Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-03-26
WATERBURY EVENING DEMOCRAT TUESDAY. MARCH 26 1889

pauses Miss Clare looked at me atten- lively and said
 ''It's of no use-you can't succeed; not because you have rot the will. but be- cause your will partaLes of the weakness of your physical nature. Yield. throw aside your pride. and humbly wait till nature recuperates herself" did not answer till reached my own door: then. as rested before entering, l said:
 1t is hardly consisten, for you to ad- l vise like that.
 ] How do you i,nnw: win a surprise that appeared to E;.vc a liJll> ;>,<,rm in it. By your face" said. She looked relieved. and turned to go. | called her back.
 You must be brief" she remon- strated; II don't want to have you faint ing again."
 ''1 only wanted to ask you, in case am unconscious. not to allow Mrs. Jer- dan to have a physician here who is very ignorant. have little faith in country doctors-not much in any. You'll know by his appearance if he's quack. Pre- scribe for me yourself, rather than allow such-to attend me. You promise?" held out my unsteady hand. She took it and said, Il promise" then ran down stairs for Mrs. Jerlan. l stag 1 gered into my room and fell upon the bed. utterly in the grasp of that unseen, strange power of disease. The next month is not blank to me. though but for few blessed memories l should pray that it might be so. There were some moments of calm, moments when opened my weary eyes in realization of everything around me. Twice saw Miss Clare sitting near: she gave me back an answering look of intelligence to that which she saw in my face. did not speak, had not the slightest wish to do so. closed my eyes with feeling of deep and entire relief, for, while realized her presence. I feared no more the incubus of fever. | The days of convalescence at last 'dawned upon me. Sleep, the merciful and all-healing, smiled upon my tired soul. There were days when it seemed to mo that slept nearly all the time slept with 0 sense of quiet bliss that made me wish for nothing beyond the 1 present.
 1 When I fell into the habit of lying 1 peacefully awake for several hours, I noticed that the doctor came every day. | 1 thought him q quiet, reliable man, who appeared to understand his business. I secretly wondered if his was the obscure fate of practicing ill the little village near by. As soon as I had sufficient energy and strength to talk. I asked him where he lived.
 "In M.." mentioning city about thirty miles away.
 Do you come from there every day?'' asked.
 | did not reply, ,,ut inquired eagerly, "Who sent for you?"
 II don't know. only know for whom was sent" He smiled tantalizingly and went out.
 had not seen Miss Clare since the fever left me. The next time Mrs. Jer- dan came in asked if Miss Clare would come up a moment. She had gone to walk, Mrs. Jerdan replied; she would give her my message when she returned. I lay dreamily waiting for her coming, my wasted fingers aimlessly playing with the counterpane, folding and unfolding, 1 doubling and undoubling, with the rest ! less wandering of a sick person. ; At last-my heart beat heavier as 1 i heard it--a faint rustic of garments in ! tho passage. and Miss Clare opened the door, She advanced with quiet tread | to my side, and took hand of mine in ; hers. My weakened frame felt the re vivifying effect of the vital life and cleo tricity in her, as my hand closed round her fingers. I had not sufficient control over myself to prevent my eyes from eagerly devouring her face. Her eyelids dropped beneath my gaze. She smiled and spoke:
 'So, Mir. Perrom, you think yourself
 "I think myself we'll enough to receive you," said, feebly detaining the hand she attempted to withdraw.
 "As get better, 1 grow curious" continued, relinquishing with smoth cred sigh the fingers that lay passively ir mine.
 ''Yes, think your nature is essen tially inquisitive," she said sitting down in low chair near me. Do you de sire any information that can give you?
 "How came you to know of this phy. sician from M.?" l asked, half fearing that it might have been Mrs. Jerdan who had procured him. She replied directly
 "A friend of mine in Boston has great faith in him; so, after one interview with the doctor over there in the village, sent to M.; hope you arc favorably i'm pressed by him. for think he has done very we'll by you"
 "And you didn't like the village doc tor?"
 "Like him!' with slight laugh, "he would have bled and blistered you te death; and, as you placed your life il my hands, felt some computations Though not SO tender hearted as should be, 1 would be willing to leave only my enemy in the hands of an ignoran, quack."
 Her voice sounded SO refreshing, se musical, after my long banishment. tha' would willingly have had her tall hours, even had she spoken nothing but the veriest insipidities. She sat by 6 small light stand, on which stood a few vials and glass; she rested one arm or I T