Cora and The Doctor Part 53

"Oh, yes, mamma! don't you recollect the visit he made us before he came to France?"

"I had indeed forgotten it, my love; but he is soon to be here," and I read her the letter. She said nothing, and I proceeded to talk of Eugene. She raised her eyes at once, as if much interested. "You have now had sufficient opportunity to become acquainted with him; are you still pleased that he is to be one of us?"

"Certainly, mamma. I love him very much, and should be disappointed if anything should occur to prevent it. Do you know of anything?" she asked eagerly.

"No," I answered, fully a.s.sured of Eugene's success if it rested with her.

This morning, the dear fellow came in at an unusually early hour, and requested me to accompany him. He tried not to look at Pauline, for fear he should be violating his promise to me. I pointed to the time-piece, showing him it was an hour earlier than common, and he made rather a blundering excuse. I hastened, however, to my room, and the Doctor followed me to the stairs, saying in a whisper, "do go quick, and put the poor soul out of misery. Don't you see how he is suffering? I know how to feel for him."

As I came down equipped for the walk, Pauline said in an arch tone, "how long are you intending to be so exclusive in your walks?"

Eugene started toward her, and began to say something, but stopped very much confused, and I hurried him away. I need not tell you what I said, indeed I don't remember. It is sufficient that he was more than satisfied with the permission to ask her to return his love, and then wait until we should be willing for them to marry. He cut short our walk, and turned back to the house. As we reached the door, I looked up to see a group of heads making themselves very merry at our expense. But I took it very calmly, and walked in, requesting Pauline to take my place. She called Nelly; but I told her Nelly must practise her music.

It was rather more than an hour before they returned. The Doctor was watching for them with no little impatience, and curiosity. Pauline came in leaning upon her lover's arm, who looked perfectly delighted, and walked directly across the room, kissing me, and then her father.

Frank was astonished, and said almost audibly, "pretty cool, that! I never could have believed it."

Eugene was too much excited to keep still, and calling her to the door, begged her to go with him to his father. But she preferred to postpone it until another day. Soon after he left, I went to my room, and Pauline soon followed. "Well, my love," I said, "I suppose I hardly need ask you what answer you gave Eugene, he looked so happy."

"Yes, mamma, I told him I loved him very much, but that I thought I was too young to engage myself; and I had never thought of him in that light."

"And was he satisfied?"

"Yes, mamma, he thanked me many times, and said he should try to make me very happy." Pauline sat down, and her eyes grew dreamy, so I left her to her meditations and went below.

CHAPTER x.x.xV.

"Ah me! from real happiness we stray, By vice bewildered; vice which always leads, However fair at first, to wilds of wo." THOMSON.

_Tuesday, March 4th._

Joseph came two days ago, accompanied by a young lady, Mademoiselle Vinet, or Adele, as Joseph calls her. He went directly with her to her uncle's, who lives about forty leagues from here, and then returned to this place. We were much rejoiced to see our dear cousin. He has proved all that his parents could wish. I was very glad to hear him say that he hopes to be able to return to the United States nearly as soon as we do.

He longs for home.

Joseph accompanied the Doctor and myself in a walk, and communicated to us some very sad intelligence. About three months ago, a servant from one of the hotels in Paris called at his office requesting him to go and see a young woman who was sick. Wondering not a little who she could be, he went, and was shown up one flight of stairs after another until he reached a most dreary and desolate apartment, dest.i.tute of every comfort; and there, upon a miserable pallet, he beheld, to his surprise, his once beautiful cousin Fidelia Schuyler. She was anxiously expecting him, and exceedingly overcome by his presence and kindness. He wished to remove her to a more comfortable and respectable apartment, to provide her a good nurse, and to do everything in his power for her relief.

But she said, "I have only a few hours to live. Even now I am dying.

All I ask is, that you will remain near me while I live."

Joseph was affected even to tears as he related the heart-rending agony of Fidelia, while she reviewed the last few years of her life. "Ever since I left your house, years ago, though I have lived a gay life, in the midst of fas.h.i.+on and luxury," she said, "I have never known happiness, for I have lived a life of sin. I am known here as Mrs.

Arnold, having been his companion ever since my husband, incited almost to madness by my wicked conduct, abandoned me. For three weeks, William has not been near me. Leaving me only a few dollars, he deserted me; and since his departure I have been removed to this garret, and have p.a.w.ned almost every article of my clothing and of jewelry to procure for myself even the necessaries of life. Do you remember," she asked, "the wicked attempt I made to stir up jealousy and strife between Frank and his young wife? Oh! how I hated her, when I saw that with his whole soul he observed her every movement and word! He wors.h.i.+pped the very ground on which she trod. But I have suffered the keenest remorse for my conduct.

I have been constantly tortured with jealousy since I lived with William, and with fear lest he should leave me to die alone in a strange land."

