Maurice Rossman's leading

Chapter I

Maurice Kossman was one of a large number of medical students whose diplomas gave them the right to offer themselves to a suffering world, which is ever looking and longing for the angel of mercy to move the healing waters. But Maurice Eossman had no real knowledge of these wants of the world, and certainly no consciousness of his own especial power as a healer. His physical make-up was after a perfect pattern and how could he be expected to understand that the majority of human machines were not in running order, and were wearing themselves out by useless friction ?

Whilst this young doctor was enjoying his wander year, a message came to him from his aunt — a middle-aged lady, and a widow — who resided in one of the western towns of his native country, inviting him to Union City, and giving him a flattering view of the place as a starting point for his practice. He was in Europe when the letter came to him and when he read the address Doctor Maurice Eossman — the words, “Who is Doctor Eossman? ” rose to his lips, for he had not seen the title before since the day he re-

MAURICE ROSSMAN^S LEADING.

ceived his diploma. Like a flash the memory of that experience came to him, with all he had feared, and all he had hoped, and he felt almost quickened into enthusiasm for life’s purpose. He wandered out and sat under the Koman ilere with the foot-marks of the ages around him, and became absorbed in his reflections. A slight breeze lifted the letter and wafted it towards a bit of the ruin of a pillar, then he roused himself, caught the paper and read its contents through.

He shuddered slightly as he finished it, although he was one who was not cursed with undue nervous sensitiveness ; but this idea of his aunt — a life for him in a crude western town — it was surely preposterous! He rose from his seat, looked down at the dust, old-time dust it was beneath his feet, and speculated upon the ways of other feet that had trod the same ground before civilization had conceived of extending her patronage, even to the continent, upon which this western town had newly risen. He walked uneasily back to his room and began to arrange arguments against this strange proposal. “ I mean to cast my lot when the proper time comes,” said he aloud, and he stood as he spoke, in a graceful attitude, and his tones mere modulated as if he were speaking to a listening critical audience, “ but I must cast it in a place where formative influences are not predominant ones; I must have helps to growth, crudeness in any form I cannot endure I ” And the young man took in the air that was filled with the odor of age, as if old air, though laden with the seeds of death, was the very elixir of life to a man.

His arguments he judged were conclusive, and with this thought he sat down and wrote a very kind, polite letter to his aunt, and felt for the hour, that the matter was at rest. But that night upon his bed a new train of thought took possession of his mind and seemed to carry him outside of the life of careless ease and to take him back into the past. He saw his father’s professional life as he had never before seen it, and it seemed to demand of him an answer for his own course, and to ask what the second Doctor Eossman was gaining for the career upon which he had pledged himself to enter. He seemed to hear again his father’s last words whispered in the far-away home, “Honor your profession, my son ! ”

“ How shall I honor it ? When shall I begin? ’’ These were questions that offered themselves with real force for the first time. And these questions from this hour pursued him night and day, wherever he wandered in the ancient city, whether he looked upon statuary, paintings, or ruins, a voice from a past record of achievements — his father’s achievements — seemed to press him for a promise for his future.

It happened through this new, and to him unaccountable influence, that in a week from the day that he wrote the letter to his aunt declining to consider her proposition favorably, he wrote her another letter telling her that he should sail for home the next week and should probably start for Union City as soon as he had transacted necessary business in his native town. His sleep that night was not dreamless, and his vision showed him a little black board bearing the name, Maurice Rossman, M. D., swung by the western wind. When the morning came and he wandered out to the Palatine and took in the grandeur of the old ruined Rome, and saw the suggestions of modern life in the newer Rome ; the contrast somehow seemed an offered preparation for his coming crude experience in Union City.

But why should a young man, without pecuniary needs, without enthusiasms, and seemingly without a sacrificial spirit, pledge himself to an unpleasant path when many avenues that promised delightful experiences in professional service would have opened themselves to his feet? What was the influence that forced him to his decision ? Something surely, back of his aunt’s wish! Who can understand the secret train that is laid to fire a soul with a purpose to do a peculiar work in the world?

