Cora and The Doctor: or, Revelations of A Physician's Wife

"Is she a widow then?" I asked eagerly, "I understood aunt she was Mrs. Schuyler; if so, I should hardly think, she would waste her energies on a married man. You would be a better subject." He laughed so heartily that for a minute or so, he interrupted the conversation on the sofa, when I heard Fidelia say to Frank, in a voice hardly raised above a whisper, "Your wife seems very free and easy; I suppose it results from her being educated in Paris. One would think from her manner, she had been acquainted with Joseph a long time."

I could hear no more, for at that moment Joseph commenced again.

"My dear coz, how old do you take me to be?"

"About as old as I am," I replied.

"Ah! now, I shall have a fine chance to find your age. Doctor," said he, breaking in upon their conversation, "will you favor me with the exact age of your wife?" The Doctor looked as if he did not quite understand.

"She thinks," he continued, "that I am about as old as she is. Now to ascertain the correctness of this judgment, I apply to you for the year, month, and day, of her birth."

"How vulgar," whispered Fidelia.

I laughed at the mock gravity of his manner, and should have been entirely deceived by it, had it not been for a merry glance from his eye. "I could easily have answered the question," said I, "if you had applied to me; I was born, as I have been informed, on the fourth day of February, one thousand eight hundred and seventeen, and am therefore, at the present time, eighteen years, seven months, and eighteen days." I imitated his manner as I replied. He bowed almost to the floor, and resumed his seat.

"Astonishing!" murmured Fidelia, "she is very free to tell her age, now she is married."

Frank started to meet his aunt who was returning to the room after having attended to her evening duties. He led her to a distance, where they were soon absorbed in an interesting conversation, in which they were joined by uncle Morgan, a thorough gentleman of the old school, perhaps a little too formal in his extreme politeness, but a very excellent husband and father. He is a lawyer, and a man of considerable wealth. Fidelia often looked that way as if wishing to follow her cousin, but at length left the sofa, and took a seat near us; but not before Joseph had asked me in a hurried manner how old I thought she was.

"I will 'guess,'" said I, "she is nineteen or twenty."

"Add ten to that," he replied quickly, as she approached.

After half an hour, during which time Joseph did most of the talking, aunt came to me remarking that I looked very tired and had better retire. This I was glad to do, and she said she would accompany me; but Fidelia begged so earnestly for the privilege, that I requested aunt to remain with Frank. Contrary to my expectation, and indeed to my wish, she entered my room, and remained so long I had no excuse for not undressing; and at length was obliged to do so in the presence of an entire stranger. She continued talking, however, in a most confidential strain. "I suppose you don't wonder," she commenced, "that Frank, (the rest of the family called him Doctor,) and I are so glad to see one another, considering," – she stopped.

"Considering what?" I asked in surprise at her manner, which implied far more than her words expressed.

She hesitated, "why considering that we were brought up together. Aunt Lenox adopted me when mother died, and I always lived at your house. What room do you occupy?" she asked.

I answered reluctantly, though I could not tell why. There was something very unpleasant about her conversation. It always, unintentionally perhaps, left a sting. She went on to inform me in the strictest confidence, that she and Frank had been fondly attached to one another.

"Why," I asked, "was this friendship given up?"

"Friendship," she repeated in a theatrical tone, "say rather ardent love!" I could not prevent my voice from trembling a little as I repeated my question.

"Oh!" she replied with a mysterious air, "aunt Lenox – peculiar reasons." – She suddenly started on hearing a step; and whispering, "not a word of all this, my dear," hastily left me.

I don't think I could have endured it a moment longer. I never felt so thoroughly "worked up," as the Yankees say; and for five minutes I would have given every thing I possessed, could I have been safely at home under my own dear mother's roof. When Frank came up, I could only feign sleep in order to conceal my new and strange emotions of distrust and jealousy, Fidelia had awakened in my mind. I forced myself to be quiet until Frank was asleep, when I could contain myself no longer. With my face buried in the pillow to stifle my sobs, I wept until I could weep no longer. I lay awake all night, revolving the dreadful deception which I fancied had been practised upon me. I could well understand, I thought, why mother Lenox had never even mentioned Fidelia's name in my presence. Nor could I account for the fact that Frank had not, except upon the supposition that what she had told me was true. Indeed the truth of her story I did not for a moment doubt.

