The Trinity times., 1855-06-02

of medicine; for it seemed to me my only way
of salvation; if indeed that were yet possible
"a salvation to be worked out not only by
chastsement and control Of my passions,
but by active good among my fellow men
shall never forget the first patient at
tended. 1t was painful case, where there
was much suffering; and to the relations
J to that poor mother above all bitter anguish.
! The child had been given over by the does
tors, and | was called in as the last untrled,
from despair, not from hope: ordered new
remedy; one that few would have the cour-
age to prescribe. The effect was almost mi
raculous and as the little one breathed freer,
and that sweet soft sleep Of healing crept over
her, the thick darkness hanging round me
lightened perceptibly. Had solved the mys-
terry Of my future? BY work and charity
should come out into the light again and
could deeds of reparation dspel that dark
ness which mere objectless punishment
a mere mental repentancc-could not touch!
This experience gave me renewed courage.
| devoted myself more ardently to my pro-
fesson, chiefly among the poor, and without
remuneration. Had | ever accepted money,
| believe that all my power would have gone.
And as | saved more and more lives, and
!
of human suffering, the dreadful shadow grew
fainter.
was called suddenly to dying lady. No
name was given me, neither was her station
in life nor condition told me. | hurried off
without caring to ask questions: careful only
to heal. When | reached the house, | was
taken into room where she lay in fainting
fit on the bed. Even before | ascertaned
lnl, 4h tIo n1 e;r
of a practced physican-her wonderful
beauty struck me. Not merely because it
was beauty, but because it was a face strange
ly familiar to me, though new; strangely
speaking of a former love, although, in allmy
practice, ] had never loved man or woman
Individually.
reused the lady from her faintness, but
not without much trouble. 1t was more like
death than swooning, and yielded to my
| treatment stubbornly. | remained with her
for many hours, but when | left her she was
better. | was obliged to leave h5r, to attend
a poor workhouse child.
had not been gone long--carry ing with
me that fair face lying in its death like
trance, with all its golden hair scattered wide
over the pillow, and the blue lids weighing
down the eyes as one carries the remem-
brance of a sweet song lately sung--carrying
it, too, as talsman agast that dread shadow
which somehow hung closer on me tonight;
the darkness, deepening into its original
| blackness, and the chill hanging heavily on
my heart again--when messenger hurried
after me, telling me the lady was dying and
| was to go back Immediately. ! wanted no
second bidding. In moment, as it seemed
to me, was in her room again. IL was
dark,
The lady was dying now, paralysed from
her feet upwards. ! saw the deathring
mount higher and higher; that faint, blush
ring with which death marries some of his
brides. bent every energy, every thought
to the combat. | ordered remedies so strange
to the ordinary rules Of medicine, that it was
with difficulty the chemist would prepare
them. She opened her eyes full upon me,
and the whole room was filled with the cry
of f"Murdererr' They thought the lady had
spoken feverishiy in her death trance. |
alone knew from whence that cry had come.
But would not yield, and never quaIled,
nor feared for the result. knew the power
| had to battle with, and | knew, too, the
powers ! welded. They saved her. The
blood circulated again through her veins, the
laintness gradually dispersed, the smitten side
flung off its paralysis, and the blue ring faded
wholly from her limbs.
The lady recovered under my care. And
care, such as mothers lavish ON their children
poured like life blood on her | knew that
her pulses beat at my bidding, knew that |
had given her back her life, which else had
been forfeit and that ! was her preseryer,--
| almost worshipped her, 1t was the wor-
ship Of my whole beng-the tide into which
the pent-up sentiment ofmy long years ofun-
loving philanthropy, poured like boundless
flood. It was my life dat ! gave her~-my
destiny that ! saw in her-my deliverer from
the curse Of sin, as | had been hers from the
power Of death ] asked no more than to be
near her, to see her, TO hear her voice, to
breathe the same air with her. TO guard and
protect her. ] never asked myself whether
loved as other men or no; ! never dreamed
Of her loving me again. ! did not even know
her n2me nor her condition she was simply
the Lady to me--the one and only woman Of
my world ! never cared to analyse more
than This. My love was part ofmy nnermost
being, and ! could as soon have imagined the
earth without its sun as my life without the
lady Was this love such as other men feel
know not. | only know there were no
hopes such as other men have. | did not
question my own heart Of the future; ] only
knew Of love- did not ask for happiness.
One day went to see her as usual. She
was well now; but still kept up my old
habit Of visiting her for her health. sat by
her for long time this day, wondering, as
so often wondered who it was that she re-
sembled, and where lad met her before,
and how for was certain that J had seen
her some time in the past. She was lying
back in an easy chair-how well remember
it all .-envcopcd in cloud Of white dra-
perry. sofa table was drawn along the side
Of her chair, with one drawer partly open.-
Without any intention Of looking, ! saw that
it was filled with letters, in two different
handwrtlnes, and that two miniature cases
were lying among them. An open letter, in
which lay tress Of sun-bright hair, was on
her knee. II was written in a hand that
made me start and quiver. ! knew the wrl-
ting, though at the moment J could not re-
coguise the writer.
Strongly aeitate' took the letter in my
hand. The hair fell across my fingers. The
darkness gathered close and heavy and there
burst from me the sell-accusing cry Of 'Aur-