Several times Joseph tried to soothe and comfort her as she lay panting for breath, and sinking farther back upon her pillows. But she could talk of nothing else. "Oh!" said she, "if I had borne with my husband as I have had to bear with William, how happy we might have been! I have been obliged to curb my temper, and to be a slave to one who has indeed proved to be a hard master."

Joseph endeavored to point her to the Saviour. At first, she was unwilling to hear a word on the subject, and begged him not to waste his breath; but at length, as he earnestly pointed her to the Lamb of G.o.d, able, willing and ready to save to the uttermost all who come unto G.o.d by him, she burst into tears, and even besought him to pray with her. He did so; and after remaining with her about three hours, he went out and obtained a good woman to take care of her so long as she lived. He supposed from her appearance that she was not so near her end as she imagined. He made his arrangements to return and to watch with her in company with her nurse during the night. After an hour he returned to her room, and was surprised at the alteration which had taken place. She was evidently dying.

Now her whole life stood out before her, and she trembled at the idea of appearing in the presence of a holy G.o.d. Joseph prayed with her repeatedly. He wept as he implored her to cast her burden of sin and fear upon the Saviour. She listened as for her life, but could only cry out "too late!--_too late!!_" This dreadful lament she continued until near midnight, when Joseph read to her a few pa.s.sages from the Bible, on the abounding of divine mercy toward the chief of sinners, and renewed his exhortation to her to repent and believe, saying, "turn ye, turn ye, for why will ye die?"

"Oh! If I could live--only one hour--more!"--and as the words were on her quivering lips, her countenance changed, her eyes were fixed, her spirit departed!

CHAPTER x.x.xVI.

"I feel death rising higher still, and higher Within my bosom; every breath I fetch Shuts up my life within a shorter compa.s.s: And like the vanis.h.i.+ng sound of bells, grows less And less each pulse, till it be lost in air." DRYDEN.

"Death's but a path that must be trod, If man would ever pa.s.s to G.o.d." PARNELL.

_Wednesday, March 5th._

I am really pained by Pauline's conduct toward her cousin. She shuns him as much as possible. He feels it too. He always manifested so much interest in her; but she avails herself of every excuse to walk with Eugene, and avoids seeing Joseph. I can perceive that he is grieved, but though he often gazes at her with a sad, inquiring expression, he does not speak. I have never known her to be rude; but I felt it my duty to speak with her to-day upon the subject. I am afraid I spoke too sternly, for she immediately burst into tears. She made no excuse, only saying, "I can't help it, mamma."

"Your cousin," I said, "has not deserved such treatment. He has always, since you were a baby, taken a great interest in you;" and I related his kindness in taking her to ride on horseback, and many other events, which I was surprised to find she remembered.

But still she said nothing; and only cried the more. I don't know what to make of her.

"Sometimes deep feeling hides itself in silence."

But I think she has had too much excitement of late, notwithstanding she appeared so calm. When the bell rang for tea, she begged me to excuse her from going down, and to tell Eugene, when he called, that she was not able to go with him to his father as he had proposed.

"Are you ill, my dear," I asked.

"I have a very bad head-ache, which will be well by morning."

Joseph went out this morning early for a walk, and returned just as I was called to breakfast. Pauline was in the room, and he went directly to her, expressing his pleasure at seeing her down again. He took her hand in his, and said, "I am deeply pained by seeing that you have forgotten all your former friends.h.i.+p for me." He then a.s.sured her, she should always have a warm friend in him.

Notwithstanding I had thought her wrong, I really pitied the poor girl's confusion. She did not once raise her eyes; but blushed painfully as she withdrew her hand when he had ceased speaking. I pitied Joseph, too. He came to me soon after breakfast, and asked me to walk with him, when he immediately entered upon the subject, saying he had never been so disappointed in a young person, so artless and frank as she used to be.

He then asked if Eugene were a suitable companion for her, fearing it was his influence that had so changed her for the worse.

I a.s.sured him it was not. Then feeling that from his long friends.h.i.+p for us, he had a right to be treated with confidence, I told him in what relation they stood to each other. Though I could see plainly that he was displeased, I commenced at their singular introduction, and told him all that had pa.s.sed between Colonel Clifford and the Doctor. He listened with the profoundest interest, but did not interrupt me until I had done.

"How did you account for the agitation of Colonel Clifford?" he asked.

"Oh! a thousand ways," I replied. "He has been an invalid for many years; and her sudden appearance would account for it in a great measure."

"Perhaps so," he answered in a doubting tone; "but he evidently supposed her to be a near friend."

"Yes," said I, "there is no accounting for the freaks of nature in these close resemblances. I should be struck any where by her resemblance to Frank; yet you know there is no connection."

"She must have a singular countenance," he replied, "I noticed yesterday a strong likeness to young Clifford. Does she know of the circ.u.mstances connected with her early history?"