Stories from the Diary of a Doctor.
By the Authors of "The Medicine Lady."
VIII.—"TEN YEARS' OBLIVION."
N the spring of 1890 I was asked to see a patient at Croydon with another doctor in consultation. In this stage of the illness it was only an ordinary case of somewhat severe typhoid fever, but the interest lies in the succeeding stages, when complete recovery seems to have taken place. I have noticed this remarkable illness in my case-book as an instance of perhaps the most extraordinary psychological condition which has occurred in my practice, or I might say in that of any other man.
The patient was a young barrister; he had a wife and three children. The wife was a pretty, rather nervous-looking woman. On the day when I went to see her husband, in consultation with the family doctor, I could not help noticing the intensely anxious expression of her face, and how her lips moved silently as she followed my words. The illness was severe, but I did not consider it as specially dangerous, and had, therefore, only encouraging opinions to give her.
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I saw Mainwaring again at the end of the week. He was then much better, and I was able to communicate the cheerful tidings to his wife that he was practically out of danger. He was a man of about three-and-thirty years of age, tall, and rather gaunt in appearance, with deep-set grey eyes, and a big, massive brow. I have often noticed his peculiar style of face and head as belonging to the legal profession. I could quite believe that he was an astute and clever special pleader. Abbott, the family doctor, told me that he was a common-law barrister, and I could well understand his using eloquent words when he pleaded the case of an unfortunate client.
I did not visit him again, but Abbott wrote to tell me that he had made an excellent recovery without hitch or relapse. Under these circumstances his case had almost passed from my memory, when the following startling incident occurred.
I came home one evening prepared to hurry out again to see a sick patient, when my servant informed me that a lady was waiting in the consulting-room to see me.
"Did not you tell her that I am not in the habit of seeing patients at this hour?" I asked.
"I did, sir," replied the man, "but she would not leave. She says she will wait your convenience; but, whatever happens, she must have an interview with you to-night."
"I had better go and see her, and find out what she wants," I murmured to myself.
I crossed the hall with some impatience, for I had several most anxious cases on hand, and entered my consult-