Tuesday, October 20th.

When I awoke the next morning, which I did from a troubled nap after day-break, I could not at first remember what had happened, such a heavy weight was upon my spirits. If any one had told me then, that I was not the most unhappy person in the world, I should have considered them very unkind.

Frank actually started when I tried to rise, and would have persuaded me to lie down again; but I was determined to do as I chose, and persisted until a sudden fit of faintness compelled me to return to my bed. I felt so severely the effects of my night's excitement, that I began to be really anxious about the result. If Frank spoke to me, I averted my head. I could not endure to meet his eye; and when he kindly went below and brought a cup of coffee to the bed, I refused to take it. I could only sob and say, "I want to go home. I must see my own mother."

The Doctor was now seriously alarmed, and went for aunt. With true motherly kindness, she administered to me, persuaded me to drink the coffee and eat a slice of dry toast. She then smoothed my pillow, darkened the room and left me, after a promise that I would at least try to sleep. She left a small bell upon the table, and said, "no one shall come in until you ring."

To my surprise, when I awoke, the sun was shining high in the heavens; and on my consulting my watch, I found it was near noon. I arose quietly and dressed, and not a little astonished the company sitting in the parlor below, by my sudden entrance. It made me feel no better, however, to perceive, as I did at a glance, that my husband and his cousin occupied seats near each other on the sofa, as on the previous evening. But the Doctor was busily engaged in reading, and did not perceive me until I had advanced to the middle of the room.

"There, Frank," exclaimed Fidelia, as he sprang up to give me his seat, "I told you, you were unnecessarily alarmed. Now, sweet cousin," said she, turning to look up in my face, and mincing her words, "confess you were only shamming."

"Fidelia," said my aunt, in a stern voice. I did not look to see what Frank thought; I did not care. I covered my eyes to prevent the tears from being seen. I wanted to keep them covered forever rather than to see Fidelia's face again. In justice to myself, I ought to say, that probably this state of mind, which was greatly aggravated by the condition of my health, would soon have passed away, had it not been for the continual suggestions and insinuations of Fidelia. Sometimes by a word, sometimes by a significant shrug of the shoulders; then, again, by a glance of the eye, she gave a false coloring to the most trivial words or actions, and

"Trifles, light as air,Are, to the jealous, confirmations strongAs proofs of holy writ."

All this time, the Doctor grew every day more and more grave, almost stern. Now and then, when I looked up suddenly, I met his eye fixed upon me in a serious, inquiring manner, as if he would read my very thoughts. Though I felt that I was innocent of any wrong toward him, and that he had deceived and wronged me, yet I could not help looking very much confused.

Joseph, good kind Joseph, was the life of the house. He devoted himself to my comfort. He read to me, told me stories, and was never tired of hearing me talk about my sweet little Pauline. Oh! how in imagination, I hugged the little thing to my heart, as the only one on earth in whom I could repose entire trust. Joseph wove many a tale out of her romantic story, in which by turns she figured as a Countess, a Duchess, or, at least, as Lady Pauline. I told him, I was entirely satisfied to have her plain Pauline Lenox. Then the merry fellow asked me to educate her for a wife for him. "That would be just the thing, and your desire could be satisfied by having her name unchanged, I would merely add Morgan to it.

"Now, Coz" said he one day, "I'm serious about this matter; I've been looking about for a year or two; and I have seen no one whom I should wish to honor with my name and title. I lay awake all last night thinking what a fine thing it would be to have her educated for me."

I could not help laughing as I replied, "I should shrink from so responsible an employment."

"Why, Coz," he said earnestly, unconsciously raising his voice, "Make her like yourself. I ask no greater joy than to possess the hand of one in every respect like yourself."

