aiiythmg-and I am sure there are thousands of other wo- ,„,;„ who feel the same. Your doctors' would make your fortunes if you cou'il discover a cure for tins disease." "I am afraid we would in a very short lime stop the progress of the world." ■aid the doctor, with a smile; "it takes I !„ VD to make tliis grey world of ours i* «o round, vou know. Perhaps thUißs ."ill come all right for you yet, my dear

gii'l. You know the course of true love never .vet ran smooth."

■'Vim seem better at repeating proverbs than at t .unug your patients," the the girl said scornfully. Tile doctor laughed, yet he felt nit unreasonably annoyed with this "irl who was such a queer mixture, very April day of sunshine and shower. V»r now she |,ad droped entirely the tragic air, and sal, as if she had 'no intention oi leaving, me chair-where the specialist was wont to examine his most serious and elderly patients. «!te had put her elbow on the consulting-room table, the luce frills of her gown fell a way Jroin her beautiful white rounded arms, us she lent her dimpled chin upon the palms of her hands, and looked at the doctor.

"You refuse, to prescribe for meV" she asked gravely; "then nothing remains | for me but to go " with a deep sign. "Why!'' s he said, springing to her feet, "1 have kept you from having your teal It must be quite cold. I'm so sorry." The doctor glanced at the. cup of the greyish-looking liquid he had poured out for himself but twenty minutes before. It certaiuly did not look inviting. "iSnppose we have some fresh 1" lie s„id cheerfully; "it may lie. the commencement of the treatment, you know." "Then you will treat'met" she said gravely, as, in abeyance to his request, she poured out and handed him a cup of tea.

•John Neville was silent. Why, for once, should lie not be a quack/ The temptation was strong; the charm of that rounded arm as she held the teapot over the cup irresistible. Why—;f she wished to—should she not coiuc'hi-re every day and perform that task which had so gone against the grain, the pouring out his solitary cup of tea t And then it would be no longer solitary--besides, lie might give her a tonic* io build up her system, and strengthen her against this invisible foe whom he already felt he would like to strangle. "If you will tonic every day uk-at the same time—" he faltered, "1 think 1 might be able, to give you something to do you good—but—(jut you must come for some weeks."

It was four weeks later, the time fixed upon for the completion of the cure, and the dcjclor was bracing -himself up for what seemed a ridiculously strong trial of endurance in bidding his patient good-bye.

"You feel better?" he said, as they stood facing each other for the last time.

"Yes, I believe I am quite cured—l saw—him—lust night, and was utterly indifferent—thank Heaven—and thank yon*—" she said with a smile which made the doctor feel his own heart must have "gone queer" in some way. "You will be' able to make your fortune now, that you have discovered this wonderful specific. But " and she nervously fingered her purse, "you have never told me your fee." "I understood you had already paid it." "IPaid it! How in the world " "By pouring out my tea every day." "Now you are laughing at me—you know perfectly well—that was a—a pleasure." "1 haven't offended you—have I?" she said, placing a hand timidly on his arm. "You have been so kind—but I could not possibly accept " "You could not accept what';" "Your time—which is so invaluable—you must make a charge." "Then my fee is a very heavy onesomething of great value," he said in a very low voice. "Tell me the worst at once •"

"It is this—the thing 1 want most in the world—yourself." And he held Jier to him'in a passionate emibrace. "If I have c«red you it was at the risk of catching the infection myself. Tell me—tell me—will you cure me in return?" . .

And what the patient replied was someliow inaudible, but the doctor seemed as perfectly satisfied with his fee, as she was with the treatment.