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

At the sound of that name, Joseph started, and with a quick glance around the room, snatched the letter from Franky, saying, "didn't you know it was very improper to read letters not directed to yourself?"

"I wouldn't have read it, Joseph, if I had known 'twas a love letter."

"Pshaw," said cousin, looking very much annoyed as he saw us laughing at his expense.

Nelly, who is a great favorite, went and put her arms around her cousin's neck, saying, "They shan't laugh, Joseph, you shall have just as many letters as you please, and nobody but you and I shall read them. Dear Jo," she asked in a whisper, "Is she a darling? Shall I love her, when she is my cousin?"

Joseph started to his feet. "Who has put such nonsense into your head? Coz," he continued, turning to me, "where did Frank get hold of that letter?"

"He must answer for himself," I replied. As I looked up from my sewing, I saw that Pauline had left the room. After due confession from the delinquent, and a suitable shaking from Joseph, by way of reproof, which made the house ring with his merry laughter, cousin continued his reading for half an hour, when he started up, saying he would go and meet the Doctor, who was at Mr. Percival's.

At that instant Franky returned to the parlor, with a very dolorous expression upon his countenance. "Mamma," he exclaimed, "Pauline is crying as if her heart would break, and she won't tell me what's the matter with her, though I've asked her ever so many times."

This was so unusual an occurrence that I started to my feet to go to her, when Eugene threw down his pencil, (he was drawing a sketch of the house where his mother was born,) and said, "let me go, mamma. Please let me try my skill in soothing her grief."

I reluctantly resumed my seat. Joseph also replaced his hat in the hall, and stood looking from the window. "We must hasten our departure," said I. "Pauline is growing very nervous, which cannot be wondered at. Joseph," said I, addressing him, "I almost regret having followed your advice, to tell her she was not my own child. She grows thinner and paler every day."

For a moment, Joseph remained silent, and I was almost vexed that he was not more interested for Pauline, when he replied, in an unnatural voice, "Cora, I hardly think you are aware what you say. Would you have had her marry her brother?"

His tone conveyed such bitter reproof that my eyes filled with tears. For the first time, he turned from the window, and looked at me. I saw, with surprise, that he was very pale. He approached, holding out his hand, "forgive me, cousin; I spoke harshly; but wouldn't it be better for you to go to Pauline? She may not like to have Eugene witness her grief."

"Why?" I asked. "She is very fond of her brother."

He walked quickly across the floor. "You forget," said he in a hoarse voice, "how lately she loved him as her future husband. I have seen the struggle in her mind, to overcome such an affection, or rather to change it to the calm, though deep affection of a sister."

I looked at Joseph earnestly, as he walked back and forth across the room, with knitted brow and closely shut lips, and tried to discover the cause of his agitation. At length he stopped before me, and said, "will you go to her?"

"Yes," I replied, laying aside my work. As I went above, I heard him leave the house.

When I entered the school-room, I found Pauline sitting with her head resting on her brother's shoulder, while his arm was around her. She had ceased weeping, but still looked very sad. "Mamma," said Eugene, "I've been telling her how very naughty it is for her to feel sorrow, and not allow me to share it with her. She won't even tell me what makes her weep." Pauline put her handkerchief quickly to her face to hide the tears which were streaming unbidden down her cheeks. I motioned to him to leave her with me. He kissed her tenderly and went below. I then led the weeping girl into my own room, and having fastened the door, I sat by her side, and begged her to tell me what had afflicted her.

"There is a shadow far within your eye,Which hath of late been deepening. You were wontUpon the clearness of your open browTo wear a brighter spirit, shedding roundJoy, like this southern sun. It is not well,If some dark thought be gathering o'er your soul,To hide it from affection. Why is this,My Pauline, why is this?"

But after talking with her for nearly half an hour, I was no wiser than at first. I could only get from her the confession that she was very unhappy, and wished she were safely at home in Crawford. I hinted to her what I suspected, that she found it difficult to change the nature of her affection for her brother so suddenly. She looked up quickly, as she replied, "Mamma, I was deceived as to the nature of my love for him. I never could have married Eugene; but he is very dear to me as a brother."