At the last sentence, I noticed that Fidelia gave the Doctor a quick glance to direct his attention to us; and I heard her say, "quite sentimental." Frank started from his chair with a terrible look, such as I had never seen but once before, and that was when I told him of Emily's treatment of Mr. Benson. He walked quickly across the room, but appearing to recollect himself, he took a book and resumed his seat. I detected a smile of exultation on Fidelia's face which in vain I tried to account for or understand.

Joseph bent down over me, taking my hand as he did so, and while he played with the rings on my fingers said, sinking his voice to the lowest key, "What can the matter be? You may always be sure there is mischief where Fidelia is."

I started; – how true this had been in my case! I fell into a long reverie; so long that Joseph took up a paper to read. I thought over all she had told me from our first interview; looking at this subject and that by the light of the new revelation, I had of her character. But there were stern facts to be met. She had passed all the early part of her life in the closest intimacy with my husband; they had loved each other ardently; nay, she had hinted that at one time they were affianced. And yet this had been sacredly kept from me, while he had often told me I was the first object of his affection. Then I could not shut my eyes to the fact that Frank was entirely different in his manner toward me. I could hardly believe him to be the same man. As day after day passed he grew more and more polite; but it was a frigid politeness, which chilled my very blood; and this, too, at a time when my health demanded unusual tenderness. I sometimes wonder even now, how all this could have happened, and Aunt Morgan not have noticed it more particularly. But then I remember that she had not known her nephew intimately for many years; and I was a perfect stranger to her. She knew not that, until we arrived at her house, we had been all the world to each other.

On Saturday afternoon, Mr. Schuyler arrived. He is of German origin, rather abrupt in manner, but possessing naturally, I should imagine, a warm heart and capable of making a loving wife happy by the strength of his affection. But I had not been in company with them many hours before I saw that Mrs. Schuyler was recklessly throwing away her own happiness, and that of her husband. By every means in her power, she contrived to render him she had sworn to "love, honor and obey," uncomfortable, nay, even wretched. He had some slight peculiarities of person to which she referred in the presence of the family, in a manner so unbecoming and unlady-like, that my cheeks burned with shame and indignation. I could see that it was with difficulty that he refrained from giving her a tart reply.

But all other annoyances were slight compared with the one great desire which had taken possession of her soul, which was to render her husband jealous of the Doctor. To this one purpose she bent all her powers. I cannot describe to you the variety of conflicting emotions struggling for mastery during the hours of that never to be forgotten Sabbath. I had slept little the night previous, but had lain awake revolving the character of my cousin, and, for the first time, doubts of her truthfulness began to intrude themselves into my mind. I acknowledged her fascination, her great conversational powers, but I could not shut my eyes to the fact that all these gifts were perverted to unlawful purposes, such as would surely destroy not only her own, and her husband's happiness, but the happiness of all with whom she associated. Even in my troubled sleep she was before me, and appeared like the serpents I had read of, who fascinate and charm but to destroy.

On Sabbath morning, Fidelia appeared elaborately dressed and really looked beautiful. Frank's eyes rested upon her with such a singular expression that I looked at him with wonder. I had before thought her free in manner with him, but now I was amazed. I had never even imagined any person so artfully insinuating. Sometimes I determined to leave the room, unable longer to endure the annoyance and excitement; but the next moment I was restrained by a desire to see what would follow.

Directly after family prayers, she availed herself of a seat near the Doctor, and, leaning familiarly on the arm of his chair, said, "Dear Frank, I've so often longed to talk with you upon some subjects connected with my spiritual interests! You, dear cousin, always understood my inner nature, my better feelings. Oh," said she, slightly raising her voice, and sighing heavily as she glanced toward her husband, "how I have longed for a congenial spirit – for some one who could appreciate my aspirations after higher good. Dear cousin," she added, laying her hand on his, and gazing up into his face with an expression of languishing fondness, "those were blissful days when we scarce called a thought or wish our own, until we had imparted it to each other."

Frank started from his seat, and I was sure there was a strong expression of disgust upon his countenance. But the indignant husband saw not this. He had caught his hat and rushed from the house.

Fidelia remarked with a sneer, "it is a great grief to me that I have never been able to prevail with Mr. Schuyler to keep in doors on the Sabbath. It is really disgraceful to see any one so openly profane the day."

