Cora and The Doctor Part 50

"'You have been so very anxious,' continued the young man, 'to come here once more, and the air is so balmy to-day, I fear you will not have so favorable an opportunity again.'

"A deep sigh was the only reply; and the son took a pocket-handkerchief, and tenderly wiped his father's forehead, as he leaned against his breast. 'Perhaps,' said he, addressing me in French,' you will come around in front of the grave. My father is much agitated at your sudden appearance.'

"I replied, in English, that I was very sorry for what had happened; and regretted that I had been led by curiosity to intrude upon their retirement.

"'No apology is necessary,' he replied.

"'To whom are you talking, Eugene?' asked the invalid in a very feeble voice.

"'To the lady, you saw, father,' and he made a motion with his hand for me to stand where he could see me.

"I did so, but no sooner did the old gentleman perceive me, than he started forward holding out both his hands as if to embrace me; and then with a dreadful groan fell back into the arms of his son.

"'Oh! what can I do for you?' I asked in affright.

"'Fly,' said he, 'to that house,' pointing to the nearest one, 'and call for help. Stay,' he continued quickly, 'if you could hold him, I could go quicker.'

"'Nelly,' I exclaimed, as she came running toward me, after wandering all over the enclosure, 'Run as quick as you can to that house, and tell the servants their master has fainted by the grave, and they must come directly.' I knew Nelly's skill in running would serve a good purpose on this occasion. I gave Eugene, as his father called him, my salts, and kneeling down vigorously rubbed the cold hands in mine.

"'I cannot account for it,' said he, 'why my father is so much agitated at the sight of you; but as he is so perhaps it will be as well for you to stand aside when he recovers his consciousness.'

"In a very short time, Nelly returned in company with a man and woman.

The man brought a chair with pillows in it, and in this they speedily placed the unconscious invalid, and carried him away. Eugene merely said, 'I shall see you again,' as he left."

My dear mother, you who are acquainted with Pauline's history may judge in some slight degree of our feelings upon hearing of this adventure. I glanced at Frank, who turned very pale, but said nothing. Pauline got up with considerable excitement in her tone, and manner, and stood before a small mirror which hung in the room, saying, "I cannot conceive for whom the old gentleman could have taken me. I'm sure I don't see as I look like anybody but father." She has often been told of her close resemblance to him.

After she had left the room, Frank and I talked over the singularity of the event; but concluded that we were not called upon to make any inquiries with regard to the old gentleman's agitation, as he is an Englishman, and Pauline was, without doubt, a native of France. He is doubtless the one to whom Mr. Percival alluded in our first interview.

_Tuesday, December 24th._

Last night after Pauline's adventure I was so very nervous and excited that I could not sleep. I imagined the most improbable events, until I felt a perfect horror from the possibility that Pauline might be related to these people. I awoke Frank to ask him if he had brought the packet we received with her.

He replied that he had, but thought it was altogether probable we should carry it back as wise as we came. I told him I had not slept, and he quite laughed at me for making so much of a mere accident. He said that my imagination was always running away with me. I tried to think so myself and was soon asleep.

To-day Mr. Percival came in to invite us to attend service in the chapel to-morrow, (Christmas,) and having sent the children out for a walk, the Doctor asked him the name of the English gentleman who was so ill.

"Clifford," he replied, hesitating a moment. "Henry Clifford. He is, or was a colonel in the English army." I saw Frank give a sudden start, and then checked himself and went on with the conversation.

Mr. Percival hinted that domestic trials had brought on premature old age; that after having been for many years separated from his wife, he had come here to die by her grave. "Is it the one marked 'Imogen?'" I inquired.

"Yes, and the house you see from the spot is where she was born. The estate now belongs to her son."

"Was he an only child?" I asked, almost gasping in my eagerness for a reply.

"There was an infant who died about the same time as its mother."

"What was the cause of their separation?" asked Frank.

"I never understood sufficiently to relate," he replied in rather a reserved tone; and feeling entirely relieved from my great burden, I cared not to hear more. When Pauline returned, I somewhat astonished the dear child by the vehemence of my embrace. But recollecting myself, I pressed Miss Ellen also in my arms, that she might not suspect any particular emotion.

"What has happened, mamma?" said Pauline, "you look unusually happy."

"I am so, my dear," I could not avoid saying.

"And lovely too, mamma," giving me another kiss.

