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

I took my leave, wondering if Mr. Benson had ever known a pang like hers. I acknowledged to myself a rising prejudice against the man for loving another.

Saturday, August 1st.

Emily is not quite well, and has postponed her journey until the first of the week. How entirely mother is deceived by her calmness. She spoke to me of it with tears in her eyes, and said she was so thankful that the dear girl was quiet in her feelings. How little we know of the misery that is passing before our eyes! But Emily is a noble hearted woman; and she will not allow her grief, which she always remembers is the effect of her own insincerity, to trouble her friends. I have no doubt, I should sink under such a blow. My heart aches when I think my tender-hearted, sensitive Pauline may be destined to such a trial. But if she has not the Lenox blood in her, she certainly has a great deal of character, and never will make a tame woman. I wonder what her little sister will be?

Wednesday, August 5th.

If I can steady my hand sufficiently to hold a pen I will tell you some news. I went this afternoon to the village on an errand for Emily, who is still suffering from an attack of her old complaint, the nervous head-ache. In company with Pauline, I was walking home slowly, as it is very warm, when a gentleman passed me on horse-back. I did not recognize him; but when I addressed some remark to Pauline, he turned, sprang from his horse, and was by my side in a moment.

"Mr. Benson!" I exclaimed in a glad voice, for at the time I only felt my old respect for him. His manner was very cordial; and I could not but acknowledge that he was greatly improved by his travels. But as he grew more free, I became more embarrassed, and as he walked by my side leading his horse, I began to wonder what I should do with him. He took great notice of Pauline, in whom he was formerly much interested. He had not yet inquired for sister, and I determined to give him no chance. "I am surprised," I said, "to see you on horse-back."

"I was always fond of the exercise, and I have almost lived on the backs of horses, or rather mules and camels for the last five years."

"But

now

," said I, hesitating, meaning without his wife.

His countenance brightened with a smile, as he said, "You will find me very little changed in my tastes. I am just the same man."

I blushed with indignation, and wanted to say, "no, you are very much altered, for you are a married man." "Where is your wife?" I asked, after a pause.

He started and looked me full in the face. Seeing I still waited for an answer, he said, "I did not understand you."

"Where is

Mrs.

 Benson?" I repeated.

For an instant he looked terribly stern. Then recovering himself, and evidently forcing a laugh, said, "that is a question far easier to ask than to answer."

I made no reply, but looked at him in astonishment.

Seeing me very serious, he said, "I fear you are laboring under a mistake, and are giving me more than is my due. I have not the happiness to be a married man."

I'm sure, I can't tell whether I screamed, or not; I know I felt like it. "And aren't you about to be married to Miss Karswell, from the South?" I asked eagerly.

He bit his lips as he smiled and looked down, but presently said, "I have not even that honor."

"And not to" – I checked myself in much confusion.

"Dear Mrs. Lenox," said he, taking my hand, "I see you are the same kind friend as ever," and bowing adieu he sprang upon his horse and rode away, looking back to send his regards to my husband. I had not time or presence of mind to invite him to call. But as soon as we were in our own grounds, I flew along the walks, up the steps into the library, hoping Frank had returned. I must tell somebody. Fortunately he was there. I ran across the room, and began to caress him so convulsively that he started up to see what could have happened.

"Why, Cora, you're all in a heat. What excites you so?"

"Wait till I can get my breath," said I, "Oh, Frank! I'm so glad! Mr. Benson isn't married!"

"But where is Miss Karswell from the South?" said he sternly.

"You need not look so grave, I

don't care

 where she is; only I know he is neither married nor engaged to her."

"How do you know?" he inquired in a doubting tone.

"Because I asked him, and he told me so."

Frank now began to be as much astonished, and as eager for news as I wished. I commenced at the beginning and related all the conversation. "Now Frank," said I, when I had finished, "Emily mustn't go to C – . Even if I had not seen Mr. Benson, and found out the mistake under which we were laboring, she is not really well enough to undertake the journey alone; and I feel confident that her only object in going was to avoid meeting him at present."

"I grant all this, my dear, and love you for your enthusiastic interest in your sister; but you are going too fast; and jumping at a conclusion which may be far from true, that because he is not engaged to be married to one particular lady at the South, it necessarily follows that he must be in love with and wishing to marry a lady who haughtily refused him five years ago. I can't say, my dear, I think logic is exactly your forte."

