presumptuous to say it. And you know as well as I
that he is rather
prejudiced against what he calls
`these new-fangled notions of cutting and carving.'
He's even opposed to operating for appendicitis."
"He's right," exclaimed Anne, with a complete change
of front. `I believe myself that you modern doctors
are entirely too fond of making experiments with human
flesh and blood."
"Rhoda Allonby would not be a living woman today if I
had been afraid of making a certain experiment,"
argued Gilbert. "I took the risk--and saved her
life."
"I'm sick and tired of
hearing about Rhoda Allonby,"
cried Anne--most unjustly, for Gilbert had never
mentioned Mrs. Allonby's name since the day he had told
Anne of his success in regard to her. And he could not
be blamed for other people's
discussion of it.
Gilbert felt rather hurt.
"I had not expected you to look at the matter as you
do, Anne," he said a little
stiffly, getting up and
moving towards the office door. It was their first
approach to a quarrel.
But Anne flew after him and dragged him back.
"Now, Gilbert, you are not `going off mad.' Sit down
here and I'll apologise bee-YEW-ti-fully, I shouldn't
have said that. But--oh, if you knew--"
Anne checked herself just in time. She had been on the
very verge of betraying Leslie's secret.
"Knew what a woman feels about it," she concluded
lamely.
"I think I do know. I've looked at the matter from
every point of view--and I've been
driven to the
conclusion that it is my duty to tell Leslie that I
believe it is possible that Dick can be restored to
himself; there my
responsibility ends. It will be for
her to decide what she will do."
"I don't think you've any right to put such a
responsibility on her. She has enough to bear. She is
poor--how could she afford such an operation?"
"That is for her to decide," persisted Gilbert
stubbornly.
"You say you think that Dick can be cured. But are you
SURE of it?"
"Certainly not. Nobody could be sure of such a thing.
There may have been lesions of the brain itself, the
effect of which can never be removed. But if, as I
believe, his loss of memory and other faculties is due
merely to the
pressure on the brain centers of certain
depressed areas of bone, then he can be cured."
"But it's only a possibility!" insisted Anne. "Now,
suppose you tell Leslie and she decides to have the
operation. It will cost a great deal. She will have
to borrow the money, or sell her little property. And
suppose the operation is a
failure and Dick remains the
same.
How will she be able to pay back the money she borrows,
or make a living for herself and that big
helplesscreature if she sells the farm?"
"Oh, I know--I know. But it is my duty to tell her. I
can't get away from that conviction."
"Oh, I know the Blythe stubbornness," groaned Anne.
"But don't do this
solely on your own
responsibility.
Consult Doctor Dave."
"I HAVE done so," said Gilbert reluctantly.
"And what did he say?"
"In brief--as you say--leave well enough alone. Apart
from his
prejudice against new-fangled
surgery, I'm
afraid he looks at the case from your point of
view--don't do it, for Leslie's sake."
"There now," cried Anne
triumphantly. "I do think,
Gilbert, that you ought to abide by the judgment of a
man nearly eighty, who has seen a great deal and saved
scores of lives himself--surely his opinion ought to
weigh more than a mere boy's."
"Thank you."
"Don't laugh. It's too serious."
"That's just my point. It IS serious. Here is a man
who is a
helpless burden. He may be restored to reason
and usefulness--"
"He was so very useful before," interjected Anne
witheringly.
"He may be given a chance to make good and
redeem the
past. His wife doesn't know this. I do. It is
therefore my duty to tell her that there is such a
possibility. That, boiled down, is my decision."
"Don't say `decision' yet, Gilbert. Consult somebody
else. Ask Captain Jim what he thinks about it."
"Very well. But I'll not promise to abide by his
opinion, Anne.
This is something a man must decide for himself. My
conscience would never be easy if I kept silent on the
subject."
"Oh, your
conscience!" moaned Anne. "I suppose that
Uncle Dave has a
conscience too, hasn't he?"
"Yes. But I am not the
keeper of his
conscience.
Come, Anne, if this affair did not concern Leslie--if
it were a
purelyabstract case, you would agree with
me,--you know you would."
"I wouldn't," vowed Anne,
trying to believe it
herself. "Oh, you can argue all night, Gilbert, but
you won't
convince me. Just you ask Miss Cornelia what
she thinks of it."
"You're
driven to the last ditch, Anne, when you bring
up Miss Cornelia as a reinforcement. She will say,
`Just like a man,' and rage
furiously. No matter.
