The Project Gutenberg eBook of Cora And The Doctor, by Harriette Newell Baker.

"With wild surprise

As if to marble struck devoid of sense,

A stupid moment motionless she stood." Thomson.

Dear Mother,—After a long, but not tedious voyage, the good ship "Unicorn," bore us gallantly into the port of Havre, where we arrived on the twenty-eighth of November.

I could almost see my dear husband gain in flesh and strength, so rapidly did he improve. He walks about now as erect and strong as ever. We tarried but two days in Havre, and then proceeded to this place, where we are comfortably established for the winter. That is, we shall be, when we can get our trunks unpacked.

I don't know but I shall regret not having taken mother Lenox's advice to bring Ann instead of Ruth. The poor girl appears almost demented, as she cannot understand a word of the language; and whenever I send her to the kitchen to bring water, or anything from thence, I hear a perfect roar of laughter from the servants at her droll talk and signs. She generally comes back empty handed as she went, rolling her white eyes from side to side, while she sometimes laughs, and sometimes cries at her "poor luck," as she calls it. To-day she came to me in great indignation, saying, "I 'clare, missus, 'pears like I'se couldn't bring down my idees to make dem doe heads 'stand anything I'se seb. I'se tink dey find dis chile has been brought up in de way to teach dem manners."

The weather is perfectly delightful. I only wish all the dear ones I love were here to enjoy it with us. It is quite fortunate for me that I have no household cares, for I have a double portion of journalizing. I promised to write mother Lenox, in the same full, free manner, as I have always written to you. And as the same journal will be passed from mother to Emily, and from Emily to Lucy, and from Lucy to somebody else, I must be especially careful of my style, while in writing to you I merely let my pen travel on at its utmost speed, and with our own poet,

"I feel a certain tingling come

Down to my fingers, and my thumb."

Perhaps you can imagine, but I cannot describe to you, the thrill of delight which I felt when I first stepped upon terra firma in Havre; and remembered that though still far from home, and the grave of my dear father; yet I was in the same hemisphere with yourself and my beloved sisters.

I was quite amused at a discussion, I overheard between Nelly and Frank, just before I commenced writing. Nelly was earnestly talking of the pleasure she anticipated in going to England, and wishing the time were already come. In both expectation and regret, she was cordially joined by her brother. She then proceeded to give Frank a particular account of aunt Nelly which could hardly be from memory; and ended by saying, "I am the most related to her of any of the family."

This, Frank stoutly denied, saying, "She is as much my aunt as yours." After quite a warm discussion of this interesting point, the disputants agreed to leave it to Ruth, who, after carefully weighing the subject, said in a very gracious tone to Frank, "I 'spects, she is, Mass'r Frank. But then 'pears like its you that's the nearest to mass'r, 'cause your name be like his." I hope Mrs. Colonel Morton will not be unduly elated at the honor to which Nelly aspires.

With the Doctor's efficient aid, we are now reduced to order; and can find a dress or apron without strewing the floor with the contents of three or four trunks. The same hands have driven up an innumerable number of nails for clothes, of which Ruth and I have made extempore closets by sewing rings to a sheet, and hanging them in front, so that we have only to put aside our curtain, and we are in the inclosure, while coats, dresses, and other clothes are free from dust. Master Franky has a trunk devoted to him for his toys, and so far thinks it much more convenient than his drawers and lockers at home. Another trunk has been assigned to books, slates and apparatus. School commenced in earnest to-day.

The Doctor has sent for a piano, that the children may not lose their practice. He also intends Pauline to take lessons on the harp. I am not, as you know, a proficient upon that instrument.

I have added to my family a little French girl, daughter of one of the peasants, who was very willing to leave her parents for a time, to come to us. Ruth is a very good sempstress; and I find enough of that employment for her, and in following "mass'r Franky" in his walks of discovery about the town.

My husband chose this location from the fact of its being so healthy; and because there is a Protestant church here. Nice is a great resort for invalids. There are quite a number of families here at present. One lady, with her husband, child and servant occupy rooms above ours. Frank intends calling with me on the aged pastor, whom we have not seen except at church. Our landlord speaks of him with the greatest enthusiasm and affection; and ascribes the peace and prosperity of the place mainly to his influence, and untiring efforts for the good of his people.

