Cora and The Doctor Part 48

"Frank," said I, interrupting him, "you do yourself wrong."

"Hear me through," said he pleasantly. "I do not mean that I do not love her enough, for there is no difference in my feelings toward her, and her lively sister; or if any, my love is more deep and sacred to the child of our adoption; but if I should be taken away, she could not inherit a share of my property, as a child. If I ever rise from my bed, I will make a will, so that all my children shall share alike." I pleaded long and earnestly with him to allow me the privilege of making over to her my own property, which he had insisted upon settling upon me.

But he said "no," very decidedly, and when I was calm enough to hear, he explained his refusal to my satisfaction.

"Pauline has no idea that she is not of our blood, and I hope, she may never know it--unless"--said he, "but that is very unlikely"--and stopped.

"I know, you are thinking if we should ever discover her parents; but if we do, she is nothing to them as she is to us. They have never inquired for her."

"Softly," said Frank, with a smile, "I do not think there is any occasion for you to distress yourself; your imagination, I dare say, has already pictured her mother standing before you, ready to take her from your arms."

I laughed, "Yes," I answered, "pretty nearly that; but go on."

"If any such event should occur," said he, returning to the subject from which we had digressed, "a difference between her and them might call up feelings and explanations which would be unpleasant to all concerned."

I fully concurred in this view of the case, and then we discussed her lovely character, and heartily agreed that we had reaped a rich reward for our care of her, in the influence she exerted over her brother and sister.

"Frank obeys her," said I, "quite as readily as he does me, though she never exercises any authority over him. She has a charm, I believe; I don't know what I should do without her."

"I fear," said Frank, "you'll have to give her up some day."

"What for?" said I eagerly.

"Why somebody may come along and win her away."

"She is nothing but a child, only seventeen last June."

"And how many years older, and how much taller was my Cora, when I took her from her mother? You will never know how I loved you for taking the friendless child so closely to your heart. I had looked forward with the hope that G.o.d would bless our union, and give us children; but I had not thought of finding one so soon. I have often laughed to myself," he continued, "at the remark dear, good aunt Susy made about my being so impatient 'for a darter I had to pick one up in the streets, and give to you.' Good old soul! She hit pretty near the truth, certainly. Seldom has anything given me greater pleasure than when you taught the little creature to say 'Papa,' and you blushed so rosy too. I dared not say much; I feared you might grow weary of the care. I had not then learned all I have since. But when I saw you give up many pleasures to devote yourself to the little motherless child, and particularly when I witnessed year after year your care of her education, I have felt that you would have your reward."

_Monday, September 23rd_.

Mother and I are now obliged to exert our authority. The Doctor is as hungry as a bear, and says he will not be kept on slops any longer. He spoke so much like a child begging for some cake, or bread and b.u.t.ter, that I had a hearty laugh at him. But though he could not keep from laughing in sympathy, yet he says, "it is a very serious matter; Dr.

Clapp has been starving me for a month past, and now I intend to have something to eat."

Mother promised him a slice of toast for his dinner, and he asked half a dozen times in the course of an hour if it were not dinner time. At length I gave him the watch that he might see for himself. When Pauline brought the toast and tea, he entered upon the discussion of them with such a grave face, as if it were of such solemn importance, that Pauline and I had enough to do to keep from laughing aloud, which in the present state of his nerves would never do.

Mother says, "it's always a good sign when children are worrysome."

But the Doctor did not take this speech at all well, and said with a grieved look, "I was not aware I had given occasion for such a remark."

_Wednesday, September 25th._

We have had war in the camp. But I must explain. I noticed this morning that Phebe was cooking something very savory, but thought no more of it.

Mother, Pauline, or I, have always remained with the Doctor while the others are at dinner.

To-day I thought I would remain; but Frank would not consent. Pauline said, "No, mamma, I'll attend to father," at the same time I saw that she was very much flushed and looked really distressed. Frank insisted she should remain, and I went below, wondering not a little at the meaning of all this. After I had carved for the others, I thought so much of Pauline's looks, that I excused myself a moment, and ran softly back to the room.

Judge then of my amazement when I beheld Phebe standing before her master holding a bowl, while the Doctor was putting spoonful after spoonful into his mouth, as fast as he could. Pauline stood by looking as if she were not sure whether to laugh or to cry.