"I don't wish any logic applied to my love nor to that of those with whom I have to do. I want nothing but the outbursting of a full heart which overleaps all the deductions of logic. I shouldn't think much of any man's love, much less of a woman's," said I proudly, "who stopped to reason and calculate."

Frank smiled, as he saw me working myself up into such an excitement. "Well," said he, "I think I can name one man who reasoned and calculated, as you so indignantly express it, and who, being well convinced that reason justified and approved his love, he then calculated his chance of success, and finding that a pair of bright eyes grew brighter at his approach, and that notwithstanding all the owner's efforts to prevent it, the blushes burned upon her cheeks, he continued,

"'You know, you must have known,

I long have lov'd – lov'd you alone,

But cannot know how dearly.'

'He told her if his hopes were cross'd,

His every aim in life was lost.

She knew he spoke sincerely.'"

"Then encouraged by her downcast looks, he allowed his heart free vent, and soon found himself the fortunate owner of the most true, and loving heart that ever man was blessed with."

I was completely overcome, though I tried to conceal it. "Oh!" said I, "if the lords of creation were only not so vain. There might be ten thousand things to make one blush beside" – but I felt my own cheeks burn, and I concluded to return to the original subject. Frank advised me certainly to tell Emily what I had intended, but by no means to encourage in her the idea that Mr. Benson wished to renew his addresses to her.

"You don't know, Emily," I said, "as well as I do. She has as proud a spirit as your own; and I think, she would die rather than to allow any one to suppose, she were sitting meekly waiting his affection."

Thursday, August 6th.

After the conversation yesterday afternoon, I was obliged to own to myself that I had been too hasty in my conclusions; and I determined to be very careful of what I said to sister. I

walked

 over to the cottage, therefore, instead of running, as I felt inclined, and found mother alone in the parlor completing a dress for Emily.

"Where is sister?" I asked.

"She is in her room, packing. I wish you would persuade her to give up this journey, or at least to postpone it. She really is not well."

"That is just my errand. Frank is decided against it."

"Well then, go and talk with the child, and I wish you success."

I peeped into the room, and saw her on her knees at the trunk, while Ruth was passing articles to her young mistress from the drawers, closets, etc. I said, "Ruth, I will take your place," and she went below. Now I had prepared a kind of speech for the occasion; but at the time I couldn't think of a word of it. "Emily," said I, sitting down instead of assisting her, "I have come to ask a great favor of you. Will you grant it?"

"Certainly, my love, why should you doubt it?"

"Well then, Frank, mother and I, are very unhappy to have you leave in your present state of health, and we ask you to please defer your visit to C – until another time."

Emily looked much troubled, as she rose and stood before me. "You mean kindly; but believe me, dear sister, it would be far better and easier for me to be away. My head-ache is better, and is only occasioned by the heat."

"Well, darling, will you, to please me, postpone it for one week?"

She stood a full minute, as if calculating her own strength to endure; and then said, "I will, from such a motive, and for so short a time."

"Then," said I, joyfully, "one subject is disposed of. You've granted me one favor, – I want another."

"You're fortunate," she replied, smiling, "in finding me in good humor. However, you're not very troublesome in that way. I think I can venture to promise."

"Well," said I, casting down my eyes, (I could not for my life meet hers,) "I want that beautiful bride's cake."

"Why, Cora," she replied, as I glanced up and met a very mischievous look, "I didn't know you were so fond of cake. I'll make you half a dozen loaves."

"No, but I want

that

 one."

"Why?"

"Because," I answered, my heart leaping into my mouth, "there will be no bride there to need it."

Emily started, and then said calmly, "that makes no difference."

"But," said I, eagerly, "he has no bride. Mr. Benson is

not

 married. The report was false."

Poor girl! she fairly shook with emotion, and her face turned deadly pale. She gazed at me for one instant, and then threw herself down by the side of the bed. "My God, I thank thee for removing the awful load of guilt from my heart," was all that I could hear, though she continued a long time in that attitude. When she arose, I put my arm around her, as she sat shading her face with her hand.

"Sister, you will be happier now."

"Yes, dear," she answered quietly, "you have removed a great load of guilt from my soul, and I shall, I must feel happier."

After a pause, I whispered, "you will not object to meet Mr. Benson now."

She started to her feet with such a world of meaning in her tone as she said, "Cora!"

"I mean," said I, hesitating, "he is to be our neighbor again; and it would be so much pleasanter, and better every way, to be on terms of friendship with him."

