13. CHAPTER XIII.
NINA AND THE DOCTOR.
A week or two glided quietly away, and the doctor
every day called to see his patient. A mild fever, not
dangerous, succeeded the young girl's accident, and in
her feverish sleep she would mutter and murmur words
which showed plainly whither her thoughts were wandering.
At such times, the doctor would ask leave to sit and
watch her alone, and thus he was the only confidant, so
to speak, of those unconscious revelations.
Sally would often close her eyes and seem to sleep
while her mind was perfectly active; and at such times
she would murmur, “Yes, Barry—you know you love
me as well as I love you—and that's oh, so much! It is
a lovely morning, and see how the stream goes by laughing!
Are you happy, Barry? I love so to see the trees
and rocks, and the moss—you are here with me, and that
makes me love them more—let me lean my head on your
shoulder. You shall fix my hair! See how tangled it
is! I wouldn't let any body else fix my hair—but you
shall, Barry dear! Oh me! I thought I saw that deer
father hunts so often! I don't like that deer—he'll bring
me bad luck. See how the sun shines on the mountain—
if we had a little cottage up near the Moss Rock, just
under the tall pine, we could live so happy! We would
run over the meadow down to the brook, and gather the
flowers that grow all about, every day—you know how
pretty they are—the violets and primroses and buttercups.
Oh, I love them so dearly—and we wouldn't want to see
any body but each other. Oh! we'd be so happy, dear!”
At such times, the doctor would shrug his shoulders
with a slight inward laugh, and gently smooth the child's
pillow. And she would open her eyes and smile.
One day Mrs. Nina Lyttelton came over to see Sally,
as great numbers of her friends had done, on hearing of
the sad accident. The doctor was there, and when she
came out of the chamber met her.
“A fine day we have, madam!” he said, bowing and
offering his hand. Nina shook hands.
“Beautiful, doctor,” she said, “and I only wish dear
Sally was well to enjoy it.”
“Oh, don't fear. Another fortnight will complete her
cure; she is already convalescent, and if you would tell
Barry to come and comfort her—”
They exchanged a smile.
“You wicked doctors!” said the lady, “you suffer nothing
to escape you! Now, how did you know that Sally
was his sweetheart?”
Doctor Thomas shrugged his shoulders.
“We all unconsciously obey the gospel precept, madam,”
said he. “`He that hath ears let him hear,' is the
only command of the Bible universally obeyed, I believe;
well I have heard.”
“I understand you.”
“She was feverish—I would not mention it, as we of
the profession have no right to speak of such matters, but
you certainly know these children love each other.”
“Oh, yes; it's the talk of the whole valley. Such
children to love!”
The doctor laughed.
“You believe then that the heart must mature before
this is possible.”
“Women love more ardently than girls—do they not,
doctor? what is the result of your experience?”
“My experience, fair lady? I have none. I have
never been in love.”
“You! at your age!”
“What do you estimate my age at?”
“Why, twenty-five or six.”
“You have guessed nearly correctly—I could never
speak as certainly of yours.”
“And what do you think my age is?” asked Nina,
laughing.
“Eighteen, madam—nineteen at most. It is the most
attractive of all ages,” said the doctor with a bow.
“I suppose next you'll say I am the most attractive of
all your acquaintances!”
The doctor was plainly taken aback.
“You are called beautiful,” he said.
“Ah, doctor, what if we are so called by indifferent,
careless people. None here appreciate me.” And the
lady sighed.
“Pardon me, madam—there is one who does.” And
the doctor laid his hand upon his heart, with a look of
admiration too profound not to be somewhat affected.
“Flatterer!”
“I never flatter, madam.”
“And you think me beautiful?”
Doctor Thomas had found more than his match; that
was plain.
“Beautiful, madam?” he said, “I find in you that
rare and excellent combination of qualities which I have
never met with save in a friend of my youth. She was
a paragon of all excellence.”
Nina laughed.
“I am very glad so gallant a man as Doctor Thomas
has visited us,” said she.
“And I that so charming a lady as Mrs. Lyttelton has
met me.”
“Such persons then, doctor—”
“So mutually suited—”
“So congenial in their tastes—”
“Should be—”
“Friends at least, doctor!”
“More than friends, I hope, madam!”
And after this mischievous and significant colloquy,
the lady and gentleman bowing profoundly, separated,
merrily laughing.
The doctor chuckled to himself throughout the whole
day.
