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

"I landed in England, and without an hour's delay took passage for Havre, from which place I proceeded to Nice.

"Oh, my son Eugene! I have taken up my pen many times, and unable to relate, even to you, the awful, the shocking events which followed, have again and again been obliged to lay it down. But justice to your departed mother requires the sacrifice, and it shall be made.

"I reached Nice, and with the fires of Etna raging within me, I drove directly to the home of Imogen. She was not in. One of the servants informed me she had gone out to walk with Mr. Mortimer.

"The old steward caught my hand, as without waiting to see my children, I was rushing after the wanderers. "Thank God!" said he, "that you have returned."

"Even in this cordial welcome, I read a confirmation of my dishonor. Having learned the direction they had taken, I flew along the streets until at length I saw my wife approaching with Mortimer. I instantly crouched behind a wall, and as they passed, heard her imploring him to leave Nice.

"He told her it was in vain for her to plead. The time had passed when he might have done so; now it was no longer in his power to tear himself from her presence.

"Had I not heard enough? A voice within me thundered why wait for more? With one bound, I leaped like a tiger over the wall, and throwing him to a distance from where she stood, I presented a pistol to his breast.

"The movement had been so sudden, and unexpected, that for an instant they stood paralyzed. But recovering himself, Mortimer, though pale as death, stood erect before me, saying, 'you can do me no greater favor than to end a life so miserable as mine has become.'

"There was something about him which reminded me of the loved Ralph of my boyhood, and my hand holding the pistol dropped to my side. But Imogen rushed forward and threw herself at my feet. 'Spare his life! oh, Harry! spare his life!!'

"In this appeal, I recognized only her love for the guilty wretch; and I spurned her from me, calling her by the vilest of names. She fell senseless to the ground, and I, maddened by the scene, only waited to appoint a meeting for the morrow with Mortimer, when hastening to the inn, where I had ordered my horse to be left, I flew rather than rode to the next town. I cannot tell how I passed the night. At the time specified, I was at the place, and soon Mortimer met me. I placed a brace of pistols in his hand, and in a voice hoarse with passion, I bade him take his choice.

"Mechanically he took one from me, and then stopped. 'Harry,' said he, 'one word before you fire. I alone am to blame. Imogen is' – he hesitated – 'an angel!'

"'Yes,' said I, drawing my breath with difficulty, 'but a fallen one.'

"He groaned aloud. 'Oh, God forgive me that I should have made her suffer!'

"I was beside myself as he thus dared to avow his love, and I ordered him to stand, or I could not restrain myself. He stood around facing the sun. Even in my rage, I would not take advantage of this, but pointed to him to change his position.

"'No,' said he, 'I neither deserve nor wish to live. Fire, Harry,' he continued, as I paused. 'I never will raise my hand against one I have treated so treacherously!'

"'Ralph,' I exclaimed, 'You dare not refuse to give me satisfaction.'

"Without another word, he placed the pistol to his own breast, when, with a spring into the air, he fell heavily to the ground. He had taken his own life.

"I flew to him, and raised him in my arms. All my revenge was oozing out with the blood which poured from his death wound.

"'Oh, Harry,' he said faintly, 'tell me before I die that you will forgive Imogen. She is innocent. She never knew till yesterday that I loved her, and then she implored me to leave her at once. She said her heart was all yours.'

"I gasped for breath. 'Ralph,' I shouted, 'say again that she is innocent, and I will willingly lie down beside you and die.'

"'Harry,' and the voice grew more and more faint. 'I would not deceive you. Had she known the wicked feelings I have indulged, she would have spurned me from her presence.'

"'And you?' I asked quickly.

"'I dared – to love her – whom you – so trustingly – confided – to – my – care!'

"The last words were spoken so faintly, that by putting my ear to his mouth, I could scarcely distinguish them. 'Oh, Ralph,' I exclaimed in an agony of remorse, 'you must not die!' The blood had ceased flowing since I had crowded into the wound a handkerchief torn from my neck, and I began to hope he had but fainted. I shouted 'help!' Soon some men came running from a field. I told them a man was dying from loss of blood, and I wanted help to carry him to the inn.

"From that fatal moment, I remember nothing which passed for nearly a month, except lying in a darkened room, while a figure dressed in white floated around me. When I partly recovered my consciousness, I began to listen for the light footstep, and looked up to see my nurse. She was dressed in a gray robe, like the sisters of charity, with a hood which nearly concealed her face. I turned my head to the wall and sighed; but my thoughts soon wandered, and I forgot my disappointment. Whenever I slept, I dreamed that my Imogen was by my side, but awoke only to see the calm figure of the hooded nun. Twice I felt sure I heard violent weeping in the room, but could never discover the cause.

"I had now regained my consciousness, but I dared ask no questions. The nun never spoke. She performed the office of a nurse in the most tender and devoted manner. But after I had begun to question her, she left me, and her place was supplied by another. I asked my physician to restore the one who had so kindly watched over me.

"'Her skill has saved your life,' was all his reply.

"I asked him how I came to this place.

"'When you are strong enough to bear it I will tell you.'