Maurice Rossman had no clear sense of the nature of the motives that were leading him away from his preferences, and if he dreamed of martyrdom for himself, he saw as many of us do in our projected sacrifices — the stake piled with the fagots, but deliverance before the fire was kindled. Or if he went further — he might have composed the death-song, but had no thought of the death-agony. He took in at the last moment all that was possible of the impressions of Eoman grandeur and then went forward to what seemed a kind of fate.

The weary ocean days were at last over, and then he found himself at the gate of his old home, looking into the front yard where so many times before he had looked when hurrying home from school and college to spend his vacations in the spot dearest to him on earth. He entered the yard, walked slowly up the path, and raised the old brass knocker. Its clang brought the servant to the door — ^he asked for his sister — Miss Rossman; took a seat in the wide hall and brought back the days when his father. Doctor Rossman, was the dependence of the sick, and the poor, and the needy. He saw them waiting in rows for a word from the man who was a physical and mental strength to them, each chair was filled by his imagination, with a patient.

In one sat hysterical Haney, who was sure to go out, with her features relaxed ; next was rheumatic Tim, who seemed to have less of a limp when he left the doctor’s presence than when he entered. There was the wife of the sot — Jack Downs, who whispered her trouble, and then received such a benediction that she was able to take up ber life-burden and bear it with a lighter spirit until she came to another hill of difficulty when she returned to her helper who interpreted so well for her the help of the Mighty One. Surely the first Doctor Kossman’s service in his profession was of a peculiar nature !

But the door opened and a lady who might have been forty, entered. She gave a little exclamation of astonishment, and then came forward to greet the young man. She led him into the old sitting-room where from the open door he could see the apple-orchard and the garden. A flood of memories rushed over him, and again he saw the town whither he was bound, in all its newness, saw it all in imagination after old Enrope — and his old home.

The woman by his side was many years his senior, they were not children of one mother. Doctor Eossman was a widower with a grown daughter when he was married to the young creature who became the mother of Maurice. There had never been a sympathy between the brother and sister beyond what kinship required. The daughter had inherited the father’s sterling integrity without the little adornments of character that had made him so useful and attractive. To live an upright busy life was her aim, and the questions of the day and the revelations in the world of art, and the restless ambitions of woman in these directions did not trouble her.

V

The old homestead had been willed to her, and she had enough money safely invested, to insure a comfortable living for herself and something to dispense in her charitable visits. According to her mental standard, and spiritual vision she kept up the traditional Kossman dignity but she could never possess the peculiar something call it influence, or inspiration as we may for which some lives are known, and which in Doctor Eossman had been called by his townspeople — kindliness, but there were a few that never gave it a name because it was of that subtile nature which placed it beyond the reach of classification if it was rightly appreciated.

“ Amanda ” began Maurice breaking the silence at last, “ I did not write you my plans, and you may be astonished to hear that I am going to Union City to begin my practice.”

Maurice Eossman could not find the courage to tell this practical woman how he had been led to this decision, even if he could have explained the influences that had been working towards the final conclusion, he knew she would not have seen things with his eyes, and would as usual have called him a “ visionary boy.” She expressed her surprise that he should go so far from home to find a suitable place for settling, but the thought of the long miles that would separate them, gave her no pang for were they not already at antipodes through the distance between their natures ?

Miss Eossman however, as she looked at the tall figure of her brother and noticed how handsome he had grown since he had last stood in the old home, could not help seeing that he resembled their father in many respects, and that the same winning expression was about the well-formed mouth — for his father’s sake she would always love him, and when he had left her side and passed into the library and she was alone, the room felt empty without his presence.

Maurice Eossman stood looking at the rows of books that had been his father’s. They were old books worn and faded, by use and time, and in the march of science, many of their theories had been left far behind, and yet they had been mental helps to his father, who had never become a slave to their formula, whilst he was always ready to bow before the conceptions of those who had themselves bowed a willing ear to the inspired voices of their age. Long he remained standing before these book-shelves hearing as he had heard in Eome, the words, “ Honor your profession my son ! ”

These books had been left by a will to himself, for this they would always be treasured by him. He left the library and went out to the garden, then he visited the orchard where he found the old rustic seat which from early spring on to the last autumn day had been an inviting resting place, a spot too where much of his planning had been done, where his young joys had been lived over and where tears of sorrow had been allowed to flow unseen. As he took the seat made sacred to him through associations with his heart’s deepest experiences, he felt something that was so new and strange to him that it startled him. Was it a consciousness that a .change had been wrought within, or was it the knowledge emphasized by this last visit to the old retreat, that he was burning the last bridge behind him ?

