‘I am sorry to tell you, because I know it will be so disheartening
after my last letter, that I am not so well as I was then, and that
there has been a sort of hitch in the proceedings. After I had been
treated for rheumatism a few days longer (in which treatment they
pricked the place with a long needle several times,) I saw that Dr.
Chestman was in doubt about something, and I requested that he would
call in a brother professional man to see me as well. They consulted
together and then told me that rheumatism was not the disease after all,
but erysipelas. They then began treating it differently, as became a
different matter. Blisters, flour, and starch, seem to be the order of
the day now--medicine, of course, besides.
‘Mr. Gradfield has been in to inquire about me. He says he has been
obliged to get a designer in my place, which grieves me very much,
though, of course, it could not be avoided.’
A month passed away; throughout this period, Cytherea visited him
as often as the limited time at her command would allow, and wore as
cheerful a countenance as the womanly determination to do nothing which
might depress him could enable her to wear. Another letter from him then
told her these additional facts:--
‘The doctors find they are again on the wrong tack. They cannot make out
what the disease is. O Cytherea! how I wish they knew! This suspense is
wearing me out. Could not Miss Aldclyffe spare you for a day? Do come to
me. We will talk about the best course then. I am sorry to complain, but
I am worn out.’
Cytherea went to Miss Aldclyffe, and told her of the melancholy turn her
brother’s illness had taken. Miss Aldclyffe at once said that Cytherea
might go, and offered to do anything to assist her which lay in her
power. Cytherea’s eyes beamed gratitude as she turned to leave the room,
and hasten to the station.
‘O, Cytherea,’ said Miss Aldclyffe, calling her back; ‘just one word.
Has Mr. Manston spoken to you lately?’
‘Yes,’ said Cytherea, blushing timorously.
‘He proposed?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you refused him?’
‘Yes.’
‘Tut, tut! Now listen to my advice,’ said Miss Aldclyffe emphatically,
‘and accept him before he changes his mind. The chance which he offers
you of settling in life is one that may possibly, probably, not occur
again. His position is good and secure, and the life of his wife would
be a happy one. You may not be sure that you love him madly; but suppose
you are not sure? My father used to say to me as a child when he was
teaching me whist, “When in doubt win the trick!” That advice is ten
times as valuable to a woman on the subject of matrimony. In refusing a
man there is always the risk that you may never get another offer.’
‘Why didn’t you win the trick when you were a girl?’ said Cytherea.
‘Come, my lady Pert; I’m not the text,’ said Miss Aldclyffe, her face
glowing like fire.
Cytherea laughed stealthily.
‘I was about to say,’ resumed Miss Aldclyffe severely, ‘that here is
Mr. Manston waiting with the tenderest solicitude for you, and you
overlooking it, as if it were altogether beneath you. Think how you
might benefit your sick brother if you were Mrs. Manston. You will
please me _very much_ by giving him some encouragement. You understand
me, Cythie dear?’
Cytherea was silent.
‘And,’ said Miss Aldclyffe, still more emphatically, ‘on your promising
that you will accept him some time this year, I will take especial care
of your brother. You are listening, Cytherea?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered, leaving the room.
She went to Budmouth, passed the day with her brother, and returned to
Knapwater wretched and full of foreboding. Owen had looked startlingly
thin and pale--thinner and paler than ever she had seen him before. The
brother and sister had that day decided that notwithstanding the drain
upon their slender resources, another surgeon should see him. Time was
everything.