"This answer put me back several days. When at the worst, I one day suddenly opened my eyes, and found the gray nun leaning over me. For an instant the large lustrous eyes looked mournfully into mine, and I was sure Imogen was before me, when turning partly aside, a calm, cold voice asked me what I would have.

"The disappointment was too great. I buried my head in the bed clothes and wept. I saw her no more. A week passed away; it was a full month since I first asked the question; and I again implored my kind physician to tell me what had happened during my sickness. I found Mortimer had never spoken after he reached the house; and I had been discovered and conveyed to my home, I never knew by whom.

"I had over-estimated my strength, and again relapsed. But this time I had my reason. Then it was that my sins stared me in the face. I was a murderer. Yes, though my hands had not shed blood except in battles, yet in the sight of God, aye, and in my own sight, I was a murderer.

"But where were Imogen and my children? I had often asked this question, but had never been able to obtain a reply. I now determined to ask Mr. Percival; and taking advantage of an early visit, I put the question directly to him, 'Where is my wife?'

"He shook his head mournfully.

"'I cannot be kept longer in suspense,' I exclaimed. 'Do not fear it will injure me.'

"'I shall probably be able to impart some knowledge of her at our next interview,' he replied, and soon took his leave.

"When he bent over my head at parting, I saw his eye was moistened by a tear, and I loved him for sympathizing in my grief.

"Oh, my son! my hand almost refuses to record the pang which was soon to seize my soul. During the days succeeding his visit, I arose from my bed, dispensed with the services of a physician, and yet my kind friend came not. I determined to wait no longer. Though hardly daring to hope that my injured wife would forgive me, yet I longed to throw myself at her feet, and sue for pardon. I called my servant and told him to send for the clergyman.

"He replied, 'Mr. Percival is below, and will wait upon you.'

"Something in the manner of the man alarmed me, and sinking back in my chair, under an apprehension of I knew not what, I impatiently awaited my visitor. He came in, kind and gentle as ever, and sat by my side.

"'You promised,' said I eagerly, 'to tell me of my Imogen.'

"'I have come for that purpose, my son,' and again he paused.

"'Mr. Percival,' I said, catching hold of his hand, 'Have you no compassion?'

"He put his handkerchief to his eyes. 'She is at rest!'

"I sprang from my chair, and stood before him, only half comprehending his meaning. 'Where?' I tried to articulate.

"He pointed upward. * * * * *

"I pass over the agony of that period. It was a long, long time before I could be reconciled to life. I could not endure the thought of leaving the grave of my lost Imogen, and I sent my steward to England for our children. My sympathizing friend, Mr. Percival, had directed me where to find them. The steward returned with you, my son; but from that time to the present, I have never been able to find the least trace of the little Inez. She had started for England with her nurse to meet you, who were there with our friends, and though I caused the strictest enquiries to be made, and advertised in the papers for many months, yet nothing could be learned. She was probably wrecked in a vessel reported as lost at sea about that time.

"This loss was, however, but slight compared with the one which from the hour I heard it, to the present, has pressed upon me with a mountain weight. The conduct of your mother was so spotless, that, notwithstanding the intimacy of Mortimer in the family, not a breath of calumny had ever fallen on their intercourse. The loss of her parents had been blessed to her soul, so that for a year she had been a humble Christian. She came and watched over me during my sickness in the disguise of a nun, the physician enforcing perfect silence as the only condition of her presence. She arose from her bed to look upon me once more, and then returned to the parsonage to die of a broken heart.

"My dear son, Eugene, I have now concluded my brief sketch of my crimes, and of your mother's virtues. No motive less powerful than the desire to do justice to her memory, together with the hope that you may be enabled by the grace of God to avoid the one and to imitate the other, could have induced me to make a record of this portion of my life.

"I have with great satisfaction observed that in the sweetness and urbanity of your disposition, you resemble your lovely mother. Could I feel that religion guided, and governed your thoughts and actions; that the instructions I have endeavored to impress upon your mind, would be sanctified to your heart by the Holy Spirit; that the daily and hourly prayers I have sent up to heaven in your behalf would be accepted, and answered, then indeed I could lay me down and die in peace.

"Oh, my dear son! Take warning by my crimes; by the sudden blighting of all my fondest hopes; by my premature old age; but above all, by the agony of remorse, which has in the prime of life, brought my gray hairs in sorrow to the grave; take warning never to be governed and controlled by passion. Never allow yourself to be influenced by what is falsely called "honor," to raise your hand against your fellow.

"In every event of life you have a sure guide in the word of God. Read it, my son; read it daily; read it prayerfully; endeavor to conform your life to its precepts; so shall you be useful in life, peaceful in death, and happy through all eternity.

"And now, my dearly beloved son, farewell! Though my sins have risen up to heaven, yet the blood of my crucified Saviour has sufficed to wash away their guilty stains. I leave myself with him, trusting solely in his righteousness for pardon and salvation.

"Soon I hope to receive my summons to resign my earthly tabernacle, and to join my Imogen in forever singing praises to him who died to redeem my guilty soul.

"Eugene, my son, Eugene! Farewell!!"