"Heaven knows what ails her! Percy would give worlds for that
knowledge, if with it came also the remedy."
The rapid decline in his wife's health, or rather its failure, after
the birth of her child, to come back its old standard united to her
lowness of spirits--naturally gave her husband some concern, and he
consulted her physician as to the cause. He, as the profession
generally do, assigned a physical cause, and recommended change of
air.
"Let her go to the sea-shore, or among the Mountains," said he.
And this change was proposed to Kate.
"I saw Doctor R--to-day," said her husband, after the interview,
"and he recommends a few weeks on the sea-shore, or somewhere among
the mountains."
"I don't wish to go," replied Kate, in a low, sad voice.
"But your health, Kate," said Mr. Edwards.
"I shall be just as well at home," she replied.
"No, I will not admit that. Doctor R--is sure that a change of air
will do you good; and what he says is reasonable."
Kate made no answer. Mr. Edwards continued to urge the matter upon
her; but she had no more to say.
On the same evening Percy called to see his mother.
"How is Kate?" inquired the latter.
"No better. I saw Doctor R--about her to-day, and he says a change
of air is absolutely necessary, and recommends a few weeks at the
Bedford Springs, or at Newport, or Cape May."
"No doubt it would do her much good."
"No doubt in the world. But, as in every thing else of late, she is
opposed to just what her friends recommend to her as best."
"She doesn't want to go?"
"No, of course not."
"Did you tell that the doctor recommended the change?"
"Yes. But she insists upon it that she will be just as well at
home."
"A compliment to the medical opinion of Doctor R--!
"Isn't it? I wish you would see her, and urge her to go somewhere."
"Very well; though I don't know that what I say will be of much use.
I am not one of her favourites."
"See her, at any rate. It won't do to let her sink down and die, as
she certainly will if something cannot be done to arouse her."
"I will call upon Mrs. Harrison and tell her what the doctor says.
She has great influence over her; and can persuade her to go if any
one can."
The mother of Kate heard what the doctor had said, and approved of
his recommendation. She knew, better than any one else, the true
nature of the disease from which her daughter was suffering; and,
although she did not hope for much from a change of scene, yet she
believed the effect would be salutary rather than otherwise. So she
went to see her immediately. She found her, as usual, alone in her
chamber, with a sad countenance, and a drooping, listless air. After
inquiring, tenderly, about her health, she said--
"I understand that Doctor R--recommends a change of air."
"What all doctors recommend when they do not know the cause and
nature of a disease," replied Kate, with a faint smile.
"But I think, with Doctor R--, that a few weeks at the sea-shore
will be of great benefit. The change will interest your mind as well
as invigorate your body."
"A temporary benefit may be derived from such a change," said Kate;
"but it cannot be permanent. When I return, I will sink again; and,
perhaps, lower, from the unnatural excitement to which I have been
subjected."
"Kate, my child, it is wrong for you to give up in this way. Your
disease is more of the mind than of the body; and you have the power
to arouse yourself and throw it off, if you will."
"The power, mother! I, the power!" exclaimed Kate, in a voice that
made her mother start.
"Have you not?" inquired Mrs. Harrison calmly.
"Has the bird, whose wing is broken, the power to fly?" asked Kate.
"Unless you make an effort to throw off your present state of mind,
you cannot live. And are you willing to die, and leave this dear
child in the hands of those who cannot love it as you do?"
"Has it not already been taken from me? Does it not draw its
existence from another breast?"
"But your health required--"
"My health! mother! My very life depended upon the privilege you
have all denied me. Do you want the proof? Look at that shadowy
hand"--and she held up the thin white member against the light,
which almost shone through it--"and at this shrunken face," and she
laid her hand upon her colourless cheek. "Restore the fountain that
has been dried, and let my babe drink at it, and there is some hope.
None without."
"That is impossible, Kate"--
"And just as impossible is my return to health through the means
proposed."
"But, for the sake of your friends, you ought to be willing to try
the means of restoration prescribed by a physician in whom we all
have confidence."
"Friends?" said Kate, half to herself. "Friends? Have I any
friends?"
"My child, why do you speak in this way?" asked her mother, in a
voice half sorrowful, half reproving.
"_Friends_ seek your good, not their own pleasure," continued Kate.
"Have I any who may be called by so excellent a name?"
And she shook her head mournfully.
"Have you not a husband?" said Mrs. Harrison.