Hearing the outer door open, she sprang upon her feet, painfully embarrassed, and was going hastily from the room, but returned, and said in a low voice, "Please, mamma, say nothing of this to any one; I will endeavor to be cheerful."

When I went below, Frank had returned, and soon Joseph came in, and seating himself near the window, commenced reading in the book which had so much interested him when Franky stole his letter. I drew my husband to a retired part of the room, and told him I wished to leave Nice as soon as possible for the sake of Pauline.

After many questions on his part, and many replies on mine, I told him what she said with regard to Eugene. "I think she speaks truly there," exclaimed Frank eagerly. "I am convinced she never loved him. I mean as a suitor. I was almost sure of it at the time. She ought to be very thankful it has turned out so well for her."

"She is so," I replied. "She says, he is a very dear brother."

Here Joseph threw down his book, and taking his hat walked away from the house as if his very life depended upon his speed. The Doctor laughed heartily, as he exclaimed, "what an odd fellow Joseph is! I wonder what started him off on such a race. See there," he continued, approaching the window, "he is almost out of sight."

Pauline begged to be excused from coming down to tea; but stole quietly in as we were sitting talking in the moonlight. I hope she will feel better in the morning.

Wednesday, March 19th.

We were seated at the breakfast table this morning, when Ruth entered, bringing an exquisite bouquet, and saying with an expressive grin, "Here, Misse Pauline, dis bunch posies for you."

"Who brought them?" was eagerly asked by several voices. Franky took a French leave of the company and rushed down the street after the boy who had left them at the door. But he could not overtake him, and returned to join in the curiosity expressed on all sides, to know the donor of so tasteful a gift.

Ruth was questioned again and again, and asked to recollect if there was no message. But she kept firmly to her original story; "He laugh and say, he told, bring dat Misse Pauline; 'pears like he mighty pleased heself."

The bouquet was passed from one to another and was much admired. Joseph said, "whoever sent it might think himself well paid if he knew what a sensation it has caused."

When Pauline came to dinner she had selected a bright scarlet verbina with a few queen leaves and twined them around her dark tresses, which gave quite a glow to her pale countenance. I saw cousin look very earnestly at her as she was seated opposite him at table. The color deepened as she met his gaze, and this greatly added to her beauty.

Nelly has just run up from the parlor for me to go below. Monsieur Vinet has come with Adele. Now we shall leave Nice in a very few days.

Thursday, March 20th.

We are all of us charmed with Adele. She said she had heard Monsieur Morgan speak of us so often, she felt as if she were acquainted with us. When her countenance is in repose, which to be sure is very seldom, there is nothing about it to attract attention. But the moment she speaks, her whole face lights up, and there is a wonderful play of the features, which are ever changing their expression. She has handsome hair and eyes. She wears her hair in quite a unique style, being parted smoothly off her brow, and after being gathered, into a knot behind is worn like a coronet around her head. She is very graceful and fascinating; and we consider her an agreeable addition to our party.

When we came down to breakfast this morning, a vase was standing by Pauline's plate filled with flowers still fresh with the dew. As I stooped over them to inhale their fragrance, I saw a card among the leaves with the words "For the lovely Pauline, with the best wishes of a friend." The penmanship was delicate, like that of a lady; but we did not recognize it.

When Nelly explained the mystery connected with the flowers to Adele, she was quite enthusiastic upon the subject, and said gayly: "Oh! I do so love a mystery. It is so romantic. It is charming!" But she was unwearied in her efforts to unravel it. She first charged Eugene with being the donor, which charge he stoutly denied. Then she shook her finger at Joseph. "Ah, monsieur, you are the one. Now I'll call you to account for this piece of coquetry."

But Joseph only looked annoyed and said, "I have not left the house this morning."

After all had expressed an opinion, Pauline exclaimed, "I know who sent it."

"Who? who?" questioned Adele and Nelly, both at once.

"Mr. Percival, dear Mr. Percival," she answered with enthusiasm. I happened to meet Joseph's eye, which very much resembled the Joseph I knew in B – ; but he instantly looked down and bit his lip to keep from laughing.

Saturday, March 22d.

