"Your changed complexions are to me a mirror
Which shows me mine changed too; for I must be
A party in this alteration, finding
Myself thus altered with it."--SHAKESPEARE.
It would have been quite impossible for me to analyze my feeling for Dr.
Khayme. His affection for me was unconcealed, and I was sure that no
other man was received as his companion--not that he was distant, but
that he was not approached. By nature I am affectionate, but at that
time my emotions were severely and almost continually repressed by my
will, because of a condition of nervous sensitiveness in regard to the
possibility of an exposure of my peculiarity, so that I often wondered
whether the Doctor fully understood the love and reverence I bore him.
On the morning following the day last spoken of--that is to say, on the
morning of May 9th--Dr. Khayme rode off to the old William and Mary
College, now become a hospital, leaving me to my devices, as he said,
for some hours. I was sitting on a camp-stool in the open air, busily
engaged in cleaning my gun and accoutrements, when I saw a man coming
toward me. It was Willis.
"Where is the Doctor?" he asked.
"Gone to the hospital; want to see him?"
"That depends."
"He will be back in an hour or two. Boys all right?" I brought out a
camp-stool; Willis remained standing.
"Oh, yes; what's left of 'em. Say, Berwick, what's this I hear about
your being detailed for special work?"
"So," said I.
"What in the name o' God will you have to do?"
Willis's tone was not so friendly as I had known it to be; besides, I
had observed that he called me Berwick rather than Jones. His attitude
chilled me. I did not wish to talk to him about myself. We talk about
personal matters to personal friends. I suppose, too, that I am peculiar
in such things; at any rate, so great was my distaste to talking now
with Willis on the subject in question that I did not succeed in hiding
my feeling.
"Oh," says he, "you needn't say it if you don't want to."
"I feel," said I, "as though I should be speaking of personal matters,
perhaps too personal."
"Well, I don't want to force myself on anybody," said he; then he asked,
"How long are you going to stay with Dr. Khayme?"
It flashed upon me in an instant that Willis was jealous,--not of the
little distinction that had been shown me,--but in regard to Lydia, and
I felt a great desire to relieve him of any fear of my being or becoming
his rival. Yet I did not see how I could introduce a subject so
delicate. In order to gain time, I replied: "Well, I don't know exactly;
I am subject to orders from brigade headquarters. If no orders come, I
shall stay here a day or two; if we march, I suppose I shall march with
the company, unless the division is in the rear."
"If the division marches and Dr. Khayme remains here, what will you do?"
he asked.
This was increasing, I thought; to encourage him to proceed, I asked,
"Why do you wish to know?"
"Because," said he, hesitatingly, "because I think you ought to show
your hand."
"Please tell me exactly what you mean by that," said I.
"You know very well what I mean," he replied.
"Let us have no guesswork," said I; "if you want to say anything, this
is a good time for saying it."
"Well, then, I will," said he; "you know that I like Miss Lydia."
"Well?"
"And I thought you were my friend."
"I am your friend."
"Then why do you get into my way?"
"If I am in your way, it is more than I know," said I; "what would you
have me to do?"
"If you are my friend, you will keep out of my way."
"Do you mean to say that I ought not to visit the Doctor?"
"If you visit the Doctor, you ought to make it plain to him why you
visit him."
"Sergeant," said I; "Dr. Khayme knows very well why I visit him. I have
no idea that he considers me a bidder for his daughter."
"Well; you may be right, and then again, you may be wrong."
"And you would have me renounce Dr. Khayme's society in order to favour
your hopes?"
"I did not say that. You are perfectly welcome to Dr. Khayme's company;
but I do think that you ought not to let him believe that you want
Miss Lydia."
"Shall I tell him that you say that?"
"I can paddle my own canoe; you are not my mouthpiece," he replied
angrily.
"Then would you have me tell him that I do not want Miss Lydia?"
"Tell him what you like, or keep silent if you like; all I've got to say
is that if you are my friend you will not stand in my way."
"It seems to me, Sergeant," said I, "that you are forcing me into a very
delicate position. For me to go to Dr. Khayme and explain to him that my
attachment to him is not a piece of hypocrisy played by me in order to
win his daughter, would not be satisfactory to the Doctor or to me, or
even to Miss Khayme."
"Why not to her?" he asked abruptly.
"Because my explanation could not be made except upon my assumption that
she supposes me a suitor; it would amount to my saying, 'I don't want
you,' and more than that, as you can easily see. I decline to put myself
into such a position. I prefer to assume that she does not regard me as
a suitor, and that the Doctor receives me only as an old pupil. I beg
you to stay here until the Doctor comes, and talk to him yourself. I can
promise you one thing: I shall not hinder you; I'll give you a
clear field."
"Do you mean to say that you will give me a clear field with Miss
Lydia?"
"Not exactly that, but very nearly. You have no right to expect me to
say to anybody that Miss Lydia does not attract me, and it would be
silly, presumptuous, conceited in me to yield what I have not. I can
tell you this: I have not spoken a word to Miss Lydia that I would not
speak to any woman, or to any man for that matter, and I can say that I
have not one degree of claim upon her."
"Then you will keep out of my way?"
"I repeat that I am not in your way. If I should say that I will keep
out of your way, I would imply what is not true; the young lady is
absolutely free so far as I am concerned."
At this point the Doctor came up. He shook hands with Willis and went
into his tent. I urged Willis to follow, but he would not. I offered to
lead the conversation into the matter in which he was so greatly
interested, but he would not consent.
The Doctor reappeared. "Lydia will be here to-night," he said.
"You surprise me, Doctor."
"Yes; but I am now pretty sure that we shall be here for a week to
come, and we shall not move our camp before the rear division moves.
Lydia will find enough to do here."
Willis soon took his leave. I accompanied him for a short distance; on
parting with him I told him that he might expect to see me again
at night.
"What!" said he; "you are going to leave the Doctor?"
"Yes," I replied; "expect me to-night."
Willis looked puzzled; he did not know what to say, and said nothing.
When I entered the Doctor's tent, I found him busily writing. He looked
up, then went on with his work. Presently, still continuing to write, he
said, "So Willis is angry."
"Why do you say so, Doctor?"
"Anybody could have seen it in his manner," said he.