Maurice Kossman was looking with new eyes upon old scenes. The twilight came on and Miss Eossman came out in search of him. He heard the sound of her steps, and rose to meet her, perhaps down deep within him there was a yearning for a tender feminine sympathy, if so he made no sign, and his sister, if she longed to tell the handsome young man of her regrets that life’s duties must separate them, perhaps forever, did not express her thought; she had trained herself through the long years to a silence upon affairs that touched the deepest feelings, and her pride would not allow her to change her practice for even a peculiar occasion. She took her half-brother’s offered arm and the housemaid saw them walking in a stately way up from the orchard path, and said to herself — “ Well, I never! I should think she might cry a little or look as if she were sorry that he was going. Tall and grand as he is too. Too fine for this town, but yet it would have been pleasant to have had another Doctor Kossman.”

The next morning before the dew had passed from the flowers the young man took the road towards the cemetery. He reached the family burial lot, and stood with uncovered head above the two graves. The violets were in bloom and he felt as he saw them a thrill, which might have been gratitude for their unconscious tribute to the memory of his dear ones, and as he stooped to touch the simple blossoms, and remembered how near to nature his father had lived, he thought it might be that in the vast, unexplored domain of spirit there might be conditions that would allow the recognition of the violets’ faithful, loving service.

He read aloud the words cut into the stone at the head of his mother’s resting place, the mother of whom he had no distinct recollection, Elsie^ wife of Maurice Hossmarij aged 18 years. A flash of light across my way'' He bowed his head and thought of his father’s long years of devotion to the memory of the young wife, he wondered what peculiarity there had been in this marriage relation that death itself had seemed to essentially strengthen it, and that had made the long years empty, to the faithful heart, of other feminine attractions.

“I wonder how many women there are in the world,” whispered Maurice, “ who could inspire a like devotion ? ”

Maurice Rossman, the younger, had no real acquaintance with woman’s character, he had known nothing of a mother’s influence, and had gained nothing from his taciturn, practical sister to help him in his judgments in this respect. In early youth he had been shy of the opposite sex, and during his college-days had — what shall I say, missed or escaped all love entanglements ? and so at the age of twenty-eight he was a stranger to the wide and mysterious region where sooner or later the masculine experience must enter to find blessing or cursing upon itself.

“ A very remarkable woman my mother must have been,” he said to himself as his eyes rested with a tearful gaze upon the epitaph that the worshipful husband had written upon the loss that had been to him life-long. He could not recognize the possibility that his father’s loyalty might have been a necessity to his own great soul, that having sworn protection and love for a delicate clinging creature, he had found this purpose enlarged through the very giving, daily and hourly, for the happiness of the one who depended entirely upon her husband’s smiles and wisdom for her joy. Neither could he understand then, how much of his father’s enthusiasm for his profession had come through the influences of the resistless barrier that Death had placed against the mighty current of his love. The force within him made another curren- 2 and spread itself wide, and then grew deep and quiet.

He stood long beside the graves, then gave them a farewell look and slowly went out of the yard asking himself the question, “ Have I made a mistake ? Should I have taken up the work here and tried to be be something of a blessing to the people?” Maurice Rossman found himself looking back with his new eyes upon that past self which had never cared to question its responsibility to others, and had not comprehended the wide meaning of the profession he had chosen, or rather of the profession that had been chosen for him. Just as he was saying within himself, “ I could never have filled his place,” he met an old man who offered him a kindly greeting, and who looked earnestly into his face and said . “ I can see your father’s look about you; you have his strong build, and you have his head, but I cannot see our Doctor Rossman quite. Let me see, your father must have been about your age when he first came to us. We were a little shy of having him for difficult cases at first, but it didn’t take long for him to prove to us that he was master of the situation, and he grew into our confidence wonderfully. I can’t explain it all. I think his real power came to him after the death of your mother. It is said that a woman either makes or breaks a man. A woman both broke and made your father. You are going to be a doctor

MAVRICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 19

I suppose ? ” the old man asked in a manner that made the young man very uncomfortable.

