Cora and The Doctor Part 57

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.

She put the whole into my hands, saying, "Dear mamma, you gave them to me," and she hid her face on my shoulder. Judge of my surprise when I found letters and sc.r.a.ps of letters dating back as far as 1836, when Joseph was a gay boy. In truth almost every one of them contained some message to his young friend.

Then there was a sheet of scribbling, with the names, Joseph Lenox Morgan and Pauline De Lacy Lenox, written in every variety of penmanship, in cousin's bold hand. These were interspersed with pictures evidently drawn to please a young child; a tall gentleman leading a little girl; then a young lady taking the arm of her companion, while underneath were written the names "Joseph and Pauline." These were the precious mementos which she had h.o.a.rded with as much care as the miser does his gold; and she confessed with tears, that when Adele was with us at Nice, almost her only comfort consisted in reading over and over these messages of love.

"When Eugene told me of his affection for me," she added, with a slight shudder, "I thought I ought to destroy them; but I had not the strength to do it."

I pressed the artless child to my heart, as I said, "And when I blamed you for treating Joseph so ill, did you love him then?"

"Oh! mamma," said she weeping, "how I longed to tell you all about it! I never knew until Joseph came, how much I loved him. But then I knew also that Eugene loved me and desired me to return his affection, and I feared it would be wrong toward him, for me to show my strong attachment to my cousin. Besides I thought Joseph would despise me if he saw my regard for him while another sought my heart and my hand."

_Thursday, October 2d._

Yesterday morning, at eleven o'clock, my dear Pauline was married. I cannot yet realize that she has left me. The young couple started directly on their wedding tour, and will return in a fortnight to pa.s.s a few days with us, before they go to B----, where she is to be for the present, in the family of her father-in-law. It is their wish to give up the whole management of the household to her. But Joseph prefers to wait until she can determine for herself whether she will board with them, or whether the new couple shall set up a separate establishment and keep house by themselves. In the midst of all my sadness, I cannot but smile at his treatment of her. He listens to her words, as to oracles of wisdom, and is as tender of her as a father of an only and a feeble daughter, while she is the very picture of health and cheerfulness.

But I forget that I have told you nothing of the wedding,--the company,--the ceremonies and the bridal gifts. I allowed Pauline to make her own arrangements, and was not a little surprised and delighted at her characteristic choice of bridemaids. In all her plans, Eugene and Nelly were zealous, if not able advisers; and I doubt whether any young masters or misses were ever more elated than were those appointed to this service.

Upon Monday evening, Joseph arrived with uncle and aunt Morgan. Uncle presented his intended daughter with a splendid service of plate, manufactured expressly for her; and aunt, with a bridal veil which Joseph had imported for her. Tuesday evening a large box arrived from Lee Hall, directed to "_Mrs. Joseph Morgan elect_." Poor Pauline was kept very rosy from morning till night, by Eugene's continual practice on the enunciation of this new name, that he might obtain its sweetest and most approved accent. The dear girl was almost overcome by this public recognition of her new t.i.tle. On opening the box, it was found to contain a magnificent silver urn with slop-bowl to match, lined with gold. This gift was from our dear friend, Mrs. Mansfield. Many other appropriate and rich presents were received from friends, which I have not time to specify, as I must hasten to my account of the wedding.

It was private, but few being present, as Pauline is to meet her friends on her return, and has appointed the twenty-first of October, her father's birth-day, for her wedding party.

On Wednesday morning, at eleven o'clock, the time appointed for the ceremony, Eugene ushered us into the parlor, where we found Allen and Lucy, Dr. and Mrs. Clapp, Miss Proctor, uncle and aunt, Mr. Benson and Emily, and our dear mother with our beloved pastor and his family, while Caesar, Phebe, Ruth and Ann filled up the back ground, and gave an agreeable variety to the shading of the picture. Eugene formally conducted the Doctor and myself to the seats of distinguished guests, and then retired to fulfil his duty as master of ceremonies, which from the youthfulness and inexperience of many of the company, and the perfect order with which they entered the room, must have required no little skill in the training.

First entered Eugene and Nelly; then Charles Karswell and Anna Reynolds, who are shortly to be married; next Henry Marshall, grandson of our friend the Attorney General, and Emily Lenox Mansfield; next Franky Lenox and Susy Benson, while Willie Reynolds and little black-eyed Hatty Clapp brought up the rear. These all walked, with the order and dignity befitting the occasion, to their proper places, leaving a vacant s.p.a.ce in the centre for the young bride, who entered last, leaning on the arm of him whom she had loved "from very childhood up."