She looked so proudly as she stood before me, and said, "that is hardly possible; certainly not at all probable. He would not wish it."

"Oh, I am sure he would!" I exclaimed eagerly. "I have seen him, and he says he is just the same man; that his tastes are not changed."

Oh! what a beautiful rosy blush spread all over her cheeks and brow; a bright light danced for one moment in her eye, and leading me to the door, she said in a low tone, "you have made me very happy. Please go and tell mother. I must be alone." She put her hand to her heart to still the new and strange feeling of hope that was springing up there.

CHAPTER XXVII

"The first fresh love

Dies never wholly; it lives on through pain

And disappointment; often when the heart

Is crushed, and all its sympathies pressed out,

This lingers, and awakens, and shines bright." Percival.

Friday, August 7th.

The visit of welcome passed off delightfully. The guests assembled in a spacious hall which was tastefully decorated for the occasion. The tables were loaded with fruits and flowers, intermingled with substantial viands for such as preferred them. It was Emily's desire that mother should accompany us; and we entered early to witness the reception of the pastor. Mr. Benson had requested that there should be as little formality as possible. The services opened by an appropriate original hymn. By whom do you think it was written? By Mrs. Anna Reynolds, who was a native of Waverley. Mr. Munroe invoked a blessing, and then all went forward to shake hands with their beloved pastor, and express their joy at his return.

After allowing his own people their first claim to his notice, Frank walked up with mother and myself. A great crowd had pressed around the traveller, but when the Doctor's tall form approached, he darted forward, eager to express his welcome to us; not, however, without a quick glance behind us, as if missing an absent member of our family.

"We have come," replied the Doctor, "to welcome

you

, though I think my wife has already had that pleasure."

He bowed over my hand, and expressed his delight at the honor we had done him. Amidst all the claims upon his attention, – and he had a kind word and smile for every one, – he soon made an opportunity to approach the place where our little party stood, and suggesting to the Doctor the awkwardness of a gentleman being without a companion, begged me to take his arm. "I have not had an opportunity," he said, smiling, "to ask after the health of your sweet little girl, Pauline, I think is her name."

"She is quite well," I replied.

"That does not, I think, embrace all of your family."

"Oh, no! there is a darling little Nelly at home; sister is with her this evening, as she wished mother to have the pleasure of being here."

He looked at me earnestly for a moment, as if he would fain have asked a question, but dared not. For want of something better to do, he picked up a flower which had dropped from a vase, and began to analyze it, but seeing an arch smile upon my face which I could not repress, he hastily threw it aside.

"You must not infer," I said at length, pitying his embarrassment, "because sister and Pauline are not here, that they do not wish you a hearty welcome; but Emily has had her trunk packed for a number of days to go a journey, and she only postponed it as an accommodation to me."

Just then he was called away; but turned back to go with me to my husband, saying in a low voice, "have I your permission to make you an early call?"

"I should have invited you the other day," I answered, "if you had not been in such a hurry."

He had a queer look as he smiled and said, "your questions had somewhat confused me, I acknowledge. I must ask an explanation at some future time."

"Ah," said I, "I rather think you will be the one who will be required to give an explanation."

We had been slowly making our way through the crowd to the other end of the hall, where mother and the Doctor awaited us, for the entertainment to commence; but Mr. Benson seemed not to notice the signs of impatience from the young people, and replied in an impressive manner, "I shall only be too happy to answer any questions you may wish to ask."

While waiting for the company to be quiet, Frank touched my burning cheek, and whispered archly, "I hope Emily is not of a jealous disposition."

"She is a Lenox," I replied gravely.

It took some time for the company to form themselves around the table; when the pastor's voice was heard in prayer for the first time since his return, thanking the Author of all our blessings, for the kind care which had watched over us during our long separation, and brought pastor, people and friends together under such delightful circumstances. The prayer was short, but very tender and appropriate. Many wept for joy at their beloved teacher's return; but soon all were engaged in the business of the hour, and nothing was heard for some time but the clatter of plates and spoons, and the eager voices asking to be helped. It was quite enough for me to watch the others. I smiled as I saw Mr. Benson standing with his eyes fixed abstractedly upon his plate, while his thoughts were evidently far away.

