The Douglas independent. [volume] (Roseburg, Or.) 187?-1885, 1883-06-02

make safer or more fortunate match so
Alice acted on her mothers advice and
became Mrs. Frasher.
The Doctors heart did not break; il
became very sore, but its owner told
himself that if the union proved happy
one no one would rejoice more than he.
But the time for the Doctor to rejoice
never came. When the couple returned
from their bridal tour Aice's habitual
composure seemed to the Doctor to
have O touch of resignation in it,
and Frasher seemed little more bnrly
than unsuRl. The Doctor heard people
say, as they have of millions of other
young wives, "How marriage does sober
a bright girlP' and he ragged inwardly,
for he was sure that to q nature like
Alice Marvells marriage should have
brought summer. of life instead OF q sug-
gestion of autumn. He observed the
couple whenever he saw them, and be-
came more and more convinced that
Frasher never regarded his wife moro
than property-very valuable, certainly,
and deserving Of as much care as q
promising young colt, a new grapery or
a villa site on favorite street. but still
property. The Doctor was sure, too,
that life with Ralph Frasher was liv-
ing death to Alice MARVEL; that Frasher's
tastes were not to her liking; his friends
like himself entirely of the earth earthly,
and his attempts at affection repulsive.
When thefD saw Frasher driving to
the station with his wife by his side he
could only think OF master and slave;
when he saw Mrs. Frasher driving home
alone her face told him that the absence
OF the master would not release the
slave from bondage.
And yet all unm arried women at Pur-
view envieed Mrs. Frasher, for did not
that lady herself fully admit that her
every wish was gratiied if money would
do it? Did she have as many dresses and
jewels as there were parties at Purview?
Had she not her special ponies and car.
riage to drive? Was not her cabin, on
her husbands yacht, the most exquisite
little boudoir in the world? The Doctor
heard all this and wondered if his moth
ar and sister were the only two true wo-
men alive?
One evening in early winter the Doc
tor was called suddenly by a groom, to
go at once to Ralph Frasher; with the
tact peculiar to his class, the man said
he had been sent first to the elder ply
sicians, but one of them was sick and
the other in attendance on patient
whom he could not leave. Whitmarth
promised to go at once, but declined TO
ride in Frasher's carriage, which the
groom had brought. AS he harnessed
his own pony to his shabby coupe, he
half regretted that he had not made
some excuse. His honor as physician
required that he should answer the call,
but how pitiless was fate that he, of all
men, should be obliged to repair the
chain that retained Alice Marvel in
bondage.
He found Frasher suffering from
severe attack of pneumonia, but old DIR.
MayZe, Mrs. Frasher said, had sent word
that DR.. Whitmarth was quite fortunate
with such cases. The Doctors heart
accused him when he saw Frasher's
strained face and heavy breathing, for,
what could he say against the fellow
except that he had married woman far
above him in all that makes humanity
admirable? He determined that he
would do all in his power to save the
mans life, and he sent at once for slim
ulants and other medicines.
"Is there any hope?" asked Mrs. Fra
sher, after the Doctors messenger had
departed.
The Doctor looked toward the door of
the sick room and answered quite cher
riiy, ''Oh, yes"
The look Mrs. Frasher gave him in
return was not what he expected. he
translated it to mean that hope of her
husbands recovery implied no hope for
her. The lady left the room and the
Doctor paced to and fro in extreme agi-
tation; by the time the messenger re-
turned one quality of DIR. Whitmarth's
nature seemed gone forever. He busted
himself about the sick bed; he nursed
his patient apparently with great care,
but he gave smaller doses of medicine
than any hom@opathist would have
dared to do, and the outward appliances
were powerless for good or harm. Early
in the morning he told servant to call
Mrs. Frasher, and then, although all
night long he had been confessing to
heaven that he was villain, he prayed
that she might not come in time. His
prayer was answered, for as the lady en-
tered the room he said. almost in Whis-
per:
''You are too late, Madam
The widow betrayed no emotion of
any kind. She walked slowly to the bed
side, leaned over the pillow for several
moments, looking into the face of her
dead husband. Several times she seemed
about to kiss the face before her, and
at last her lips touched Ralph Fra
sher's forehead. Then she sank quietly
on her knees by the bedside; when she
arose there were no tears on her cheeks.
but neither was there anything unwo-
manly; DR.. Whitmarth saw only
peaceful, composed expression that had
been q stranger to her face ever since she
had married.
Everybody said it was too bad that
Whitmarth had lost this case, for there
was nothing mean about Frasher, and if
he had recovered the young Doctor
would have gained a great deal of money
and reputation. The older physicians
were generous enough to say that Whit
marth had probably done all they them.
selves could have done; pneumonia
sometimes baffled all medical skill and |
the healthiest men were generally the |
surest to succumb. But DIR. Whitmarth |
never sent in bill for his services: he |
refused resolutely, when asked to render |
one. His conscience tormented him in. |
cessantly until he saw Mrs. Frasher. who |
had returned to her parents home. grad |
ually regain the expression and manner |
that had been hers before her marriage. |
Then, instead OF making love to her. as
her mother rather encouraged him to |
do. he abruptly left the town in fear
that his feelings might prompt him to
take so great reward for what he still |
was sure had been o terrible crime
Greusome Bright. in The Hour.