9. CHAPTER IX.
THE DOCTOR COMMENCES A MILD FLIRTATION.
The hand was not badly cut, but it was a very pretty
hand, and the arm attached to it quite as beautiful. It
was not long before the fair lady was once more smiling.
“Are these cuts ever dangerous, doctor,” asked Mrs.
Nina Lyttelton with a languid smile.
“Not very, madam. We doctors are very unwilling to
confess that any thing is dangerous. That would imply
that there was a possibility of losing our patients—which
we never admit until they are so unfortunate as to die.”
Mrs. Lyttelton laughed.
“And you cure every hurt, do you?”
“All but heart wounds, madam,” the doctor replied
with a bow to the fair widow.
“Those you can not cure?”
“Wholly unsuccessful, madam. I have seen many
scales of physicians' fees—but never such a clause as:
`To curing one young person crossed in love,' so much.
No, that is beyond our skill.”
“Heigho!” sighed Mrs. Lyttelton, “I believe it is
true, nothing can cure some things.”
“A profound remark,” said the doctor laughing.
“As long as the heart is not touched—in both senses
doctor—the patient may recover.”
“The inmost heart—yes.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that often grief is a fancy—sorrow a chimera.”
Mrs. Lyttelton became unaffectedly grave. She had
just thought of her husband who had died about two
years before. But the light and merry nature of her
character soon banished this fleeting regret, and she
tnrned again to the smiling cavalier before her.
“But do you not believe that persons often die of love
—when they are crossed?”
“I do, I confess, madam—though I have heard it
asserted that such a thing is folly—mere imagination.”
“And what medicine do you administer to such people?
You may not be able to cure, but you attempt the cure,
do you not?”
“Why yes, madam.”
“Well suppose Mr. — or Mr. — in Martinsburg
were to complain to you of melancholy, loss of appetite,
depression, and utter dislike of every thing around
them—”
“I would ask the origin of all this.”
“Well suppose they assured you that the cruelty of
some young girl had plunged them into this state of
mind; what would you prescribe?”
“I should prescribe a visit to Meadow Branch Valley,
madam, and the acquaintance of Mrs. Lyttelton,” replied
Doctor Thomas with a smile and a low bow.
“You are very gallant, doctor!” said his companion,
laughing.
