Canada -- Fiction; Frontier and pioneer life -- Ontario -- Fiction
"You are aware, of course, that we doctors are used to seeing pain and
usually try to get at the cause, so that we may better know how to
relieve it. I should judge that you have known a lot of suffering;
that sort of thing leaves marks. Fortunately, they can often be
effaced in the young. I have been thinking that you were in need of a
friend. No! Don't draw back! I'll say right now that my wife 's the
best woman on earth and I've got four kids. You ought to see the
little rascals. Now I might as well tell you that I'm grateful to you
for taking such good care of my patient. I'd also be glad of a chance
to help you a little, or give advice if you happen to need any."
Madge stared at him for a moment during which her eyes became somewhat
blurred. The doctor's offer seemed like the first really disinterested
and friendly one that had been proffered to her for some years. In
that vast New York she had become unused to that sort of thing. The
other people in this place had been ever so kind, of course, but it
was on account of their friend Hugo. At first she hesitated.
"You look like a man that can be trusted," she said, very low.
"I feel that I am," he answered, simply.
Then, gradually, moved by that desire to confess and trust in a friend
that is one of the best qualities of human nature, she told of her
coming, in halting, interrupted words. The doctor kept silent, nodding
now and then so that she became impressed with a certainty that he
understood. At times that deep red color suffused her cheeks, but they
would soon become pale again, all the more so for her dark-ringed
eyes. Little by little her story became easier to tell. She had
sketched it out in a few broad lines, but the man to whom she spoke
happened to know the world. Her speaking relieved her burdened heart
and gave her greater strength.
"And--and I think that's all," she faltered at last. "Do--do you
really understand? Do you think I've been a shameless creature to
venture into this? Can you realize what it is to be at the very end of
one's tether?"
The doctor looked at her, the tiny wrinkles in the corners of his eyes
becoming more pronounced. He put out his long-fingered, capable hand
to her, and she stretched out her own, timidly, in response.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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