University of Virginia Library

16. CHAPTER XVI.

The narration of the events we have thus far
chronicled, has perhaps prevented us from bestowing
due attention on the lovely being whose image was
so deeply engraved on the heart of Clifton.

In truth few and far between were the incidents
which varied the monotony of her secluded existence.
The record of events connected with her history
would but unfold the emotions, fears, hopes, doubts,
and anxieties of a susceptible girl, the most imposing
vicissitudes of whose life could be legitimately embraced

in the story of a heart. The passing days,
as they came and went, found and left her the
same in feeling and affection—except that perchance,
as the frail tenure of her earthly existence became
more vividly impressed on her mind, the flame of
her love for Clifton beamed with a deeper, holier,
purer effulgence—as if, like the fire upon the altar,
it had caught its inspiration from the breath of HIM
WHOSE THRONE IS LOVE. The change in her
health, although heretofore almost imperceptible to
those who, like her fond parents, were hourly in her
presence, when the fickle month of March arrived
assumed a more decided and alarming aspect, until
Mr. and Mrs. Borrowdale's fears were intensely excited;
and they besought the attending physician
with tears to call into requisition all the resources
of his art, lest in an evil hour their last hope should,
with the spirit of Julia, wing its flight beyond the
confines of earth. Archibald Nelmoth, M. D.,
who officiated in the capacity of family physician to
Mr. Borrowdale, was a graduate of Harvard University.
On receiving his diploma from the college of
physicians and surgeons of Boston, he immediately
commenced practice in that city, and if patient and
untiring application, united to an ardent attachment
to his profession, and a skilful adaptation of means
to accomplish desired results could have insured success,
Doctor Nelmoth's claims to favour and patronage
would have been unanimously acknowledged and
correspondingly rewarded. That no such good fortune
awaited the worthy physician may be the subject
of surprise to our sanguine readers, but will fail
to astonish those initiated in the secrets appertaining
to worldly success.

Unfortunately for the doctor's pecuniary interests,
his love of truth and abhorrence of deception, even
in trifles, were of too stubborn a growth to be uprooted;
and while the superficial disciples of Esculapius
were paying their court to the fashionable
circles of the literary emporium, Doctor Nelmoth was
patiently mastering the intricacies of medical science,
or wasting his skill on some forsaken child of poverty,
whose gratitude bore a most undue proportion to his
means. But a few weeks subsequent to his entrance
on his professional career, the child of a wealthy
and influential lady, residing in the vicinity of his
office, met with a serious accident, and the desire to
secure speedy surgical aid induced a resort to Doctor
Nelmoth; and so successful was he in relieving
the little sufferer that he became regularly installed
as attending physician to the family. This event
gave a most favourable turn to his prospects, for the
mother of the child was a leader in the fashionable
world, whose fiat was fate; but destiny, which delights
in thwarting the most well-founded anticipations,
erected a barrier to the success of our medical
friend, at the very crisis of his fortunes. Being suddenly
summoned to attend his lady patroness, who
was represented as alarmingly ill, he found her reclining
on a sumptuous couch, with a phial of hartshorn

in one hand, while with the other she was
gracefully fondling her favourite poodle. On examining
her pulse and learning the symptoms of
the case, he candidly declared that late hours and
the excesses of fashionable dissipation were the sole
causes of her debility; and that nothing but a resort
to plain food, exercise on foot, and retiring early to
rest would be of permanent service. Against this
uncourteous and unwelcome advice the lady vehemently
remonstrated, and on the doctor persisting
in his decision, she gave him to understand that his
professional services were no longer needed; and the
same day beheld the introduction of a more pliant
practitioner, who not only pronounced the views of
his predecessor absurd, but obligingly coincided with
his fair patient's fluctuating opinion of the state of
her health—never resorting to remedies until he
first learned that they were adapted to her taste.
As will readily be inferred, the practice of Doctor
Nelmoth languished beneath the withering blight of
the fashionable lady's displeasure, while the star of
his rival shone proudly in the ascendant.

It was a few years subsequent to this untoward
event, while he was struggling with pecuniary difficulties,
that he became acquainted with Mr. Borrowdale,
who, delighted with his talents no less than
the variety and extent of his general and professional
information, invited him to settle near his
seat, where, by the aid of his generous friend, he

speedily attained a respectable station among his
competitors.

