_DOCTOR DOUGLASS._
IT was something like a douche of cold water to Mr. Ferrand when Miss
Hardy, with a certain twinkle in her eyes, introduced:
"Miss Thurston, one of my young ladies."
But he "accepted the situation" like the gentleman he really was, in
spite of his numerous crochets.
"I have had the pleasure of meeting Miss Thurston before," said he,
cordially shaking hands with Rhoda. "I am glad to see her looking so
well, and so pleasantly situated. Mrs. Ferrand, my dear, here is an old
friend."
But Isa had already thrown herself upon Rhoda's neck with a cry of joy,
which was decidedly hysterical in its sound, and Mr. Ferrand, for a
wonder, did not reprove her, as he certainly would have done if such a
demonstration had taken place in his own home.
"Suppose, Rhoda, you take Isa up and show her the house," said Miss
Hardy, presently.
Mr. Ferrand looked a little uneasy, but he did not interfere.
"Isa is not looking well," remarked Miss Hardy when the girls had left
the room.
"She is not well," answered her sister. "I hoped Henry Douglass might
come down while we were here. I should like him to see her."
"I have written to him that you were coming," said Miss Hardy. "I
presume we shall see him before many days."
"My dear, you are over-anxious about Isabella," remarked Mr. Ferrand.
"The child is essentially well, though perhaps somewhat fatigued with
her late application. We have had a visit in Milby from a very superior
music-master who only stayed a month. I was desirous of having our
daughter profit as far as possible by his instructions, and she has
therefore taken a lesson every day and spent most of her time at the
piano. But she is quite well, and the recreation of travelling will
soon remove any little extra fatigue."
It struck Miss Hardy that there was a little unnecessary self-assertion
and emphasis in Mr. Ferrand's remarks, as if he were trying to convince
himself as well as his wife.
"And so you have taken our young friend Rhoda into the number of
your pupils?" continued Mr. Ferrand, as though willing to change the
subject. "Is not that rather a hazardous experiment? I do not mean as
regards Rhoda herself—she has a fine mind, and a real love of study for
its own sake; but will not the parents of your pupils take umbrage at a
young person in her station in life being put on an equality with their
daughters?"
"If they do, they have their remedy: they can take their daughters
away," said Miss Hardy, smiling. "But I have no fears on that score. It
is not the first time I tried the experiment."
"I thought you wrote me that you had secured her a place as nurse with
a family going to Cape May?" remarked Mrs. Ferrand.
"So I had, and a very good place. Rhoda was delighted with the
prospect, but after I was hurt, she would not hear of leaving me; and
indeed I don't know what I should have done without her. She is an
excellent nurse and a most agreeable companion."
"I had thought, myself, of taking her into the family and educating her
with Isabella," said Mr. Ferrand, "but something occurred which changed
my determination. I found out afterward, however, that the person whose
representations influenced me was untrustworthy. However, it has all
turned out for the best."
Meantime, Rhoda and Isa, seated in Rhoda's little room, were pouring
out such a flood of talk as only two such girls are capable of.
"And Aunt Harriet is going to educate you—is she really?" asked Isa.
"So she says. I practise two hours a day now, besides reading history
to Miss Hardy, and I have begun the Latin grammar. I can tell you,
Isa, I have to pinch myself sometimes to be sure that I am awake and
not dreaming. And the best of it is that I owe it all to you and your
mother. But what have you been doing lately? Miss Hardy said you had
been taking some wonderful music-lessons."
"Wonderful! Yes, I should think so," said. Isa, with a groan. "A lesson
every day, and then practise five hours. What do you think of that,
Miss Thurston?"
"I think it is a shame," said Rhoda, warmly. "You look regularly worn
out."
"Well, I am," said Isa, wearily. "I think I shouldn't want to go to
heaven if they have music there. I should like to lie down and sleep a
thousand years. And my head—"
"Well, what about your head?" said Rhoda, as Isa paused.
