Читать книгу Cora and The Doctor; or, Revelations of A Physician's Wife - Leslie Madeline - Страница 5

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"If ye court society for pastime,—what happier recreation than a nurseling.

Its winning ways, its prattling tongue, its innocence and mirth." Tupper.

Saturday, June 6th.

Oh! Mother, if you could sit by me for an hour it would be so delightful, for I have much to tell you, and my pen will not move fast enough. But I will begin my story. I dressed in due time. The girls will be pleased to know that I wore my white lisse crape, with no ornaments but the flowers in my hair, and a small bunch in my bodice. When I descended to the parlor, Frank was awaiting me, and his eyes expressed satisfaction with my toilet.

We repaired to the cottage early, by mother's request. Soon after carriages began to roll up to the door. I was presented first to the clergyman, Mr. Munroe, who has been settled in Crawford but a short time. He is very free and social in manner, dignified and graceful in person; I think he will prove an agreeable friend. Mother says, he loves the work in which he is engaged.

There was also a younger minister present, from an adjoining parish, about whom I must make some farther inquiries. He was quite too devoted in his attentions to my fair sister Emily; and when I asked of her an explanation, a blush was her only reply.

I cannot begin to describe one half the persons who were present, but I will mention a few, who, from different causes, interested me.

A tall portly man, hardly a gentleman, with a self-important air, a very large pattern to his vest, with heavy chains and seals, which he dangled incessantly, addressed me in a patronizing manner. He asked me how I liked "living among Yankees," and said I must come round to his place before I made up my mind about it. He then bowed himself away. Emily said, in a low voice, "that is our nabob, Squire Lee."

Next came an elderly gentleman, who, in figure and conversation, formed a striking contrast to the one who preceded him. This was Mr. Marshall, a distinguished attorney. He was accompanied by his wife, a very handsome lady considerably younger than her husband. They both expressed much kind interest in the young stranger.

Then came a lovely young lady with her brother, children of Squire Lee, the distiller. The young man seemed cast in the same mould as his father. He was dressed in the height of fashion, but without taste, with a flaunting neck tie, a gayly embroidered vest, and full pantaloons. He was rather below the medium height, but of very full habit. His face was flushed, and when he bowed the blood rushed violently to his head, rendering his face red as crimson. But his air was so consequential, and his talk in a style so pompous and imposing, I could scarcely suppress my mirth. This was the more noticeable by the contrast of his whole appearance with his sister, a very modest, amiable looking girl, who evidently feared lest her brother, in his desire to impress me with his dignity, should disgrace both himself and her.

After these, came the Mansfields, the Harrisses, Justice Wilson and family, the Johnsons, Mr. Willard, Dr. Clapp, Mr. and Mrs. Morris Whitney, and a great many whom I cannot remember.

When this procession had passed with a word of salutation from each, with now a bow, and then a smile, Mrs. Marshall introduced to me a lady whose countenance I shall never forget. I should think her near fifty years of age, not handsome, but with a kind expression, full of mildness and benevolence. Frank addressed her very cordially, saying to me, "Miss Proctor is my particular friend." I gave her my hand again, and asked a share in her friendship. She was evidently much pleased, and pressed my hand at parting.

Near the close of the evening, I met Mr. and Mrs. Russell, a very delightful couple. His manner reminded me of Frank's; dignified and rather reserved, yet easy and graceful in conversation. His wife, on the contrary, was full of life and spirits, original and witty.

While we were in the refreshment room, I overheard several persons, talking about a woman lately deceased in the village. She was a French woman, and by her death her child was left without protection. I became quite interested for the poor foundling, and was glad to learn that Miss Proctor was to pass the night, in the hope of being able with mother, to provide for the little orphan.

It was quite late; but Frank stopped at my request to hear more of her history. On Tuesday of this week, the day of our arrival, the French woman called at the public house, saying, in broken English, that she was ill and wished for a bed. The landlady attended her, and soon found it necessary to summon a physician. She grew rapidly worse and died the next evening. She had informed the landlady that the child was not hers, but entrusted to her care by its mother, to be conveyed from France to England. The vessel in which they sailed was wrecked. But they, with a few other passengers and some of the crew, were taken on board an American vessel and brought to New York. Beyond this nothing is known.