The last two days have been spent by the young people in visiting for the last time all the favorite haunts and places of interest. Pauline's conduct is an enigma to me. Sometimes she appears very cheerful, and often when with Adele, I have heard her musical laugh ring through the house like a sweet toned bell; but it is a forced laugh, and is almost always followed by great sadness. To-day her appearance pleased me better than it had for a long time. I thought her more natural. But this evening she is worse than ever. From what Nelly told me to-night, I fear this state of her spirits is somewhat connected with Joseph. During their frequent rambles, Pauline has always clung closely to her brother's arm before they left the house, to prevent the possibility of walking with her cousin. But to-night I noticed that when they returned, Adele accompanied Eugene, and his sister had taken Joseph's arm, while Franky held his cousin by the hand. They were talking quite cheerfully as they approached the house. I thought Joseph gazed down upon his companion with something of the reverence with which he regarded her in former years.

But after tea, Pauline happened to go with Nelly into the school-room, and found Joseph sitting by the window with Adele. To use Nelly's words, "Cousin Joe was holding her hand in his, and she was crying. She said, 'oh! Monsieur, I can't indeed! I can't bear such treatment.' I was just going," Nelly continued, "to ask her what was the matter, but Pauline pulled me away."

"Where is Pauline?" I asked.

"She is in her room, mamma." I went to her door, but found it locked. This must not go on so. I am glad we are to leave here Monday morning.

Paris, Monday, March 31st.

The Doctor, Joseph and Eugene are planning excursions enough to last for a month. Adele, who resides with her uncle in this city, has promised to accompany the young people to all its places of interest. Indeed she has already begun to do so. Her uncle, who is also her guardian, is one of the firm where Joseph is a partner; and it is thus she has become acquainted with him. I have noticed that since Pauline saw Adele weeping in the school-room with Joseph, she has avoided her cousin more assiduously than ever. I am intending to renew some of my former acquaintances, while the others are sight-seeing.

Evening.

Pauline's bouquets have followed her to Paris. This evening she received a magnificent one. She said, "I am now fully convinced father procured them for me." I looked quickly at Frank, who only smiled.

"Oh! papa," said Pauline, throwing her arms about his neck with a natural burst of feeling, "I thank you so much. How very, very kind," and she kissed him affectionately. But the next moment with a convulsive sob she sank back into her chair and wept bitterly.

Joseph flew to her side, and leaning forward said, "Dear Pauline, how can I comfort you?"

Her father sent the children from the room, and took her tenderly on his knee, where, drawing her head to his breast, he whispered, "Pauline, my own dear child, cannot you tell your father the cause of your grief?"

I sat by her side while Joseph walked the room, stopping ever and anon as if about to speak, and then checking himself with difficulty. After a short time Pauline became more composed, so that she could speak, and she raised her eyes mournfully to her father's face as she said, "I forgot you were not my father, and I was so happy."

We were all much affected at the deep sadness of her tone, and Frank said, "Let us all forget it, my daughter. Your father loves you truly and tenderly;" and he pressed her in his arms as she lay like a child, hiding her face in his bosom.

Joseph could restrain himself no longer, but rushed forward and stooping down, took her unresisting hand. "Pauline, dearest Pauline, I cannot forget it, for the hour I learned that Eugene was your brother, was the happiest of my life. Won't you look at me, dearest, to show you forgive me?"

But the weeping girl clung to her father, while she absolutely shook with emotion.

Just at this moment, Adele burst into the room with very evident marks of excitement. Her eyes were much inflamed, and bore signs of excessive weeping. She walked quickly up to Joseph, and requested to see him alone.

Though evidently much annoyed, he led her into the next apartment, where we heard their voices in earnest conversation for a short time; then she wept aloud, and I could hear Joseph try to soothe her, and beg her to compose herself. Soon after, he left with her in the carriage which brought her to our hotel.

Frank looked much perplexed, and almost stern. Pauline wept so violently he feared the effect upon her. She sobbed out, "Oh, papa!" and pressed her hand to her heart. It was nearly an hour before we succeeded in getting the poor child to her chamber, and when I left her she promised to try to sleep. The Doctor is determined to wait for Joseph, and demand an explanation of his conduct, and as I am too excited to sleep, I have employed myself in writing.

