Another Country Read Online Free PDF

idea,” Allan agreed. “Perhaps it will help
sort out what he wants to do with his life. It’s not easy, making
that sort of decision.”
    “I hope, for your father’s sake, he stays on at
Mingarry. But for his own sake...” Harriet sighed. “Why must it be
so difficult to discover what makes us happy?”
    “For some, it isn’t. And I’m
grateful every day that I’ve found my happiness.” Gently Allan
touched Harriet’s cheek before blowing out the lantern.
    Smiling, Harriet slipped her hand
in his. Yes, she’d found her happiness, and she dearly hoped the
same for Rupert. What more joy could there be than this, for
anyone?
     
    “Thank you kindly, Mr.
Campbell.”
    Ian smiled as the young man nodded
his thanks before leaving the examination room, the paper cone of
stomach powder clutched in his hand.
    In this case, the man’s stomach ailment was easily
cured. It was nothing more than a mild digestive complaint, and the
cases Ian normally saw were so much more severe... and
hopeless.
    People stumbled into the clinic when it was their
last hope, their last chance. They gazed at Ian with wide,
despairing eyes, for it was often too late to do anything, or else
what needed to be done was impossible.
    How many times had he advised rest and wholesome
food, only to be stared at incredulously? No one could afford to
miss a day of work, for they’d be sacked, and despite the growing
economy, jobs were precious.
    The Irish had started their steady trickle into the
city, and they were lined up at the mill and factory gates, ready
to take any person’s job for lower wages.
    As for wholesome food... in a city, you took what
you could get, often rotten vegetables off the back of the wagon,
pottage that was more water than potato or meat.
    Ian leaned back in his chair and sighed, running a
hand through his unruly auburn hair. He’d been working at the
Massachusetts General Hospital for nearly eight years, ever since
he’d finished Harvard Medical School. The hospital was newly
established, meant to be for those too sick and too poor to afford
private care in their homes.
    Too often, however, it was simply a place to
die.
    “Are you finished your clinic,
Campbell?” Another doctor and friend, David Blackburn, stuck his
head in the doorway. “I’m off as well, if you care to join me in a
pint of ale at the Plough and Stars?”
    Ian shook his head regretfully. “I’m expected for
dinner at the Moores,” he said.
    “Ah,” Blackburn said with a knowing wink. “Society
beckons.”
    Ian grimaced even as he
acknowledged the hit. The Moores were part of Boston’s elite, a
segment of society he’d become familiar with, even if at heart he
was ever a stranger to it. His relation to them had begun when he'd
signed on The Allegiance as ship's boy. That, Ian acknowledged, had been a
dreadful episode in his life, for the hard ways of the sailors and
ship's boys had made him miserable.
    He'd signed on when he ran away from his family,
from his shame. Ian could not keep a scowl from stealing over his
features at the thought of his enemy, his nemesis. Sir James
Riddell, a wealthy landowner and a liar and a cheat, who'd waited
for Ian in the street, as brazen as a pedlar, and swindled him out
of his fortune, his farm, and his pride.
    Ian only hoped he would meet Riddell again one day,
and that time they would face each other eye to eye. That time, he
thought grimly, he would get Achlic back for himself, for his
sisters, and for his father who'd died last year, never having set
eyes on his son again.
    Taking his hat and top coat, Ian left his cramped
quarters at the hospital.
    Dusk was falling as he walked the
short distance to the Moores’ residence on Beacon Street, cutting
across the Boston Common, enjoying as always the quiet peacefulness
of the meadowland. There was talk, he knew, of creating a public
garden here, although only recently the city had banned cattle
grazing on the fine green meadows.
    Ian smiled to himself.