She was able to appreciate none the less the devoted and skillful
attention given to Burns by his colleagues. Dr. Max Buller had long been
his attached friend and ally, and of him such service as he now
rendered was to have been counted on. But concerning Dr. James Van Horn,
although Ellen well knew how deeply he felt in Burns's debt for having
in all probability saved his life only a few months earlier, she had had
no notion what he had to offer in return. She had not imagined how warm
a heart really lay beneath that polished urbanity of manner with its
suggestion of coldness in the very tone of his voice--hitherto. She grew
to feel a distinct sense of relief and dependence every time he entered
the door, and his visits were so many that it came to seem as if his
motor were always standing at the curb.
"You know, Len, Van's a tremendous trump," Burns himself said to her
suddenly, in the middle of one trying night when Doctor Van Horn had
looked in unexpectedly to see if he might ease his patient and secure
him a chance of rest after many hours of pain. "It seems like a queer
dream, sometimes, to open my eyes and see him sitting there, looking at
me as if I were a younger brother and he cared a lot."
"He does care," Ellen answered positively. "You would be even surer of
it if you could hear him talk with me alone. He speaks of you as if he
loved you--and what is there strange about that? Everybody loves you,
Red.
Pages:
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202