The Forlorn Hope: A Novel (Vol. 2 of 2) — John Shaqi
The Forlorn Hope: A Novel (Vol. 2 of 2)Yates, Edmund
General
The Forlorn Hope: A Novel (Vol. 2 of 2)
Yates, Edmund
Fiction
"He did not mention any particular time in talking the matter over
with me. His destination is Berlin, I believe. He is anxious to
investigate some medical system carried on there, which I need not say
neither you nor I know anything about. He was very eloquent upon it, I
assure you; and I am glad to perceive that all his trouble has not
decreased his interest in the one great object of his life."
"His professional advancement, I suppose?" said Lady Muriel.
"Well, not exactly that. I think he must retard that by any, and
especially by an indefinite, absence. It is rather to his profession
itself, to science in the abstract, I allude. He always had a perfect
thirst for knowledge, and the greatest powers of application I have
ever known any man possessed of. A 'case' was in his eyes the most
important of human affairs. He would throw himself into the interest
of his attendance upon a patient with preternatural energy. I am sure
you discovered that while he was at Kilsyth."
"Yes indeed; his care of Madeleine was beyond all praise, or indeed
description. No doubt, had any other opportunity offered, we should
have found, as you say, that such devotion was not a solitary
instance."
"O no, Wilmot is always the same. You know, I presume, that I required
his services very urgently indeed just then; but he would not leave
Miss Kilsyth's case for even so old and near a friend as I am."
Madeleine's colour deepened, and she listened to the conversation, in
which she had taken no share, with increased eagerness.
"I know that some one telegraphed to him, but that he kindly said
Madeleine's case being the more urgent of the two, he would remain
with her. And you were none the worse, it seems, Mr. Foljambe?"
"No indeed, Lady Muriel," replied the old gentleman with a
good-humoured smile. "Wilmot's deputy did quite as well for me as the
mighty potentate of medicine himself. But I acknowledge I was a little
annoyed; and if anyone but my old friend Kilsyth's daughter had been
the detaining cause, I should have been tempted to play Wilmot a
trick, by pretending that some extraordinary and entirely novel
symptoms had appeared. He would have come fast enough then, I warrant
you, for the chance of finding out something new about gout."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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