LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VIII, Issue 966, 31 July 1877, Page 3

LITERATURE.

MY FIRST PATIENT. By Cammie. ( Continued ) 'Strain on the nervous system," I muttered through my parched lips. " Quietness, • e.-t, and tonics will do wonders." 1 hen, rising in a helpless way, I bade them good morning and groped my way out of the house. 'Oh, Heaven,'l cried, in the anquish of my heart, ' Avhy am I thus made the plaything of fate ?' I felt myself reeling as the full misery of my position rushed across my mind and instinctively caught at the railings of the house I was passing to save myself from falling. 'John Preston,' called a cheerful, little crackel voice from the other side of the hedge, ' what is the matter ? Are you going to faint ? Don't stand there in that dazed way—come in.' So saying, the Rector's sister, a kind little spinster, who had constituted herself my mother's deputy since the first night of my arriv 1, took me by the arm and led me, like the child she pretended to think me, into her own little sanctum. She insisted on my drinking a terrific dose of neat brandv, and. began chaffing my temples •»nd hands vigorously, holding forth all the time on the dreadful inconvenience of my being ill. ' Just now of all times, when there is a charming young widow staying in the village, too ! Why, at the very moment you fainted outside my gate 1 w»s plannng a nice little tea-party for the express purpose of introducing you to Mrs Freeman. She is a most charming creature, I believe, and to be a successful doctor, you know, you ought to be ' ' What do you mean ?' I exclaimed, catching both her hands and fixing my eyes eagerly upon her face. ' For Heaven's sake put an end to my misery ! Is Mrs Freeman and this widow you wish me to marry the same person? For pity's sake don't keep me in suspense !' And in my excitement I almost shook the little woman. ' Why, bless the man, I do believe he's mad I Yes, of course it's the same. Do we have so many charming young widows in this out-of-the-way place that there should be two at one time ?' I jumped up and astonished the dear old soul by fairly hugging her, and exclaimed in a voice of deep thankfulness—- ' Thank Heaven—oh, thank Heaven !' ' Dear me, dear me, what are you so thankful for ?' she said, looking more bewildered than ever as she set her cap straight after my uncouth caress. Here was a dilemma 1 My darling—l might c»ll her so now—evidently wished our previous meeting to remain a thing of the past; so I stammered indistinctly something about remains of brain-fever, and changed the conversation by asking how long Mrs Freeman had been in Clokesham. * Only came last night. I have not seen her yet, you know. She married poor Ned Kreeman—a runaway match—the only son of Mr Talbot's only sister. He was a shocking young scapegrace, and went off to the diamond-fields with his delicate young wife.' ' How long has he been dead ? ' I asked. ' I don't know how long; but I think he must have met his death in some disgraceful manner, for Mr Talbot never speaks of him voluntarily, and, if his name is mentioned, he only says, "Poor Ned, poor Ned ! Fnough to break her heart, poor young thing! " ' 'Well, Mfes Golding,' I said briskly, 'I must not stay here talking scandal one minute longer.' So, thanking her warmly for her kindness, I set off, leaving her still in a state of considerable doubt as to my fitness for attending to other ailments. With what intense relief I found myself once more in the solitude of my little home, and sat down to think over, as calmly as I could, the events of the morning. My love was here, near to me, and free. I questioned naught as to her antecedents, he* life since we had first met; she was free for me to woo and win if I could. My love swallowed all prudent scruples, all worldly wisdom, at one gulp, and there remained but the one fact that there she was ; and I resolved to risk all to win this one love of my life.

Some short happy weeks passed by; we met frequently, and. I felt that the pleasure of ithese meetings was mutual. That little note signed 'M. Bertram' was my most precious possession. ' Mary Bertram ' —l had always seemed to know that that ' M.' meant 'Mary,' How long ago that morn ing appeared ? What a lifetime of wretchedness 1 had lived since then. Yet,, in the midst of my happiness, a keen pang of disappointment would cloud it for the moment at some indefinable change in my darling's character. The old steadfastness was wauting, the strength of will I had so much admired, and in its place there was a reliance on others which I should have thought impossible in her; the very thought seemed disloyal, and with an impatient sigh I resolutely stamped it down. One morning, on calling upon Mr Talbot on parish business, and finding he was ex pected homa every minute, I was shown into the dining-room to await his return. Mrs Freeman was in the garden. How lovely she .looked in the bright Juno sunlight, as, in her heavy black dress, she stood by a large old fashioned rose-bush, reaching up to pluck some white cluster-roses which hung almost beyond her reach ! * Wait one moment, Mrs Freeman ; let me help you,' I called out, exultant at the prospect of a few short moments' tete-a-tete, aud sprang through the window on to the lawn. ' How do you do, Doctor ? I want some of those white roses for my vase. Thank you. How pleasant it must be to be so tall and strong!' ' Yes, when it enables me to be of the slightest service to you," 1 said, and then 1 hated myself for the coxcombery of the speech. 'Ah, yes,' she replied, quietly, avoiding the complimeut, "to be of service to those who want help must be of the noblest use of strength.' 'You should know that feeling well, 1 said, my mind full of her unselfish devotion in those former days of our acquaintance. ' Why '? I have never been of service to any one; on the contrary, I have always beon an anxiety to everybody.' Would she, even wheu alone with me, maintain that barrier of reserve about the past? i {To be continued.)