"Fidelia," said the Doctor, in a reproving tone, "The God of the Sabbath requires not only an outward observance, but a regulation of the thoughts and feelings of the heart. We may offend him as truly by indulging in unkind thoughts or improper feelings, as by any outward violation of the sanctity of the day."

I expected Fidelia would be offended by the plainness of this speech; but to my surprise she caught Frank's hand, and pressed it again and again to her lips; and with her eyes, which were humid with tears fixed lovingly upon his, she said in a sad tone, "Oh, Frank! if I could only have had you near me to point out my faults kindly and tenderly, I might have been happy and good. Don't blame your poor Fidelia, who, connected with a man with whom she has not a single feeling of communion, is indeed very miserable."

The Doctor appeared much perplexed and annoyed, while Uncle Morgan walked angrily out of the room. Joseph came and sat down by me, and began in a low voice to talk of his wonder that the Doctor did not see through and despise her hypocrisy. "I can endure anything else," said he, while an expression of intense abhorrence passed over his countenance; "but when she gets on to one of her pious strains, I have to call to mind all the consistent piety of my parents to keep me from thinking religion a farce."

"Dear Joseph," said I, "it distresses me to hear you speak so lightly upon religious subjects. It is the want of religion your reason disapproves. Believe me, true piety never repels in the way you mention." I looked up to meet the eyes of my husband fixed upon me with such sadness that the blood burned in my cheeks. I felt, from Fidelia's looks, there was something wrong; but what, I could not imagine. The Doctor left the room, and soon his cousin retired to dress for church. Joseph wished to remain with me, but this I would by no means allow. I intended to retire to my own apartment, and spend the time in a manner befitting the sacredness of the day.

When the church bell rang, the family assembled in the parlor; and as Mr. Schuyler had not returned, Fidelia put her arm in Frank's before they left the house. I could not resist the inclination to look at them from the window. She hung heavily on his arm as she lovingly turned her face to his. I pressed my hand to my heart to still a rising thought prejudicial to my husband, and returned for a moment to my seat. Before I had recovered myself sufficiently to go to my room, the outer door burst open, and Mr. Schuyler entered, in no enviable frame of mind. He had met his wife and Frank on their way to church, and had only needed the look of unmistakable affection with which she regarded her companion to raise his jealousy to the highest pitch.

He appeared wholly unconscious of my presence, but walked with hasty strides across the room, soliloquizing in an angry manner: "A pretty life she leads me! She says, they were formerly engaged to be married. Upon my soul, I believe it; though I've found out long ago she has no more regard for the truth than that," vehemently snapping his fingers. "Fool that I was to marry her – to be so taken in by a pretty face and languishing looks! Bah! it makes me sick to see her fawning round the Doctor."

He walked to the mantel piece and stood for a moment looking into the fire, when he commenced again, "I thought her an angel of goodness. If it had been real she might have moulded me into what she pleased. Upon my soul," with a half uttered oath between his teeth, "I believe she's possessed of all the devils that were cast out of Mary Magdalene. I've made up my mind what course to pursue." After a short pause, he added with a sigh of relief, "Yes, I have it! She was poor – she married me for my money, – well – yes, that will serve her right," and his hollow laugh made me shudder. "And yet," he added, in a softened tone, while his good spirit again seemed pleading, "how I loved her, – how happy we might have been – well, we shall see, —we shall see!"

Many times since the entrance of Mr. Schuyler, I had started from my seat intending to say something to soothe his anger, but as often had sunk back powerless. I was myself suffering, and what could I say? But the agony he endured; the jealousy and desire for revenge exhibited by him opened my eyes to the fearful brink upon which I stood, and I firmly resolved by the help of God, to give no sleep to my eyes until I had unburdened my heart to my husband, and besought a return of his confidence and love. I saw plainly where I had sinned, in the coldness and reserve which was creeping between us; and I said to myself, "God helping me, it shall be so no longer." I arose silently and retired to my room, where I prayed fervently for strength to tear up every root of unkindness, distrust and jealousy which I had cherished toward my dear husband. I was happier already.

