'Trust in that veiled hand, which leadsNone by the path that he would go;And always be for change prepared,For the world's law is ebb and flow.'FROM THE ARABIC. The next afternoon Dr. Donaldson came to pay his first visit to Mrs. Hale.
The mystery that Margaret hoped their late habits of intimacy had broken through, was resumed. She was excluded from the room, while Dixon was admitted.
Margaret was not a ready lover, but where she loved she loved passionately, and with no small degree of jealousy. She went into her mother's bed-room, lust behind the drawing-room, and paced it up and down, while awaiting the doctor's coming out. Every now and then she stopped to listen; she fancied she heard a moan. She clenched her hands tight, and held her breath. She was sure she heard a moan. Then all was still for a few minutes more; and then there was the moving of chairs, the raised voices, all the little disturbances of leave-taking. When she heard the door open, she went quickly out of the bed-room. 'My father is from home, Dr. Donaldson; he has to attend a pupil at this hour. May I trouble you to come into his room down stairs?' She saw, and triumphed over all the obstacles which Dixon threw in her way; assuming her rightful position as daughter of the house in something of the spirit of the Elder Brother, which quelled the old servant's officiousness very effectually. Margaret's conscious assumption of this unusual dignity of demeanour towards Dixon, gave her an instant's amusement in the midst of her anxiety. She knew, from the surprised expression on Dixon's face, how ridiculously grand she herself must be looking; and the idea carried her down stairs into the room; it gave her that length of oblivion from the keen sharpness of the recollection of the actual business in hand.
Now, that came back, and seemed to take away her breath. It was a moment or two before she could utter a word. But she spoke with an air of command, as she asked:--' 'What is the matter with mamma? You will oblige me by telling the simple truth.' Then, seeing a slight hesitation on the doctor's part, she added-- 'I am the only child she has--here, I mean. My father is not sufficiently alarmed, I fear; and, therefore, if there is any serious apprehension, it must be broken to him gently. I can do this. I can nurse my mother.
Pray, speak, sir; to see your face, and not be able to read it, gives me a worse dread than I trust any words of yours will justify.' 'My dear young lady, your mother seems to have a most attentive and efficient servant, who is more like her friend--' 'I am her daughter, sir.' 'But when I tell you she expressly desired that you might not be told--' 'I am not good or patient enough to submit to the prohibition. Besides, I am sure you are too wise--too experienced to have promised to keep the secret.' 'Well,' said he, half-smiling, though sadly enough, 'there you are right.
I did not promise. In fact, I fear, the secret will be known soon enough without my revealing it.' He paused. Margaret went very white, and compressed her lips a little more.
Otherwise not a feature moved. With the quick insight into character, without which no medical man can rise to the eminence of Dr. Donaldson, he saw that she would exact the full truth; that she would know if one iota was withheld; and that the withholding would be torture more acute than the knowledge of it. He spoke two short sentences in a low voice, watching her all the time; for the pupils of her eyes dilated into a black horror and the whiteness of her complexion became livid. He ceased speaking. He waited for that look to go off,--for her gasping breath to come. Then she said:-- 'I thank you most truly, sir, for your confidence. That dread has haunted me for many weeks. It is a true, real agony. My poor, poor mother!' her lips began to quiver, and he let her have the relief of tears, sure of her power of self-control to check them. A few tears--those were all she shed, before she recollected the many questions she longed to ask. 'Will there be much suffering?' He shook his head. 'That we cannot tell. It depends on constitution; on a thousand things. But the late discoveries of medical science have given us large power of alleviation.' 'My father!' said Margaret, trembling all over. 'I do not know Mr. Hale. I mean, it is difficult to give advice. But Ishould say, bear on, with the knowledge you have forced me to give you so abruptly, till the fact which I could not with-hold has become in some degree familiar to you, so that you may, without too great an effort, be able to give what comfort you can to your father. Before then,--my visits, which, of course, I shall repeat from time to time, although I fear I can do nothing but alleviate,--a thousand little circumstances will have occurred to awaken his alarm, to deepen it--so that he will be all the better prepared.--Nay, my dear young lady--nay, my dear--I saw Mr. Thornton, and I honour your father for the sacrifice he has made, however mistaken I may believe him to be. --Well, this once, if it will please you, my dear. Only remember, when I come again, I come as a friend. And you must learn to look upon me as such, because seeing each other--getting to know each other at such times as these, is worth years of morning calls.' Margaret could not speak for crying: but she wrung his hand at parting. 'That's what I call a fine girl!' thought Dr. Donaldson, when he was seated in his carriage, and had time to examine his ringed hand, which had slightly suffered from her pressure. 'Who would have thought that little hand could have given such a squeeze? But the bones were well put together, and that gives immense power. What a queen she is! With her head thrown back at first, to force me into speaking the truth; and then bent so eagerly forward to listen. Poor thing! I must see she does not overstrain herself. Though it's astonishing how much those thorough-bred creatures can do and suffer.