This is no affair for Miss Cornelia to settle. Leslie
alone must decide it."
"You know very well how she will decide it," said
Anne, almost in tears. "She has ideals of duty, too.
I don't see how you can take such a
responsibility on
your shoulders. _I_ couldn't."
"`Because right is right to follow right Were
wisdom in the scorn of consequence,'"
quoted Gilbert.
"Oh, you think a couplet of
poetry a convincing
argument!" scoffed Anne. "That is so like a man."
And then she laughed in spite of herself. It sounded
so like an echo of Miss Cornelia.
"Well, if you won't accept Tennyson as an authority,
perhaps you will believe the words of a Greater than
he," said Gilbert
seriously. "`Ye shall know the
truth and the truth shall make you free.' I believe
that, Anne, with all my heart. It's the greatest and
grandest verse in the Bible--or in any literature--and
the TRUEST, if there are
comparative degrees of
trueness. And it's the first duty of a man to tell the
truth, as he sees it and believes it."
"In this case the truth won't make poor Leslie free,"
sighed Anne. "It will probably end in still more
bitter
bondage for her. Oh, Gilbert, I CAN'T think you
are right."
CHAPTER 30
LESLIE DECIDES
A sudden
outbreak of a virulent type of
influenza at
the Glen and down at the
fishing village kept Gilbert
so busy for the next
fortnight that he had no time to
pay the promised visit to Captain Jim. Anne hoped
against hope that he had
abandoned the idea about Dick
Moore, and, resolving to let
sleeping dogs lie, she
said no more about the subject. But she thought of it
incessantly.
"I wonder if it would be right for me to tell him that
Leslie cares for Owen," she thought. "He would never
let her
suspect that he knew, so her pride would not
suffer, and it MIGHT
convince him that he should let
Dick Moore alone. Shall I--shall I? No, after all, I
cannot. A promise is
sacred, and I've no right to
betray Leslie's secret. But oh, I never felt so
worried over anything in my life as I do over this.
It's spoiling the spring--it's spoiling everything."
One evening Gilbert
abruptly proposed that they go down
and see Captain Jim. With a sinking heart Anne agreed,
and they set forth. Two weeks of kind
sunshine had
wrought a
miracle in the bleak
landscape over which
Gilbert's crow had flown. The hills and fields were
dry and brown and warm, ready to break into bud and
blossom; the harbor was laughter-shaken again; the long
harbor road was like a gleaming red
ribbon; down on the
dunes a crowd of boys, who were out smelt
fishing, were
burning the thick, dry sandhill grass of the preceding
summer. The flames swept over the dunes rosily,
flinging their
cardinal banners against the dark gulf
beyond, and illuminating the
channel and the
fishingvillage. It was a
picturesque scene which would at
other times have
delighted Anne's eyes; but she was not
enjoying this walk. Neither was Gilbert. Their usual
good-comradeship and Josephian
community of taste and
viewpoint were sadly
lacking. Anne's
disapproval of
the whole
project showed itself in the
haughty uplift
of her head and the
studiedpoliteness of her remarks.
Gilbert's mouth was set in all the Blythe obstinacy,
but his eyes were troubled. He meant to do what he
believed to be his duty; but to be at outs with Anne
was a high price to pay. Altogether, both were glad
when they reached the light--and remorseful that they
should be glad.
Captain Jim put away the
fishing net upon which he was
working, and welcomed them
joyfully. In the searching
light of the spring evening he looked older than Anne
had ever seen him. His hair had grown much grayer, and
the strong old hand shook a little. But his blue eyes
were clear and steady, and the staunch soul looked out
through them
gallant and unafraid.
Captain Jim listened in amazed silence while Gilbert
said what he had come to say. Anne, who knew how the
old man worshipped Leslie, felt quite sure that he
would side with her, although she had not much hope
that this would influence Gilbert. She was therefore
surprised beyond
measure when Captain Jim, slowly and
sorrowfully, but unhesitatingly, gave it as his opinion
that Leslie should be told.
"Oh, Captain Jim, I didn't think you'd say that," she
exclaimed reproachfully. "I thought you wouldn't want
to make more trouble for her."
Captain Jim shook his head.
"I don't want to. I know how you feel about it,
Mistress Blythe-- just as I feel meself. But it ain't
our feelings we have to steer by through life--no, no,
we'd make
shipwreckmighty often if we did that.
There's only the one safe
compass and we've got to set
our course by that--what it's right to do. I agree