“ I shall try,’^ answered the young doctor.

“ Well, yes, you can try. A good number try every year, but few succeed as your father did in helping people, mind and body, most of them stop at the body, your father had a conscience — he couldn’t.”

The old man passed on, having no idea of the effect of his plain speech upon the son of him whom the town had reverenced, and still held in grateful memory. “ A conscience,” and “helping people — mind and body,” these words remained with him as he left his native town and went forth to meet a new life for which he felt all unprepared.

It was a cloudy, disagreeable day on which he reached Union City, where he found his aunt waiting at the railroad station for him, with her carriage.

“Ah Maurice,” she said, as she greeted him, “I can see your father again in you, it makes me sad and it also makes me glad ; ” and the young doctor bowed and offered his thanks.

“ He has more dignity and less of his father’s buoyancy than I supposed,” she said within herself, she did not know that her nephew, when he accepted her invitation hid his old individuality under his new purpose. When they were turning into the street upon which her home was Mrs. Thorn remarked — “I could have wished a brighter sky for your arrival Maurice. I know of course you will not expect to find Italy here, but really I have known those who have travelled and have been enraptured with that fair land to say that our sunsets were of the Italian sort, of course I do not know whether they were right, you will have a chance to decide.” The young man replied with his usual courtesy, yet he did not speak with enthusiasm nor even with a hopeful tone, for the crudeness of the ambitious western city had already begun to exasperate him, and while his aunt was admiring the finelyformed young man, he was suffering that first sickening sense of strangeness that sensitive ones, cast into new conditions must always feel.

He retired to his room early that evening without a desire to prove the western sunsets by his Italian memories, and sitting long at his window he tried to realize that he had cut himself loose from the past and that he was about to begin his life of work. As the darkness gathered about him he seemed again to stand by his father’s bedside to receive his last blessing, and to hear the words, “ Honor your profession my son I ” and from out the loneliness and the night of his soul he cried — “Oh father am I to honor it here ? ”

Did he expect a speedy answer ? Would his undisciplined nature have been able to interpret

MAVRICE ROSSMAirS LEADING. 21

it if it had come to him then, this answer for which he longed ?

The next morning, as Mrs. Thorn opened her window towards the east and saw what the morning promised, she rejoiced on account of her brother’s son. Maurice met her upon the piazza and as the sun began to glorify the distant hills his aunt remarked. “ Union City is not built upon seven hills like Rome, but it has nevertheless its hills, and you see they are not altogether unattractive.”

The young man was in spite of himself pleased with the sight. Mrs. Thorn noticing his pleasure began with rare tact and ready imagination to fill in the picture. “ It will not be long now,” she said, “ before those hills will be crowned with trees, and homes will spring up here and there ; it is an inspiring thing, this creation of homes Maurice, my husband was an enthusiast for progress as related to homes. He spent his strength and his life for this young town through loneliness, and loss he worked and hoped. Your uncle was not a successful man as the business men of this city name success, but in the highest sense he surely was, and if this place has moral standards which it holds up to new-comers, it is because he won many a battle for truth and honor in its earlier days. Men of will, ability and enthusiasm may glorify a profession Maurice, and we know youth may be influenced when age will not be. I have wanted to talk with you

22 MAURICE ROSSMAIPS LEADING,

about this at the start. Young men from the East so often take up life here in the W est in a careless way, indeed I believd they often come in order to find relief from that pressure which the competitive struggling of old cities brings to a young man who has ambitions. I have known young men to come here with the apparent thought of living below the standard which an older place would require. That is a great mistake — we need the best talent^ the highest aspiration^ the truest living here, where things are in a formative state. We want our pattern to be perfect Maurice. And the highest effort will find itself rewarded by the consciousness that it has helped to raise standards for a part of our country that is destined to become a giant in power! I did not mean to give a lecture,” she added, smiling as she met her nephew’s glance, “ but the truth is the subject occupies my mind so fully that it rises to my lips — perhaps too often.”

