Cora and The Doctor: or, Revelations of A Physician's Wife

The moment dinner was over, Frank turned to leave the room, after giving me an imploring glance to accompany him; but not before his cousin had stepped forward and laying her hand on his arm detained him while she said something I could not hear.

"Impossible!" he replied aloud, "I am otherwise engaged;" and he led me from the room. A malignant scowl darkened her face; but I think Frank did not see it. We entered our room, but had hardly closed the door when some one knocked. With a gesture of impatience he opened it, when to my surprise Mr. Schuyler stood in the passage pale and trembling from suppressed excitement.

"Can I speak one word with you, Doctor?"

"Certainly, walk in."

"Perhaps you will think me strange; but you will excuse my asking you if you love my wife?"

Frank started forward with the simple word, "Sir," in a tone which implied that he considered the question an insult.

"Yet," continued Mr. Schuyler, "My wife affirms that such is the case; and that during the last few days you have repeatedly told her so."

I had fallen back in my chair when Frank's looks arrested my attention. There was not a particle of color in his face or lips, and for a moment there was a terrible struggle to control his anger; but at length he said, in a low, firm voice, "She has deceived you. I have never loved her. From a boy I have loathed her character. God forgive me," he added in a hoarse voice, "but I can hardly hear her name with patience. She has even endeavored to" – with a quick glance of sorrow at me, he checked himself, and then exclaimed, turning to the window to conceal his feelings, "Oh, why did I believe her?"

"Enough," said Mr. Schuyler, whose countenance had gradually assumed a fixedness of expression dreadful to witness, "I see you are aware of the intrinsic beauty, and loveliness of the character of the woman I have the honor to call my wife." These words were said in a tone of bitter irony which it is impossible to describe; but he immediately added, lowering his voice, "Dr. Lenox, I have foolishly distrusted your honor. I ask your forgiveness."

Frank wrung his hand as he said, "Mr. Schuyler, from my very soul I pity you."

"I rather think, sir, you'll have a call for your pity in another direction," pointing compassionately toward me; "mine eyes have not been so blinded by my own misery, that I have not seen how your wife suffered."

Frank shook with emotion as he hastily bolted the door, and took a seat near me. I had covered my face with my hands, and was trying to force myself to be calm.

"Cora," said he, in a voice which trembled in spite of himself, "won't you look at me? Oh, Cora, you used to love me!"

"Dear, dear Frank," I said, throwing my arms around his neck, "I love you now. I have always loved you."

He pressed me silently to his heart. "Cora," he asked, turning my face where he could look into my eyes, "tell me truly, do you not love Joseph Morgan?"

O, what a world of light that one question let into my soul! I sprang joyfully to my feet, and looking him fully in the face, "My dear husband," I answered, "as I love, honor and fear my Maker, I have not, and never have had one thought or feeling toward him unfaithful to you as my wedded companion, nor has he ever given me reason to suspect that he felt toward me otherwise than as he would feel toward a dear sister, or cousin. Oh, Frank! how could I, when I loved you so dearly?" I could endure it no longer, but burst into tears.

"Then, may God forgive me," murmured he with a convulsive sob. "But I can never forgive myself."

It was a long time before I was composed enough to hear him explain; and he had hardly entered upon the subject, when he was seized with giddiness, and in attempting to reach the table for some water, was obliged to catch hold of the bed post to save himself from falling. I forgot everything else in my anxiety for him. I knew that he had been dangerously ill with attacks of this kind in former years, and after assisting him to reach the bed, I ran below for Aunt Morgan. She and Joseph immediately went to him. When they approached the bed the Doctor held out his hand to Joseph, while with the other he pressed his throbbing brow. "Cousin," he said humbly, "I have wronged you, greatly wronged you."

"In what?" asked Joseph in surprise.

"I have been led to believe that you and Cora loved each other; loved as you ought not. Can you forgive me?"

The hoarse voice, and suppressed breathing showed cousin, that this was no time for a joke, and he answered gravely, "truly and fully."

"Thank you," replied the Doctor in a whisper.

