LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VIII, Issue 968, 2 August 1877, Page 3

LITERATURE.

o MY FIRST PATIENT. By Cam mi u. ( Concluded.') ‘And indeed it seems as if I am to continue so to the end of the chapter; for when every one thought they had got rid of me, hero I am, in less than a year, back again, as dependent as ever, and this time upon my husband’s relatives. Oh, dear, I wish I were strong-minded enough to face the world and work for my living for a time ! ’ ‘ Why should you feel dependence a burden,’l blurted out, ‘while I ’ The dignified astonishment on her face stopped me, and I completed my sentence by adding, • even I, great strong fellow that I am, have been dependent upon my mother until a few months since ? ’ ‘ Ah, a mother is so different! ’ she said, a touching sadness creeping into her voice. * I never knew my mother. ’ I felt a passionate longing to take her into my arms and ask her to let me fill the void, to tell her my love was vast enough to supply every deficiency, to satisfy every want of affection she had ever felt; but the rebuke conveyed by her manner after my last outburst restrained me, and I took refuge in the universal topic, the weather. ‘Ah, yes,’ she said, in reply to my remark on the storm of the previous night. ‘ But you never have a real storm in England ; you should see such as I have seen in Africa, when I was at those terrible diamondfields.’ ‘ Were you nervous ? Did you not long for home and civilization?’ ‘Home!’ she exclaimed, turning upon me with Hashing eyes. ‘My home was in my husband’s presence, and his love was my civilization; my only nervousness was when he was cruelly taken from me.’ She hid her face in her hands. Her sorrow maddened me ; I was even jealous of the dead. To my relief, Mr Talbot’s cheery voice called to me from the window. I bent down to her, and whispered —. ‘ Forgive me, dear Mrs Freeman; I would rather give ten years of my life than willingly cause you pain.’ ‘ 1 am very silly,’ she said, smiling through her tears ; ‘you have done nothing to need my forgiveness. Make haste in, or uncle will wonder what we are talking about.’ I silently pressed the little hand she held out to me, and left her standing by the rosebush I fear Mr Talbot was somewhat dissatisfied with my argument that morning—my thoughts were far afield. At last, with an impatient sigh, we adjourned the discussion, and with a weary heart I took my leave. Alas, poor moth ! September came, touching the trees with wondrous warm tints of beauty, and found me still alternating between hope and fear. My darling seemed to avoid meeting me alone now ; yet sometimes she would smile so bright a welcome at my earning as literally to intoxicate me with hope. But this suspense came to an end. One evening a country lad came for me hurriedly— ‘ Some one is ill up at t’house and have frighted

t’master awful. ’ It was not until we stopped at Mr Talbot’s that 1 discovered for whom my services were required. ‘ Mrs Freeman,” the housekeeper said, ‘ received a letter this evening—a foreign letter and after opening it she fainted away ; no sooner did she recover from one faint than another succeeded; so I thought it better to send for you, sir, as her heart has been so bad lately.’ Why did I seem to feel an icy pang at my heart ? What was this fear that was creeping over me like the shadow of death, shutting out all light and joy from my life for ever? Resolutely I crushed my own feelings, and asked Mrs Price if she knew the nature of the communication Mrs Freeman had received. ‘ No,’ she said, ‘no one does—not even the master himself. We have been too busy attending to Mrs Freeman to think about anything else, ’ Quietly I followed her upstairs to where my darling lay, as white as the pillow beneath her. Mr Talbot was sitting at the head of the bed, looking miserably worn and anxious. Mrs Freeman’s eyes were unnaturally large and bright, and the painful catching of her breath at once convinced me of her critical condition. ‘ Oh, Mr Preston,’ she exclaimed, when I entered, ‘I am so glad you are come. They won’t let me speak—and I must tell some one or I shall go mad. It is all quite clear now ; he is coming back to me, without suspicion or blame, my own Ned, my dear husband. I know you will be glad to hear of my happiness—you have always been so kind.’ ‘Of course,’ muttered Mr Talbot, springing from his chair— * the letter—Ned’s writing, ’ and he hurried from the room. And I, looking at the sweet face before me, saw that a close struggle between life and death was at hand, and feeling all the happy hopes of the last few months fading with each word, I answered quietly—- ‘ Your happiness must always be of interest to me, my dear Mrs Freeman, and I congratulate you on your present cause for rejoicing ; but you must let me talk to Mrs Price a little now, while you try to get some rest.’ Having told her news, she seemed more contented and quiet, and after some few directions I went down stairs, feeling as though I had lived a life in that quarter of an hour of deep, bitter sorrow, but determined, Heaven willing, to fight with and overcome this love which had now become a sin, Mr Talbot was standing in the diningroom, a letter in his hand, and his face radiant. ‘ Head that, John Preston,’ he said, pushing it across the table ; * you have been a great comfort to the poor thing in her trouble—’tis but right you should share the rejoicing.’ ‘ This letter is addressed to Mrs Freeman,’ I said— * I would much rather not ’ ‘Nonsense, nonsense,’ exclaimed the impetuous old man— ‘ read it ; ’tis but a few words.’ Slowly and reluctantly, as though about to strike my own death-blow, I took the sheet from its flimsy envelope, and read—- • Mv Own Dear Wife, —Virtue for once is triumphant, and vice hideth its head. James Burton has been taken and convicted for murder ; and, concluding that he might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, he has confessed to his share in the Bulliss Creek robbery, and completely cleared me ; so, my darling, I am only waiting to realise, and then for merrie England and your sweet face! Love to uncle Ben. Tell him I sha’n’t want to run away from him and the mill any more ; I’ve had enough of roving to last my life. Just time to save the mail I How I long to see you ! ‘ Your devoted husband, ‘ Edward Freeman. ’ 1 placed the letter in its envelope again, and laid it on the table. I never see a foreign envelope even now without a vivid memory of the misery I then felt. Mr Talbot, talking to himself in disjointed sentences, was pacing the room in too excited a state to notice my abstraction. *So the boy’s coming back to live like a Christian in the land of his fathers. Ah, I knew how it would end, Poor girl! She always said it would come right. Well, John Preston, isn’t it great—isn’t it grand ? Now you know why we have never talked of poor—Ned. Thank heaven the disgrace is wiped off the old name ! How about my little girl upstairs, eh ? Ah, well, she’ll have another doctor soon —Ned will soon put her right! You don’t like the thing. Have a glass of wine ? No ? Then stay and eat some dinner with me. Well, you know best;’ and so the hospitable old man literally talked me out of ear-shot. Oh, fool, dolt that I had been, blindly to s«:ept that view of matters which pleased me most, without assuring myself of the truth of what I heard ! Ah me, I was punished now for my credulity. For many nights 1 went to my sleepless bed cursing my fate, hating my kind, and wondering why Heaven dealt so hardly with me, until ovei’ybody asked, ‘ What has conic to John Preston lately ? lie looks quite an old man.’ The agony of those few days lined ray face and bent my back more than ten years’ work would have done. Strive as I would—and I did rive—my fate was too heavy for me. The daily visits to Mr Talbot’s tried me almost beyond endurance. When Mrs Freeman woke from the stupor which had succeeded the excitement, her only inquiry was as to the arrival of the next Cape mails, and I sat quietly by and listened and felt as a murderer in my heart. I must have broken down if this lasted much longer. Once more I wearily dragged myself into the presence of that other man's wife whom I still loved. On this occasion she was better, and, with a hard-set smile, 1 listened to her raptures on the prospect of Ned’s speedy arrival, and my poor breaking heart kept time to the music of her voice, as 1 held her hand in mine, and resolved to Hud some one to take my practice for a time, that I might go away and tight against my weakness by myself. As I listened hazily to her little purrs of delight, 1 heard, as in a dream, an echo of her voice in the hall below, and my poor, worn-out brain feebly endeavoured to argue that 1 must be asleep and in the land of dreams to hear her thus in two places at once. I passed my hand wearily across my forehead, and determined to leave Clokes ham on that very day, for surely my reason must be giving way to play me such tricks.’ ‘ Are yon not feeling well this morning?’ she said, observing my action. The personal question —the necessity for reply—roused me.

