'You are born to this world's wealth; in its way a great blessing, though a
great trial, Miss, and a great trust; but don't suppose you are destined
to exemption from trouble on that account, any more than poor Emmanuel
Bryerly. As the sparks fly upwards, Miss Ruthyn! Your cushioned carriage
may overturn on the highroad, as I may stumble and fall upon the footpath.
There are other troubles than debt and privation. Who can tell how
long health may last, or when an accident may happen the brain; what
mortifications may await you in your own high sphere; what unknown enemies
may rise up in your path; or what slanders may asperse your name--ha, ha!
It is a wonderful equilibrium--a marvellous dispensation--ha, ha!' and he
laughed with a shake of his head, I thought a little sarcastically, as if
he was not sorry my money could not avail to buy immunity from the general
curse.
'But what money can't do, _prayer_ can--bear that in mind, Miss Ruthyn. We
can all pray; and though thorns and snares, and stones of fire lie strewn
in our way, we need not fear them. He will give His angels charge over us,
and in their hands they will bear us up, for He hears and sees everywhere,
and His angels are innumerable.'
He was now speaking gently and solemnly, and paused. But another vein of
thought he had unconsciously opened in my mind, and I said--
'And had my dear papa no other medical adviser?'
He looked at me sharply, and flushed a little under his dark tint. His
medical skill was, perhaps, the point on which his human vanity vaunted
itself, and I dare say there was something very disparaging in my tone.
'And if he _had_ no other, he might have done worse. I've had many critical
cases in my hands, Miss Ruthyn. I can't charge myself with any miscarriage
through ignorance. My diagnosis in Mr. Ruthyn's case has been verified by
the result. But I was _not_ alone; Sir Clayton Barrow saw him, and took my
view; a note will reach him in London. But this, excuse me, is not to the
present purpose. The late Mr. Ruthyn told me I was to receive a key
from you, which would open a cabinet where he had placed his will--ha!
thanks,--in his study. And, I think, as there may be directions about
the funeral, it had better be read forthwith. Is there any gentleman--a
relative or man of business--near here, whom you would wish sent for?'
'No, none, thank you; I have confidence in you, sir.'
I think I spoke and looked frankly, for he smiled very kindly, though with
closed lips.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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