"Frank," I said, as his paleness every moment increased, "I shall send for a physician, or can you prescribe for yourself?" He requested Joseph to go across the street to the druggists and procure some medicine which he named. He then said to aunt, "I used to have these turns long ago, but have not for a year or two."

When cousin returned with the phial I administered the medicine according to his direction, when he told aunt, if it would not be giving too much trouble, he should like some strong mustard draughts for his feet.

After half an hour, a fire had been made in the room, and the poultices had begun to take effect. He felt his pulse, and asked me to administer another dose of the medicine. Seeing that I looked very much troubled, he said gently, "try, my love, to compose your feelings. It is true I am very sick; but I tell you the truth when I say, there is probably no danger, provided I keep perfectly free from excitement, and the medicine operates favorably. I know exactly what to do."

I was turning away to hide my tears when he drew me down to him and whispered, "say once more, dear Cora, that you forgive me!" It was almost more than I could bear; but I choked back my sobs, and assured him again and again of my love and entire forgiveness.

I had been moving quietly about the room preparing for the night, when aunt came in, and said she or Joseph would watch with Frank. But I told her nothing should induce me to leave him. This was said in a whisper, but Frank heard it, and said, "let her stay. I am already relieved, and shall need nothing. I shall rest far better if she is by my side."

Aunt put her hand on his head. "Doctor, you are very ill, I shall send for a physician immediately. Your head is burning up, and fairly throbs with violence."

Frank's face lit up almost into a smile, as he said, "It is easy to bear that; the pain is all gone here," putting his hand to his heart.

"Dear husband," said I, "don't think of that now; only remember that I am your own Cora, and try to go to sleep." Dear aunt had to take off her glasses and wipe them twice before she could see; and she would not be contented until she had brought him some hot herb tea, which he consented to take, as it might hasten the operation of the medicine.

CHAPTER XVI

 
"O, women, men's subduers!
Nature's extremes, no mean is to be had,
Excellent good or infinitely bad." Davenport.
 
 
"O, jealousy! thou merciless destroyer,
More cruel than the grave! what ravages
Does thy wild war make in the noblest bosoms!" Mallet.
 

Saturday, October 24th.

By half past eleven on the evening of this attack, Frank was so much relieved, that I felt it safe to go to bed, and slept sweetly for the first time for more than a week. The next morning he pronounced the difficulty entirely removed, but confessed that the powerful medicine, he had taken, made him very weak. I carried him some breakfast to the bed, after which I took my work and sat by his side. I would not allow him to talk, and was only too happy in the thought that all the coldness and reserve which had caused each of us so much unhappiness had passed, and now only appeared like a troubled dream. My heart was buoyant with hope and happiness, and as I ever and anon looked up from my work and met the eye of my husband fixed upon me with its former look of love, I felt that my Heavenly Father had answered my prayers, and restored unto me the heart, I feared, was estranged from me forever.

Aunt came up and sat down on the foot of the bed. After Frank had assured her that all the danger had passed, and that, with the exception of being weak, he was as well as ever, she began to say something of Fidelia. I had taken my breakfast late, and had not seen her since we parted at the dinner table yesterday. Now I thought I recognized her step in the entry, and looked with dread at the door. Aunt perceived my agitation and asked me what was the matter.

"I can't see Fidelia," I almost screamed, as I heard the latch move. Aunt stepped to the door and locked it, while Frank said, "There is more in this than I thought. There must have been some underhand work here." He stopped suddenly at a quick look from aunt.

"You will probably not see her again," she said gravely, "she has returned home."

"Would to God, she had never left it!" murmured Frank.

"When did she go?" I asked joyfully.

"About an hour since," was her reply. It was hard for me to conceal my joy at her unexpected departure.

About noon Frank arose and went below. Uncle and Joseph were very glad to see him; and when my husband sat down by me and put his arm about me, uncle said, "that is as husband and wife should be." He was obliged to get up and go to the window to wipe his glasses, before he could go on with his reading.

Joseph did not let the Doctor off quite so easily. "Cousin Frank," said he familiarly, "I've found out that if I don't want to be jealous of my wife, I must be so attentive to her as to exclude all others. Now if you had appeared like that all the time, why you see" – he hesitated – "I should have lost all the fun."