Tuesday, April 1st.

After sitting up to receive Joseph, who occupies rooms at our hotel, until after two this morning, Frank retired to bed. I have rarely seen him more displeased. He says Joseph has trifled with Pauline's affections. I did not know what to think. I never saw anything in his conduct which led me to suppose he loved her.

We were dressing for breakfast when a servant brought the Doctor a note. It was from cousin, begging to see him as soon as possible. Frank followed the servant, instead of sending an answer; and you can easily imagine I awaited his return with no little impatience.

At length I went to see if Pauline were awake, and to my astonishment found her up and dressed. Her countenance was pensive; but she tried to smile as she came forward for her morning kiss.

We were hardly seated before her father knocked and begged me to accompany Pauline to the parlor. He appeared so pleased, I could easily see that Joseph had been able to explain his conduct satisfactorily. When we entered the parlor, Joseph came quickly forward to meet us. Pauline shrank back as if she wished to avoid the meeting; but Joseph spoke a few words in her ear. What they were, I have not been able to find out; but there must have been some kind of a charm about them, for the dear girl started and gazed earnestly at him, when she seemed to feel satisfied, and artlessly put her hand in his. After pressing the dear little treasure again and again to his lips, he led her forward to where I sat looking on with astonishment. "Cousin Cora," said he to me, "fifteen years ago I asked the hand of your daughter. Your husband has just now made me very happy by giving his consent. Will you give me yours?"

"You are making a very bold request," I replied, as I drew the blushing girl nearer to me. "What say you, my daughter, shall we encourage such a suit?" "Just as you please, mamma."

"No, my love, not just as I please. You must speak for yourself." Joseph had thrown himself on one knee before us, and having made a prisoner of her little hand, he poured out all the story of his love – the agony he had experienced when he visited Nice and found her affianced to Eugene, and the many, many doubts and fears he had felt on account of her cold manner toward him.

The poor girl trembled excessively, and when he ceased, seemed absolutely unable to reply. He started to his feet and said, "O! Pauline, beloved of my soul, can you, will you accept my love?"

Making a great effort, she said in a very low voice, "I do love you, dear Joseph." I could hardly distinguish the words; but I suppose the old saying is true, "for lovers' eyes are sharp to see and lovers' ears to hear," for the loving Joseph appeared fully to hear and appreciate her meaning, and was by no means sparing of his thanks on the occasion. I took the first opportunity to leave the room, though Pauline was almost frightened at the ardor of her lover, and clung to my dress, as I attempted to pass her.

The Doctor has explained to me what appeared strange in the conduct of our cousin, especially as connected with Adele. Her history I will give you in a few words. She was left when a child to the guardianship of her uncle. Being quite an heiress, he wished her to make what he called a great match. But Mademoiselle, whose wishes had never been crossed – whose slightest whim had been law to the whole household, had fallen in love with a young man whose only inheritance was a heart full of warm and generous impulses, united to a strength of determined purpose, which would in the end surmount all obstacles in his path, to riches and honor. All the wealth of his affections he had lavished upon the charming Adele, and she fully reciprocated the attachment. But Monsieur Vinet, her guardian, was very much enraged when the young and ardent lover asked the hand of his niece, and positively refused his consent. It was this which had caused him to send her for a time to his brother near Nice, in the hope that absence would dissolve their foolish fondness. Joseph had been made a confidant by each of the parties; and it was a letter addressed to him by Monsieur Couvier that had so distressed Adele while at Nice. It was a short postscript in relation to this subject which had so much disturbed cousin, when Franky commenced reading the letter aloud.

The crisis of her troubles which had occurred at a time so unfortunate for poor Pauline, was caused in the following manner. Adele, driven almost to despair by the inflexibility of her guardian, determined to make an appeal to him in her own behalf. She had thrown herself at his feet, and with all the enthusiasm of her impulsive nature, had begged his consent to her union with the one she loved. She offered to give up to him all her property, and in everything else, to be all that he could desire. Monsieur Vinet really loved his niece after his own fashion, and could not be made to understand why she should prefer a man so poorly endowed by fortune, to one who, though of doubtful morals, and questionable virtue, yet was of noble birth and princely estate.