Truly, they were a n.o.ble pair. He was tall and erect, with a broad, high brow, and eyes beaming with fondness upon the fair face so confidingly upturned to his own. She wore a white satin dress with an over-dress of gossamer lace. Her hair, which she always wore in natural curls, falling upon her neck, was looped up at the sides with a wreath of orange flowers, that also confined her veil. Sister Emily, who, with Lucy Mansfield's a.s.sistance, dressed the bride, and gave the finishing touch to the dress of all the young men and maidens, was much delighted at the complete success of her efforts. Rev. Mr. Munroe, by a few mystic words made the twain one forever. Then after prayer for a blessing on the happy union, all walked up to salute the bride.

Though my heart was overflowing, yet I had been able to command myself until my husband led me to the bride. I tried to speak, but finding my voice inarticulate, hastily kissed her and retired for a few moments to recover myself. When I returned to the room, Caesar was pa.s.sing the cake, while his countenance wore a ludicrous mixture of sorrow and delight. He evidently felt a strong inclination to weep; but his duties rendering this inappropriate and inconvenient, he tried to a.s.sume an expression of the joy which he conceived to be more befitting the occasion.

Uncle and aunt Morgan will remain with us until after Pauline's return and levee. A list of the persons to be then invited she put into the hand of her brother Eugene. The day before she went, she consulted me about the number she should invite. I replied, "just as many as you please, and just whom you please."

From her choice of bridemaids, I rather think, there will be a miscellaneous company. But if it gives the dear girl pleasure and affords her an opportunity to take leave of friends, to whom she is ardently attached, I shall be satisfied.

Both she and Eugene were delighted that the levee would occur on their father's birth-day. Emily Benson has brought her babies to make us a family visit while uncle and aunt Morgan are here, so that I have no time to be lonely.

CHAPTER x.x.xIX.

"How few, like thee, inquire the wretched out, And court the offices of soft humanity!

Like thee, reserve their raiment for the naked, Reach out their bread to feed the crying orphan, Or mix the pitying tears with those that weep!" ROWE.

_Wednesday, October 22d._

Last evening the company began to a.s.semble for the levee at an early hour, and consisted of persons selected without any reference to the accidental distinctions of wealth and rank. Mr. Marshall, the attorney General, and Thomas Jones the reformed inebriate, but now one of the most respectable and respected citizens of the town, were in close proximity. Here too, were Mr. Allen and Mrs. Lucy Mansfield, at the head of the wealthy aristocracy, in animated conversation with William and Anna Reynolds, once so oppressed with poverty. Mr. Benson and Emily, who would anywhere be recognized as persons of true refinement and grace, bestowed special attention upon those present, who were unaccustomed to such scenes, and on that account timid and reserved. A table was extended the entire length of the dining room, and bountifully crowned with delicacies and luxuries, of which at the proper hour all were invited to partake. The bride and bridegroom with their train, who were in attendance as at the wedding, mingled with the company and addressed a kind word to each.

There were so many children and young people present who were obliged to leave at an early hour, that the Doctor, after consultation with me, requested Mr. Munroe to close this interesting interview with prayer.

Instead of complying immediately with this request, I noticed that Dr.

Clapp stepped forward and said something to the Doctor, and then suddenly left the room in company with the reverend gentleman, Mr.

Marshall, Allen Mansfield, and one or two others. I looked at Frank, wondering what this could mean. He whispered to me, that Dr. C. wanted to have a little singing. I was still more puzzled when Emily Benson touched my arm and desired to speak with me. "They have found out," said she, "that it is Frank's birth-day, and want to sing a hymn in honor of the event. Take his arm and keep him quiet, just where you are." She then went and led mother and the children near me, and taking her husband's arm, stood behind us.

The gentlemen returned, and Dr. Clapp, who is a fine singer, commenced the following hymn, in which he was joined at first by nearly all the company except our immediate family:

To him who e'er hast lent a hand In hours of direst woe, Who like a brother led the way, And showed us how to go; To him who oft has bowed the knee Beside the lowly cot, Here thanks we give, here thanks we pay, On this thy natal day.

Kind benefactor, brother, friend, Our words but feebly tell The gush of love comes over us, And in our bosoms swell, For all thy kindness, all thy care For souls by sin oppressed, Here thanks we give, here thanks we pay, On this thy natal day.

May He who in his precious word Declares the giver blessed, E'en far beyond recipients, p.r.o.nounce thee doubly blessed; And as swift years their circles speed, May lover, children, friends, Combine to bless thy natal day, As we our thanks do pay.

I never knew Frank so much overcome. He put his handkerchief to his eyes, and then made a movement as if he were meditating an escape from the room; but I whispered, "don't leave me, Frank."