We all laughed at his comical manner, though I saw that Frank felt it keenly. "We'll talk of that by and by," he said gravely.

"Excuse me," resumed Joseph, "I really didn't mean anything, 'twas only a foolish way I have of turning everything into a joke."

"Yes, my son, you're very foolish," said aunt's voice; but her eyes told a different story as she looked over her glasses with the most tender affection upon her only child.

"By the way," continued the young man, coming and occupying a seat on the sofa near me, "have you plead my cause yet, Cora?"

"What cause?"

"Why in regard to the fair hand of your daughter Pauline." He then begged the Doctor's consent, saying, "if it will make any essential difference in the case, I will get on my knees before you; but if you could excuse it, as my pants are new, I shall be under the greater obligation."

Uncle and aunt laughed till they cried as he went on in the most ludicrous manner possible; sometimes standing before the mirror prinking and talking to his own image; and then practising "courting" upon his mother. Entirely forgetful of the newness of his pants he knelt before her, and in heart-rending tones besought her to be gracious to his suit; and when she nodded assent to his wishes, rapturously kissed her hands. Then with a low bow to the company, while brushing his fingers through his hair, he said in the gravest tone, "I find it necessary, ladies and gentlemen, to practise occasionally. There is nothing in this business like keeping one's hand in. Practice makes perfect."

After dinner, Frank told uncle he was desirous of seeing the family together at some convenient time, and uncle replied that he would arrange his business so that he could spend the evening at home.

Frank had told me before, that he wished to explain some things in his conduct, and thought he ought to do so before the family, as they had witnessed what had passed. During the afternoon he was so tender and devoted to me that I more than half determined to tell him all Fidelia's story to me, and have it settled at once, but before I had really decided, we had taken tea, and having attended prayers were all seated around the social hearth waiting for Frank to say what he wished. He commenced with the remark, it was extremely painful to him to be obliged to say anything unfavorable to the character of another; but, he continued, "in order to explain, I do not say extenuate, my conduct toward my wife, I must inform you that on the very first evening of my arrival, Fidelia succeeded in planting a thorn in my heart, and from that time until yesterday, she never ceased to suggest or hint at, ideas which made me fear that the affection of my wife for me, if not her very virtue, was endangered by her intimacy with her cousin."

Joseph started upon his feet, and I covered my face; but Frank said, "sit down, Joseph; you can well afford to hear; your conscience is at rest, while mine" – he stopped, he had evidently schooled himself for the interview. "After this," he continued, "it was astonishing how many trivial events occurred which appeared at the time to corroborate her story; and she failed not to make use of them. For instance, I saw you, cousin, take Cora's hand in what to my inflamed imagination seemed too familiar a manner; at another time I heard you say, you should wish a wife in all respects like her, and various other things which I should not condescend to name, were it not to show you that with her whisperings and hints, these had grown to such a magnitude in my mind, that I was prepared to believe anything."

Joseph interrupted him and began to make some explanations, but Frank would not allow a word to be said. "My dear cousin," he continued, "I know you will not insult me by offering an explanation for what existed only in my heated imagination, and which now that I have recovered my reason, I loathe myself for indulging. I thought it over in the night, and was astonished at my blindness; for you both were so perfectly open in your conduct, I do not at all wonder that my little Cora feared me as she did."

"Ah," said I, determining bravely to tell my story, "there is another side to that." They all looked at me in amazement, as I began at the beginning and related all I had felt and suffered. I confessed all my hard feelings toward Frank, and all my jealousy of Fidelia. It was now the Doctor's turn to start up in awful indignation. I told him how I had been led as in his case, to see everything through a false medium, and I had feared that the affection, she told me they had formerly felt for each other, had revived to such a degree as to make him regret that the marriage of both prevented their union.

The intensity of Joseph's feelings kept him silent. "Well," said uncle, at length, "Fidelia is rightly punished for her fiendish plot in trying to alienate your affections from each other."

"How?" I eagerly inquired.

He turned to aunt, who said, "I thought it best at the time to say nothing about it. I merely told them she was gone."

