Dr. Bates smiled. "We can do nothing more for him, my boy. It is just as
well that we should go. He—"
"But, my God, sir, you cannot leave him to die in—"
"Have patience, my lad. We are not leaving him to die alone. By his
express command, we are turning the case over to you. You are to be his
sole—"
"I refuse!" shouted Braden.
"You cannot refuse,—you will not, I am sure. For your benefit I may say
that the case is absolutely hopeless. Not even a miracle can save him. If
you will give me your closest attention, I will, with Dr. Bray's support,
describe his condition and all that has led up to this unhappy crisis. Sit
down, my boy. I am your good friend. I am not your critic, nor your
traducer. Sit down and listen calmly, if you can. You should know just
what is before you, and you must also know that every surgeon who has been
called in consultation expresses but one opinion. In truth, it is not an
opinion that they venture, but an unqualified decision."
For a long time Braden sat as if paralysed and listened to the words of
the fine old doctor. At last the three arose and stood over him.
"You understand everything now, Braden," said Dr. Bates, a tremor in his
voice. "May God direct your course. We shall not come here again. You are
not to feel that we are deserting you, however, for that is not true. We
go because you have come, because you have been put in sole charge. And
now, my boy, I have something else to say to you as an old friend. I know
your views. Not I alone, but Dr. Bray and thousands of others, have felt
as you feel about such things. There have been countless instances, like
the one at hand, when we have wished that we might be faithless to the
tenets of a noble profession. But we have never faltered. It is not our
province to be merciful, if I may put it in that way, but to be
conscientious. It is our duty to save, not to destroy. That is what binds
every doctor to his patient. Take the advice of an old man, Braden, and
don't allow your pity to run away with your soul. Take my advice, lad. Let
God do the deliberate killing. He will do it in his own good time, for all
of us. I speak frankly, for I know you consider me your friend and well-
wisher."
"Thank you, Dr. Bates," said Braden, hoarsely. "The advice is not needed,
however. I am not a murderer. I could not kill that poor old man upstairs,
no matter how dreadfully he suffers. I fear that you have overlooked the
fact that I am an advocate, not a performer, of merciful deeds. You should
not confuse my views with my practice. I advocate legalising the
destruction of the hopelessly afflicted. Inasmuch as it is not a legal
thing to do at present, I shall continue to practise my profession as all
the rest of you do: conscientiously." He was standing before them. His
face was white and his hands were clenched.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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