There was no answer, and Rhoda looked up from the ruffle she was
arranging. Ira's head had dropped on her breast, her eyes were half
closed, and there was a slight purplish tinge on her lips. Rhoda,
startled, rose from her chair, but before she could speak Isa seemed to
recover herself, and went on as if unconscious of any pause:
"My head feels so badly I don't know what to do. It doesn't ache, but
it feels heavy and empty at the same time."
"How I wish you could come here to school!" said Rhoda, a good deal
alarmed by what she had seen, but thinking it better to take no notice,
as Isa seemed unconscious of anything unusual. "The girls do have such
good times."
"What do they do? Tell me all about it," said Isa. "And may I lie down
on the bed? Oh, you don't know how good it seems to be doing nothing,"
she continued, sinking down, and turning her face toward Rhoda. "You
won't mind if I go to sleep, will you? I am so tired and heavy."
"No. Go to sleep, there's a dear," answered Rhoda. "I will cover you
up, and then I must just run down and see to setting the table and tell
Sarah to make a sweet omelet for desert. I want your father to have a
nice dinner, such as he likes."
Rhoda betook herself to the dining-room, and busied herself with the
arrangements of the table. She was presently joined by Mrs. Ferrand.
"Useful and handy as ever, I see," was her comment. "Where is Isa?"
"She is asleep on my bed," answered Rhoda. "She seems very tired, and I
thought she would enjoy her dinner all the more for a nap."
"She is tired, poor child! Rhoda, how does she strike you?"
"I think she looks thin and worn—more so than usual."
"Do you see any other alteration—anything odd about her? Do tell me,"
added Mrs. Ferrand, as Rhoda hesitated.
"I thought there was something odd about Isa before I left Milby,"
answered Rhoda. "She seems to have times of forgetfulness almost as if
she lost herself for a minute."
"That is it, exactly. I can't make Mr. Ferrand see it. He says she is
listless and absent-minded, and that her hesitation in speaking is only
a trick such as girls are always catching. But I can't think so; I wish
I could. I don't know what it is I fear, but I am afraid."
"I think Isa would be the better for a change," remarked Rhoda. "I wish
she could come here."
"And so do I, but I fear her father would never consent. You look very
well, Rhoda."
"I am well; I never was better. Mrs. Ferrand, you don't know how often
I thank you for introducing me to your sister.'
"Not at all, child. It is we who should thank you. Harriet says you
have been everything to her since she has been laid up. But about Isa.
I wish you would watch her carefully and tell me what you think of her.
I do hope Doctor Douglass will come down."
Dr. Douglass came down next day, as he announced, for a three days'
holiday, and made himself very agreeable, especially to the girls. The
second day of his stay, Dr. Elsmore proposed to carry Mr. Ferrand to
see certain lately opened marl-beds in which various interesting animal
remains had been discovered. Dr. Douglass was invited to join the
party, but declined:
"I am going to carry off these girls for a row up the race to the
Tumbling Dam pond, and show them the scenes of my innocent childhood,
where I used to ensnare the agile turtle and hunt the pensive and
melodious frog. Put on your oldest frocks, young women, and also your
rubbers."
Mr. Ferrand looked doubtful when appealed to, but he stood a little in
awe of Doctor Douglass, and made no substantial objection.
"You may find some valuable botanical specimens, and you should observe
the difference in the soil and vegetable growths from those of our
region," said he. "Doubtless our cousin knows how to combine amusement
with instruction."
"Doubtless 'our cousin' has too much sense to do anything of the kind,"
retorted the doctor. "Not one grain of instruction will you get this
afternoon, my young friends, so don't expect it. Come, get your hats,
and lose no time."
"And don't hurry home," added Miss Hardy. "Tell Sarah to put up a
lunch, Rhoda, and then you can stay as long as you like."
Cohansey race is a place by itself. It is canal, so to speak, about
a mile long and of various widths, leading through oak woods and
shrubs to a pond large enough to be called a lake, and named, for
some inscrutable reason, the Tumbling Dam. Various sentimental names
have been applied by sentimental young girls to this pretty piece of
water, but none of them ever stick. The Tumbling Dam it remains, and
will remain to the end of time. Calla-like plants grow in the edges of
the water, and hollies, scarlet honeysuckles, and magnolias adorn its
banks. You might think yourself in the depth of a wilderness instead of
within half a mile of great iron-works and mills.