There is very little variety in our life, and I fear, I shall not be able to relate much that will interest you. I give six hours a day to the children, while Pauline recites in mathematics and Italian to her father. I wish, dear mother, you could see our Pauline again. She reminds me of an author, who describing a young lady, says, "she is near that age, sixteen, at which every day brings with it some new beauty to her form." No one can be more modest, nor, (which seems wonderful in a woman,) more silent; yet when she speaks you might believe a muse was speaking. But then her face,

"So lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth,

The overflowings of an innocent heart."

She is silent only when strangers are present. In the company of those she loves, she is all animation, and merriment. Her father says it is a perfect delight to teach her. The remainder of the school hours Frank devotes to reading, which is a real luxury to him, reserving his walks until we can accompany him.

The Doctor and myself called last evening upon Mr. Percival, whose gray locks, and venerable aspect had already inspired us with respect. He received us with the kindness of a father, and related many incidents connected with his flock which were very pleasing. He has established two schools, one for infant scholars, and another for those more advanced. The infant scholars, however, are many of them near a dozen years of age. He accompanied us part of the way on our return to visit an English gentleman, who is very sick and has come here to die. "Perhaps," said the old gentleman, "at some future time, I may communicate some facts relative to his history. His life has been one of no common interest."

We parted from our companion with regret, having obtained from him a promise to return our call at his earliest convenience.

This morning an incident occurred, which for want of other excitement, has given us a fruitful subject for conversation. Having observed a retired spot not far distant from the house where the invalid of whom I spoke was stopping, we turned our steps toward it, and found it to be a family burying place containing five graves, upon one of which was a beautifully white marble monument, inscribed with the simple word "Imogen." We stood a while to weave each for ourselves a history of this loved one, whose grave was of the usual size of a fully grown woman. Perhaps she was an only daughter, or a young wife, whose early departure had cast a gloom over a large family.

Pauline and Nelly who started with us had lingered on the way, and came in sight just as we turned to leave the place. Meeting our good friend, Mr. Percival, we walked on slowly together, leaving them to visit the simple grave. It was nearly an hour before they returned. The Doctor and I were enjoying a delightful conversation with our aged friend, who had accompanied us home, when Nelly came bounding into the room, saying, in an excited tone, "oh, mamma!" But seeing we were not alone she checked herself, and was introduced together with Pauline to our visitor. I gazed at Pauline with wonder. Her whole countenance was lighted with animation. Her eyes sparkled, and there was the richest bloom upon her cheeks. I saw at a glance that something unusual had occurred, and said inquiringly, "Well, my daughters, have you had a pleasant walk?"

Our visitor had no sooner taken his departure than they came running in, eager to communicate their adventure.

"Oh, mamma!" exclaimed Nelly, throwing herself into a chair, "Pauline has had such a scene."

"Yes, mamma," said Pauline, "I never expected to create such a sensation as I did soon after you left. I went to the cemetery with Nelly, and after walking around had thrown myself down before the monument marked 'Imogen.' I was imagining my own feelings, had the interred been my mother, and thinking if such were the case, how I should love to visit her grave, and plant flowers around it, when I looked up to meet the glance of a young man who was tenderly assisting an old gentleman toward the very spot where I knelt, while in one hand he carried a portable seat. A single glance sufficed to assure me that they were mourners for some beloved friend lying there; and I sprang up hastily and apologized for my intrusion. The old gentleman had not appeared to observe me until I spoke; but then he started back as if he had seen a ghost, and would have fallen to the ground had not his companion hastily thrown down the stool, and caught him in his arms. I opened it, and stepping behind them motioned the younger one that it would be better to let him be seated. He put his hand feebly to his head, saying audibly, 'Oh, my God! support me under this.' Then turning to his son, he said, 'Did you see her, Eugene?'

"'Why oh! I forgot myself. Let us return; I can't stay here. Perhaps she'll come back.'

"'Dear father, your eyes have deceived you. It was only a young lady who happened to be reading the epitaph upon the tomb stone;' and he turned to look again at me.

"I had lost all power of motion, and was so drawn toward father and son, that I had not thought of moving.

"'You have been so very anxious,' continued the young man, 'to come here once more, and the air is so balmy to-day, I fear you will not have so favorable an opportunity again.'

