Dr. Paull's Theory: A Romance

								

But the pencil fell from Sir Roderick’s fingers, the effort made him
feel faint.
Not till an hour after was the telegram despatched, and then it was Hugh
who had written it at Sir Roderick’s dictation:—



                                        “To L. Pym, The Pinewood,

                                                    “Near F——, Surrey.


“Am detained by important business. Will return as soon as possible.
Keep all letters, and do not see visitors.



                                                        Roderick Pym.”
“To his wife, presumably,” thought Hugh, as he left his patient to the
day nurse, who was fresh from her night’s rest; and as he thought this
he sneered: “Younger than her lord and master; very much under his
thumb, too, evidently. Married him for his money, of course! The
original of the portrait in the locket, doubtless. Fancy the jealous
prudence of the old fox! Wouldn’t write ‘Lady Pym,’ only put ‘L.’ I
wondered why he hesitated so long before yielding up the name. Poor old
fellow! A young wife, with that mischievous face! Why didn’t the
housekeeper mention her?”
Hugh went about his day’s work strangely dissatisfied, and had never
felt more annoyed with anyone in his life than with the Sister of the
accident ward when she told Dr. Fairlight that he had kindly remained
all night by Sir Roderick’s bedside.

                              CHAPTER II.

                           AN INITIAL LETTER.

Sir Roderick decidedly improved on acquaintance. During the next two
days his health promised to return. He declined the offer of a private
ward.
“I like to watch what goes on,” he said to Hugh. “Of course there is a
good deal to see that is painful. But I may not have such an opportunity
of realising certain conditions of human nature again.”
Then he descanted upon the different cases, upon the various
characteristics of the maimed and injured men who were either inmates,
or who were brought in, upon the method and patient quietude of the
nurses, &c.
“You are a practised observer,” said Hugh. Upon which they began a
conversation that partially showed Hugh there was a bond of sympathy
between them. Both were dissatisfied with life generally, and with
certain matters particularly. Both were prompted to study deeply, and
ponder much on the great problems which have puzzled philosophers from
Thales to Schopenhauer; and although Sir Roderick was a materialist and
pessimist, and Hugh had taken refuge in a high ideal optimism which was
to a certain extent original, they met on the common ground of mental
disquietude.
Seen thus, Sir Roderick seemed another man. Weak though he still was,
his eyes sparkled, his face was brightened by an almost youthful
animation. Hugh was about to end the interview, fearing overfatigue for
his patient, when Sir Roderick stopped short. His countenance changed.