Although rather past the prime of life, the good
doctor was still a bachelor, and while his amiable
disposition and cheerful temper would have constituted
him a charming companion to a female, his
devoted attachment to literature and science, rendered
him invulnerable to the meaning glances of the
fair maidens with whom he was acquainted. A
high forehead, slightly bald at the temples, and a
fine dark eye, which sparkled with benevolence and
intelligence, were perhaps the only features of his
face that could be considered otherwise than plain;
but so pleasing were his conversational powers,
when in company with those he loved, that one
could scarcely refrain from pronouncing him positively
handsome. It was only, however, when enjoying
the companionship of congenial spirits, that
the natural reserve of his character allowed him to
appear with advantage; while the presence of fashionable
triflers of either sex was sufficient completely to
seal the fountains of his intelligence for the time.
That the prejudices he naturally entertained against
parvenu assumption were confirmed and strengthened
by the recollection of his early adventure with
the leader of fashionable society in the city, is probable;
and as poverty had failed to wring civilities
from which his hudgment dissented, it is not surprising
that he declined the effort in the palmy days
of worldly competency.

For Mr. Borrowdale and his amiable family, he
entertained the most affectionate regard; nor will it
be doubted, that his anxiety for Julia's recovery
elicited the exercise of his utmost professional skill,
and constant and unwearied attendance.

On the afternoon of one of those bland and balmy
days at the close of winter, which, like the dove
from the ark, bear on their wings glad tidings to the
whole human race—but in an especial degree to the
faint spirit of the invalid—the fair Julia half reclined
on the sofa in her little boudoir, moralizing on the
uncertainty of all earthly expectations.

The setting sun poured its farewell beams through
the spacious and somewhat antiquated windows of
the apartment, (like the dying dolphin reserving its
brightest glories for the last,) its golden hues assuming
a richer warmth as they reflected the glowing
tint of the crimson drapery which relieved the otherwise
sombre aspect of the deeply imbedded and
heavily moulded casements.

There are moments, when the curtain of the past
is drawn from before our mental vision;—when the
emotions of by-gone years resume their empire over
the heart;—when “the lost, the loved, the distant
and the dead” pass in review before us, untouched
by time, unscathed by sorrow, unchanged by circumstance.
Oh! is not this re-creative power at
once the type and the seal of immortality? Can
the soul, with its high capacities, its aspirations that
soar to the third heaven of intellect; its grasp encircling

the vast myriads of material systems, and
skirting along those shadowy regions where conjecture
alone wields the sceptre; can it be that, like
the butterfly, it is destined to sport its little hour
and descend to the debasement of the clod and the
worm?

Let him doubt on whose spirit the icy hand of
scepticism has fallen—chilling its divine sympathies,
and chaining its powers of discrimination—but let
the gifted and the pure and the lovely clasp the
hopes of a brighter world to their bosoms with joy
and confidence.

To Julia, although attenuated by that silent and
insidious disease which, in mockery, decorates its
victim with the ensigns of health, while decay and
dissolution are fastened on the vitals, this power of
retrospection was especially vouchsafed; and with
that single-heartedness and disinterestedness found
alone in the softer sex, her thoughts, whether resting
on the joys of the past, or shuddering at the drear
prospect of the future, were associated with Clifton
in all their wanderings; she forgetting her own
peril in the absorbing intensity of her love for him,
and centreing her every wish in the desire for his
happiness.

Some there may be who doubt whether beneath
our northern skies the passion of love is susceptible
of so spontaneous a growth as that of Julia for Clifton,
but he little understands the mysterious labyrinths
of the human heart, and the latent fires which

lie concealed within its depths, who deems the glowing
sun of a tropical climate necessary for its precocious
maturity. Oh no. Love is, itself, the sun
and centre of a moral system—imparting light and
heat by its own essence. Beneath its creative
beams, bud, blossom, and fruit, leap into life and
loveliness—offspring of a moment, but heirs of immortality!

Such is love:—and he who has never been a sojourner
beneath its pleasant skies—nor inhaled the
perfume of its flowers—nor sported with its nymphs
—nor sipped its nectar—nor bathed in its fountains—nor
reclined beneath its shade—has bartered
the gems of existence for worthless baubles! For
him no poet shall tune the lyre, nor fame with brazen
trumpet herald his deeds to after ages.

As Julia reflected on the difficulties which environed
her lover, she at times despaired of his power
to convince a censorious world of his innocence, or
burst through the meshes of the fatal web which
exiled him from his country and his friends.

“If,” she thought, “malice and perjury have
combined to blacken his fair fame, what hope is
there that remorse or penitence will enter into the
bosom of a wretch guilty of a crime so heinous, inducing
him to proclaim Clifton's innocence and his
own infamy. No, no. The bare idea is inadmissible.
Oh, Clifton—Clifton! would that these eyes
might again be blessed with your presence, even
were it but for a moment, that the mystery might be

unveiled which now shadows your reputation. But
alas! an exile from your home—a wanderer in another
clime—a vast ocean separates you from my
sight, and much I fear that the angel of death will
bear my spirit to its eternal home, before I shall be
enabled to inform you of my devoted love, and my
unshaken confidence in your innocence.”