Long before I had begun to expect them, the family returned from morning service. I heard the outer door open, and Frank, after ascertaining that I was not in the parlor, hastened up stairs. I smiled as I held out my hand to him, and said, "I did not expect you so soon."

He did not return the smile, but pressed my hand against his heart, and said with emotion, "Oh, Cora! Cora!!"

At that moment the bell rang for dinner, and Frank putting my hand in his arm led me below. Oh! how my heart bounded at this simple act of tenderness! I felt strong to endure whatever insults Fidelia might offer. "If I only have my husband's love," I said to myself, "I defy you to injure me."

When we were seated at dinner, Joseph said, "what have you been doing, Cousin Cora? I never before saw you look so happy." All eyes were turned toward me, and I caught one glance of love from my dear Frank which certainly did not diminish my color.

Fidelia noticed it, and looked at Frank as if she thought herself personally aggrieved, while the next moment she cast a glance of defiance at her husband in reply to the scornful sneer with which he regarded her. The Doctor persisted in being silent, and kept his eyes fixed on his plate, notwithstanding all his cousin's attempts to engage him in conversation, while Joseph bit his lips to keep from laughing to see her for once so completely foiled.

The moment dinner was over, Frank turned to leave the room, after giving me an imploring glance to accompany him; but not before his cousin had stepped forward and laying her hand on his arm detained him while she said something I could not hear.

"Impossible!" he replied aloud, "I am otherwise engaged;" and he led me from the room. A malignant scowl darkened her face; but I think Frank did not see it. We entered our room, but had hardly closed the door when some one knocked. With a gesture of impatience he opened it, when to my surprise Mr. Schuyler stood in the passage pale and trembling from suppressed excitement.

"Can I speak one word with you, Doctor?"

"Certainly, walk in."

"Perhaps you will think me strange; but you will excuse my asking you if you love my wife?"

Frank started forward with the simple word, "Sir," in a tone which implied that he considered the question an insult.

"Yet," continued Mr. Schuyler, "My wife affirms that such is the case; and that during the last few days you have repeatedly told her so."

I had fallen back in my chair when Frank's looks arrested my attention. There was not a particle of color in his face or lips, and for a moment there was a terrible struggle to control his anger; but at length he said, in a low, firm voice, "She has deceived you. I have never loved her. From a boy I have loathed her character. God forgive me," he added in a hoarse voice, "but I can hardly hear her name with patience. She has even endeavored to" – with a quick glance of sorrow at me, he checked himself, and then exclaimed, turning to the window to conceal his feelings, "Oh, why did I believe her?"

"Enough," said Mr. Schuyler, whose countenance had gradually assumed a fixedness of expression dreadful to witness, "I see you are aware of the intrinsic beauty, and loveliness of the character of the woman I have the honor to call my wife." These words were said in a tone of bitter irony which it is impossible to describe; but he immediately added, lowering his voice, "Dr. Lenox, I have foolishly distrusted your honor. I ask your forgiveness."

Frank wrung his hand as he said, "Mr. Schuyler, from my very soul I pity you."

"I rather think, sir, you'll have a call for your pity in another direction," pointing compassionately toward me; "mine eyes have not been so blinded by my own misery, that I have not seen how your wife suffered."

Frank shook with emotion as he hastily bolted the door, and took a seat near me. I had covered my face with my hands, and was trying to force myself to be calm.

"Cora," said he, in a voice which trembled in spite of himself, "won't you look at me? Oh, Cora, you used to love me!"

"Dear, dear Frank," I said, throwing my arms around his neck, "I love you now. I have always loved you."

He pressed me silently to his heart. "Cora," he asked, turning my face where he could look into my eyes, "tell me truly, do you not love Joseph Morgan?"

O, what a world of light that one question let into my soul! I sprang joyfully to my feet, and looking him fully in the face, "My dear husband," I answered, "as I love, honor and fear my Maker, I have not, and never have had one thought or feeling toward him unfaithful to you as my wedded companion, nor has he ever given me reason to suspect that he felt toward me otherwise than as he would feel toward a dear sister, or cousin. Oh, Frank! how could I, when I loved you so dearly?" I could endure it no longer, but burst into tears.