I have quite an idea of adopting the foundling if Frank will consent.

Evening.

Dear, Dear Mother.—On my way to see the little French girl, I told Frank it would please me to take the orphan. He smiled as he replied, "I shall certainly make no objection."

I expected to see a poor, disconsolate child, weeping for its mother. Judge then of my astonishment, and delight, when I found a perfect little fairy. She is a brilliant brunette, with magnificent eyes, fringed with long black lashes, which rested on her cheek as she looked timidly down when I entered. I was so impressed with her appearance that I instinctively held out my arms, and said "viens à moi, ma chère!"

The blood rushed to her face, as with a bound she sprang toward me, and laying her curly head on my breast, said, "ma chère maman, je t'aime beau coup, beau coup."

This decided me; and I adopted her in my heart. Frank was desirous to ascertain all that was known about my little protege. Mrs. Morrison, the landlady, left me holding "Ina," as she called herself, tightly in my arms, while she led my husband to the room where the body of the woman was decently laid out for burial. He told me when he returned that the child bore not the slightest resemblance to her attendant.

After looking at the corpse, the landlady gave him a small packet, which she had found in the pocket of the deceased; also a necklace and locket taken from the child's neck. The locket contained a miniature to which Ina bore a close resemblance. Frank looked eagerly for an inscription, but found only the words "Maman à Ina."

"I think these ought to be preserved for the child," said Mrs. Morrison. "Who knows but they may bring out some day who her parents were?" Frank assented, and assured her that the articles should be sacredly preserved.

"Your wife seems to take a great liking to her."

"Yes," replied the Doctor, "as they are both strangers in this country, she thinks the little girl has rather a claim upon her."

"Is she a Frencher too? I always heard she was English."

"Mrs. Lenox was educated in Paris," he replied.

"La now!" exclaimed the woman, covering the face of the corpse, "I didn't think of her being so learned."

Frank then inquired whether the deceased woman left any property, and offered to pay the expenses they had incurred. Mrs. Morrison brought forward an old pocket-book containing a few dollars, which she said would cover all the expenses. "As to the child," she continued, "I couldn't think of charging anything for her. Somebody may one day have to be looking after my little folks;" and this thought brought a tear to her eye.

I was talking merrily with my sweet charge, when they returned to the parlor, and having thanked the warm-hearted landlady for her kindness to the child, we took our departure.

I was so impatient to go home, and show my treasure to mother and sister, that I begged to be excused from a drive, Frank had promised me. Emily was quite as enthusiastic as I wished, in her praise of my Ina, and tried playfully to induce me to resign my protegé in her favor. The little one, however, was fully persuaded I was her mamma; and I felt no desire to undeceive her.

She is now safely asleep in her crib; the same in which Frank and Emily were rocked. I have crept softly into the room two or three times. The whole affair appears like a pleasant dream. Miss Proctor has made a night-dress; and Monday I must commence vigorously upon her wardrobe. Emily has promised to assist me.

Sabbath evening—June 7th.

This is my first Sabbath in America. It has been a delightful day to me; and I think I can say, it has been blessed to my soul. Though far away from country, home and friends, yet I could meet you all at the throne of Grace. I prayed for every dear member of the home-circle, and for my beloved husband, myself and my precious charge.

I went to church morning and afternoon, and was much impressed by the services. There is a seriousness and solemnity about the audience, which I have seldom witnessed. The sermons were chaste and in some passages even elegant in style. But what pleased me more than all, was the fervor with which Mr. Munroe delivered them, and the love which he manifested for the souls of his people.

In the morning the text was 1 Cor. 15, 22: "For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive." He dwelt upon the death which reigns in consequence of Adam's sin; and in the afternoon, upon the resurrection-life which all receive from Christ.

The singing was performed by a choir in the orchestra, accompanied by a variety of instruments.

