CHAPTER I.

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GEOFFREY STRONG

By

Laura E. Richards

Author of

"Captain January," "Melody," "Marie," etc.

TO

Richard Sullivan,

KINDEST OF UNCLES, FRIENDS, AND CRITICS,

THIS STORY IS AFFECTIONATELY

DEDICATED

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I. THE TEMPLE OF VESTA

II. THE YOUNG DOCTOR

III. GARDEN FANCIES

IV. MOSTLY PROFESSIONAL

V. LETTER-WRITING AND HYSTERICS

VI. INFORMATION

VII. FESTIVITY

VIII. REVELATION

IX. SIDE LIGHTS

X. OVER THE WAY

XI. BROKEN BONES

XII. CONVALESCENCE

XIII. RECOVERY

ILLUSTRATIONS.

He paddled on in silence

The young doctor glancing around saw all these things.

He stood looking at her, his hand still on the hammock rope.

"There he comes, full chisel!" cried Ithuriel Butters.

CHAPTER I.

THE TEMPLE OF VESTA

"That's a pleasant looking house," said the young doctor. "What's the

matter with my getting taken in there?"

The old doctor checked his horse, and looked at the house with a smile.

"Nothing in the world," he said, "except the small fact that they

wouldn't take you."

"Why not?" asked the young man, vivaciously. "Too rich? too proud? too

young? too old? what's the matter with them?"

The old doctor laughed outright this time. "You young firebrand!" he

said. "Do you think you are going to take this village by storm? That

house is the Temple of Vesta. It is inhabited by the Vestal Virgins,

who tend the sacred fire, and do other things beside. You might as well

ask to be taken into the meeting-house to board."

"This is more attractive than the meetinghouse," said the young doctor.

"This is one of the most attractive houses I ever saw."

He looked at it earnestly, and as they drove along the elm-shaded

street, he turned in his seat to look at it again.

It certainly was an attractive house. Its front of bright clean red

brick was perhaps too near the street; but the garden, whose tall lilac

and syringa bushes waved over the top of the high wall, must, he

thought, run back some way, and from the west windows there must be a

glorious sea-view.

The house looked both genteel and benevolent. The white stone steps and

window-sills and the white fan over the door gave a certain effect of

clean linen that was singularly pleasing. The young doctor, unlike

Doctor Johnson, had a passion for clean linen. The knocker, too, was of

the graceful long oval shape he liked, and burnished to the last point

of perfection, and the shining windows were so placed as to give an air

of cheerful interrogation to the whole.

"I like that house!" said the young doctor again. "Tell me about the

people!"

Again the old doctor laughed. "I tell you they are the Vestal Virgins!"

he repeated. "There are two of them, Miss Phoebe and Miss Vesta Blyth.

Miss Phoebe is as good as gold, but something of a man-hater. She

doesn't think much of the sex in general, but she is a good friend of

mine, and she'll be good to you for my sake. Miss Vesta"--the young

doctor, who was observant, noted a slight change in his hearty

voice--"Vesta Blyth is a saint."

"What kind of saint? invalid? bedridden? blind?"

"No, no, no! saints don't all have to be bedridden. Vesta is a--you

might call her Saint Placidia. Her life has been shadowed. She was once

engaged--to a very worthy young man--thirty years ago. The day before

the wedding he was drowned; sailboat capsized in a squall, just in the

bay here. Since then she keeps a light burning in the back hall,

looking over the water. That's why I call the house the Temple of

Vesta."

"Day and night?"

"No, no! lights it at sunset every evening regularly. Sun dips, Vesta

lights her lamp. Pretty? I think so."

"Affecting, certainly!" said the young doctor. "And she has mourned her

lover ever since?"

The old doctor gave him a quaint look. "People don't mourn thirty

years," he said, "unless their minds are diseased. Women mourn longer

than men, of course, but ten years would be a long limit, even for a

woman. Memory, of course, may last as long as life--sacred and tender

memory,"--his voice dropped a little, and he passed his hand across his

forehead,--"but not mourning. Vesta is a little pensive, a little

silent; more habit than anything else now. A sweet woman; the

sweetest--"

The old doctor seemed to forget his companion, and flicked the old

brown horse pensively, as they jogged along, saying no more.

The young doctor waited a little before he put his next question.

"The two ladies live alone always?"

"Yes--no!" said the old doctor, coming out of his reverie. "There's

Diploma Crotty, help, tyrant, governor-in-chief of the kitchen. Now and

then she thinks they'd better have a visitor, and tells them so; but

not very often, it upsets her kitchen. But here we are at the

parsonage, and I'll take you in."

