Dr. Chalmers was getting on in the world. His practice had at first been
confined exclusively to the locality in which he lived; but of late
noble ladies had sent for him, and his name was mentioned with great
honor in the medical journals. He had been consulted in some very
difficult cases, and people said he saved Lady Poldean's life when all
the physicians had pronounced her case hopeless. Honors were falling
thick and fast upon him.
Lady Dartelle, of Hulme Abbey, was one of those who placed implicit
faith in him. Her ladyship was credited with passing through life with
one eye firmly fixed on the "main chance." She never neglected an
opportunity of saving a guinea; and she was wont to observe that she had
much better advice from Dr. Chalmers for five guineas than she could
procure from a fashionable physician for twenty. Her youngest daughter,
Clara, had been ailing for some time, and Lady Dartelle decided on
leaving Hulme Abbey and coming up to town for the benefit of the
doctor's advice.
Lady Dartelle was a widow--"left," as she was accustomed to observe,
emphatically, "with four dear children." The eldest, the son and heir,
Sir Aubrey, was travelling on the Continent; her two daughters, Veronica
and Mildred, were accomplished young ladies who had taken every worldly
maxim to heart, and never bestowed a thought upon anything save of the
most frivolous nature.
They had made their _début_ some years before, but it had not been a
very successful one. The young ladies were only moderately good looking,
and they had not the most amiable of tempers. Perhaps this latter fact
might account in some degree for several matrimonial failures. The young
ladies had not accompanied Lady Dartelle to town--they objected to be
seen there out of season--so that her ladyship had the whole of the
mansion to herself.
Dr. Chalmers had one day been sitting for some time by the child,
examining her, talking to her and asking her innumerable questions. She
was a fair, fragile, pretty child, with great earnest eyes and sensitive
lips. The doctor's heart warmed to her; and when Lady Dartelle sent to
request his presence in her room, he looked very anxious.
"I want you to tell me the truth, doctor," she said. "The child has
never been very well nor very ill. I want to know if you think she is in
any danger."
"I cannot tell," he replied. "It seems to me that the child's chances
are equal for life or death."
"I may not send her to school, then?" she said; and a shade of annoyance
passed over the lady's face.
"Certainly not," was the prompt reply. "She will require the most
constant and kindly home-care. She should have a kind and cheerful
companion. I should not advise you entirely to forget her education, but
it must not be forced."
"That is tantamount to saying that I must have a governess at home--and
I do not see my way clear to that at all. Servants are bad enough; but
the real plague of life are governesses. I have no idea where to find a
suitable one. One's troubles seem to have no end."
To which remark the doctor wisely made no reply. Lady Dartelle looked up
at him.
"You must see a great deal of the world, Dr. Chalmers. Can you tell me
where I can find a trustworthy governess? I must have a gentlewoman, of
course; yet she must not be one likely to thrust herself forward. That I
could not endure. What is the matter, doctor?" she asked; for Dr.
Chalmers' face had suddenly flushed scarlet, and his eyes intimated
something which my Lady Dartelle did not quite understand.
"I was thinking," he replied, "that I do know a young lady who would be
all that you require."
"I am very glad," said Lady Dartelle, looking much relieved. "Who is
she? What is her name?"
"She is a _protégée_ of my mother's--her name is Millicent Holte. She is
highly educated, and most sweet-tempered--in fact, I do not think, if
all England were searched, that any one so exactly suited for the
position could be found. She is of gentle birth, and has a quiet,
graceful manner that is very charming. There is only one objection."
"What is that?" asked Lady Dartelle, anxiously.
"She has never been a governess, and might not, perhaps, like the
position--I cannot tell."
"She has never taught--of course that would make some difference in the
stipend. I do not know that the deficiency need cause concern in respect
of anything else. Where is the young lady now?"
"She is staying with my mother," said the doctor, his honest face
flushing at the need of concealment.
"That is recommendation sufficient," vouchsafed Lady Dartelle,
graciously. "I shall require no other. When will it be convenient for me
to see her?"
"I dare say mother could call upon you to-morrow and bring Miss Holte
with her."
"That would be very nice. Three o'clock would be a convenient time for
me. Suppose Miss Holte should accept the engagement, would she be able,
do you think, to return to Hulme Abbey with me at the end of the week?"
"I should imagine so. I do not know of anything to prevent it."
Yet as he spoke, that fair, sweet, sad face seemed to rise before him,
and he wondered how he should bear his home when she was there no
longer.
Still, he had done what she wanted. She had asked him to find her some
work to do, and he had complied with her request. Yet his heart smote
him as he thought of her--so fair, so fragile, so sensitive. How would
she like to be among strangers? Fortunately he had no conception of the
true life of a governess in a fashionable family; if he had had, it
would have been the last work of the kind he would have chosen for her
in whom he was interested.
"The work will brace her nerves; it will do her good," he said to
himself; "and if by chance she does not like it, she need not
stay--there will always be a home for her with us."
When he reached home he told her. She appeared neither pleased nor
regretful; it seemed to him that the common events of every-day life no
longer possessed the least interest for her. She asked no questions
about either Lady Dartelle or her place of residence, or how many
children she would have to teach. The young girl agreed with him that
she would do well to accept the offer.
"Are you pleased?" he asked. "Do you think you will like the duties?"
"I am very thankful to have some work to do," she replied; "and I am
deeply grateful to you, Dr. Chalmers."
"You may well be that. I have never made such a sacrifice in my life as
that of letting you go, Millicent. I should not have done so but that I
think it will be for your good. Your home is still here, and if you do
not like Hulme Abbey, I will fetch you away at once."
That night when the unhappy girl was alone in her room, she threw up her
arms with a despairing cry. "How many years have I to live? How many
years can I bear this, and live? Oh! Adrian, Adrian, if I could only
look once upon your face and die! Oh, my love, my love, how am I to live
and never see your face again?"