They were gone the whole afternoon, and came home tired and happy, Isa
delighted with the possession of a very small turtle which the doctor
had captured and given her for a pet.
"Well, have you had dissipation enough?" asked Mr. Ferrand.
"Not half enough," answered the doctor. "We are meditating even more.
Miss Hardy, can you spare Miss Thurston for a couple of days? Because,
if you can, I propose to take her and Isa up to town by the boat
to-morrow, keep them two or three days, and show them the lions and
bears of the Quaker City."
"I can spare her, certainly," said Miss Hardy. "She ought to have a
holiday before school begins."
"I don't know about Isa," said Mr. Ferrand, doubtfully. "She has not
touched the piano or opened a book for nearly a week. I think she
should settle to some employment."
"Go and put your turtle in water, Isa," commanded the doctor. "Give him
something to crawl out upon, and he will do very well.
"The fact is, Ferrand, I want to observe the girl," he added when Isa
and Rhoda had left the room. "There is something radically wrong with
her—very seriously wrong, I fear; but perhaps not. Anyhow, I want to
observe her a little. As for lessons, you ought not to mention the word
to her."
Mr. Ferrand demurred a little still, but at last consented.
The expedition was a brilliant affair. The weather was beautiful. The
doctor carried them to the Park, Girard College, and other sights, and
brought them home greatly delighted.
"And what do you think of Isa's health?" said Mr. Ferrand when they
were alone together.
"Bad—very bad," was the answer; "hardly could be worse."
They were talking in the library. The doctor closed the door carefully,
returned to the table, stood a minute in silence, and then broke out:
"Ferrand, I do think you have been utterly insane to let that girl
be driven so. What were you thinking of? Couldn't you see with your
own eyes how it was affecting her? Why, she tells me she has been
practising music six hours a day for the last four weeks; and such
tasks in school! That Sampson must be a mule. I wish I had the
arrangement of his hair."
"We wished our daughter to make the most of her advantages," Mr.
Ferrand began, but his friend interrupted him:
"Advantages! Yes, fine advantages for working her utter ruin. Can't you
see what ails the girl?"
And he uttered a word which sent a terrible thrill to Mr. Ferrand's
heart.
But he was too well entrenched in his own conceit to give up so easily:
"I cannot but hope you may be mistaken, Henry."
"Don't you think I know my own business? I have seen hundreds of such
cases."
"Yet you might be mistaken perhaps the more for that very reason,"
said Mr. Ferrand. "I have heard that physicians are apt to see their
pet diseases in all their patients. I do not think Isabella has been
overtasked. I have not wished her to be so, neither do I desire to see
her a dunce."
"Would you rather see her a dunce or an idiot?" demanded the doctor,
irritably. "For one or the other she must be. I tell you, Ferrand, as
sure as you are born, the girl has epileptic seizures. She has had two
at my house, and Miss Thurston says she had one when she first came
here—clearly marked epilepsy, and that of the worst kind. The fits
are slight as yet, and it is just possible that with an entire change
of air and scene, entire freedom from mental excitement, and cheerful
companionship of her own age, the mischief may go no farther. Why, I
should think you would have observed it yourself."
"I am not familiar with the symptoms," said Mr. Ferrand. "Can you
describe them to me?"
Dr. Douglass gave the particulars, and Mr. Ferrand considered.
"I will not deny that I have noticed something like what you describe
in Isa, but I thought it only one of those awkward tricks that girls
are apt to pick up. Douglass, don't be hard upon me," said the poor
father. "Indeed, I have meant to act for the best. Are you sure?"
"As sure as that I stand here. As I said, the attacks are slight at
present, but they are none the less to be dreaded. Has Morton seen her?
He is a man of sense."
"Never since last spring, when she had an attack of fever and headache.
He said then that she should be taken out of school, but I thought
I traced the attack to some improper habits of eating, and I felt
desirous to have her finish the school-year."
"Another school-year like the last will finish her," said Doctor
Douglass.