"A deep sigh was the only reply; and the son took a pocket-handkerchief, and tenderly wiped his father's forehead, as he leaned against his breast. 'Perhaps,' said he, addressing me in French,' you will come around in front of the grave. My father is much agitated at your sudden appearance.'

"I replied, in English, that I was very sorry for what had happened; and regretted that I had been led by curiosity to intrude upon their retirement.

"'To the lady, you saw, father,' and he made a motion with his hand for me to stand where he could see me.

"I did so, but no sooner did the old gentleman perceive me, than he started forward holding out both his hands as if to embrace me; and then with a dreadful groan fell back into the arms of his son.

"'Fly,' said he, 'to that house,' pointing to the nearest one, 'and call for help. Stay,' he continued quickly, 'if you could hold him, I could go quicker.'

"'Nelly,' I exclaimed, as she came running toward me, after wandering all over the enclosure, 'Run as quick as you can to that house, and tell the servants their master has fainted by the grave, and they must come directly.' I knew Nelly's skill in running would serve a good purpose on this occasion. I gave Eugene, as his father called him, my salts, and kneeling down vigorously rubbed the cold hands in mine.

"'I cannot account for it,' said he, 'why my father is so much agitated at the sight of you; but as he is so perhaps it will be as well for you to stand aside when he recovers his consciousness.'

"In a very short time, Nelly returned in company with a man and woman. The man brought a chair with pillows in it, and in this they speedily placed the unconscious invalid, and carried him away. Eugene merely said, 'I shall see you again,' as he left."

My dear mother, you who are acquainted with Pauline's history may judge in some slight degree of our feelings upon hearing of this adventure. I glanced at Frank, who turned very pale, but said nothing. Pauline got up with considerable excitement in her tone, and manner, and stood before a small mirror which hung in the room, saying, "I cannot conceive for whom the old gentleman could have taken me. I'm sure I don't see as I look like anybody but father." She has often been told of her close resemblance to him.

After she had left the room, Frank and I talked over the singularity of the event; but concluded that we were not called upon to make any inquiries with regard to the old gentleman's agitation, as he is an Englishman, and Pauline was, without doubt, a native of France. He is doubtless the one to whom Mr. Percival alluded in our first interview.

Last night after Pauline's adventure I was so very nervous and excited that I could not sleep. I imagined the most improbable events, until I felt a perfect horror from the possibility that Pauline might be related to these people. I awoke Frank to ask him if he had brought the packet we received with her.

He replied that he had, but thought it was altogether probable we should carry it back as wise as we came. I told him I had not slept, and he quite laughed at me for making so much of a mere accident. He said that my imagination was always running away with me. I tried to think so myself and was soon asleep.

To-day Mr. Percival came in to invite us to attend service in the chapel to-morrow, (Christmas,) and having sent the children out for a walk, the Doctor asked him the name of the English gentleman who was so ill.

"Clifford," he replied, hesitating a moment. "Henry Clifford. He is, or was a colonel in the English army." I saw Frank give a sudden start, and then checked himself and went on with the conversation.

Mr. Percival hinted that domestic trials had brought on premature old age; that after having been for many years separated from his wife, he had come here to die by her grave. "Is it the one marked 'Imogen?'" I inquired.

"Yes, and the house you see from the spot is where she was born. The estate now belongs to her son."

"I never understood sufficiently to relate," he replied in rather a reserved tone; and feeling entirely relieved from my great burden, I cared not to hear more. When Pauline returned, I somewhat astonished the dear child by the vehemence of my embrace. But recollecting myself, I pressed Miss Ellen also in my arms, that she might not suspect any particular emotion.

After he left, Frank went to his desk, and taking out the card upon which he had written the name of the gentleman to whom he had been entrusted with the dying confession of Squire Lee, looked earnestly at it, hoping the name was the same. But no, that was Shirley. He said while Mr. Percival was here, the thought that this might be the very man concerning whom he had made so many inquiries, flashed through his mind. It had been so long since he had despaired of learning anything about him that he had forgotten the name.

We have had a very quiet Christmas, that is, since Franky has done shouting over the contents of his stocking. Miss Nelly is really growing into a young lady. She came to me last evening, and having drawn me to a part of the room where she was sure her father could not hear, she whispered that she thought she was too old to hang up a stocking, for she had known a long time who put the presents in it; and that she would as soon have them given directly to her.

