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Lyall, Edna [pseud.], 1857-1903

"Derrick Vaughan, Novelist"


"Perhaps you have a sister, who could go to him?"
"No," replied Derrick. "My only sister is married, and her husband
would never allow it."
"Or a cousin or an aunt?" suggested the old man, naively unconscious
that the words sounded like a quotation.
I saw the ghost of a smile flit over Derrick's harassed face as he
shook his head.
"I suggested that he should go into some Home for--cases of the
kind," resumed the doctor, "or place himself under the charge of
some medical man; however, he won't hear of such a thing. But if he
is left to himself--well, it is all up with him. He will drink
himself to death in a few months."
"He shall not be left alone," said Derrick; "I will live with him.
Do you think I should do? It seems to be Hobson's choice."
I looked up in amazement--for here was Derrick calmly giving himself
up to a life that must crush every plan for the future he had made.
Did men make such a choice as that while they took two or three
turns in a room? Did they speak so composedly after a struggle that
must have been so bitter? Thinking it over now, I feel sure it was
his extraordinary gift of insight and his clear judgment which made
him behave in this way.


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