When I returned from Church this morning, my little Ina was still asleep, as I had left her. But this afternoon as I went in, she came bounding toward me, clapping her hands, and saying "chère maman! chère maman!" I had to take her to my boudoir to put off my bonnet and shawl, for she would not leave me. She was willing while in my arms to play with Frank; but if he attempted to take her from me, she hid her face in my neck. I like to have her call me mamma when we are alone; but it makes Emily laugh, and I see Frank is inclined to follow her example, only that he sees it makes me blush, and embarrasses me. Sweet child! I wish she were my own; I cannot bear the thought of parting with her. Yet it may be that her mother is mourning her loss.

Do you remember Pauline De Lacy, my dear friend and school-mate, in Paris? Ina looks so much like her, one would think they must belong to the same family; indeed, sisters seldom resemble each other so exactly. To-day, this has occurred to me so many times, that, with the consent of all parties, I have decided to call her Pauline De Lacy Lenox. "Quite a romantic name," Frank says, gravely; "but as you are a very romantic lady, it will be in good taste."

I looked up quickly, intending to deny the charge, when I saw that roguish twinkle in his eye, which I begin to understand.

After an early tea, the servants were called to family prayers, mother and Emily being present, who are hereafter to return from church and spend Sabbath evening with us. In addition to the usual services at the domestic altar, the good old Puritan custom of catechising the household is observed. It was truly a family service. The scene was novel and interesting to me. All joined in singing a hymn, and then the Doctor expressed our individual wants in prayer. I was a little fearful that Pauline would not be quiet; but there was a charm in Cæsar's devout face which occupied all her attention. Perhaps a very little fear was mingled with her wonder, as she nestled herself very close to me. But the good man took no heed of the large eyes fixed on him with such seriousness. His soul was drinking in the Word, while he regarded his young master with fond respect.

When the rest of the servants retired, he remained, and the Doctor asked him, "Well, my good Cæsar, how have you enjoyed the day?"

"Oh, Mass'r! dis yer pears like good old times when old Mass'r live. Dem good old days, berry!" Cæsar wiped his eyes with his coat sleeve as he left the room; and his was not the only eye moistened by this allusion to the past.

I don't know as I told you that Cæsar and Phebe were purchased by Squire Lenox from the south, where they were about to be sold separately. He brought them to the north, where, of course, they are free; and they have ever since constituted an important part of the family. Taught to read and write, they have for many years been members of the same church with their master and mistress.

Monday Morning, June 8th.

Frank has just left me for his morning calls. He came in from the garden when Cæsar brought the carriage to the door, and not finding me below, he sprang up the stairs to bid me good bye. Pauline looked up quickly and pointed with her finger to direct my attention, saying, "dere Frank."

We both laughed heartily. He patted her cheek, "So little miss, she's mamma; and I, only Frank. I rather think you'll have to take me for a papa for want of a better;" then turning to me, "it would sound oddly enough. Now to you the name mamma seems natural as life, only it makes you rather rosy." He bade mother and daughter good bye, and ran away in haste.

I am constantly haunted by the thought that she is in some way connected with my school-mate Pauline De Lacy. I have in vain tried to remember if she had a married sister whose child this may be.

But I must leave this subject and finish my story about Cæsar and his wife. It was a great trial to them when mother and Emily left the old homestead, even to go across the garden to their cottage-home, and they desired to go with them. But mother overruled their objections and retained Ruth, their only child, a capable girl of twenty.

I believe Cæsar trembled not a little at the idea of a new mistress, who he feared would disturb the harmony of the family. I have, however, gained his good will. He treats me like a toy which he is exceedingly apprehensive of injuring.

As for Phebe, such is her pride in the glory of "our folks," that as I am a Lenox, the wife of Mass'r Frank, nothing can be too good for me. I think, she likes me better because I am young and inexperienced in household affairs, and, therefore, shall not be likely to interfere in her department. There is, indeed, no occasion for me to do so. She has been well and thoroughly trained by mother, and is fully competent to perform the duties of her station, while Ann, the chambermaid, is equally so in her appropriate sphere.

