It must have been
some rich person, for the letter was a gilt-edge sheet, and there was
perfume in it, sir."
"Strange," he murmured. "Well, I give it up. All is, I advise you to
keep it, and I'm very glad some one did his duty by you in your hour
of need, though I'm sorry it was not myself. Here's Mrs. Flanagan."
There was a good deal done, and a great burden lifted off an humble
heart--nay, two!--before Dr. Renton thought of going home. There was
a patient gained, likely to do Dr. Renton more good than any patient
he had lost. There was a kettle singing on the stove, and blowing off
a happier steam than any engine ever blew on that railroad whose
unmarketable stock had singed Dr. Renton's fingers. There was a yellow
gleam flickering from the blazing fire on the sober binding of a good
old Book upon a shelf with others, a rarer medical work than ever
slipped at auction from Dr. Renton's hands, since it kept the sacred
lore of Him who healed the sick, and fed the hungry, and comforted the
poor, and who was also the Physician of souls.
Pages:
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82