The next evening Mrs. Thorn received a number of friends whom she had invited to meet her nephew, and Maurice was critically observant of these guests, for he was anxious to learn as soon as possible what the character of the best society in Union City really was. He had short conversations with nearly all of the small company, and was much surprised at what he learned with regard to the professional and business capacity of the place; he found too that the majority of the professions were represented

MAVRICE ROBSMAN^S LEADINQ. 25

by eastern men. He discovered also, in talking with the ladies that womanly refinements and aspirations were not wanting, on the whole he was astonished at what he saw and heard, for the young man had made up his mind to meet newness in its most repulsive form.

He noticed particularly a young lady, who was present with her mother. She had a quiet manner and in talking with her he found that she possessed both insight and judgment, with a knowledge of what was best in literature, art, and music. She drew from him facts and observations with regard to his travels, and showed an interest and enthusiasm that bore no relation to the fashionable worships which exalts all that is of the old world, and makes heroes of all who have visited it.

Her mother seemed like one who had received many of life’s best gifts, and having been forced to accept meaner ones afterwards, and trying to do so gracefully, had not wholly succeeded in the trying. He could not, as he sat in his room that night get rid of the impression which these two, especially, had made upon him. The next morning as he discussed with his aunt, the guests, he found that his surmise with regard to the mother was correct.

“ I know both the mother and daughter,” Mrs. Thorn said, “ I learned through my husband who had at one time charge of their money affairs, much that aroused my admiration as well

^ MAURICE ROSSMAN'S LEADING.

as my sympathy for them. You are right ill supposing that they have seen better days, the mother is a native of New England, after her marriage she went to New York with her husband, and lived there until a few years ago when the husband with his wife and child moved to this place. He was a broken down merchant, and had, I think, an idea of retrieving his fortunes here, or it may be, he wished to bury his failure and misfortune away from those he had known. In either case, he was disappointed in the results, and he died a discouraged man. The wife was prostrated by the shock and has not been herself since. 1 think I can see that her mind is gradually weakening, and sometimes I fancy it is distressing her daughter. Did you notice her anxious glances toward her mother ? ”

“ Yes ; ” answered Maurice, “ but not so much as I noticed the sadness that is like a kind of mist over an expression naturally cheerful and sweet. She seems to be a young lady of more than average mental force, and has her enthusiasms too. In fact, I thought her character worthy of study. You may not know,” he added, “ that I have not been much in the society of ladies and a knowledge of their thoughts and ways was not in my curriculum. I suppose it is as well to begin the study now as ever. I think I shall probably have, at least for a few months spare time on my hands for this or any other amusement I may fancy.” The young Doctor spoke in a playful tone, hut his aunt’s reply was given quietly, if not seriously — “ I think your profession will force you to the study.”

At the end of a week, Maurice Eossman, M. D.,” was in gilt upon a black board that hung before the young doctor's office upon the principal street of the place. His books were arranged in rows, around the room, the new bindings beside the old ones from his father’s library.

He had ample time to speqd with these books for his professional services were not in great demand during those first weeks of his experience as an M. D. The days passed slowly, and were endured rather than lived, for it is one thing to form a purpose, and quite another to try and achieve it ; until one morning in midsummer a hasty summons came for him to attend a case in a locality called the flat^ where those people of the busy young city who found life’s struggle for the necessities, hardest, lived.

A boy had broken his arm, his right arm, the messenger said.

Doctor Eossman felt a sort of thrill at the summons : “ he rose and prepared to follow the message-bearer. He reached the little house. The newness had not been worn away by the weather, the unpainted boards seemed to stare at nature — and nature could not keep herself in countenance for man was a hindrance, rather than

MAURICE ROSSMAMS LEADING.

a help in the poor quarter. Like a flash the brown cottages of the poor in older places came to his view. Ah, this dreadful crudeness ; can I ever endure it ? he whispered to himself, even while his professional honor was calling to him to prove himself like a man.

He entered the room where the boy lay — the first person upon whom he cast his eyes was the young lady who had interested him at his aunt’s first tea-party, after his arrival. The poor mother had given herself up to her grief, and was moaning, “What shall we do ? It is his right arm, and he was beginning to be such a help ! ”

The responsibility for the emergencies of the case seemed to rest upon the young lady, who had been the boy’s teacher, instead of upon the mother.