I laughed so much at the idea of her thinking herself grown up, that her father insisted upon sharing the joke; and somewhat to the young lady's annoyance, I informed him that she had become too old to be treated like a child. He called her to sit on his knee, and told her he must have her for a baby a long time yet. She was so much better than Franky, who would not sit still a moment.

But Miss only pouted until he whistled, and held up his gold pencil case for her to play with, then saying, "Baby want to hear papa's watch tick, tick?" when she "laughed tears," and Pauline came running in to see what caused all the merriment.

Nelly sprang up from her father's lap, saying, "sister would make a far better baby than I should."

Pauline went and put her arms lovingly around her father's neck, and said as she laid her cheek against his, "I should be contented to be a baby in this way forever."

We took our whole family to church, filling up one entire slip. Franky was particularly polite to Ruth, whom he had requested leave to invite to sit with us on this occasion. He took the book of hymns from his sister, and passed it to his sable friend, a kindness which Ruth fully appreciated.

A young gentleman about twenty years of age sat near us. I could not avoid noticing that his eyes seldom turned from our pew. He was a fine, frank looking fellow, with light, curly hair, and fair complexion. But his principal beauty was a pair of brilliant eyes; very bright, but soft and mild in their expression. I saw that Pauline was confused by the young man's ardent gaze, and I was surprised as we came out of the aisle to see that she slightly returned his bow. But I had not much time to wonder, before Nelly whispered, "mamma, that's Pauline's 'Eugene.'" I saw by a smile on his countenance that the young man had heard her introduction; and we were relieved from rather an awkward meeting, by Mr. Percival, who inquired about his father, and then introduced him to us.

Young Clifford represented his father as very feeble, and said it would be a great kindness if the Doctor would call and see him. This Frank readily promised to do. As we went the same way the young man walked by Pauline, and did not leave her until we reached our own door.

Nelly was delighted with him, and her sister frankly said she thought him uncommonly pleasing.

The Catholic part of the community went early in the day, to their church to attend service, and spent the rest of the time in sports. They are now returning from the visits and places of amusement. Some of them are rather noisy; but generally they appear weary and fatigued.

Not a day has passed since our introduction to young Clifford, (or Eugene as Nelly insists upon calling him) without our meeting him either in a walk, or by his coming to our place. The Doctor has also called twice upon Colonel Clifford, who is now constantly confined to his bed. Frank says he is not more than forty-seven years of age, but sorrow has placed a heavy mark upon him. He expressed much pleasure that his son had found friends in our family. I rather think our partial friend, Mr. Percival, has spoken of us in his presence. He is very much depressed in spirits; and says there are periods of his life, he would give a great deal to be able to live over again. He speaks with the utmost tenderness of his son, and says, "If he were an experimental Christian, I could ask no more. He is everything else the fondest father could desire."

After this expression the Doctor conversed with him upon religious subjects. "Ah," said the sick man, "what should I have done but for the support of religion!" He hinted that at times his mental distress had been so great, that if it had not been for his religious principles, he fears he should have yielded to the suggestions of the adversary, and have put an end to his life. "But God," he added, "has mercifully preserved me; and will preserve me until the end."

Eugene shares not at all in his father's depression; but is very lively as well as gentle. He says he has been obliged to act the part of a daughter as well as that of a son, for his father has been an invalid ever since his remembrance.

He replied, "Many years. I have only a slight recollection of her; and it is a subject upon which my father never speaks."

I saw that this remark excited Pauline's compassion. He also noticed it, and made the most of it. I felt really a little jealous of him to-day, she looked up at him with such a simple trust. I must be on the watch. We know so little of him, and there is such a mystery about the family.

I wish you a happy new year, dear mother. Eugene came early this morning with his bright face to wish us the same. He said his father had sent him out for a walk, and he invited Pauline and Nelly to accompany him. I gave my consent, though with some reluctance. The truth is, he is one of those lovely young men, who when they are present carry all before them. Frank took the opportunity to walk over and see his father.

