Round the Red Lamp: Being Facts and Fancies of Medical Life Story 8 - A Physiologist's Wife, Part 2

Tyler DeWald (0:00)

Section No. 9 of Round the Red Lamp. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit librivox.org.

Recording by Tyler DeWald. Round the Red Lamp by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Section 9 A Physiologist's Wife, Part 2 As Professor Ainsley Gray ascended the steps of his house, the hall door opened and a dapper gentleman stepped briskly out. He was somewhat sallow in the face, with dark beady eyes and a sort of black beard with an aggressive bristle. Thought and work had left traces upon his face, but he moved with the brisk activity of a man who had not yet bade good-bye to his youth. I'm in Lux Way, he cried. I wanted to see you. Then come in the library, said the professor. You must stay and have lunch with us. The two men entered the hall, and the professor led the way into his private sanctum. He motioned his companion into an armchair. I trust you have been successful, O'Brien, he said. I should be loathed to exercise any undue pressure upon my sister Ada. But I have given her to understand that there is no one who I should prefer for a brother-in-law to my most brilliant scholar, the author of some remarks upon the bile pigments with special reference to urobulin. You are very kind, Professor Gray. You always have been very kind, he said, the other. I approached Miss Gray upon the subject. She did not say no. She said yes, then. No, she proposed to leave the matter open until my return from Edinburgh. I go today, as you know, and I hope to commence research tomorrow. On the Comparative Anatomy of Veriform Appendix, by Dr. James Maburto O'Brien, said the professor sonorously, It's a glorious subject, a subject which lies at the very root of evolutionary philosophy. Ah, she is the dearest girl, cried O'Brien, with a sudden spurt of Celtic enthusiasm. She is the soul of truth and of honor. The Veriform Appendix, began the professor. She is an angel from heaven, interrupted the other. I fear that it is my advocacy of scientific freedom in religious thought which stands in my way with her. You must not truckle upon that point. You must be true to your convictions. Let there be no compromise there. My research is true to agnosticism, and yet I am conscious of a void, a vacuum. I had feelings at the old church at home between the scent of the incense and the role of the organ, such as I have never experienced in the laboratory or lecture room. Senuous, purely senuous, said the professor, rubbing his chin. Vague hereditary tendencies stirring into life by the stimulation of the nasal auditory nerves. Maybe so, maybe so, the younger man answered thoughtfully. But this was not what I wish to speak to you about. Before I enter your family, your sister and you have a claim to know all that I can tell you about my career, of my worldly prospects I have already spoken to you. There is only one point that I have admitted to mention. I am a widower. The professor raised his eyebrows. This is news indeed, said he. I married shortly after my arrival in Australia. Miss Thurston was her name. I met her in society. It was a most unhappy match. Some painful emotion possessed him. His quick, expressive features quivered, and his white hands tightened upon the arms of the chair. The professor turned away towards the window. You are the best judge, he remarked. But I should not think that it was necessary to go into details. You have a right to know everything, you and Miss Grey. It is not a matter on which I can well speak to her direct. Poor Ginny was the best of women, but she was open to flattery and liable to be misled by designing persons. She was untrue to me, Grey. It is a hard thing to save the dead, but she was untrue to me. She fled to Oakland with a man whom she had known before her marriage. The brig which carried them foundered, and not a soul was saved. That is very painful, O'Brien, said the professor, with a deprecatory motion of his hand. I cannot see, however, how it affects your relation to my sister.

I have eased my conscience, said O'Brien, rising from his chair. I have told you all that there is to tell. I should not like the story to reach you through lips but my own. You are right, O'Brien. Your action has been most honorable and considerate. But you are not to blame in the matter save that perhaps you showed a little precipitancy in choosing a life partner without care and inquiry. O'Brien drew his hand across his eyes.