Uncle resumed his seat, and sitting very erect in his chair, said, "Mr. Schuyler went out soon after you were taken sick, and has not yet returned. His wife insisted that we should take no pains to bring him back. She said she wasn't going to have him think, she would run after him. But I could see, as hour after hour passed away, she grew anxious and impatient for his return. This morning, when we were seated at breakfast, a boy brought a note from him directed to me, in which he said that before that letter reached us he should be on his way to Germany, where he intended to pass the rest of his life. He enclosed fifty dollars for his wife, which he said was all she should ever have from him, and closed by saying it was her own fault that she had not a happy home and a devoted husband; and that if she had been willing to accede to his wishes, she would at least have been the owner of a handsome estate. That was true," added uncle, "he wished to buy a beautiful place on the Hudson which he offered to settle upon her, but she would not consent to live in so retired a situation. I used all my influence with her to no purpose."

"Where is she now?" I asked.

"When she received the note, or rather when I read it to her, and gave her the money, she was at first very angry, and thought he only wrote it to frighten her; but I soon convinced her that I thought otherwise, when she suddenly started for New York, where they had been boarding since their marriage, in the hope of detaining him."

Frank looked very thoughtful, but said nothing; and we all sat for a few moments thinking of the probabilities of her overtaking him, and of her success in obtaining his forgiveness. I who knew more of his feelings than any one present, doubted it, but I wisely concluded to keep my knowledge to myself.

At length Joseph jumped up, saying, "I should think we were in a Quaker meeting; let's play 'button, button, who's got the button?'"

"Wouldn't it be more pleasant," asked Frank, smiling, "to have Cora give you an account of a Quaker wedding we attended on our way here?"

"Yes, yes, that's just the thing; come let's act it out! Here, Cora, take my arm, tell me what to say, and I'll repeat it off just like a book. I believe they always kiss their lady first, don't they? Come, why don't you stand up and begin. It's placing a bashful young fellow, like me, in a very embarrassing situation, when his wife that is to be won't stand with him at the altar."

Though I could not help laughing, yet I would not consent to "act it out," as he said, unless Frank would officiate as bridegroom, but as uncle and aunt both joined in the request to see the ceremony, I persuaded my husband to gratify them. When we were through, Joseph said, we were so solemn about it, he felt just as thirsty as if he had been to a real wedding, and asked if there were not some wine in the house. Aunt shook her head, but he went out and soon brought in a waiter of wine glasses, filled however, with lemonade, after which the conversation passed naturally to other themes.

The remainder of the week passed delightfully; I gained every day in health; and the Doctor took me with him to many places of interest in the vicinity. Fidelia's name had not been mentioned in the week which had intervened since her departure, except in one remark Frank made to me on the Monday evening previous. He said, "You probably noticed that I gave no explanation of many of her statements; and though I deny ever having felt any affection for her, such as she describes, and hardly what the relationship warranted, yet I wish to defer any farther conversation upon the subject until we arrive home."

I told him, I should be glad to do so, but that I wanted him to promise me one thing; I was proceeding to tell him what, when he said "Anything, everything; I have the most entire confidence in you, my love." So we promised each other, that the past should only be remembered as a warning; we felt that our only security for happiness in the married relation was, next to our God, in entire confidence in each other, and we resolved never to lie down at night with one unkind thought treasured up, which each had not given the other an opportunity to explain.

On the day before we left aunt Morgan, a letter was received from Mrs. Schuyler, in which she said, she found on her arrival in New York city, that her husband had indeed taken passage for Europe, and that on the whole she considered it the most fortunate thing which could have happened for her, as his jealous disposition had always prevented her having any enjoyment. In a postscript she added, that she had been invited to go to the South and pass the winter with some delightful acquaintances, she had formed, and that she anticipated great pleasure in their society. She said, she now considered herself in every respect as a widow, and hoped her friends would never mortify her by any allusion to the man, she had called her husband. In a second postscript she requested that her trunks should be sent to the care of William Arnold, Esq.

When aunt had finished reading, Frank and I exchanged glances. That was the name of Lucy Lee's suitor, and we knew too much of him to expect she would profit much by his society.

