Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1884-04-22
DOCTOR BALL.
THE Argosy.]

He was very little man, with a cheru-
bic face, and large soul, and nothing at
all awe-inspiring about him. His eyes
shone through his glasses anxiously, as
though in eager search of any good that
might be lying about among his parishon-
ers. He thought no evil of any man, and,
in truth, no man thought evil Of him.
He had been twenty years curate, but
he never sighed for higher wages or be-
trayed a hankering for the flesh pots of
Egypt. Contented he was and happy
among his ungrateful old women and surly
old men. He went to bed at o'clock, or
half-past; he never went into society, indeed
there was hardly any into which to 60 in
the benighted Irish village in which he
lived. He knew as little about the subtle
changes that creep now and again into
fashionable life as the South Sea Islander.
Dulcinea-a charming girl of eighteen,
and a great heiress, his friend and god
child-would often walk down to his cot
tage to see him, out he would seldom go to
her. He would never dine from home,
but sometimes he-would take from Dulci-
meas hand the cup of tea she had ready
for him at all hours of the day knowing it
to be his one carnal delight
His Rector was old and infirm, and for
the little doctor did all the work of Inchi-
nabagga, which was the somewhat outland-
ish name OF his parish.
Dulcinea, with an objectionable play
upon his name, had christened him her
Candy-ball; saying in excuse that she had
right to give him any name she pleased
because he had given her hers-which did
not please her-at the font, many winters
ago now.
Yet, after all don't think my soubri-
quet suits you; candy-balls are such hard
things" she said tenderly, as she walked
with him up and down his garden-path one
morning in mid-winter, hugging his arm
the while. 'I'm sure have nearly smash
ed all my teeth with them over and over
again. But you, with your tender heart,
could never hurt me or any living thing. l
know-and Gerald says it too-that you are
the best and dearest man in the world.''
Having exploded this little shell, she
waited somewhat anxiously for the re-
suit.
'.Now-now-I am afraid you have been
writing to Gerald again." said the Doctor,
stopping in his walk and regarding her
with what he believed to be severity.
"Yes, have" said Miss Vane, prompt
ly. "Isn't it good of me to tell the truth
out quite plainly? I'll tell you something
else, too. If you say even one small scold-
ing word to me, shall run away from
you, and you shan't see me again for
week."
"Dear me, dear me, this is terrible v'
said the Doctor, almost tragically.
Now Miss Dulcinea Vane, besides being
an heiress, was also the Bishops ward.
And the Bishop was sternly desirous of do
ing his duty by her-which meant turning
cold shoulder on all needy young men
who paid their addresses to her. Their
name was Legion, SO the poor Bishop had
Dy no means good time of it.
There had come nothing serious of it
all, however, until about six months ago.
when Gerald Wygram had descended upon
lnchinabagga as if from the clouds. He
said be had come for the fishing, which was
excellent in the neighborhood; but having
seen Miss Vane one day in the curate's
garden, his desire for trout suddenly died
natural death, and his desire for some
thing else grew into mighty longing. He
was tall young man, handsome, and,
worse than all, eloquent. He talked Dull
cinea's heart out of her body before she
woke to the knowledge that she had one
There was absolutely no fault to be found
with him beyond the fact that he was the
fifth son OF by by-no-means wealthy baro-
net. This was sin past forgiveness in
everybody eyes, except Dulcinea's. She
was reasoned with, expostulated with,
threatened. All to no good.
The Bishop in a long letter-exquisitely
written and perfectly worded- finally COM
manded Miss Vane to cease to think again
OF this Gerald Wygram (this clerk in the