The young doctor made his visit at the parsonage dutifully and

carefully. He meant to make a good impression wherever he went. It was

no such easy matter to take the place of the old doctor, who, after a

lifetime of faithful and loving work, had been ordered off for a year's

rest and travel; but the young doctor had plenty of courage, and meant

to do his best. He answered evasively the inquiry of the minister's

wife as to where he meant to board; and though he noted down carefully

the addresses she gave him of nice motherly women who would keep his

things in order, and have an eye to him in case he should be ailing, he

did not intend to trouble these good ladies if he could help himself.

"I want to live in that brick house!" he said to himself. "I'll have a

try for it, anyhow. The old ladies can't be insulted by my telling them

they have the best house in the village."

After dinner he went for a walk, and strolled along the pleasant shady

street. There were many good houses, for Elmerton was an old village.

Vessels had come into her harbour in bygone days, and substantial

merchant captains had built the comfortable, roomy mansions which

stretched their ample fronts under the drooping elms, while their back

windows looked out over the sea, breaking at the very foot of their

garden walls. But there was no house that compared, in the young

doctor's mind, with the Temple of Vesta. He was walking slowly past it,

admiring the delicate tracery on the white window-sills, when the door

opened, and a lady came out. The young doctor observed her as she came

down the steps; it was his habit to observe everything. The lady was

past sixty, tall and erect, and walked stiffly.

"Rheumatic!" said the young doctor, and ran over in his mind certain

remedies which he had found effective in rheumatism.

She was dressed in sober gray silk, made in the fashion of thirty years

before, and carried an ancient parasol with a deep silk fringe. As she

reached the sidewalk she dropped her handkerchief. Standing still a

moment, she regarded it with grave displeasure, then tried to take it

up on the point of her parasol. In an instant the young doctor had

crossed the street, picked up the handkerchief, and offered it to her

with a bow and a pleasant smile.

"I thank you, sir!" said Miss Phoebe Blyth. "You are extremely

obliging."

"Don't mention it, please!" said the young doctor. "It was a pleasure.

Have I the honour of speaking to Miss Blyth? I am Doctor Strong. Doctor

Stedman may have spoken to you of me."

"He has indeed done so!" said Miss Phoebe; and she held out her

silk-gloved hand with dignified cordiality. "I am glad to make your

acquaintance, sir. I shall hope to have the pleasure of welcoming you

at my house at an early date."

"Thank you! I shall be most happy. May I walk along with you, as we

seem to be going the same way? I have been admiring your house so very

much, Miss Blyth. It is the finest specimen of its kind I have ever

seen. How fine that tracery is over the windows; and how seldom you see

a fan so graceful as that! Should you object to my making a sketch of

it some day? I'm very much interested in Colonial houses."

A faint red crept into Miss Phoebe's cheek; it was one of her dreams to

have an oil-painting of her house. The young doctor had found a joint

in her harness.

"I should be indeed pleased--" she began; and, being slightly

fluttered, she dropped her handkerchief again, and again the young

doctor picked it up and handed it to her.

"I am distressed!" said Miss Phoebe. "I am--somewhat hampered by

rheumatism, Doctor Strong. It is not uncommon in persons of middle age."

"No, indeed! My mother--I mean my aunt--younger sister of my

mother's--used to suffer terribly with rheumatism. I was fortunate

enough to be able to relieve her a good deal. If you would like to try

the prescription, Miss Blyth, it is entirely at your service. Not

professionally, please understand, not professionally; a mere

neighbourly attention. I hope we shall be neighbours. Don't mention it,

please don't, because I shall be so glad, you know. Besides--you have a

little look of my--aunt; she has very regular features."

Miss Phoebe thanked him with a rather tremulous dignity; he was a most

courteous and attractive young man, but so impetuous, that she felt a

disturbance of her cool blood. It was singular, though, how little dear

Doctor Stedman had been able to do for her rheumatism, for as many

years as he had been attending her. Perhaps newer methods--it must be

confessed that Doctor Stedman was growing old.

"Where do you intend to lodge, Doctor Strong?" she asked, by way of

changing the subject gracefully.

The young doctor did not know, was quite at a loss.

"There is only one house that I want to lodge in!" he said, and his

bold face had grown suddenly timid, like a schoolboy's. "That is, of

course there are plenty of good houses in the village, Miss Blyth,

excellent houses, and excellent people in them, I have no doubt;

but--well, there is only one house for me. You know what house I mean,

Miss Blyth, because you know how one can feel about a really fine

house. The moment I saw it I said, 'That is the house for me!' But

Doctor Stedman said there was no possible chance of my getting taken in

there."

"I really do not know how Doctor Stedman should speak with authority on

the subject!" said Miss Phoebe Blyth.

Young doctor! young doctor! is this the way you are going to comport

yourself in the village of Elmerton? If so, there will be flutterings

indeed in the dove-cotes. Before night the whole village knew that the

young doctor was going to board with the Blyth girls!

Geoffrey Strong · 第 1 / 13 章