Doctor Luttrells First Patient | Page 2

in shillings? Now and then when he was
tired and discouraged Dr. Luttrell would accuse himself of rashness and
folly in no measured terms.
"Your Aunt Madge is right, Olive," he would say, "we have been a
couple of fools; but I was the biggest. What business had I to tempt
Providence in this way? I do believe when a man is in love he loses his
judgment; look at the life to which my selfishness has condemned you.
You will be an old woman before your time, with the effort to make a
sixpence go as far as a shilling! And there is Dot----" And here the
young doctor sighed and frowned, but Olivia, who had plenty of spirit,
refused to be depressed.
"You took me from such a luxurious home, did you not, Marcus?" she
would say, with a genial laugh. "A hard-working daily governess leads
such an enjoyable life, and it was so exhilarating and refreshing to sit in
one's lodgings of an evening, with no one to care if one were tired and
dull. Yes, dear old boy, of course I was ever so much happier without
you and Dot to worry me----" And, somehow, at these cheering words
the harassed frown on Marcus's brow relaxed.
Had he been so wrong after all. How could he know that old Slade
would prove a rogue and a humbug; it would have been wiser to wait a
little, but then human nature is liable to make mistakes, and in spite of
it all, they had been so happy. Olive was such a splendid companion,
she had brains as well as heart. Yes, he had been a fool, but he knew
that under like circumstances many a man would have done the same.
He remembered the events that had led to their hasty marriage. Olivia
had not long lost her mother, the widow's annuity had died with her,
and Olivia, who had only her salary as a daily governess in a large
family, had just moved into humbler lodgings.
He had gone round with some flowers and a book that he thought
would interest her, and as she came forward to greet him, he could see
her eyes were red and swollen.

"What is it, dear?" he had asked, kindly, and then the poor girl had
utterly broken down.
"Oh, Marcus, what shall I do?" she said, when her sobs would allow
her to speak. "I cannot bear it; it is all so dull and miserable. I am
missing mother and I am so tired, and the children have been so cross
all day." And Olivia, whose nerves were on edge with the strain of grief
and worry, looked so pallid and woebegone that Marcus had been filled
with consternation. Never had he seen his sweetheart in such distress,
and then it was that the suggestion came to him.
Why should they both be lonely? Olivia could marry him and do her
work as well, and there need be no more dull evenings for either of
them.
"You will trust me to make you as happy as I can, dearest," he said,
tenderly, as he pleaded for an early marriage. And as Olivia listened to
him the sad burden seemed lifted from her heart.
"Are you quite sure we ought to do this, Marcus?" she had asked, a
little dubiously, for in spite of her youth she had plenty of good sense,
and then Marcus had been very ready with his arguments.
A doctor ought to be a married man, his house was too large for a
bachelor, and needed a mistress. What was the use of Olivia paying for
lodgings when he wanted a wife to make him comfortable? And if she
liked she could still go on with her teaching.
It was this last proviso that overcame Olivia's objections. If she could
keep her situation she would be no expense to Marcus. Her salary was
good, and until paying patients came she could subscribe towards the
housekeeping.
It was just one of those arrangements that look so promising and
plausible until fairly tried, but before many months had passed there
was a hitch--something out of gear in the daily machinery.
It was a dry summer, and Brompton is not exactly a bracing place.

Olivia began to flag a little, the long hours of teaching, the hurried
walks to and fro, tried her vigorous young frame. The little maids who
followed each other in quick succession were all equally inefficient and
unreliable. Marcus began to complain that such ill-cooked, tasteless
meals would in time impair their digestion. The Marthas and Annes and
Sallies, who clumped heavily about the corner house, with smudges on
their round faces and bare red arms, had never heard of the School of
Cookery at South