The ardour of her feelings caused her to utter the
latter portion of this soliloquy aloud, and Doctor
Nelmoth, who was at that moment approaching her
apartment, became an involuntary listener. The
excellent physician was not a little embarrassed at
this occurrence, for his respect for the sanctities of the
heart was peculiarly profound and sensitive; and
while he was disposed to be gratified at learning the
nature and cause of her malady—trusting that he
could now shape his professional course with some
prospect of benefit to his fair patient—he yet was almost
pained at the conviction that he was the depository
of a secret which his lovely young friend
desired sedulously to conceal.

Fearing that his embarrassment would be observed
by Julia, if he entered at the moment, he, with a
light step, receded to some distance, and in a few
moments returned with a heavy tread to the door,
knocked, and was admitted. As he entered, the
charming girl half arose from her seat, near the window,
and a straggling sunbeam that momentarily
rested on her face and neck, exhibited, with fearful
distinctness, the transparent and unearthly delicacy

of her features. Reluctant to remain, lest his truant
tongue should, by some inadvertent allusion, divulge
his knowledge of her secret, he went through the
ordinary routine of professional inquiries, and attributing
his haste to urgent business, departed.

After Doctor Nelmoth had retired to the privacy of
his chamber, he long continued to reflect on the
most effectual method of rendering the information
he had received subservient to Julia's restoration.

Something he had learned in casual conversation
with Mr. Borrowdale, of the debt of gratitude which
that gentleman admitted he owed Clifton for rescuing
Julia from her perilous situation; nor was he a
stranger to the events which had since shaken his
confidence in the integrity and virtue of our hero.
As during all this period Julia had never alluded to
Clifton, he was, until the present moment, entirely
ignorant of her attachment. Fully aware of the
sensibility and delicacy of her feelings, and satisfied
that Mr. Borrowdale's sentiments in relation to
Clifton were too firmly implanted to be removed
without convincing proofs of his error, the doctor
long debated in his own mind as to the expediency
of disclosing his knowledge of the cause of Julia's
illness, either to herself or to her parents. His
judgment at length determined him to confine the
secret for the present to his own breast, leaving his
future course to be governed by circumstances.

The next morning found the doctor an early
visiter to Julia's apartment, whom he observed, with

deep regret, moody and melancholy, and unable to
more than counterfeit the sweet smile which usually
welcomed the entrance of her adviser and friend.
Seating himself by her side on the sofa, he took the
hand she extended, and while his finger lay almost
passively on her pulse, remarked,

“What a lovely evening we were blessed with
yesterday. It appeared to me the sweet harbinger
of happiness to the victim of declining health, who,
like yourself, has youth and strength sufficient to
repel the enfeebled assaults of the expiring winter.
In a few—very few days, the birds will again charm
you with their melodies—the flowers waft their perfumes
through your lattice—while such middle-aged
gentlemen as myself will be laid aside, as neither
seasonable nor useful.”

“Oh, my dear doctor,” replied Julia, “do not jest on
a subject with which the affections and friendship of
life are entwined. If you should no longer cheer
me with your society, another prop of my existence
would be removed, and I doubt if I could survive the
shock.”

Thus saying the tears coursed down her cheek,
and it was some moments ere the doctor could sufficiently
compose himself to say:—

“You are right, my child—you are right. Believe
me, I but intended to while away the hours,
but unhappily struck a harsh and unharmonious
chord. Forget it, and I will be more wary in future.
It is unnecessary for me to assure you of the

deep interest I feel in your recovery, nor is it proper
for me to disguise my conviction that a much longer
residence in this fluctuating climate will be attended
with imminent hazard. In mid-winter, a voyage to
Europe would have been highly improper, but the
season has now arrived when it is no longer dangerous.
I have not broached the subject to your parents,
feeling desirous first to ascertain your own
views in relation to it.”

In vain, lovely sufferer, your tongue like a wakeful
sentinel, now guards with sleepless vigilance the
treasure of your love from the gaze of prying curiosity—a
moment of forgetfulness has unlocked the
portals of your affections, and the treacherous pulse
and tell-tale cheek conspire to break down the remaining
defences!

Thus thought the physician, as cheek and pulse
fluttered with the excitement that her agitated
feelings underwent at this suggestion. Again her
tears flowed afresh, and all the reply she could make
was,

“Leave me now, dear doctor, and I will reflect on
your suggestion. My poor nerves are too tremulous
to permit me to decide just now.”

“God bless you!—God bless you, my child,” was
the response of the affectionate physician, as he
arose and left the apartment.