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The Surgeon's Daughter. Вальтер Скотт
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Автор произведения Вальтер Скотт
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He hastened to say, in tolerable French, that her will should be a law to them in every respect, and that she was at perfect liberty to wear the mask till it was her pleasure to lay it aside. She understood him; for she replied, by a very imperfect attempt, in the same language, to express her gratitude for the permission, as she seemed to regard it, of retaining her disguise.
The Doctor proceeded to other arrangements; and, for the satisfaction of those readers who may love minute information, we record, that Luckie Simson, the first in the race, carried as a prize the situation of sick-nurse beside the delicate patient; that Peg Thomson was permitted the privilege of recommending her good-daughter, Bet Jamieson, to be wet-nurse; and an oe, or grandchild, of Luckie Jaup was hired to assist in the increased drudgery of the family; the Doctor thus, like a practised minister, dividing among his trusty adherents such good things as fortune placed at his disposal.
About one in the morning the Doctor made his appearance at the Swan Inn, and acquainted the stranger gentleman, that he wished him joy of being the father of a healthy boy, and that the mother was, in the usual phrase, as well as could be expected.
The stranger heard the news with seeming satisfaction, and then exclaimed, “He must be christened, Doctor! he must be christened instantly!”
“There can be no hurry for that,” said the Doctor.
“We think otherwise,” said the stranger, cutting his argument short. “I am a Catholic, Doctor, and as I may be obliged to leave this place before the lady is able to travel, I desire to see my child received into the pale of the Church. There is, I understand, a Catholic priest in this wretched place?”
“There is a Catholic gentleman, sir, Mr. Goodriche, who is reported to be in orders.”
“I commend your caution, Doctor,” said the stranger; “it is dangerous to be too positive on any subject. I will bring that same Mr. Goodriche to your house to-morrow.”
Gray hesitated for a moment. “I am a Presbyterian Protestant, sir,” he said, “a friend to the constitution as established in Church and State, as I have a good right, having drawn his Majesty’s pay, God bless him, for four years, as surgeon’s mate in the Cameronian regiment, as my regimental Bible and commission can testify. But although I be bound especially to abhor all trafficking or trinketing with Papists, yet I will not stand in the way of a tender conscience. Sir, you may call with Mr. Goodriche, when you please, at my house; and undoubtedly, you being, as I suppose, the father of the child, you will arrange matters as you please; only, I do not desire to be though an abettor or countenancer of any part of the Popish ritual.”
“Enough, sir,” said the stranger haughtily, “we understand each other.”
The next day he appeared at the Doctor’s house with Mr. Goodriche, and two persons understood to belong to that reverend gentleman’s communion. The party were shut up in an apartment with the infant, and it may be presumed that the solemnity of baptism was administered to the unconscious being, thus strangely launched upon the world. When the priest and witnesses had retired, the strange gentleman informed Mr. Gray, that, as the lady had been pronounced unfit for travelling for several days, he was himself about to leave the neighbourhood, but would return thither in the space of ten days, when he hoped to find his companion able to leave it.
“And by what name are we to call the child and mother?”
“The infant’s name is Richard.”
“But it must have some sirname – so must the lady – She cannot reside in my house, yet be without a name.”
“Call them by the name of your town here – Middlemas, I think it is?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, Mrs. Middlemas is the name of the mother, and Richard Middlemas of the child – and I am Matthew Middlemas, at your service. This,” he continued, “will provide Mrs. Middlemas in every thing she may wish to possess – or assist her in case of accidents.” With that he placed L100 in Mr. Gray’s hand, who rather scrupled receiving it, saying, “He supposed the lady was qualified to be her own purse-bearer.”
“The worst in the world, I assure you, Doctor,” replied the stranger. “If she wished to change that piece of paper, she would scarce know how many guineas she should receive for it. No, Mr. Gray, I assure you you will find Mrs. Middleton – Middlemas – what did I call her – as ignorant of the affairs of this world as any one you have met with in your practice: So you will please to be her treasurer and administrator for the time, as for a patient that is incapable to look after her own affairs.”
This was spoke, as it struck Dr. Gray, in rather a haughty and supercilious manner. The words intimated nothing in themselves, more than the same desire of preserving incognito, which might be gathered from all the rest of the stranger’s conduct; but the manner seemed to say, “I am not a person to be questioned by any one – what I say must be received without comment, how little soever you may believe or understand it.” It strengthened Gray in his opinion, that he had before him a case either of seduction, or of private marriage, betwixt persons of the very highest rank; and the whole bearing, both of the lady and the gentleman, confirmed his suspicions. It was not in his nature to be troublesome or inquisitive, but he could not fail to see that the lady wore no marriage-ring; and her deep sorrow, and perpetual tremor, seemed to indicate an unhappy creature, who had lost the protection of parents, without acquiring a legitimate right to that of a husband. He was therefore somewhat anxious when Mr. Middlemas, after a private conference of some length with the lady, bade him farewell. It is true, he assured him of his return within ten days, being the very shortest space which Gray could be prevailed upon to assign for any prospect of the lady being moved with safety.
“I trust in Heaven that he will return,” said Gray to himself, “but there is too much mystery about all this, for the matter being a plain and well-meaning transaction. If he intends to treat this poor thing, as many a poor girl has been used before, I hope that my house will not be the scene in which he chooses to desert her. The leaving the money has somewhat a suspicious aspect, and looks as if my friend were in the act of making some compromise with his conscience. Well – I must hope the best. Meantime, my path plainly is to do what I can for the poor lady’s benefit.”
Mr. Gray visited his patient shortly after Mr. Middlemas’s departure – as soon, indeed, as he could be admitted. He found her in violent agitation. Gray’s experience dictated the best mode of relief and tranquillity. He caused her infant to be brought to her. She wept over it for a long time, and the violence of her agitation subsided under the influence of parental feelings, which, from her appearance of extreme youth, she must have experienced for the first time.
The observant physician could, after this paroxysm, remark that his patient’s mind was chiefly occupied in computing the passage of the time, and anticipating the period when the return of her husband – if husband he was – might be expected. She consulted almanacks, enquired concerning distances, though so cautiously as to make it evident she desired to give no indication of the direction of her companion’s journey, and repeatedly compared, her watch with those of others; exercising, it was evident, all that delusive species of mental arithmetic by which mortals attempt to accelerate the passage of Time while they calculate his progress. At other times she wept anew over her child, which was by all judges pronounced as goodly an infant as needed to be seen; and Gray sometimes observed that she murmured sentences to the unconscious infant, not only the words, but the very sound and accents of which were strange to him, and which, in particular, he knew not to be Portuguese.
Mr. Goodriche, the Catholic priest, demanded access to her upon one occasion. She at first declined his visit, but afterwards received it, under the idea, perhaps, that he might have news from Mr. Middlemas, as he called himself. The interview was a very short one, and the priest left the lady’s apartment in displeasure, which his prudence could scarce disguise from Mr. Gray. He never returned, although the lady’s condition would have made his attentions and consolations necessary, had she been a member of