Colonel Clifford really smiled when told that his son had called and taken off the young ladies for a walk; but a tear stood in his eye as he replied, "Eugene has never had an opportunity to be much in the company of ladies. I am very much pleased that he has chosen such society." He again expressed gratitude for our kindness to his poor boy, who would soon be an orphan. The Doctor, at Colonel Clifford's request, prayed with him. After prayer, Frank told him he was a Doctor, not of divinity, but of medicine. He thought the Colonel was disappointed, but after a moment's silence he replied, "a pious physician has a great opportunity to do good." The Doctor is more and more pleased with him.

Pauline and Nelly returned in fine spirits from their walk, and repeated to me most of the conversation which had passed. Pauline said their companion had requested them to call him Eugene now that they were so well acquainted; and also that he was entirely reconciled to the plan of his father's spending the winter here, which he at first thought would he dismal enough.

I don't think Eugene realizes that probably his father will not live through the winter.

Eugene has completely won me over. He came in to-day and appeared as glad to see us, as if we had not met for a week. He sat down by me in the most artless manner; and taking a skein of silk from Franky, who was getting it into a sad snarl, said he had a favor to ask of me; and if I would grant it he should be very happy.

He looked at me so earnestly, that I told him with a smile, I thought I might venture to promise, if it were nothing very unreasonable.

For a moment he cast his eyes down; and then said with perfect naiveté, "I thought of it last night after the conversation here, about my not remembering my mother; and this morning I told father, and he approves it very much if you are willing."

"Well," he resumed, repressing a sigh, "You know I have never since my remembrance had a mother. I need one sadly, to tell me when I do wrong. Oh!" he added, with great emotion, laying the silk on his knee, "I have so longed for a mother, or sister who would watch over me, and take an interest in me, as I have seen mothers and sisters in their sons and brothers."

I was very much affected by this natural outburst of feeling, and said, "I will, my son." Hardly conscious of what I did, I leaned forward, and kissed his pure, white brow.

He grasped my hand, and kneeling, covered it with kisses, while he thanked me in the warmest terms.

Pauline and Nelly looked on with great interest. "Remember," said the former, as she held out her hand to him, while her eyes were filled with tears, "you have now two sisters and a brother."

He was then in a great hurry to go and report his success to his father, who he said would be very much pleased.

Eugene came over for a few moments last evening to thank me in behalf of his father, and to ask if the Doctor would call upon him in the morning, as there had been some change in his symptoms.

Frank offered to go at once; but the young man did not wish it. He went this morning, however, and prescribed a change of medicine.

Colonel Clifford confessed that he had at first been somewhat disappointed in finding that he was not a clergyman; but now considered it a very kind providence which had brought a physician almost to the very door. He added that now the only anxiety he had had in remaining in Nice was obviated. The Doctor remained and read to him for an hour. When he left, the Colonel renewed his thanks for our kindness to his dear boy.

CHAPTER XXXV.

"A Mother's love—how sweet the name!

What is a mother's love?

A noble, pure, and tender flame,

Enkindled from above,

To bless a heart of earthly mould

The warmest love that can grow cold;

This is a mother's love." Montgomery.

"A malady

Preys on my heart, that medicine cannot reach,

Invincible and cureless." Maturin.

It has fallen into a custom that the Doctor should pass a part of every morning with the invalid, while Eugene walks with his sisters, as he fondly calls them. Nelly and Frank have been in with their father to be introduced to the Colonel; and received from him some valuable curiosities as presents. The next day he sent Pauline a very valuable token of regard, with a message that he fully appreciated the value of such sisters to a young man destitute of any female relative. It is a little singular that while he converses freely on every other subject, and has drawn from the Doctor much of his own history, yet he has never alluded in the most distant manner to the nature of his own peculiar trials. He is much better in health since the change in his medicine, but Frank told him freely that it was not probable the benefit would be permanent.

The Colonel said he should be sorry to think it otherwise; though he supposed he ought to desire to live for the sake of his boy.

I could hardly have thought it possible that we should in so short a time have become so much interested in persons, of whose existence even we were till now ignorant. Eugene is a very dutiful son, and has evidently been trained with the greatest care by his pious father. He repeats over and over again the names of mother and sisters, as if he revelled in the very idea of having such relatives. He told me that one day he called me by the name of mamma in his father's presence, when a look of agony passed like a shade over his face; but in one moment, with a faint smile, he said, "I thank God, my son, that you have found a mother, even in name."

