Papa's own girl: A novel

The first cloud obscuring the heaven of Clara’s perfect happiness as a wife, had passed. The sun shone again, but never with its ineffable brightness. Love’s perfect Eden was forever lost.

Dr. Delano and his wife had been keeping house a little over a year. Clara performed all wifely duties with perfect care. She had been apparently satisfied with Albert’s course to Ella. She made no complaints, was cheerful always, received all his friends with a cordial grace that pleased him well, and if her caresses had lost their old tenderness, he had not wondered at the change—alas! he had not even noticed it;—and yet Clara believed that the trusting, childlike happiness that had been theirs at first, would, by some miracle, return. She cherished this hope as the drowning cling to straws. Ardent and romantic in her nature, feeling certain that her love was perfect and could meet all the needs of Albert, she was terribly shaken by the discovery that the petting, the flattery, the languishing ways of Ella, charmed him more than anything else in the world. She did not blame him nor Ella. It was inevitable that they should like each other, but there were times when her life seemed unendurable.

Ella was often at the house, and Clara received her as she did many of Albert’s friends, with whom she had no special sympathy; but when one day Albert reproached her for showing no affection to Ella, and dwelt upon Ella’s virtues, among which were her simplicity, her affection, her childlike innocence, Clara’s patience gave way: “I do not love her,” she said, “and you know it well. Why should I play the hypocrite? I will treat her well, because she is your friend. We pretend that we have a higher guide than mere conventional rules, which would forbid your ever asking me to receive a woman who stands between me and your love. Ask no more of me, Albert,” she said, with an expression he but partly comprehended. “Ask no more of me, Albert, or I shall fail you, not only in this but in all things.”

Sometimes the temptation was great to open Albert’s eyes as to Ella’s childlike innocence, but Clara was really above using such a weapon against her rival; besides, she doubted that they could be opened. Ella was, apparently, without a single flaw in his eyes.

With the summer came the discussion of passing the heated term at the White Mountains. Albert declared that Clara was looking a little fatigued, and the change would give her tone and color. She received this evidence of anxiety about her health with great pleasure. The prospect of several weeks, in a delightful country, alone with Albert, was in itself sufficient to bring color to her cheeks, and to reawaken her fondest hopes. Mr. Delano, with Charlotte and Ella, were to spend the summer as usual at Newport; but it happened that just before Miss Charlotte announced to her father that her preparations were completed, Ella decided to wait and join Clara and Albert in their trip to the White Mountains. Miss Delano expressed unqualified surprise.

“I don’t know why you should be surprised. Am I not old enough to choose for myself?”

“You are old enough to be discreet,” said Miss Delano, severely; “but, I can assure you, you are not.”

“I know. It is always indiscreet to do what you wish to.”

“No, Miss Wills; it is indiscreet to wish to do what good sense condemns.”

“I’m sure I cannot see that good sense condemns my wish to go to the White Mountains with Clara and Albert.”

“You mean with Albert and Clara. I would ask you if you have been invited by Albert’s wife?”

Ella winced. She saw but one escape, and that was through a falsehood.

“Certainly I have,” she said, with effrontery.

“What is this?” asked Mr. Delano, slow, like most men, to understand the disputes of women. Miss Delano having the issue clearly thrust upon her, explained very succinctly.

“My dear Ella,” said the mild old gentleman, mildly, and as if a sudden thought had struck him, “you know you were an old flame of Albert’s, and you know he is a very hot-headed fellow. I think you are playing with the fire.”

The very mildness of the old gentleman was like tinder to flames, in its effect. Ella answered insolently, and flirted out of the room. Under such circumstances, she thought the best way to convince Mr. Delano and his daughter that they had wronged her, was to show them that they had made her ill. She stayed in her room two whole days, and by great effort, refusing all food during that time, she succeeded pretty well. During the second day she wrote the following letter to Albert:

“Dearest Friend:—I am ill and suffering. It is useless to struggle against fate. No one cares for Ella but you—no one understands her—and they would have me think it wicked to see you. What does it matter that we know our love is pure? They will not believe it. Let us submit to fate, dear, dearest Albert. We had better not meet again, since we cannot be understood. Though it breaks my heart to say it, farewell forever!

Whether Ella guessed what would be the result of this epistle or not, she felt she had done a sublime stroke of duty. She had bade him an eternal farewell, and if he did not abide by it, the fault was not hers. Albert, of course, flew to the rescue gallantly, and that no time should be lost, ordered the carriage for the purpose. He called for Ella, who refused to see him; whereupon he called for his sister, and expended considerable brotherly fury upon that staid maiden. She, on her side, told him some very unpalatable truths, and gave him some advice, which was yet more distasteful, and to which he replied angrily:

“You know no more of my wife than you do of Ella, whom you never understood.” Miss Delano gave her views of Ella’s character and general motives of conduct in most well bred but unmistakable terms, and ended by saying, “If Clara Forest is a woman to be deceived by Ella Wills, to ‘love’ her as you say, then I am fearfully mistaken in the woman. The truth is, you are using her love for you, to abuse her good sense.”

