Out in the World CHAPTER 33.
Back to Out in the World
After a certain degree of convalescence, there came a pause in Madeline's condition. She was able to sit up for a portion of each day, and even to walk about her room; but, there improvement stopped.
"I am so weak, doctor," she said one day, early in the spring, to her physician, who found her in bed instead of sitting up. She spoke in a tone of discouragement.
"The warm season will soon be here," he replied. "Fresh air, and change, and exercise, will benefit wonderfully. At the first mild change in the weather, you must ride out in a coach."
A shadow came over her face. She sighed, and partly turned away.
"Are not you anxious to get well?" said the doctor.
"I shall never be well again," replied Madeline.
"Don't say that. You will find new life and health in the warm summer breezes. As soon as the spring is well advanced, and you can ride out every day — your strength will come rapidly. I shall order you sent into the country as early as the middle of June.
"Doctor Wheatland," said Madeline, turning towards the physician, and taking his hand. She looked at him with a sober expression of countenance — "You talk to me as if I had aright to be here — as if I were mistress of the house, and not a helpless, penniless stranger, living day by day on charity. I have no carriage or servants."
"Not a penniless stranger! — not living on charity!" replied the doctor, with a warmth of manner that caused a gleam of surprise to pass over Madeline's face.
"You speak in an unknown language, Doctor Wheatland," she said.
"Do you understand my words?"
"I understand what your words mean — but not as applied to myself. As you utter them, they have no significance.
"On the contrary," replied the doctor, "they have the fullest significance. You are not a penniless stranger in this house, nor living day by day on charity. Lay that up in your heart, and so far as the question of independence is concerned, be at peace."
"I cannot understand you, doctor." The pale face of Madeline was beginning to grow warm from rising excitement. There was a look of startled inquiry in her eyes, and a shade of alarm as at the approach of something that would give pain.
"My dear madam," said the doctor, with impressive earnestness of manner, "put faith in what I say, and, for the present, while you are weak and helpless, give yourself no fruitless trouble. All is right. You owe nothing to Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence — but love and gratitude."
"Still the unknown tongue," she answered. "Will you not speak in a language that my thought can reach?"
Doctor Wheatland found himself in a delicate position. In the effort to give repose to the mind of his patient, he had only disturbed her deeply. She was not to be satisfied with these general assurances.
"You are neither poor nor friendless," he said, slowly and calmly. "There has been a long search for you, in order that you might be placed in possession of property justly your own. It is in the hands of Mr. Lawrence, in trust, and subject to your disposal. I can only say this to you now. Let your mind be at rest, then. Put aside the thought of dependence. When you are better and stronger, you can ask more questions. As your physician, I must assert my authority here."
The flush went out of Madeline's face, and with it, the ardor of inquiry. Her thought looked inward. A new fact, which was to effect all her future life, had been communicated. What was the broad significance of that fact? Property in her own right! A long search! Mr. Lawrence the trustee! Under the pressure of so strange a communication, there fell upon her spirit a deep calm. Not a pause in thought — but a cessation of all excitement.
As if she had said to herself — "I must be still — I must look at this communication on all sides, and see what it means."
What it really did mean, her quick instincts had already suggested. Was she pained, or pleased? — indignant, or gratified? Doctor Wheatland endeavored to look down into her state of mind — but was not able.
"I am scarcely strong enough for this," she murmured.
"You are not strong enough," replied the doctor; "and so, I must insist upon it, that you ask no more questions. This is, for the present, your home — in right as well as in love. Mr. Lawrence is both friend and guardian.
When health returns, it will be time enough for you to question farther, and act as your judgment and sense of right may determine."
What passed in Madeline's thoughts was not communicated. The doctor saw that her mind was absorbed.
"I will see you again tomorrow," he said, rising to go.
"One thing, doctor."
"What is it?"
"Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Lawrence has given me the slightest intimation of this."
"I am aware of it," replied the doctor.
"I would rather not have them know that I have been informed."
"It shall be as you desire."
"Thank you."
The doctor lingered — but Madeline said nothing more.
After this it was noticed by Mrs. Lawrence that Madeline had passed into a new state of mind. She was more tranquil and indrawn; and less inclined to conversation.
Before, there had been a looking forward to the warm summer days, and to periods in the future, accompanied by an uneasiness born of uncertainty. All this vague unrest was gone now. Peace seemed to have folded her pinions.
"I'm afraid," said Mrs. Lawrence, on meeting Doctor Wheatland, a few days afterwards, "that Madeline is losing instead of gaining. I'm sure she is weaker today than she was two weeks ago."
Doctor Wheatland looked serious — but did not respond.
"Don't you see a change?" asked Mrs. Lawrence.
"In what respect?"
"Don't you see that she is failing?"
"I can hardly say that she is gaining," replied the doctor.
"She seems all at once, to have lost her interest in life," said Mrs. Lawrence. "Last week she was troubling herself about the future, and showing a restless sense of obligation. But, this state has passed from her as completely as if her life were a dream."
The doctor stood silent.
"I don't like her present state."
"Why not, Mrs. Lawrence?"
"Evidently, life is receding."
"You think so?"
"Am I not right in my apprehension?" Mrs. Lawrence sought to read the doctor's face.
"There has come, seemingly, a pause in the tide of life," answered the physician. "It may flow on again; or it may recede. Better, perhaps, that it should recede."
"Doctor Wheatland!"
"Better, assuredly, if it be God's will. All the issues of life are in his hands."
"I cannot think of this, doctor. After the long night through which she has passed — does it not seem hard that she should die at daybreak?"
"And rise into the beauty, and brightness, and joy of an eternal morning!" said the doctor.
"Then you think her case hopeless!" exclaimed Mrs. Lawrence.
"I cannot tell what may be the healing influences of nature, when the air is filled with summer sweetness; but, in medicine, I find little to give encouragement. There is scarcely any response to the remedies I administer."
When the doctor went away, the heart of Mrs. Lawrence was heavier than when he came. She had looked to him to strengthen her failing hopes, and he had only removed another support, and left them weaker.
Back to Out in the World