When the Doctor visited Colonel Clifford this morning, he found him busily engaged in writing, which he immediately put aside, saying, "I have nearly finished the preparation of some papers which I wish at my death to put into the hands of my son."

The Doctor was about to leave; but the Colonel insisted on his remaining, as he wished to introduce a particular subject of conversation. He began by saying, "I have not inquired so particularly about the American colleges without an object. If in what I say, you consider me as taking advantage of your kindness, both to me and my boy, I must beg the same indulgence to excuse it." He then, assured by Frank's sincerely expressed wish to be of service to him, went on to say, "when I die, Eugene will have no friend or near relative, from whom he has a right to claim sympathy and kindness. I have often prayed that some friend might be raised up, with whom I could feel safe to confide, both his spiritual and temporal interests. I have thought," he added, while a tear trickled down his emaciated cheek, "that perhaps God had answered my prayers, and sent you here to be that friend."

Frank took the wasted hand in his as he replied, "I shall feel honored in being considered as such."

"But do you fully understand my meaning?" he was eagerly asked. "Eugene has more than enough property, and it is well funded; but he needs a home, and kind friends to watch over him; just what every young man needs."

"Perhaps you are not aware," replied the Doctor, "that we intend returning to the United States in a few months."

"I am fully so; but Eugene has no particular attachments to England; that is, when I am gone, and he would gladly accompany you. Do not give me an answer to-day. Consult your family, and let me know hereafter; and may the Lord incline your heart to do according to my desire!" He held the Doctor's hand convulsively in his, as he said this, and appearing to be much fatigued by the exciting nature of the interview, Frank took leave.

It was an interesting subject for us, during our long walks; and after being interrupted for a time, was extended far into the night. My husband fully realized that the care would fall upon me; his professional duties so fully occupy his time at home. Then the influence upon our children, we felt it to be our duty to consider. I frankly confessed to the Doctor that I had never seen a young man whom I could more readily take to my heart as a son; and that I knew Pauline and Nelly, as well as Frank, would be delighted with this addition to our family.

"What is the drawback, then? I see there is something you do not bring to the light."

I could at first give no reply. There was a drawback; but it seemed to me so selfish that I could not endure to mention it. It was the fear that Eugene would love my Pauline with a love surpassing that of a brother, and that she would return his love. At length I replied, "no, nothing that need to be a drawback; only I thought that perhaps it might be dangerous to place young people at the age he and Pauline are, in such intimate connection."

"Ah," said he, laughing, "I might have guessed Pauline was at the bottom of all your trouble. For a girl, good and obedient as she is, she has occasioned you great anxiety. Even if such an event should happen, which I will acknowledge is very probable, you will have the training of him, and you can educate him to suit yourself, instead of training her for a wife for cousin Joseph as he proposed. Eugene appears to be a very pure minded young man. Like our children, he has been educated at home; and that is one reason of his father's regret and anxiety. He knows nothing of the world, and is as ignorant as a child of the wickedness he will have to meet, and therefore liable to be led away. I have tried to think what I should wish were I in his place, and have concluded with your consent, and full approbation to accept the charge."

I had never seen Colonel Clifford until yesterday morning, when I went with the Doctor to tell him of our willingness to take Eugene into our family, if the young man's wishes in that respect corresponded with his father's.

He answered our light knock for admittance, after a moment; and I could see that he had been weeping. But he held out his hand as he feebly seated himself; and with a smile, said, "it argues well for me, Doctor, that you have brought your lady."

We took seats near him, and I could see that he waited with trembling impatience for us to speak upon the subject nearest his heart. The Doctor said, "we have come in to express our willingness to accede to your wishes in regard to your son."

The Colonel exhibited great emotion, and with a beautiful smile of trust in his heavenly Father which illumined every feature, he said with closed eyes, "My God, I thank thee!" After a short pause he turned to me, "my dear madam, let me hear you say you will be a mother to my motherless boy."

The last words were uttered with difficulty, as if he had not been used to uttering the word "Mother." I replied, "with God's help, I will."