I must pass quickly over the speeches, singing, etc., which occurred when "all had eaten, and were full." We had intended to excuse ourselves early, and return home, but found no opportunity to do so. Frank made a short speech of welcome, which if I am a judge was as acceptable to the traveller as any other. Then all were requested to join in a closing hymn, when we withdrew to our homes.

Frank said to Mr. Benson at parting, that as an old friend, he would always be welcome at our house, and mother reiterated the same. I fancied Frank was slightly embarrassed. "Good night, Mr. Benson," I said, shaking hands from the carriage. "Remember your promise to call soon and renew your acquaintance with – with my little

Pauline

."

He bowed low to conceal a smile, and we started for home by a most serene but bright moonlight.

Saturday, August 8th.

This morning Emily came over to the house as usual to see and frolic with the baby. As Ann was carrying on a great business in the nursery, in the way of cleaning, we took the young ladies to the parlor. Nelly was so noisy that we could not hear ourselves speak. I laughed until I cried at sister, as she threw the baby high over her head, and then tossed her back into her lap. A slight sound made me turn, and there I beheld the elegant, distinguished traveller, whose praise was in every mouth, standing in the door-way with the most complacent of smiles. I sprang up. "

Emily

," said I quickly; but it was too late. Miss was safely perched on her head again, her tiny feet kicking, and her delighted shout ringing through the room.

In exactly this position was my refined sister when her wondering eyes caught the first glimpse of the intruder. Quick as lightning the aspiring child was brought down from her high position, and set upon the carpet, while Emily looked for an instant as if she were meditating a rapid descent through the floor. But it was too ludicrous. We looked at one another and burst into a hearty laugh. I have my doubts if any foreign ambassador was ever more relieved at the termination of a troublesome embassy, than was our friend Mr. Benson, at this favorable opportunity for renewing past friendship.

"They met —

Whose hands, not souls, had long been parted,

To smile – and in that smile forget

All in the feeling – We have

met

!"

Emily, like a noble girl as she really is, advanced frankly toward our visitor; and though her hair was dressed in rather an odd style by baby; and her cheeks were rather too rosy from her violent exercise; yet the clergyman did not appear to like her the less on that account. He fixed his deep penetrating eyes for one moment on hers; but I don't know whether he gleaned anything very satisfactory from them, as hers were quickly dropped, and her long black lashes were an effectual shield. Emily had too much good sense to apologize for her dishabille; and I am sure she needed no apology, for though in a simple white wrapper, fastened to the throat by a cameo brooch, and a black silk apron; yet I thought again and again as I looked, that there was a beauty about her which I had never witnessed before. There was a kind of consciousness or shyness which was very bewitching. I am quite sure there was one beside myself of similar opinion, for he improved well the opportunity her downcast eyes afforded to gaze unreproved. Nelly, however, was by no means satisfied at the sudden termination of her frolic, and was constantly climbing to her aunt's knee, to recommence the play. She appeared perfectly astonished at the unwonted neglect she received; but finding at length that she could not accomplish her object, crept quietly away to her toys.

Pauline now came in, having accomplished her self-imposed task of reading aloud to Phebe in the kitchen. It may be doubted whether the faithful woman gained much instruction from information received under such unfavorable auspices. But Pauline was full of zeal; and though Phebe walked heavily from pantry to sink, and from sink to closet in the performance of her duties, yet as she refrained from talking, the dear child never doubted but she was much interested. With her open book in her hand, she came running into the room, and at a call from Mr. Benson, advanced gracefully toward him.

He took her book, and talked with her of its contents. As I looked at them, I could hardly identify him as the same man who had formerly been nearly as much an object of pity, as of respect. He was now a thoroughly polished gentleman, who had been received at almost every court in Europe, and who had, for the last two years, been travelling in close companionship with one of the most cultivated families in New York. I longed to ask about the Misses Karswell, but knew that the present was not a suitable time.

Emily had now recovered herself, and the conversation became general. We conversed regarding places of interest in England and France, and found during the two hours he remained, that in whatever else he had failed, he certainly had acquired the art of conversation. Perhaps he might have been more than usually inspired on the present occasion, for he rendered himself a most delightful companion. Sister usually claims for herself a good share of the talking; but at this time was so obliging as to be a willing listener. When Mr. Benson arose, I invited him to remain and dine with us; but he politely declined, saying he must be in his study as he had not completed his preparation for the Sabbath. But he added that he should be happy to pay his respects to mother before he took leave.

