The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1867-11-06

you'll! But-you'll come and see him
againp Milly said, timidly thank
full yet alarmed. Would 80 great q
man as the physician be content to
continue laboring without his due
reward?
"My dear, / shall come again and
again, as often as possible, till, be-
| tween us, we've made poor papa quite
we'll again"
This was on the occasion of DR..
Dendy's first visit to Calthorpe street.
Milly's gratitude seemed to know no
bounds. And then, thanks to Pro-
vidence and the doctors remedies,
her invalid's health had certainly
mended of late. He had not scolded
her for nearly three days, and for
about o quarter of an hour he had
been almost cheerful. Indeed, she
had reason to be grateful.
The doctor left Milly Lance with q
huttering sensation about his heart,
such as he had taken no account,
made no mention of whatever, in his
famous treatise npon tLa. organ.
He returned to Calthorpe street
often. He alleged that it was very
necessary for him to watch closely
the effect of his prescriptions upon
his patient. And each time that he
saw Milly Lance-and he now felt q
curious desire to see her as frequent
ly as possible experienced q re-
turn of that strange huttering sensa-
tion in the cardiac region. He was
not alarmed at it-he did not think
it was disease; and if it was, he didn't
care, for it was not at all disagreea-
BILE. Indeed, he liked it. Profess
sionally, he was inclined to regard
it as new development of action
quite healthy in its nature.
For the first time he felt the chosen
pursuits of his life not sufficiently at
tractive or absorbing. Thoughts of
a new kind broke in upon his studies,
disturbed his practice, interrupted
the flow and harmony of his lectures.
His great house seemed to him
very dreary, his existence very desc
late. "Who would nurse and tend
me?" he asked himself, elf I were to
fall i'll, like that poor Captain Lance?"
Yet he dismissed the reflections sug-
gested by that inquiry as selfish and
| uhWOI 1NO, uC Sdl(l,
wouldn't wish to chain fair young
creature like that to my side only
to be my nurse and my servant. If
I fall ill-which heaven forbid!-I
must have q paid attendant from
the hospital; that will be quite good
enough for me. It isn't for such
reason / should wish to make her
mine"
For had come to that. Hewished
to make Milly Lance Lance his wife.
It was love that was SO restless in
his heart, playing rs many pranks
with him as that shrewd and knavish
sprite called "Robin Goodfellow,
among "maidens of the villagery,
housewives and dnight-wanderers At
least, he surmised that love was the
| disturbing cause of his hearts
pulsing. He had had no experience
of the sort of things before; but still
he thought he could hardly be mis-
taken. His disorder must arise from
what people generally call love.
It got to be more than he could
bear at last.
So he plucked up courage, and in
an old-fashioned, formal way, he
spoke to Captain Lance on the sub
ject, and besought permission to ad-
dress himself to Miss Lance. And
he named very handsome sum
which he proposed to settle on his
future wife-if he might regard Miss
Lance in that light.
cit shall make no difference to you,
Captain" he said, in conclusion,
with an adroit consideration for his
patients sel6shness. "There's plenty
of room "a my house. You must
pitch your tent there. You shan't be
deprived of your nurse. And your
medical attendant will be on the spot
always. Well soon make you your
old self again."
81 congratulate you, Milly," Cap
tain Lance said presently to his
daughter, the doctor having taken
his departure. you'll accept him,
of course. He's ill-looking enough,
but he can't help that, and one gets
accustomed to ill-looks. Idon't think
him nearly Us plain as I first thought
him. And he's old; he can't help
that either, and he'll sooner make
make you his widow; and he's rich,
Milly-very rich Thank goodness,
| we shall have done with this Internal