"I fear I have been very blind—culpably blind," said Mr. Ferrand,
almost for the first time in his life admitting that he might be in the
wrong. "I thought Doctor Morton extremely unfeeling in hinting that I
had injured my son, but I fear it is true, and that I have destroyed
both my children."
"Isa is in no danger of dying," said Doctor Douglass, gravely. "If she
were, it would not matter so much."
"I understand you," returned Mr. Ferrand. "Death would indeed be
a light calamity compared to—But I cannot think of it. Henry, can
anything be done, or is the case hopeless? I have the fullest
confidence in your judgment, and will spare no trouble or expense. A
journey abroad, now—"
"I shouldn't advise that," said Doctor Douglass—"it involves too much
fatigue and excitement; and besides, you never could refrain from
'improving her mind.' Let me consider."
He stood looking out of the window for a few minutes at Isa and Rhoda,
who were playing croquet on the lawn. Then, as if the sight had
inspired him with the idea he wanted, he turned to Mr. Ferrand, who
stood the picture of distress:
"Why not leave her here with Harriet? She has a deal of sense in
managing delicate girls, and makes a kind of specialty of it. I
made Sellers send his daughter down here, and I never saw a child
improve faster. Isa seems devoted to this Miss Thurston, who is a
fine, sensible young woman, and evidently very much attached to your
daughter. She told me in a conversation I had with her that she would
do anything for Isa. Let Isa stay here and room with Miss Thurston,
who will watch over her and keep her infirmity a secret from herself—a
thing to be desired above all things. Let her have some easy lessons
as a pretence of employment, with abundance of ease and idleness. The
place is healthy and the atmosphere of the house pleasant and cheerful.
I don't think you can do better than that."
"Perhaps Harriet might not be willing to accept such a charge, or Miss
Thurston, either," said Mr. Ferrand.
"That we can tell by asking. They ought to understand the whole matter
beforehand."
Miss Hardy was a little startled at first, but she loved her niece and
sister, and was not one of those who set their own ease and convenience
above everything else. She consented to receive Isa, if Rhoda would
room with her and take charge of her.
Rhoda, on her part, did not hesitate an instant. She loved Isa dearly,
and felt that to her and her mother she owed all her present advantages.
"You can have the room which was Miss Farly's last year," said Miss
Hardy. "It is pleasant and sunny, and somewhat out of the way of the
rest of the house. A great deal will depend on you, Rhoda."
"I know it," said Rhoda. "It is a great trust, but I will do my best;
and even if poor Isa is not cured, she will be happy here."
"And that is half the battle," observed Doctor Douglass.
There was no mistaking Isa's delight when she was informed that she was
to go to school to Aunt Harriet and room with Rhoda.
"You won't let me have hard lessons or music?" she said to her aunt.
"Because, indeed, aunt, I cannot learn it if I try ever so hard."
"The doctor thinks we had better let the music go, at least for the
present," answered Miss Hardy. "As for the other lessons, we will see.
I think a good deal of play will be the best for the present."
Mr. Ferrand's eyes were at last opened, and he watched his daughter
with most painful solicitude and with self-reproach, which were not
lessened by the sight of her evident delight in getting away from
him. He seemed to find his only relief in fitting up Isa's room with
everything which he thought could give her pleasure. He was extremely
cordial to Rhoda, and expressed to her in formal but earnest words his
obligations to her.
"I have requested Miss Hardy to supply all things needful for both
your wardrobes, and she will give to each of you the same allowance of
pocket-money. If any unforeseen occasion for expense arises, you will
please let me know."
"You are very good, Mr. Ferrand," said Rhoda, "but indeed it is not
necessary. I have enough to clothe myself for the present."
"You must allow me to have my own way in the matter," said Mr. Ferrand.
"I choose that my daughter's chosen companion should be fully on an
equality with her school-mates in every respect. You must be content
to be our other child, Rhoda, and Isabella's sister. On no other terms
could I allow you take such a care upon yourself."
And Rhoda put her pride in her pocket, and let Mr. Ferrand have his own
way.