“If there is little moderation and self-denial among the full-grown men and women who are met on these occasions, what can be expected from lads and young men?”

The doctor shrugged his shoulders, but made no reply.

“We cannot shut our eyes to the fact,” continued his wife, “that this free dispensation of wine to old and young is an evil of great magnitude, and that it is doing a vast amount of harm.”

The doctor still kept silent.  He was not in a mood for discussing this or any other social question.  His mind was going in another direction, and his thoughts were troubling him.  Dr. Hillhouse was a surgeon of great experience, and known throughout the country for his successful operations in some of the most difficult and dangerous cases with which the profession has to deal.  On this particular day, at twelve o’clock, he had to perform an operation of the most delicate nature, involving the life or death of a patient.

He might well feel troubled, for he knew, from signs too well understood, that when twelve o’clock came, and his patient lay helpless and unconscious before him, his hand would not be steady nor his brain, clear.  Healthy food would not restore the natural vigor which stimulation had weakened, for he had no appetite for food.  His stomach turned away from it with loathing.

By this time the throb in his temple had become a stroke of pain.  While still sitting at the breakfast-table Dr. Angier returned from his visit to Mrs. Ridley.  Dr. Hillhouse saw by the expression of his face that he did not bring a good report.

“How is she?” he asked.

“In a very bad way,” replied Dr. Angier.

“New symptoms?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Intense pain, rigors, hurried respiration and pulse up to a hundred and twenty.  It looks like a case of puerperal peritonitis.”

Dr. Hillhouse started from the table; the trouble on his face grew deeper.

“You had better see her with as little delay as possible,” said Dr. Angier.

“Did you make any new prescription?”

“No.”

Dr. Hillhouse shut his lips tightly and knit his brows.  He stood irresolute for several moments.

“Most unfortunate!” he ejaculated.  Then, going into his office, he rang the bell and ordered his carriage brought round immediately.

Dr. Angier had made no exaggerated report of Mrs. Ridley’s condition.  Dr. Hillhouse found that serious complications were rapidly taking place, and that all the symptoms indicated inflammation of the peritoneum.  The patient was in great pain, though with less cerebral disturbance than when he had seen her last.  There was danger, and he knew it.  The disease had taken on a form that usually baffles the skill of our most eminent physicians, and Dr. Hillhouse saw little chance of anything but a fatal termination.  He could do nothing except to palliate as far as possible the patient’s intense suffering and endeavor to check farther complications.  But he saw little to give encouragement.