After he left, Frank went to his desk, and taking out the card upon which he had written the name of the gentleman to whom he had been entrusted with the dying confession of Squire Lee, looked earnestly at it, hoping the name was the same. But no, that was Shirley. He said while Mr. Percival was here, the thought that this might be the very man concerning whom he had made so many inquiries, flashed through his mind.

It had been so long since he had despaired of learning anything about him that he had forgotten the name.

_Wednesday, December 25th._

We have had a very quiet Christmas, that is, since Franky has done shouting over the contents of his stocking. Miss Nelly is really growing into a young lady. She came to me last evening, and having drawn me to a part of the room where she was sure her father could not hear, she whispered that she thought she was too old to hang up a stocking, for she had known a long time who put the presents in it; and that she would as soon have them given directly to her.

I laughed so much at the idea of her thinking herself grown up, that her father insisted upon sharing the joke; and somewhat to the young lady's annoyance, I informed him that she had become too old to be treated like a child. He called her to sit on his knee, and told her he must have her for a baby a long time yet. She was so much better than Franky, who would not sit still a moment.

But Miss only pouted until he whistled, and held up his gold pencil case for her to play with, then saying, "Baby want to hear papa's watch tick, tick?" when she "laughed tears," and Pauline came running in to see what caused all the merriment.

Nelly sprang up from her father's lap, saying, "sister would make a far better baby than I should."

Pauline went and put her arms lovingly around her father's neck, and said as she laid her cheek against his, "I should be contented to be a baby in this way forever."

We took our whole family to church, filling up one entire slip. Franky was particularly polite to Ruth, whom he had requested leave to invite to sit with us on this occasion. He took the book of hymns from his sister, and pa.s.sed it to his sable friend, a kindness which Ruth fully appreciated.

A young gentleman about twenty years of age sat near us. I could not avoid noticing that his eyes seldom turned from our pew. He was a fine, frank looking fellow, with light, curly hair, and fair complexion. But his princ.i.p.al beauty was a pair of brilliant eyes; very bright, but soft and mild in their expression. I saw that Pauline was confused by the young man's ardent gaze, and I was surprised as we came out of the aisle to see that she slightly returned his bow. But I had not much time to wonder, before Nelly whispered, "mamma, that's Pauline's 'Eugene.'" I saw by a smile on his countenance that the young man had heard her introduction; and we were relieved from rather an awkward meeting, by Mr. Percival, who inquired about his father, and then introduced him to us.

Young Clifford represented his father as very feeble, and said it would be a great kindness if the Doctor would call and see him. This Frank readily promised to do. As we went the same way the young man walked by Pauline, and did not leave her until we reached our own door.

Nelly was delighted with him, and her sister frankly said she thought him uncommonly pleasing.

The Catholic part of the community went early in the day, to their church to attend service, and spent the rest of the time in sports. They are now returning from the visits and places of amus.e.m.e.nt. Some of them are rather noisy; but generally they appear weary and fatigued.

_Sat.u.r.day, December 28th._

Not a day has pa.s.sed since our introduction to young Clifford, (or Eugene as Nelly insists upon calling him) without our meeting him either in a walk, or by his coming to our place. The Doctor has also called twice upon Colonel Clifford, who is now constantly confined to his bed.

Frank says he is not more than forty-seven years of age, but sorrow has placed a heavy mark upon him. He expressed much pleasure that his son had found friends in our family. I rather think our partial friend, Mr.

Percival, has spoken of us in his presence. He is very much depressed in spirits; and says there are periods of his life, he would give a great deal to be able to live over again. He speaks with the utmost tenderness of his son, and says, "If he were an experimental Christian, I could ask no more. He is everything else the fondest father could desire."

After this expression the Doctor conversed with him upon religious subjects. "Ah," said the sick man, "what should I have done but for the support of religion!" He hinted that at times his mental distress had been so great, that if it had not been for his religious principles, he fears he should have yielded to the suggestions of the adversary, and have put an end to his life. "But G.o.d," he added, "has mercifully preserved me; and will preserve me until the end."

Eugene shares not at all in his father's depression; but is very lively as well as gentle. He says he has been obliged to act the part of a daughter as well as that of a son, for his father has been an invalid ever since his remembrance.

Pauline asked, "How long has your mother been dead?"

He replied, "Many years. I have only a slight recollection of her; and it is a subject upon which my father never speaks."

I saw that this remark excited Pauline's compa.s.sion. He also noticed it, and made the most of it. I felt really a little jealous of him to-day, she looked up at him with such a simple trust. I must be on the watch.