To tell you the truth, I did not know exactly what was expected of me. One day last week, I waited upon madam in the kitchen and in a very hesitating manner began to say something about dinner, when she soon interrupted me, "Laws, missus, don't you, honey, trouble your precious head 'bout sich kind. I'se feel shamed to look Mass'r Frank in de face, and den pears like make me blush to have it told down town; little young missus spending her blessed time in de kitchen."

I presume, I looked, as I felt, delighted to be relieved, and was running away, laughingly, when she continued, "Dere missus, go long, please, and play on de pianny." I came gladly away, but spent the time writing in my journal. Now I have enough to occupy me in the care of my little Pauline.

After Ann had put her to bed last night, Frank showed us the little parcel given him by the landlady. It contained part of a letter addressed to a domestic, giving strict directions concerning the child. It was written in French, in a delicate female hand, but gave no clue as to the name or place of the writer. A mother's heart evidently dictated it, from the numerous directions about clothing, diet, and the like. The packet contained, in addition, a child's dress, with elaborate embroidery upon the neck and sleeves; also a pair of coral and gold sleeve clasps to match the necklace.

Many conjectures were formed by Emily, respecting the parentage of the child, after which the articles were returned to Frank to be locked up safely among his treasures. His sister mischievously recommended him to deposit them in a certain trunk, containing nothing but old letters, saying, with an arch look at me, "I suppose now they are worthless."

The Doctor deigned no reply. This amused Emily so much that she whispered to me, loud enough for him to hear, "Oh, the deceitfulness of man! He tries, beneath that solemn look, to make you believe that he doesn't value those letters above rubies. I'll manage very differently if I ever get in love, which to be sure, is very unlikely. I should wish my husband to tell me once in half an hour that I was dearer to him than all on earth. I've no doubt Frank feels as I do, for each one of those letters used to make him bright for a week; and he hurried the poor carpenters and masons, as if his very life depended on our moving away from the house as soon as possible."

"Emily," called Frank in a serious tone, looking up gravely from the book he was reading, "did I not hear something of an exchange of pulpits between Mr. Munroe and Mr. Benson?"

It was now Emily's turn to be silent. She hesitated, blushed, and finally retired from the room. After she left, Frank asked mother, "Do you think Emily loves Mr. Benson?"

She replied, "I really cannot tell. Beyond his coming often to the house, and Emily seeming rather pleased with his visits, I know nothing."—

Sister has just returned from town, where she has been to make purchases for Pauline's wardrobe. Now I must drop my pen, and go to work with my scissors and needle.

Tuesday, June 9th.

Though very busy, I must write a few lines while Pauline is asleep. Emily and I went to the garret this morning—the receptacle for all things not in use, and found a great supply of playthings for Miss Pauline. Among them are a large wax doll, and her furniture, which with sister's permission, I shall lay by for future use. With a basket of these toys, the dear child has amused herself on the floor, while mother, Miss Proctor, Emily and myself have been plying our needles. We have one suit nearly completed, and shall take her to ride in it this afternoon. We are to go in the double carriage, and after procuring the young Miss a suitable covering for her curly head, we are to drive as far as Waverley, the parish of Emily's friend, though this part of our plan has not yet been disclosed to her ladyship.

Evening.

The doctor was summoned to a patient after tea, but will, I think, be back soon, when I must devote myself entirely to him. Do you know, dear mother, he is trying to make me think him jealous of the young lady I have honored with my protection; really, he says my thoughts are so full of Pauline that I have hardly looked at him for two days. I believe after all he is as bad as Emily, and wants me to tell him "every half hour what a darling he is." I must look to this, for I think I have been to blame, and he shall see my heart is large enough for both. He knows, however, he occupies his full share in my affections.

I remember once before my marriage hearing him say to a lady in England, he would never accept half a heart; no, hardly one that had loved before. He wanted the fresh and warm gushings of affection. She inquired if he had such a heart to give in return. He answered proudly, "I shall ask for no more than I can bestow."

I hear the carriage, and will run to meet him.

Wednesday, June 10th.

Last evening, Frank laughed, as I stood at the door, and said jocosely "I suppose Miss Lenox is asleep, and that you are glad even of my company when you have no other."