He covered his face with his hand, and wept long; but his tears seemed to be soothing instead of exciting him. We waited for his agitation to subside, while the Doctor rose and walked to the window, and my tears flowed in sympathy with his.

"You are Christian parents," were his first words, "and with such I need no excuse for my tears." Then becoming more composed, he said, "the burden which has weighed heavily upon me for many years is gone. God has graciously answered me,"—he broke down again; but instantly resumed, "Doctor, will you express my thanks?"

He rose feebly, and kneeled by his chair; and though I could hear the sobs bursting from his overflowing heart, he arose composed, and refreshed.

The Doctor endeavored to change the conversation for a few moments; but he smiled as he said, "I perceive your kind intention, but I can at present think of nothing else. It will not injure me."

In the course of the interview he said that for many years he had been longing to go home; but for the sake of his son, he had taken every measure to prolong his life. "Eugene's," he added, "is a singular case. I am not aware that he has a single relative on his mother's side; and none nearer than two or three removes on mine. He has a lovely disposition, though perhaps I may be deemed partial in saying so."

With an ardent expression of gratitude, he continued, "but his yielding temper only leaves him more at the mercy of a cold cruel world. Oh! how many hours of sorrow I have spent in imagining his future, and fearing he might be left to suffer like his father. Eugene remembers little or nothing of his early life. I have never been able to converse with him upon subjects connected with his"—The voice was so low I could not distinguish the rest of the sentence. "I have prepared," he added, "some papers which throw light upon some subjects, which it is natural and right he should know at a proper age. I should be glad to leave them in your hands when I go, with the request that he should have them when he attains his majority. I should also be glad, if Eugene were so inclined, to have him keep this small estate, that the cemetery may not be molested. The steward, who has lived in it for many years, would be glad to continue in it, and give him a suitable rent for the house and furniture. One thing more, and I shall have done for this morning. I fear that I have already taxed you too long. I wish a small monument in every respect like the one in yonder grave yard, placed above my remains, with the single word 'Harry' inscribed upon it. I have already given directions to have my body placed by her side. Now," said he, "receive once more the gratitude of a father, who perceives in your pledge of kindness to his son, a new proof of forgiveness and assurance of pardon and love from his heavenly Father."

For several days I have spent much of my time with Colonel Clifford, who after our interview respecting his son, appeared to fail rapidly. On Monday morning the Doctor and I called, and Eugene took the opportunity to go out for his exercise. "Dr. Lenox," said the invalid, "there is one subject, I inadvertently omitted at our late interview, and which I may as well mention at this time. My name is not Henry Clifford, as you suppose, but Henry Clifford Shirley."

Frank sprang to his feet, and was on the point of catching his friend by the hand, but remembering the feebleness of the Colonel, and the danger to him of any sudden excitement, he resumed his seat.

"It is entirely immaterial to me which name Eugene retains," said he, not appearing to have noticed anything unusual in the Doctor's manner, "but as all his property stands registered in the name of Shirley, it was highly desirable that you should be aware of the fact."

Frank walked back and forth across the room evidently very much perplexed how to introduce the communication he wished to make. At length he sat down by the side of the sufferer, and gently said, "Colonel Clifford, many years ago I received a confession from a dying man in relation to a gentleman by the name of Henry Shirley, who was a Colonel in his Majesty's service. I have endeavored in vain to find such a gentleman, in order to confide the confession to him, according to the desire of the penitent man."

Colonel Clifford appeared much agitated, but at length said, "To what did it relate?"

"To certain anonymous letters written to him while abroad, in India, I think he said, with a regiment of the government troops. Shall I go on?"

"As nearly as I can recollect," added Frank, "the gentleman, who was a townsman of mine, met your wife while on a foreign tour, and made proposals to her which she indignantly refused. In order to revenge himself, he wrote to you intimating her guilt in connection with another gentleman."

The distressed man with a dreadful groan fell forward, and would have fallen to the floor had not the Doctor caught him in his arms. He motioned to me to ring the bell, and with the help of a servant who appeared, laid the unconscious man upon the bed. It was some time before he recovered, and when he did, he looked so death-like, that we feared the excitement would terminate his life. I remained until he fell asleep, and then quietly left him with the Doctor.