* Yes, quite well, thank you.’ I could speak—then I was really awake 1 Could it be that I was going mad? Still that echo came nearer and grew more distinct. ‘ Who is that I hear ?’ I at length asked, fearing sbe might tell me it was nobody, but only my fancy. The handle of the door turned as she answered merrily ‘ Oh, don’t you know ? Haven’t you seerr my double ? That is my sister, my twinsister Maud ; let me introduce you.’ Then as I turned I saw a lady standing in the doorway as in a frame—a lady the sight of whom set my blood rushing through my veins like a mill-stream. Did my eyes play me false ? No, it was impossible ! Then, as I turned to the bed again, in mute astonishment, the whole truth flashed across me. ‘ls it not a remarkable likeness?’ said Mrs Freeman, laughing merrily. My heart gave a great bound of joy as I stumbled across the room to meet Miss Bertram, who came forward, with the old, sweet, firm smile on her face —what a dolt I had been ! - saying ‘ I am so pleased to meet you again, Mr Preston. ’ ‘Do you two people know each other ? ’ asked Mrs Freeman. She must have understood something from our manner, for she ceased abruptly. As I stood there holding her hand, tracing all the strength of will and self-reliance I had missed in her sister, wondering each moment more and more at my own stupidity, in the silence of joy too deep for words, there was a sound of wheels. They stopped at the gate, and Mrs Freeman started up, exclaiming—- ‘ What is that ? ’ I hastily crossed the room to close the door, fearing any excitement, but it was too late. ‘ Where is she—where’s my birdie ? ’ a loud, jolly voice cried out. ‘A pitiful cry of ‘Ned, Ned—my dear Ned ! ’ came from the bed, and a big broadshouldered fellow came bounding up the stairs. I made way for him, and then we two went out and quietly closed the door ; their joy was too sacred to be intruded upon. Silently I drew Maud to a deep windowseat, and, imbued with the spirit of the time, in hurried whispers I told her my tale of love and sorrow. She listened in silence until a paused occurred, and then, looking up, she asked, quietly—- ‘ Are you quite sure it is me you love, and not my sister ?’ ‘ How can you ask such a question V I exclaimed. ‘ I loved you from the first moment I saw you, and then when I saw your sister I loved just that part of her which seemed to be you.’ * And the other ?’ she asked, with a merry smile, ‘Well, I just wondered, and was disappointed at the change ; but tell me, Maud, do you think you can ever care for me !’ ‘ She raised her fearless, truthful eyes to mine, and said — ‘ I have always cared for you, John.’ I am ashamed to say that Mr Talbot, who appeared at that moment, looked highly scandalized at our next proceeding, until I explained matters in as few words as I could. When I came to my mistake, he exclaimed—‘Why, bless my heai't, if Ned had been dead, as you thought, you might have married the wrong woman!’—which was a view that I had not taken of the matter before, and that struck me as being unpleasantly probable. ‘ Well, Maud,’ I said, as we sat that evening in the twilight, so dear to lovers, ‘ you are not going to make me wait years for you now ; you must reckon my sorrow and unhappiness in deciding how long you .vant to make yourself magnificent—and let it be soon, darling. I shall never feel sure of you until you are indeed my wife.’ So it was settled that there was to be a wedding on that day month ; but the wedding festivities and the five years of true, bright happiness that have succeeded them must be imagined. To-day is, as 1 have said, my birthday, and that absurd wife of mine has insisted on a gathering of old friends. So my dear mother and Mrs Mason, and Fred Hughes and his young wife, are coming to-day to eat their dinner with us. And, as I write, I see, coming down the village street, my wife, holding our eldest boy by the hand; and I must close my desk to play the host, for by her side I see another of my birthday guests, My First Patient.