Part 129 (1/2)

SQUIRE.--”That's it. You see the captain went to live with one Sharpe Currie, a relation who had a great deal of money, and very little liver;--made the one, and left much of the other in Ingee, you understand. The captain had expectations of the money. Very natural, I dare say; but Lord, sir, what do you think has happened? Sharpe Currie has done him. Would not die, Sir; got back his liver, and the captain has lost his own. Strangest thing you ever heard. And then the ungrateful old Nabob has dismissed the captain, saying, 'He can't bear to have invalids about him;' and is going to marry, and I have no doubt will have children by the dozen!”

PARSON.--”It was in Germany, at one of the Spas, that Mr. Currie recovered; and as he had the selfish inhumanity to make the captain go through a course of waters simultaneously with himself, it has so chanced that the same waters that cured Mr. Currie's liver have destroyed Captain Higginbotham's. An English h.o.m.oeopathic physician, then staying at the Spa, has attended the captain hither, and declares that he will restore him by infinitesimal doses of the same chemical properties that were found in the waters which diseased him. Can there be anything in such a theory?”

LEONARD.--”I once knew a very able, though eccentric h.o.m.oeopathist, and I am inclined to believe there may be something in the system. My friend went to Germany; it may possibly be the same person who attends the captain. May I ask his name?”

SQUIRE.--”Cousin Barnabas does not mention it. You may ask it of himself, for here we are at his chambers. I say, Parson” (whispering slyly), ”if a small dose of what hurt the captain is to cure him, don't you think the proper thing would be a--legacy? Ha! ha!”

PARSON (trying not to laugh).--”Hush, Squire. Poor human nature! We must be merciful to its infirmities. Come in, Leonard.”

Leonard, interested in his doubt whether he might thus chance again upon Dr. Morgan, obeyed the invitation, and with his two companions followed the woman, who ”did for the captain and his rooms,” across the small lobby, into the presence of the sufferer.

CHAPTER III.

Whatever the disposition towards merriment at his cousin's expense entertained by the squire, it vanished instantly at the sight of the captain's doleful visage and emaciated figure.

”Very good in you to come to town to see me,--very good in you, cousin, and in you, too, Mr. Dale. How very well you are both looking! I'm a sad wreck. You might count every bone in my body.”

”Hazeldean air and roast beef will soon set you up, my boy,” said the squire, kindly. ”You were a great goose to leave them, and these comfortable rooms of yours in the Albany.”

”They are comfortable, though not showy,” said the captain, with tears in his eyes. ”I had done my best to make them so. New carpets, this very chair--(morocco!), that j.a.pan cat (holds toast and m.u.f.fins)--just when--just when”--(the tears here broke forth, and the captain fairly whimpered)--”just when that ungrateful, bad-hearted man wrote me word 'he was--was dying and lone in the world;' and--and--to think what I've gone through for him;--and to treat me so! Cousin William, he has grown as hale as yourself, and--and--”

”Cheer up, cheer up!” cried the compa.s.sionate squire. ”It is a very hard case, I allow. But you see, as the old proverb says, ''T is ill waiting for a dead man's shoes;' and in future--I don't mean offence--but I think if you would calculate less on the livers of your relations, it would be all the better for your own. Excuse me!”

”Cousin William,” replied the poor captain, ”I am sure I never calculated; but still, if you had seen that deceitful man's good-for-nothing face--as yellow as a guinea--and have gone through all I've gone through, you would have felt cut to the heart, as I do.

I can't bear ingrat.i.tude. I never could. But let it pa.s.s. Will that gentleman take a chair?”

PARSON.--”Mr. Fairfield has kindly called with us, because he knows something of this system of homeeopathy which you have adopted, and may, perhaps, know the pract.i.tioner. What is the name of your doctor?”

CAPTAIN (looking at his watch).--”That reminds me” (swallowing a globule). ”A great relief these little pills--after the physic I've taken to please that malignant man. He always tried his doctor's stuff upon me. But there's another world, and a juster!”

With that pious conclusion the captain again began to weep.

”Touched,” muttered the squire, with his forefinger on his forehead.

”You seem to have a good--tidy sort of a nurse here, Cousin Barnabas. I hope she 's pleasant, and lively, and don't let you take on so.”

”Hist!--don't talk of her. All mercenary; every bit of her fawning!

Would you believe it? I give her ten s.h.i.+llings a week, besides all that goes down of my pats of b.u.t.ter and rolls, and I overheard the jade saying to the laundress that 'I could not last long; and she 'd--EXPECTATIONS!' Ah, Mr. Dale, when one thinks of the sinfulness there is in this life! But I'll not think of it. No, I'll not. Let us change the subject. You were asking my doctor's name. It is--”

Here the woman with ”expectations” threw open the door, and suddenly announced ”DR. MORGAN.”

CHAPTER IV.

The parson started, and so did Leonard.

The h.o.m.oeopathist did not at first notice either. With an un.o.bservant bow to the visitors, he went straight to the patient, and asked, ”How go the symptoms?”

Therewith the captain commenced, in a tone of voice like a schoolboy reciting the catalogue of the s.h.i.+ps in Homer. He had been evidently conning the symptoms, and learning them by heart. Nor was there a single nook or corner in his anatomical organization, so far as the captain was acquainted with that structure, but what some symptom or other was dragged therefrom, and exposed to day. The squire listened with horror to the morbific inventory, muttering at each dread interval, ”Bless me!