When Frank returned, he said that the Colonel did not allude to the exciting subject of the interview until just before he left, and then said to him, "I am not equal to continuing the conversation. I have written all that is necessary to my son"—he could go no farther. Since that time the subject has never been alluded to. A holy peace has taken the place of the melancholy expression of his countenance; and he hails with delight every fresh symptom of dissolution. He said yesterday, "God has granted me delightful views of heaven, and the honor and glory of the Saviour, who is the chief among ten thousand, and the one altogether lovely. Oh," he exclaimed in a rapture, "Eternity will be too short to praise him who has redeemed my guilty soul."

This morning he is much revived, and asked the Doctor to pray that he might be ready and waiting, but not be impatient for the coming of the bridegroom. Eugene is tender, and affectionate as a daughter, in his attentions. It often makes the tears start to my eyes, as I witness the look of unuttered love which beams from the eye of the sufferer upon his devoted son. Every day he insists that Eugene shall take exercise in the open air; but this I fear he would be reluctant to do if it were not for the company of his sisters. When released from the sick room he bounds like a young doe to our door and calls them for a walk.

Pauline has often accompanied him to the grave of his mother. To-day he requested me to do so; when the others were about to follow, with his usual frankness he said, "no, dear Pauline, I want to walk with mamma alone." As we passed his house, he ran in and brought out the stool. When we reached the grave, he said as he placed the seat near by, "Dear mamma, I have chosen this place to make a disclosure to you, that if I have done wrong, the thought that my own mother has long been lying here, and that the simple word 'Imogen,' is all I have of her memory, may incline your heart to forgive."

I was very much affected. "Dear Eugene," I said, "I needed not the influence of this sacred spot in order to do that. I have said that you were to me as a son."

"Oh! let me be indeed a son," he exclaimed, throwing himself on the ground before me. "I love my sister Pauline. I love her with an intensity of which I have but lately become aware. Tell me that I have not done wrong; that you and the Doctor approve my love; and I shall be forever grateful."

"Oh no!" he answered, "of course, I could say nothing without your consent,—we are both young. I will wait years,—you shall set the time for our marriage,—if you will only give me leave to love her, and she will consent."

"You do not answer," said he, repressing a sigh; "you do not say you forgive me for having unconsciously loved her. Remember," said he, rising and standing sorrowfully before me, "remember that I have had no mother to teach me to control my feelings," and he pointed sadly to the grave.

"I do remember," I said, taking his hand. "You are a noble, honorable youth, to tell me your feelings so frankly. I do not love you less, that you love my Pauline; but this is a serious subject; there are many things to be considered, and I must consult the Doctor."

He pressed his lips upon my hand. "Thank you," said he, "that you do not deny me at once. Be assured I will not betray my feelings to her until you give me leave."

As we passed his house on our return, I asked if he had conversed with his father upon the subject.

"He smiled when I told him, and said he thought us rather young; but said he had the most implicit confidence in you and the Doctor. But I determined at once, that the only honorable course for me to pursue, was to tell you all."

"Well, my son," I answered, "I shall have great hopes that you will be a useful man, if you carry out all your determinations as well as in this case."

When we drew near the house, I saw Pauline watching us from the window. Eugene asked in a low voice, "when may I hope for an answer from you?"

He turned away with merely a bow to Pauline, and returned to his father. I have come to my room to wait for Frank's return. I think notwithstanding what he said, he will be astonished that his daughter has been sought in marriage at so early a day. But Eugene is a noble, ingenuous youth; what can I ask more, except that he may be a humble Christian?

Frank returned yesterday, with a letter long expected, and waited for, from cousin Joseph Morgan, who says, owing to the protracted absence of one of the firm, he has not been able to leave Paris; but hopes now to be with us in a few days, when he intends by a long visit to make up for this tedious delay.

When we had read and discussed the letter, I asked Frank to prepare himself for some important business. Seeing I was in earnest he sat down at once, and I related what had passed.

"Really," said he, "Eugene has well improved his time. I wonder how Pauline feels. I never saw any particular evidence of affection on her part. Now I always expected that when she felt young Cupid's dart, she would do pretty much as you did under similar circumstances, blush up to her eyes every time his name was mentioned, and always be out of the way just when she was wanted. Come, come, I didn't mean to set you at it again; but,

CHAPTER XXXIV.

CHAPTER XXXV.