Part 45 (1/2)
Shock made no reply, but stood looking at the doctor.
”I would like to say,” continued Macfarren, ”that I regret your leaving us. I believe, on the whole, it is a mistake; we require preaching like that.” There was a touch of real earnestness in Macfarren's tone.
”Mr. Macfarren,” said Shock, ”I am sorry I have not been able to help you. You need help, you need help badly. Jesus Christ can help you.
Goodnight.” He took the doctor's arm and, helping him up, walked off with him.
”What do you want?” said the doctor fiercely, when they were outside.
”Doctor, I want your help. I feel weak.”
”Weak! Great Heavens above! YOU talk of weakness? Don't mock me!”
”It is true, doctor; come along.”
”Where are you going?” said the doctor.
”I don't know,” said Shock. ”Let us go to your office.”
The doctor's office was a cheerless room, dusty, disordered, and comfortless. The doctor sat down in a chair, laid his head on the table, and groaned. ”It is no good, it is no good. I tried, I tried honestly. I prayed, I even hoped for a time--this is all gone I broke my word, I betrayed my trust even to the dead. All is lost!”
”Doctor,” said Shock quietly, ”I wish that you would look at me and tell me what's the matter with me. I cannot eat, I cannot sleep, and yet I am weary. I feel weak and useless--cannot you help me?”
The doctor looked at him keenly. ”You're not playing with me, are you?
No, by Jove! you are not. You do look bad--let me look at you.” His professional interest was aroused. He turned up the lamp and examined Shock thoroughly.
”What have you been doing? What's the cause of this thing?” he enquired, at length, as if he feared to ask.
Shock gave him an account of his ten days' experience in the mountains, sparing nothing. The doctor listened in an agony of self-reproach.
”It was my fault,” he groaned, ”it was all my fault.”
”Not a word of that, doctor, please. It was not in your hands or in mine. The Lost River is lost, not by any man's fault, but by the will of G.o.d. Now, tell me, what do I need?”
”Nothing, nothing at all but rest and sleep. Rest; for a week,” said the doctor.
”Well, then,” said Shock, ”I want you to come and look after me for a week. I need you; you need me; we'll help each other.”
”Oh, G.o.d! Oh, G.o.d!” groaned the doctor, ”what is the use? You know there is no use.”
”Doctor, I told you before that you are saying what is both false and foolish.”
”I remember,” said the doctor bitterly. ”You spoke of common sense and honesty.”
”Yes, and I say so again,” replied Shock. ”Common sense and honesty is what you need. Listen--I am not going to preach, I am done with that for to-night--but you know as well as I do that when a man faces the right way G.o.d is ready to back him up. It is common sense to bank on that, isn't it? Common sense, and nothing else. But I want to say this, you've got to be honest with G.o.d. You've not been fair. You say you've prayed--”
”G.o.d knows I have,” said the doctor.
”Yes,” said Shock, with a touch of scorn in his voice, ”you've prayed, and then you went into the same old places and with the same old companions, and so you find yourself where you are to-night. You cannot cure any man of disease if he breaks every regulation you make when your back is turned. Give G.o.d a chance, that's all I ask. Be decently square with Him. There's lots of mystery in religion, but it is not there. Come along now, you are going home with me.”