We left our dear friends early on Tuesday morning, having obtained a promise from Joseph to make us an early visit. A day or two after we reached home, I noticed Frank in earnest conversation with mother; after which he requested me to go to her in the library. I went reluctantly, for indeed I was now so happy, I cared for no farther explanation. But as I saw Frank attributed my unwillingness to a wrong cause, I took Emily's arm and went at once to the library, where mother gave me the following account.

Fidelia Lenox was left an orphan at the age of fifteen, and was immediately received into her uncle's family, and treated in all respects as their own child. She was one year younger than Frank, and of course they were constantly in each other's society. But it was not long before mother perceived that from being willing and apparently pleased to be with his cousin, Frank avoided her as much as possible, and often refused positively to accompany her to parties of young people. Mother did not at first pay much attention to the circumstance until her son's conduct became so marked as to require a reproof, especially as she could perceive nothing in the deportment of her niece to elicit such dislike. She therefore appealed to him as a gentleman that it was in the highest degree impolite and unkind to treat his cousin otherwise than he would treat a sister.

For a long time Frank refused to give any explanation of his conduct; but at length told his mother that he would agree to treat her as a sister, if she would be content with that.

"What can she ask more?" inquired mother, in surprise.

Frank, like any boy of sixteen, blushed crimson, as he replied, impulsively: "She is altogether too sentimental for me. She can talk about nothing but love, and such nonsense. When the time comes for me to be married, I mean to do the courting myself."

Mother was silent, from amazement, and tried to recall a single circumstance to corroborate his statement. "I hardly know how to believe it of Fidelia," she at length replied.

"Mother," said Frank "if you do not believe me, enter suddenly and unexpectedly into the library or anywhere we may chance to be left alone a moment, and you will see enough."

"What?" she asked, under her breath.

"Why, she runs her fingers through my hair, and she sits by me and looks up in my face in a fawning manner. Bah!" he continued, "it's too disgusting. If she hears the least sound, she darts back to her seat, and there she sits as demure and proper as any old maid. I often wish," he added, half laughing, "she'd get caught at some of her fooleries."

After this, mother kept a strict surveillance of the conduct of her niece, and soon became convinced that she was a dangerous companion for her son, especially as she paid not the slightest regard to truth. She therefore sent her away to a family-school, where she was under the constant watch of her teacher. But she could not prevent Frank meeting her occasionally, as they both spent their holidays at home; and she confessed to me that she should have shuddered for the virtue of her son, had he not exhibited such a loathing for the character of his cousin. The time came when she must leave school, and her conduct had become so reprehensible that mother would not consent that Emily should be under her influence; and she has resided, until her marriage, with a distant relative in the State of New York.

It was thus that Frank had not met her for several years, and as they were both married, he had been willing to forget the past, and treat her at least with kindness. But having had reason to know her want of principle, he feels he had no excuse for giving heed to her cruel hints and falsehoods. We have tacitly agreed to let her name be forgotten, and I devoutly hope I shall never have occasion to remember it.

Tuesday, October 27th.

My dear, dear mother, now that I have told you all the sorrows, trials and follies of the past month, I will turn to other and far more pleasing themes. My dear little Pauline was almost wild with joy to see papa and mamma at home again. I found her looking very chubby and rosy, having gained in strength since the cool weather.

This season is perfectly charming. It is called the Indian summer. I can give you no just description of the gorgeousness of the forest trees with which we are surrounded. As I was riding through a thick grove yesterday, on my way to Waverley, I could almost imagine myself in fairy land. The air was mild and balmy as in June, and there was a freshness and dryness in the atmosphere which was perfectly exhilarating.

I think I remarked to you near the commencement of my journal, that Mrs. Munroe, the wife of our clergyman, was absent from town. She returned while we were away. I called there yesterday, in company with Emily and Pauline. Mrs. Munroe is rather above the medium height, with a very intelligent, not handsome, countenance; and a splendid set of teeth. She impressed me as a very superior lady; there is a dignity, a quiet repose in her manner which I admire.