Having sued in vain for his consent, and being in her violent grief wholly unmindful of appearances, she had driven to our hotel to beg Joseph to intercede for her. I need not stop to detail all that followed. Suffice it to say that his influence, added to the distressing agony of Adele which she took no pains to control or to conceal, at length prevailed, and Joseph had the pleasure before he left them of feeling that he had been the means of securing happiness to two otherwise distracted hearts.

Wednesday, April 2d.

This morning the mystery connected with the bouquets has been revealed. After receiving her morning gift from the hands of the servant, Pauline gracefully went to her father, and thanked him for giving her so much pleasure.

Frank looked archly at Joseph, who quickly dropped his eyes, to conceal the look of merriment which begins to show itself. "Thank you, my daughter," Frank said, returning the kiss, "but I rather think you've bestowed it on the wrong person."

Pauline started, while a beautiful rosy hue spread all over her face, and gave one eager glance at her lover.

I saw it was with great difficulty that Joseph restrained himself from pressing her to his heart; but he bent lovingly over her little hand, and said something in a low, yet impassioned voice. If he intended to drive away her blushes, he was unfortunate in his choice of words, for they only deepened.

My husband and I have been talking over the whole of this novel courtship from beginning to end, and I feel quite humbled as I am obliged to come to the conclusion that, while Joseph for fifteen years has never wavered in his affection for Pauline, who, he says, first awakened him to a sense of his responsibility as a man and a Christian, I, who have always prided myself upon my shrewdness in matters of the heart, have been blind as a bat. We expect to be with you on the twenty-second instant.

CHAPTER XXXIX

"And lo! at last relieved from every toil,They come! the wanderers view their native soil!Then the bright raptures words can never speak,Flash in their eyes, and mantle in their cheek!Then Love and Friendship, whose unceasing prayer,Implored for them each guardian spirit's care;In that blest moment all the past forget, —Hours of suspense, and vigils of regret!" Mrs. Hemans.Crawford, Monday, August 4th.

Dear Mother, – Since the hasty letter I wrote you, announcing our safe arrival at home, my time has been so fully occupied that I have been altogether unable to resume my journal. Our dear, lovely Pauline is to leave us the first of October. It is fortunate for me that cares and duties demand every moment of my time, else I fear, I should spend much of it in the unprofitable employment of weeping. Indeed, there is a sad weight at my heart, and sometimes when my darling child sits down before me, and lays her head in my lap, I am completely overcome. How fully, dear mother, I can enter into your sorrow, when I remember the convulsive embrace with which you held me to your heart on the event of my leaving home. I can again see the tears which flowed like rain down your pale cheeks, and hear your broken voice saying, "May God bless you, my own dear Cora, and comfort your mother in her loss."

I must relate to you one little circumstance in connection with Pauline, as showing the length of her attachment to Joseph. Eugene was trying to unlock a small work-box, (as I had always taken it to be,) with a key of his own, his sister having playfully refused to allow him to see the contents. She sat by laughing, perfectly secure that he had no key which would fit the lock, when all at once the cover flew open. I had just entered the room, when she said merrily, "There, Eugene, give it to me. It's useless to try;" when, as she perceived his success, her tone changed to one of such deep distress, as she eagerly tried to take it from him. "Oh! my dear, dear brother, do give it to me." I looked in surprise. Eugene held the box behind him while she stood with anxious, tearful distress, begging him to restore it. I stepped quietly behind, and took the box with its precious contents from his hand.

"Eugene," said I, shaking my head at him, "you are a naughty boy to tease your sister." He called Nelly, his inseparable companion and adviser, and went into the garden. I still held the box, and when we were alone, I presented it to her with a smile, saying, "It would be safer, my dear, to put this out of Eugene's way, since he is so curious to know the contents."

She held it tightly for a moment, a struggle evidently taking place in her mind, when she said frankly, "Dear mamma, it is only some letters you permitted me to keep."

"Letters from whom?" I asked eagerly.