Part 6 (1/2)
”You are right,” returned the doctor; ”remarkably tough, but not quite fitted to withstand such a powerful battering-ram as the mainmast of a six-hundred-ton barque.”
”Now, doctor, what's to be done with him? You see, the poor young fellow is not only my friend, but he has saved my life, so I feel bound to look well after him; and this isn't quite the sort o' place to be ill in,” he added, looking round the somewhat bare apartment, whose walls were adorned with carbines and cutla.s.ses.
”The wisest thing for him to do is to go into hospital, where he will receive the best of medical treatment and careful nursing.”
”Wouldn't the nursing of an old lady that loves him like a mother, and a comfortable cottage, do as well?”
”No doubt it would,” said the doctor, with a smile, ”if he also had proper medical attendance--”
”Just so. Well, that's all settled, then,” interrupted the captain.
”I'll have him removed at once, and you'll attend him, doctor--who better?--that is, if you can spare the time.”
The doctor was quite ready to spare the time, and the captain bustled off to tell his sister what was in store for her, and to order Rosebud to pack up and return to school without delay, so as to make room for the patient.
Great was his astonishment that his Rosebud burst into tears on receiving the news.
”My Bud, my darling, don't cry,” he said, tenderly drawing the fair head to his rugged bosom. ”I know it must be a great disappointment to have a week cut off your holidays, but I'll go down to Folkestone with you, an' take a lodging there, an you an' I will have a jolly time of it together--till I get another s.h.i.+p--”
”Oh! father, it's not _that_!” exclaimed poor Rose almost indignantly; ”it's--it's--”
Not being able to explain exactly what it was that ailed her, she took refuge in another flood of tears.
”Oh!” she thought to herself, ”if I might only stay and nurse him!” but she blushed at the very thought, for she was well aware that she knew no more about scientific nursing than a tortoisesh.e.l.l cat! Three months of the most tender and careful nursing by Miss Millet failed, however, to set Jeffrey Benson on his legs. He was very patient and courageous.
Hope was strong, and he listened with approval and grat.i.tude to his nurse's teachings.
There came a day, however, which tried him.
”You think me not much better, doctor?” he asked, somewhat anxiously.
”Not much,” returned the doctor, in a low, tender tone; ”and I fear that you must make up your mind never again to be quite the same man you were.”
”Never again?” exclaimed the youth, in startled surprise.
The doctor said nothing, but his look was--”never again.”
CHAPTER SIX.
GOOD NEWS TO THE CAPTAIN--ALSO TO JEFF.
There is a period, probably, in the life of every man, when a feeling akin to despair creeps over him, and the natural tendency of his heart to rebel against his Maker becomes unquestionable. There may be some on whom this epoch descends gently--others, perhaps, who may even question whether they have met with it at all; but there must be many, of whom Jeff was one, on whom it comes like a thunderbolt, scathing for a time all the finer qualities of heart and mind.
”If it had only come at a later period of life, or in some other form, auntie,” he said one day, as he lay on a sofa at the open window of the cottage, looking out upon the sea; ”but to be bowled over at my age, when the world was all before me, and I was so well able--physically, at least--to fight my way. It is terrible, and seems so outrageous! What good can possibly come of rendering a young man helpless--a strong, capable machine, that might do so much good in the world, useless?”
He spoke in an almost querulous tone, and looked inquiringly in his nurse's face. It did not occur to the youth, as he looked at her, that the weak-bodied, soft, and gentle creature herself had been, and still was, doing more good to the world than a hundred young men such as he!
Miss Millet's face was a wholesome one to look into. She did not shake her head and look solemn or shocked. Neither did she laugh at his petulance. She merely said, with the sweetest of little smiles, ”You may live, Jeff, to be a very useful machine yet; if not _quite_ as strong as you were--though even that is uncertain, for doctors are fallible, you know. Never forget that, Jeff--doctors are fallible.
Besides, your living at all shows that G.o.d has something for you to do for Him.”
”Nonsense, auntie. If that is true of me, it is just as true of hundreds of men who live and die without making the smallest attempt to accomplish any work for G.o.d. Yet He lets them live for many years.”