Cora and The Doctor; or, Revelations of A Physician's Wife. Leslie Madeline
after looking very much embarrassed, as if expecting an invitation from another, accepted mine, and we entered the house. Mother stood quietly by. I suppose she is determined to leave Emily to act for herself. When he consented to remain, she said, "now you will excuse us;" but I insisted they should fulfil their engagement to tea, when, at least, one of the company became decidedly more cheerful. "I wish he wouldn't speak to Emily again this evening," was my thought, as he continually tried to engage her in conversation.
Notwithstanding all my efforts, the evening passed away slowly; the Doctor having been called out soon after tea. The occasion ended sadly for the poor suitor, who, toward the close of it, requested a few moments' conversation with Emily. In this interview, she decidedly refused him, and then cried all night after it.
Foolish girl! But I persuaded her to unburden her heart to me. She confessed, she did not know whether she loved Mr. Benson or not. Many traits in his character she admired; but others suggested serious objections. The latter, however, I could not induce her to name, and indeed, I doubt whether she had herself any distinct idea of them.
After a pause, during which I tried in vain to think of something which would comfort her, she looked at me earnestly and said, "Cora, tell me truly, don't you think he's rather soft?" "I think," I replied, trying to conceal my mirth, "that he has a very strong affection for you; and that sometimes it would be more pleasing to a delicate, modest girl, if he did not exhibit it so openly."
"That is exactly my feeling, but I couldn't express it. Yet what is the use of talking?" she asked, with a profound sigh; "the question is settled, and there the matter rests."
CHAPTER IV.
"From the light ills of infant age.
Up to the plague's destructive rage,
Pains come and go at thy command,
True to the sceptre of thy hand." East.
Thursday, June 11th.
When the Doctor left for his morning duties, he said, "Please bear in mind, Cora, that you have engaged yourself to me for the afternoon."
"For life, I understood it," said I, trying to speak gravely.
He was much pleased, and turned back to give me another embrace, and whispered, "my darling," in such a loving tone, that my heart felt very warm all the forenoon.
I wish I could describe to you the view from my window. It rained all night, and this morning was very foggy; but now the sun is beginning to dispel the mist; and the mountain—oh, it is beautiful! I keep stopping to look, and to inhale the balmy air. Now I can see the summit quite distinctly; the sun is shining upon it, while the fleecy clouds roll off and settle on the lake, from which they arise in thick mist.
Before we left our room this morning, Frank gave me a subject for thought which rather troubles me; but I think I know what you and dear father would advise; I know also what is right; but courage, courage is wanting. We are constantly liable to be interrupted while engaged in family devotions; or Frank is away at the regular time. He asked, this morning, as a great favor to himself, that I would, in such cases, call the family together and read prayers.
I started at the proposition, and was about to say, "I cannot," when he said, "do not decide hastily. Think upon the subject, and tell me to-morrow." After a pause, he continued, "the time of a physician is not at his own command. I may be called away day after day; and our family services lose half their interest and profit through the want of regularity."
"How was it before I came?"
"Mother always conducted the service in my absence."
My mind was in a perfect tumult. At breakfast I thought I had found a good excuse; at least, it then appeared so to me; and I tried to be cheerful and to dismiss the subject. After prayers, as my husband was leaving the room, I detained him; "Frank," I asked, "don't you think I'm too young?—Cæsar, Phebe and Ann are so much older than I am. Does it appear to you quite proper?"
"Well," said he, coming back and shutting the door, "I didn't think of it in that light. You are rather young, to be sure; only eighteen the fourth day of February." I was surprised that he remembered the exact day. "How soon do you think you will be at the proper age?"
I had thought, when he commenced, that he certainly considered this a valid excuse; but the moment he asked that question, though there was not the slightest touch of irony in his tone, yet I felt mortified in the extreme, and the blood rushed to my very forehead. I turned quickly away, as Emily entered the room.
And now what can I do? My heart almost stands still at the bare thought of it; I, who have never audibly lifted up my voice in prayer to God, save only in the presence of my little Pauline. I cannot do it; and I think my husband almost hard to ask it of me. He is always so calm and self-possessed, he little knows how my heart throbs.
Noon.
As Frank has not returned, I will add a few lines. I have taken Pauline for a walk through the garden, and made a call upon mother and sister. How we all laughed when the little thing lisped "grandmamma," in obedience to my wish. Before we came out, mother remarked that I looked quite pale. I longed to ask her advice, but conscience whispered, "you already know your duty;" and I concluded to say nothing about my trouble. "Emily," I replied, "can sympathize with me; she is looking very unwell."
As I spoke, her face and neck were covered with a burning blush. "Emily is not well," said mother gravely; "She scarcely eats at all."
"O, mother!" exclaimed Emily, "I'm well enough, only a head ache," and she went to the closet to get seed cakes for Pauline.
As I returned home through the kitchen garden, to give the child a longer walk, I heard Phebe, who stood at the back door, call to Cæsar.
"Look dere now! see de young Missus. It's enough to do your old curly pate powerful sight o' good just to see her a leading dis yer baby."
Evening.
I obtained permission from mother this morning to leave Pauline with her, while I rode with Frank. When the time arrived, Ann put on her bonnet, and then it was very easy to induce Miss to have hers put on for a walk to grandmamma's.
It has been a delightful day after the rain; and if my heart had been at rest, I should have enjoyed the ride. I imagined my looks troubled Frank a little, for he said he had intended taking me with him to visit one or two families in the outskirts of the town; but if I did not feel inclined, he would postpone it until another day. I assured him my health was perfectly good, and I had anticipated the calls with much pleasure. So we rode on through the village, he being more than usually social and interesting, and giving me no time to think of myself until we came to the border of the town, near the lake I have mentioned.
Here stood a number of small cottages, one story in height, with the grounds about them enclosed with low fences. I noticed one of these bore marks of more taste and refinement than the others. It had a pleasant little patch of flowers along the side of the beaten path to the entrance, while a beautiful rose bush was trained upon a trellis by the side of the door, which run upon the house nearly to the roof, and furnished a complete shade to one of the windows.
This was the home of the Doctor's patient, and I followed him to the door, which stood hospitably open. A light knock brought a modest woman to the entrance, who, in her tabby muslin cap, and her clean checked apron, appeared very neatly. She courtesied as the Doctor introduced me, and invited us to walk in. The patient is a young girl in her sixteenth year, who is gradually wasting away with consumption. Never shall I forget the bright expression of love and respect which beautified her countenance, as Frank took her hand, and tenderly inquired how she had passed the night. "I have brought you another friend," he added; "one I am sure you will love. I think I can safely promise she will be happy to do anything for your comfort."