I sprang forward to take the bowl; but quicker than thought, Phebe had caught it under her ap.r.o.n, hoping I had not seen it, while the Doctor looked like a whipped dog. The whole affair was so ludicrous, that it was with the utmost difficulty, I could keep my countenance. But endeavoring to look very stern, I said, "Dr. Frank Lenox, you will please to tell me what you have been eating?" He had already eaten a hearty dinner for a sick man, not half an hour before.

There was no reply.

"Well then," said I, "there is no help for it. I must give you a dose of castor oil." I proceeded toward the closet, as if I were intending to administer it to him at once, while I was thankful for an opportunity to relax my stern countenance.

"Cora," cried the Doctor, "don't give me any." His voice was feeble, and I could carry the joke no farther.

"Well; then, what can I do?" I asked, returning to him. "Phebe, do you know that what you were giving your master may cause his death?"

Pauline began to cry, "Oh, mamma, I was afraid I was not doing right, but father so longed for some chicken broth."

"Laws missus!" said Phebe, uncovering the bowl, "'tan't got no strength to it. 'Pears like he's powerful hungry. I 'clare your ole Phebe be de last one make the broth too strong for sick ma.s.s'r."

I tasted the broth and finding it really weak, I hoped my hungry patient had sustained no real injury. The Doctor put out his hand to Pauline, and in a most child-like tone said, "I was the only one to blame, dear child."

She kissed him, and I motioned her to go below. Frank looked as if he thought he deserved a punishment, and expected to receive it; but some how I never could punish a child who appeared sorry, and just so I felt in this case; and therefore I merely said, "I will help you to lie down, and will read to you. My dear husband," I said, when I rose to go below for my dinner, "if the broth does not injure you, I will ask Dr. Clapp to let you have a dinner of it to-morrow."

He looked his thanks and pressed my hand. I am more than ever convinced that man was made to command, and woman to obey, and that the rule in that good old fashioned book is right, "wives _reverence_ your husbands--husbands _love_ your wives."

_Tuesday, October 1st._

Frank is so much better, that he not only eats broth, but chicken and eggs. I believe, he would eat six meals a day, if we would carry them to him. But I think he is growing a little more rational. Pauline came to me the other day, very much grieved at herself for carrying the broth to her father. He had begged her to ask Phebe up, when mother and I were away, enjoining the strictest secrecy upon her, and the poor child knew not what to do. I comforted her with the thought that no harm had come of it, and she would know better next time.

Frank sits up almost all day, and we are beginning to feel a little settled. School lessons are vigorously learned, Pauline having been duly installed in my place as teacher. I have as much as I can do to take care of my patient, who is, however, rather _impatient_ sometimes, if I am long out of the room.

If I leave him with mother, I have to set the exact time that I will return, and give him the watch to mark the minutes. Though often inconvenient, yet it is delightful to have him longing for me to be with him. I would not for worlds have it otherwise.

_Monday, October 7th._

I have some wonderful news for you, dear mother. It is our present intention to leave America just as soon as the Doctor is able, spend the winter and spring in the south of France, and return home by way of England.

We should not be able to do this, if it were not for our kind friend and physician, Dr. Clapp. I love him as a dear brother, and there is a most delightful intercourse between our families. I have not time to tell you how this plan came about so quickly; only to say that it is nothing new to the Doctor; but he has been keeping it to himself. Mother will spend, at least, part of the winter with Emily, and Ann will go with her. Caesar and Phebe will remain here. Ruth is to accompany us with all the children.

_Thursday, October 7th._

We hope to leave in the "_Unicorn_" which sails the twenty-fifth of this month. The Doctor has rode out once, and it did him great good. Pauline is much pleased with the prospect of visiting Europe, while Nelly and Frank are perfectly wild with delight. We may meet Joseph Morgan, who has been in business in France for two years or more.

_Friday, October 11th._

I have but a moment to tell you that preparations are going on briskly.

Emily Benson has come over from the parsonage and is very efficient a.s.sistance. She thinks of everything. Mr. Benson lost nothing by waiting five years for her. She has developed into a splendid woman, and is universally beloved in the parish. "Her husband also and he praiseth her."