After conversing a few moments, I expressed a wish to see her infant; when she immediately went out and brought it to the parlor, accompanied by a sister who is visiting her. I don't think Pauline ever saw a baby before, and she looked at the little creature with a serious, thoughtful expression, frequently sighing from the intensity of her feelings. We all joined in a laugh at her expense. But when the baby began to cry, poor Pauline started, and grew very red. I didn't like to have her feel so, and I took the infant into my lap, and put its little soft hand in hers. When she had felt the velvety flesh, and came to the conclusion that it was really alive, she was pleased enough; and had to make a great effort to keep from crying that I did not bring it home with me.

I made early inquiries on my return as to the present situation of Squire Lee's family; and was happy to learn that in many respects Lucy's situation is far more comfortable than formerly. Her father still continues feeble in body and mind, but he has grown so dependent on his daughter, and is so pleased with her tender care, that he can hardly bear her out of his sight. She reads newspapers to him, combs his hair, and soothes him by the hour together. She hopes soon to interest him in the Bible, by reading daily, delightful selections from it. I fear the poor old gentleman has not enough sense to understand, as he often falls asleep in his chair, lulled by the sound of her sweet voice.

Joseph Lee has taken up his residence in the city, only returning occasionally to obtain his father's signature to a check. He swears that the house is just like a tomb ever since the "old fellow" was taken sick. As he has the last will safe in his possession, he gives himself no concern about Lucy.

A few mornings after my return I requested Ann to build a fire in my room, while I gave Pauline her morning bath; when she brought up a great quantity of brush which would light quickly. The sight of this reminded me of the children, Anna and Willie. I am ashamed to say, that with so many other subjects to occupy my thoughts my protegés had passed entirely out of my mind. I inquired concerning them of mother, and learned that they had made great advances in Phebe's good graces, by having completely filled the wood shed with the brush, which Cæsar had chopped early in the season, and had left in the orchard to dry. They had come regularly day after day, had taken their dinner at the house, and returned at night carrying a basket of food, or some useful article to their mother.

Frank and I are more delighted than we can express with the change in Emily. To be sure, she never has such high spirits as formerly; but she is cheerful and affectionate to mother and all of us.

When I recall to mind the sad forebodings, I had while in B – , thinking my happiness had gone forever, and then realize what a united, happy family we are, my heart is ready to burst with gratitude.

Our

 
"Home is the resort
Of love, of joy, of peace and plenty, where,
Supporting and supported, polished friends
And dear relations mingle into bliss."
 

Saturday, October 31st.

Now that Frank knows my whole heart, I hope he will cease from self-accusation for what passed at B – . I was sitting at my desk writing when he came in. I looked up with a smile; but he only made a faint attempt to return it. I instantly shut my desk, and went unbidden to sit upon his knee. He put his arm about me, but did not speak. To divert his thoughts, I asked him about his patients.

"Cora, my dear wife," said he interrupting me, "I would give all I possess," ('including me,' I whispered,) "if you could open your heart to me as you do to your mother in that journal."

"Why, Frank, I will tell you all you would like to know. I can't think of anything I wish to conceal from you."

"Isn't there," he asked in an agitated voice, and hiding his face behind me, "Isn't there, away down at the bottom of your heart a feeling, which if brought out to the light, would read, 'I think I have been cruelly insulted by my husband, and I can never love and respect him as I once did?'"

"Frank," I exclaimed, starting to my feet, "let me feel your pulse. I will order draughts for your feet. You surely have had a return of your giddiness, or you would not insult your wife by such suspicions. When you are sufficiently recovered to bear it, you shall take the said journal of which you are so jealous, and retiring to the privacy of the library, you shall then and there learn all that your wife thinks of you."

"Dearest," he replied, "you will do me the greatest favor by allowing me to peruse that part of it relating to – ." I put my hand to his mouth, which he held there. Then I went to my desk, and separating the sheets containing the account of our visit to B – , I put them into his hand. When he had left the room, I could not help smiling at the look with which he took the papers. It was something like that of a boy who anticipates a pretty severe whipping. I began to feel sorry, I had written so much about jealousy, and feared he would think that I attached more importance to it than I do; for indeed I love my husband, if possible, better than ever.