“I know Dr. Blackwell would be gratified to see all of you here to honor him. His name will live long in the hearts of those whose pain and suffering he relieved, and as a pioneer in the healing arts.”

A woman up front sobbed aloud, and Potter seemed to take that as an encouragement. He went on for several more minutes in the same vein, lauding Blackwell as a man ahead of his time who died unrecognized by a society who would someday revere him. Sarah thought it excessive for a man who had no legitimate claim even to call himself a doctor, but no one seemed to care about her opinion.

Potter was showing no sign of running out of steam when there was a slight disturbance out in the hall. After a moment the parlor door slid open a bit, and Calvin Brown stepped in. The boy recoiled when he saw all the well-dressed people turning to look at him, and Sarah’s heart ached for him. No matter what Blackwell had done, he was still the boy’s father. Sarah waved and caught his eye and motioned to the empty chair next to her. He scurried over and slipped in beside her gratefully.

His eyes were wide and frightened, but his chin was set with determination. No one was going to shame him into missing his father’s funeral. He clutched his battered cap in both hands and sat stiffly, aware that Potter had stopped his remarks to glare at him in disapproval. Sarah patted the boy’s hand reassuringly, then nodded at Potter to continue, earning another glare for both of them.

She was aware of whispers around her. People would be wondering who Calvin was, and why someone so shabbily dressed was there at all. Good manners prevailed, however, and after a moment they all fell silent.

Potter cleared his throat, but he seemed to have forgotten where he was. After an awkward moment he turned his attention to introducing Maurice Symington, a man who had, according to Potter, more reason than anyone to be grateful to Blackwell.

Symington had been sitting in the front row, his head bowed as Sarah’s had been when she was seeking to avoid notice. She couldn’t help wondering what Symington’s reason was. Perhaps he truly was overcome with grief at the death of his son-in-law, but she somehow doubted it. Symington was hardly the type of man to be overcome by anything.

Potter finished his introduction and took his seat, but Symington hadn’t moved. In fact, another moment went by, and he still didn’t move. Everyone waited patiently. They knew this must be difficult for him. Another moment passed, and the crowd sensed that too much time was passing. People shifted uncomfortably, no one quite certain if they should be concerned or annoyed that he hadn’t gotten up to speak. Potter began to fidget nervously. Then, just when Sarah was beginning to think Symington might need her medical services, he finally rose to his feet.

The crowd’s relief was palpable, and Sarah almost sighed aloud herself, but if Symington was aware of his faux pas, he gave no indication. He took his place behind the podium and cleared this throat.

“As most of you know, I had the greatest respect for Edmund Blackwell. I met Dr. Blackwell about two years ago. A business associate introduced us. My friend had suffered great pain for many years, and Dr. Blackwell had been able to help him when all traditional medicine had failed. My friend knew that I, too, faced a similar situation, although in my case, it was my beloved daughter whom traditional medicine had failed.

“Letitia is my only child and, since my wife died years ago, the only family I have left. I love her more than life itself, and when she was severely injured in a riding accident, I would have moved heaven and earth to heal her, if it had been in my power. To my great disappointment, however, moving heaven and earth was beyond my power, as was finding someone who could restore Letitia to health. She lay helpless and in pain for almost a year while a veritable parade of physicians of all kinds came and went, each of them pronouncing her case hopeless.

“My daughter would never know the joy of a husband and family and a home of her own. She would never know freedom or friendships. She would never dance or play the piano or attend a social gathering again. I had all but given up hope when I met Edmund.”

The crowd murmured their understanding of how momentous this occasion must have been, but beside her, Calvin made a small sound in his throat, as if almost choking on his own bitterness.

“Edmund was most interested in Letitia’s case,” Symington continued. “He said he had often been able to help when other doctors had failed. His methods were new and revolutionary, and many in the medical profession did not accept them. He would, he said, do his very best to bring Letitia back to health.

“I could tell immediately that he was not like any other physician who had seen her. He spoke to her kindly, allaying her fears. He was more concerned about her than about his reputation. He only wanted to see her regain her strength. After only a few moments he had discovered the source of her pain. Then he told me he could, within a matter of weeks, have her well again.

“I was skeptical, as you can imagine. I’d seen many doctors who said they could cure her, only to be disappointed. But Letitia begged me to let him try. She believed in him, so could I do less? I granted him permission to treat her.

“I was a man without hope, so I did not expect much, but to my astonishment and joy, Letitia improved from the very first treatment. After a few weeks she was completely pain-free and able to leave her room for the first time in months. Soon my daughter was exactly as she had been before, and her ordeal was but a memory.”

Again the crowd murmured its understanding. Sarah imagined that many of them had experienced equally miraculous cures. But when she glanced at Calvin, she saw the anger on his young face. This must be terribly difficult for him to hear his father lauded as a hero after what he had done to his wife and children.

“You will understand my gratitude to Dr. Blackwell. No amount of money could ever repay what he had done for Letitia, but all he asked was that I, like my friend, recommend his services to others. That hardly seemed enough to me. A man as gifted as Edmund should be known to the thousands whom he could help, so I proposed to him that I repay him by renting a hall so he could explain to the public what wonders his treatments could work.

“Since most of you discovered Edmund’s talents through just such lectures, I don’t have to describe them to you. And when he asked if I would tell Letitia’s story at the lectures, Letitia herself insisted that she be allowed to speak instead. She is naturally reserved, but for this she overcame her shyness. She felt she could not do enough to make sure others were not suffering needlessly, as she had done for so long, when Edmund could cure them. Most of you already know the rest of the story, about how Letitia and Edmund fell in love.”

This time Calvin made a noise that was almost a groan. Several heads turned to see who had made it, and everyone who looked saw a young man who was crimson with fury. Symington either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“When Edmund asked me for her hand,” he went on, “I could only remember that had it not been for his skill, Letitia would still be an invalid. Like a knight of old, he had earned the right to her, and I could not refuse him, nor did I want to. I was happy to give her to the man whose devotion had saved her.”

Sarah could feel Calvin’s misery radiating from him. She wondered that he could sit still and listen to this. This was the kind of anger that caused people to commit murder, she realized with growing unease.

Symington hadn’t even paused. “Alas, their happiness was cut short when some fiend took Edmund’s life. Who can explain such a senseless act? And how can we measure the loss of a man so gifted? How many will suffer because he no longer lives? How many will endure senseless pain because his talented hands are stilled? And the worst tragedy of all is that his son, born the day after his death, will never know him in this life.”