Though he was laughing, the tears instantly filled my eyes, and I said, "Oh, Frank! you know how much more I love you than all the Paulines in the world." I spoke earnestly for I thought his words implied a distrust of my love.

His manner changed at once, and very tenderly taking my hand, he led me to the sofa. He turned my face to his, which I had vainly endeavored to conceal. "Now, my love," said he, when he had kissed away the tears, "let us have a full understanding."

"Yes, but I want you to forgive me first, if you think I have been too much absorbed with Pauline."

"My sweet wife, you have never offended me. It is I who ought to ask forgiveness for making you weep. Perhaps you will think me selfish; but I want you to promise to ride with me every day when I can be at liberty, and to leave Pauline with mother, or with Ann. When I am not at liberty, Cæsar will take the large carriage and drive you all, Miss Lenox junior among the rest. Will you promise this?"

"With great pleasure; but why not take her with us; she would be quiet?"

"Because, I want to take you to visit my poor patients. I have laid out a great work for you, Cora, and if I do not mistake, you will love it. Then it will be a good discipline for Pauline, to have you leave her occasionally. By the way, have you settled the question with her who shall be mistress?"

I looked at him in wonder. "I have noticed several times," said he pleasantly, "when your wishes and hers were at variance, that you yielded to her, instead of insisting that she should yield to you. Now, my dear Cora, as we have taken this child, we are responsible to God for her proper government and education. She is not a mere plaything which can be thrown aside at pleasure. She has a soul to be fitted for happiness or misery. Have you thought of this? Have you counted the cost, the care, and effort, and patience which all this requires?"

"Yes, Frank, and I have prayed for wisdom to guide me. I know well I am not fitted for such a charge."

"Then, dear wife, I have no more to say. I will do anything to cooperate with you; and if you enter upon it with such a spirit you will have both Divine help and reward."

I thank God, dear mother, for such a kind husband; so faithful to point out my faults, and so ready to help me overcome them. He feared I did not realize the care and responsibility of the work I had undertaken. I intend at once to commence a course of reading on education. Heretofore I have thought little upon the subject; only that children should be taught to be obedient, truthful and affectionate. Now I understand why Frank wished me to allow Ann to put Pauline to bed. The child cried every time I left her, and would only be satisfied with my waiting upon her in person. I had in two or three instances yielded to her for the sake of peace, without realizing that the principle was wrong, or that she was forming a bad habit. Frank saw she grew more and more imperative in her demands and hence thought it necessary to speak to me of the exposure.

I believe I have not given you an account of our ride to Waverley. We were about a mile on our way, when, whom should we meet but the very Mr. Benson on horse-back, and going to the cottage. I whispered to Emily that we could easily return and leave her at home while we continued our ride. But to this she would by no means consent, and turned indifferently to the window the opposite side of the carriage, where she was intently occupied with the prospect, which in that place consisted of a fine growth of forest trees.

Mr. Benson addressed some words to me, and then rode round to ascertain what was so charming in the opposite view. I really pitied the poor man, for Emily was almost rude to him. I don't yet understand them; but I think I can see that he is a little wanting in tact, and does not quite understand all the crooks and turns in a woman's heart.

Frank very politely invited Mr. Benson to accompany us, who said it would give him pleasure to do so, if agreeable to our company. He looked at Emily; but she deigned no reply, appearing wholly engaged in a frolic with Pauline.

I began at once to be very polite, determined to do my part toward making amends for Emily's indifference, which I saw pained him. It is difficult conversing from a carriage with a gentleman on horse-back; but as we rode slowly, I endeavored to be very interesting, until after a time the young clergyman, perceiving he had no attention from the object of his special regard, resumed his place at my side.

I really like Mr. Benson, and should be glad of him for a brother. I cannot help thinking sister likes him too; when he is not talking with her; for I noticed she kept Pauline very quiet and listened with interest to our conversation. When we returned home, I earnestly invited the gentleman to remain and take tea with us, and had to bite my lips to keep from laughing to see Emily's amazement at the turn affairs had taken.

The suitor, 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."