Page:The Strand Magazine (Volume 5).djvu/97

 physician's letter, far from moving me to pity, merely renewed certain angry feelings which had formerly existed in my mind towards my sister-in-law. When, some years back, my brave sailor brother, who had since been drowned, had written to tell me of his approaching marriage with a fisherman's daughter, I, in my miserable pride and miserliness, had replied that in marrying a penniless girl, I considered that he was doing a most foolish and degrading action. I was even wretch enough to advise him to break off the match, if that were still possible. My brother, like the honourable man he was, wedded the girl he loved. My sister-in-law, who was a high-spirited Breton, never forgot my letter, and despised its writer. When she lost her husband, and found herself in need, it was long ere she could bring herself to apply to me. But the sight of her only child wasting away from sheer want, had at last broken down her pride.

"As the engagement at the Marseilles theatre seemed likely to prove a highly profitable one, I, as you might expect, lost no time in accepting the offer. I wrote off to the manager at once, and followed my letter in person with as little delay as possible. When I arrived at the principal hotel of Marseilles, I encountered there, in the act of inquiring for me, the doctor who had written on my sister-in-law's behalf. As I had not replied to his letter, the good man had said in his simplicity: 'He will be here in person,' and had looked for me every day. 'You have lost no time, sir,' said he. 'Doubtless you thought, and rightly, that did you delay, death might forestall you. Ah! I am indeed glad to see you!'

"I was completely nonplussed. My sole object in visiting Marseilles had been the professional one; but how could I avow such a fact to such a man? For very shame I could not do so. Accordingly, instead of going straight to the theatre, as I had intended doing, I walked away with the doctor to my sister-in-law's poor abode.

"It was a most wretched room. Yet the first object in it that caught my eye was a very beautiful one. Near the invalid's bed stood her little girl, with large black eyes, pretty curly hair, and a face whose expression was a pathetic combination of youthful brightness and premature sadness. At the first glance I could have taken the lovely creature into my arms; then I sternly repressed this alien emotion. The doctor, after he had spoken a few words to his patient, beckoned me to approach. As I did so the poor woman tried to raise herself. The mixture of sadness and pride upon her faded countenance told me plainly how great