"Emily will accompany you to the cottage," I said, wholly unmindful of her imploring glance. She put on her hat, and with a shake of her head at me, she walked with him across the garden, he having secured permission to repeat his call at an early day.

When Frank came home we had a hearty laugh over our morning adventures. "I should have liked to have been present," said he, "and to have seen Emily caught in that way."

Soon after, Frank left; it was about three o'clock, I think, I went over to the cottage to laugh at sister, or, with her, just as she felt inclined, when on opening the parlor door, there sat the gentleman as unmoved, as though two sermons were not lying on his study table waiting to be completed. When he saw me, I solemnly declare the man blushed, and no wonder, when he had declined so polite an invitation at our house. I felt inclined to joke him. "I am very glad, sister," I said, "that you persuaded Mr. Benson to remain and

prepare his sermons here

, where he will not be liable to the interruptions incident to his first arrival at home."

He sprang up and took my hand, saying, "spare me, dear Mrs. Lenox; but I must indeed be gone," and he hastily bid us adieu.

Mother was at a loss to account for his sudden flight, until I told her, he had come in here in order to obtain assistance in preparing for the duties of the Sabbath.

Friday, August 14th.

Last evening we were invited to a select party at Allen Mansfield's. The Doctor, Emily, and I accepted the invitation. Among the first guests came Mr. Benson, whose unexpected entrance brought a bright blush to Emily's cheek. He was quite the lion of the evening, and all seemed interested and profited by the conversation between him and Frank, who had taken nearly the same tour of Europe. But he paid sister very little attention, though I could see that he watched her closely as her lovely countenance varied with her emotion. "Ah," said I to myself, as the evening closed without his having addressed a single remark directly to Emily, "if you are making love, you have considerably changed your tactics during your absence."

Emily was just taking her brother's arm to walk home, as it was but a short distance, when the young clergyman joined us, saying, "I am sure, Doctor, you are far too generous to monopolize more than your share," and he offered his arm to sister. I suppose it is not an uncommon habit for gentlemen of the cloth to be

"Like Isaac with a mind applied

To serious thoughts at eventide,"

and Emily was far too good a girl to interrupt such

pious

 meditations.

Thursday, September 3d.

Mr. Benson called to-day with young Karswell, who is about twenty-four years of age. Mother and sister were passing the day here. The young man came on to make his friend a visit; and told us he had lived with him so many years, he could not well live without him. I saw that he was very much pleased with Emily, and engaged her attention almost wholly, while Mr. Benson directed all his conversation to mother, and hardly appeared to notice that she was in the room. For the last few times he has called, especially if any stranger is present, he is extremely reserved. Even so intimate a friend as the one to-day, rendered him very unlike

the

 Mr. Benson when first returned. They made quite a long call, and Mr. Karswell managed to procure an invitation to return, saying that he must see the Doctor, as his father had often spoken of him. I should judge him to be a frank, open hearted fellow; but with nothing very marked in his character. He is rather pretty, than handsome, with features delicate enough for a girl, and somewhat effeminate in manner.

Friday, September 4th.

Young Karswell came again to-day and alone, saying, "it is dreadfully dull at Waverley, and as Mr. Benson was not inclined for a ride, I thought I would take one myself and say nothing about it." He asked for sister, and said he thought her handsomer than any lady he had seen when abroad, because there was so much variety in her expression. I accompanied him to the cottage, where in a few moments he appeared to feel as much at home, as if in his mother's parlor. I never knew one, so entirely a stranger, talk so freely of himself, and his friends. He made quite a confident of Emily, telling her that his cousin Virginia, who accompanied them in their travels, "was dead in love with Mr. Benson."

"We heard," said I, joining them, "that he was married to your cousin from the South."

He laughed heartily, as he said, "it is not Virginia's fault that the report is not true, for she would gladly have given herself and her fortune into the bargain. I have often wondered why he did not take her, instead of settling down in such a tame place as Waverley."

Emily's eyes sparkled as she replied, "Mr. Benson is a clergyman, and no place is tame to him where there are souls to be saved."

Young Karswell gazed at her with admiration, as if he would willingly make her angry to see her light up so again. But he only said, "Mr. Benson is not a marrying man. I don't believe he has it in him to fall in love. During all our travels, though we met with scores of beautiful ladies, I never saw him pay them anything beyond the attention politeness required."

Emily involuntarily let her work fall from her hands, but instantly recovered herself, and redoubled h