Part 28 (1/2)
As the clocks were striking ten on the following morning, the morning of Iris Wayne's wedding day, Anstice came slowly down the garden to where his car waited by the gate.
It was a glorious September morning, the whole world bathed in a flood of golden suns.h.i.+ne, and the soft, warm air was heavy with the scent of sweet-peas, of stocks, of the hundred and one fragrant flowers which deck the late summer days. Away over the fields hung an enchanting blue haze which promised yet greater heat when it too should have dissolved before the mellow rays of the sun; and if there be any truth in the old saw that happy is the portion of the bride on whom the sun shall s.h.i.+ne, then truly the lot of Iris Wayne should be a happy one.
But in Anstice's face there was no reflected suns.h.i.+ne on this auspicious morning. Rather did he look incredibly haggard and worn, and his colourless lips and purple-shadowed eyes were in strangest contrast to the smiling face of Nature.
It was only by a very strong effort of will that Anstice had driven himself forth to embark upon his day's work. The horrible night through which he had pa.s.sed had left traces on both body and soul; and the thought of that which was to happen to-day, the thought of the ceremony in the little flower-decked church by which the girl he adored would be given as wife to another man was nothing short of torture to this man who loved her.
He would have given half he possessed to be able to blot out this day from his calendar--to pa.s.s the whole of it in a state of oblivion, of forgetfulness, to cheat life of its fiercest suffering for a few hours at least; but Iris herself blocked the way to that last indulgence. She had bidden him remember--for her sake--that the way he had taken was not in truth the way out; and although every nerve in his body cried out for relief, nothing in the world could have persuaded him to mar Iris'
wedding-day by an act whose commission would have grieved her had she known of it.
And since to sit at home, brooding over the dimly-remembered events of the preceding night, would be fatal, there was nothing for it but to go out and strive to forget his own mental agony in an attempt to alleviate the physical suffering of those who trusted him to relieve their bodily woes at least.
He was about to enter his car when he heard the hoot of a motor-horn behind him; and turning round, one foot on the step, saw his friendly rival, Dr. Willows, driving up to intercept him.
”Hallo, Anstice, glad you're not out. I wanted to see you.”
Anstice moved forward to meet him, but Dr. Willows, an agile little man of middle age, hopped out of his car, and taking Anstice's arm moved with him out of ear-shot of the waiting chauffeur.
”Well?” Anstice's voice was not inviting.
”It's about that affair at Cherry Orchard.” Involuntarily Anstice's arm stiffened, and the other man dropped it as he went on speaking. ”I was called in last night, and hearing you were ill--by the way, are you better now?” He broke off abruptly and peered into Anstice's face with disconcerting keenness.
”Quite, thanks. It was only a temporary indisposition,” returned Anstice coldly; and Dr. Willows relaxed his gaze.
”Glad to hear it--though you look pretty seedy this morning. You know you really work too hard, Anstice. I a.s.sure you your predecessor didn't take half the trouble with his patients that you do----”
”You'll excuse me reminding you that I have not begun my round yet.”
Anstice interrupted him impatiently. ”You were saying you were called in to Cherry Orchard----”
”Yes. The little girl was badly burnt--owing to some carelessness on the part of the servants--and since you were not available----”
”Who told you I was not available?” His tone was grim.
”Why, Miss Wayne, of course. You know she and Mr. Cheniston came on to see me after finding you weren't able to go owing to being seedy yourself”--even Anstice's sore spirit could not doubt the little man's absolute ignorance of the nature of his supposed illness--”and they asked me to go in your place. So as it was an urgent case of course I did not hesitate to go.”
”Of course not.” Anstice strove to speak naturally. ”Well, you went?”
”Yes, and treated the child. As you know, she is only a kiddie, and the shock has been as bad as the actual burns, though they are severe enough.”
”Have you been there to-day?”
”No--that's what I came to see you about. I stayed pretty late last night, and left the child asleep; but now, of course, you will take over the case. Mrs. Carstairs understood I was only filling your place, you know.”
”Do you think”--Anstice hesitated oddly, and Dr. Willows told himself the man looked shockingly ill--”do you think Mrs. Carstairs would prefer you to continue the case?”
”Good Lord, no!” Dr. Willows stared. ”Why, what bee have you got in your bonnet now? I told you Mrs. Carstairs knew I was only representing you because you were ill, and couldn't come, and I told her I would run over first thing this morning and see if you were able to take on the case yourself.”
”What did Mrs. Carstairs say to that?”