When the singing terminated, Rev. Mr. Munroe stepped forward and began to make a speech. My heart beat very fast; and for a moment I felt as if I were going to be married. I was so much overcome that I could not hear all that was said, but the next hour was occupied with speeches addressed to the Doctor, by Rev. Mr. Munroe, Mr. Marshall, Dr. Clapp, and Thomas Jones; each of whom in a most delicate manner, spoke of his happy influence and professional services. Mr. Munroe said, "No one could fully estimate the value of the labors of a pious physician this side of eternity." "Everywhere," he continued, "among this people, I find occasion to bless G.o.d for locating me in a parish where those labors abound."

Dr. Clapp thanked my husband for his kind attention, encouragement and friendship, and concluded by saying "I owe all my present ease and comfort to you, Dr. Lenox."

Allen Mansfield followed him, and in glowing terms spoke of the blessings for which under G.o.d he and his were indebted to Frank, and to our family.

Next Thomas Jones came forward to acknowledge his obligations. He commenced in a lofty strain. "Dear sir, I speak not for myself alone, but for a large cla.s.s in the community, some of whom I see standing around you and your worthy lady and family, persons who through your instrumentality."--Poor man, his emotion choked his utterance, and he suddenly stopped, caught the Doctor by the hand, and broke out in a more natural and therefore impressive strain; "Oh, sir, think what I was when you found me, took me out of the ditch, led me home by the hand, encouraged and warned me, prayed with me and for me; think of me, a poor besotted drunkard, frightening my own wife and children, and see what your kindness has made of me and of them. I say with Dr. Clapp, that under G.o.d, I owe all this to you, Doctor; and there's many here whose hearts are saying the same thing. G.o.d bless you, Doctor, your beloved wife and children; and may he also bless us, and gladden our hearts, by many returns of your birth-day. Mr. Willard had prepared me a fine speech for the occasion; but before I got through the first sentence I forgot the whole of it." This frank acknowledgment suddenly turned the sorrow that was suffusing so many eyes into a roar of laughter, in which even the weeping Doctor could not but unite.

Finally, Mr. Marshall presented himself and said, "Dr. Lenox, there are many persons in this company who have it in their hearts to reiterate the remarks of Mr. Jones, Dr. Clapp and others who have addressed you; but the lateness of the hour forbids them the pleasure. Enough has been said to convince you, their esteemed friend and physician, that your labors have been neither in vain, nor unappreciated. In their behalf and in my own behalf, I thank you for your ministrations of kindness, for your charity to the poor, and your relief of the distressed; and I cordially unite with them in the desire that your life and valuable services may be long spared to us, and to the community in which we live. I conclude with this sentiment: "_Our beloved physician--he has sown bountifully, may he also reap bountifully, harvesting esteem in this world, and life eternal in the world to come._"

"Thy natal day-- And duly shall our raptured song, And gladly shall our eyes Still bless this day's return, so long As thou shalt see it rise."

When he had closed, Mr. Marshall, perceiving that the Doctor was too much overcome to attempt a reply, turned to the pastor, who concluded the service with a solemn and impressive prayer. There was hardly a dry eye in the room, while Caesar and Phebe, who stood in the rear of our family, sobbed aloud. The Doctor kept his handkerchief to his eyes, and he told me afterwards, that it was with difficulty he could support himself.

After prayer, the company bade us good night and retired. The next morning, at family prayers, I was delighted to hear my husband pray that he might not be led to take to himself that glory which was due to G.o.d alone; but that the late scene might humble him and render him more diligent in his master's service.

_Friday, October 24th._

This morning, before Pauline's departure, Eugene put into her hand, legal doc.u.ments conveying to her one half of their deceased father's estate. Uncle and aunt Morgan are to return with the bride and bridegroom. Charles Karswell and Anna Reynolds are to be of the party as far as New York city, and Eugene to New Haven, where he is to resume his place in the senior cla.s.s in Yale College, which he entered at the last commencement.

Now that they all have gone, I begin to realize that Pauline, the child of my heart, has left me, and in spite of all my efforts at resistance, a sadness steals over my spirits. I try to compose myself, and to realize some comfort from the thought my dear husband holds up to my view, that I have gained a son. But as yet I can only remember that I have lost the society and companionship of my lovely daughter; I think that Frank feels her loss almost as much as I do; for though he appears very cheerful, yet there is a pallor about his mouth which I have always noticed when his feelings are deeply moved. I heard him as he left me to visit his patients humming a lively tune; but I knew that he only did it, as boys whistle in the dark, to keep their courage up.

CHAPTER XL.