Albert did not fail to show that he had a profound contempt for such ideas of love as might be entertained by prudes and old maids, though he was too polite to use the latter term to any lady. People who are married are apt to think that only they have any understanding of love, just as parents presume that they are better qualified to bring up children from the fact of their maternity or paternity, than others who have no children; though all experience shows that the capacity to bear children, by no means implies the capacity to rear them properly.

In this encounter of brother and sister, Miss Charlotte manifested the calm dignity of one sure of her position, while Albert showed all the blustering, virtuous indignation of the guilty man; however, in the end he succeeded, not only in seeing Ella, but in bearing her away in triumph.

Clara was sufficiently surprised when he arrived with his charge, and supported her upstairs in an apparently dying condition, though she had contrived to look exceedingly interesting in a white cashmere wrapper, fastened at the throat by a huge scarlet ribbon, which made her pallor more noticeable by contrast. The old family physician, Dr. Hanaford, had been called in, but when he came the patient was gone. Mr. Delano advised him to follow her. This Dr. Hanaford was much inclined to do on learning that Albert was unaware that the family physician had been sent for; and further, he did not wish to trust his patient in the hands of young Dr. Delano, which proved that he did not understand the nature of her case. Arrived at Ella’s bedside, he examined her tongue, her pulse, and asked all the usual impertinent questions which doctors seldom omit, even when summoned to prescribe for a sty on the eyelid. Ella, who had never in her life been seriously ill, and knew well that she was not now, winced under the doctor’s examination into her case, the gravity of which he measured by his inability to comprehend it. By dint of nasty medicaments, a low diet, and close confinement, he succeeded in a few days in making Ella very comfortably ill, and she enjoyed greatly the care and anxiety of her friends. Clara was wholly deceived, and nursed Ella with the greatest care, but said nothing about her joining their summer excursion. This vexed Ella, who was determined that Clara should extend the invitation voluntarily. On the occasion of Dr. Hanaford’s next visit, he recommended change of air. “Oh, doctor, I can’t go anywhere,” she replied, languidly. “I don’t wish to move.”

“But, my dear Miss Wills, I advise it. It is the only thing for you in your present condition.”

“Well, then, don’t send me to the sea-side. I hate the sea, and am always made ill by being near it. Now, you will not, will you, dear doctor?” she added, in her most caressing manner. “If you do, I will die just to spite you.”

“No, my dear Miss Wills, I am rather inclined to think a mountain region——”

“No, no; don’t advise anything to-day, doctor dear. Wait till to-morrow. I have such a horrid pain in my side.”

“In your right side? That is a favorable symptom. The bile——”

“Oh, don’t. I haven’t any such horrid thing!” she said, insinuating her little jeweled hand into his large palm by way of mollifying him. “What hour will you come to-morrow?”

“At two o’clock.”

“Precisely? I cannot bear to wait for you a minute. It makes me so nervous.” The doctor declared his intention to be punctual, which was all Ella cared to know, and she was glad when he was gone. The next day, a few minutes before two, she sent for Clara, pretending to need greatly her soothing presence; and when the doctor came she insisted upon Clara’s remaining. This was a part of her plot. Pretty soon she managed to lead up to the subject of the proposed change of air by saying,

“Oh, I am such a trouble to you, Clara dear! but it will not be long. The doctor is going to send me to the sea-side.”

“On the contrary,” replied the unsuspecting old doctor. “I wish you to have the bracing atmosphere of the mountains.” Ella turned her head to the wall with a weary sigh. The doctor expressed regret at recommending anything contrary to the young lady’s inclinations. Clara herself had not the slightest suspicion of Ella’s scheme, and from the goodness of her heart said, “We are going to the White Mountains, doctor, and can take her with us. I have no doubt that the mountain air will be better for her than anything else.” This was a pure, generous self-sacrifice on Clara’s part, costing more effort than any one could guess.

When Albert heard of the gracious offer of his wife, he was exuberant in his thanks—called her his sensible, generous love, and was so demonstrative in his tenderness, that Clara forgot to reflect that it was all due to her making a sacrifice to Ella.

As the days passed, Ella grew tired of being desperately ill; so she secretly threw away Dr. Hanaford’s medicines and ate everything that was offered her. She wished to be ill enough to alarm Albert, and yet she must contrive to look charming in his eyes, and the work required a good deal of study. Pretty soon she left her bed, and spent her time in planning ravishing convalescent toilettes, complaining to Albert all the time of the dire condition of her health. On one occasion he found her reclining on a lounge in a pretty white-and-blue gown, her hair exquisitely dressed, and looking a picture of health. She complained of “utter weariness”—would not talk further than to say she cared for nothing in the world but to die and be out of everybody’s way. Of course he called her endearing names, and begged her to live for his sake; he could not endure life without her. Finally he persuaded her to eat some delicious hot-house grapes he had brought her, and to consent to endure existence a little longer!

During Ella’s illness Mr. Delano called upon her, and the day following Miss Charlotte also. She was a very kind person at heart, though her manner was a little of the forbidding style. She urged Ella to go home, and talked to her of the danger and the impropriety also of courting the affections of married men. Ella could not be angry, for Miss Delano’s manner and accent on this occasion were really sympathetic and friendly. Ella could now declare with a good grace that she was engaged to accompany Albert and Clara to the White Mountains—that Clara had urged it and desired it. Miss Delano was nonplussed, and soon after took her leave.