Democratic Sentinel, Volume 14, Number 47, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 December 1890 — Dr. Elfenstein's Mission [ARTICLE]

Dr. Elfenstein's Mission

ft Remarkable Romance.

BY EMILY THORNTON.

CHAPTER V—Continued. Turning at last in their walk, she said: “I think I must leave you now, Dr. Elfenstein, and again look after the interests of my poor aunt. In doing so, allow me to thank you for a pleasant hour. ” “Not at all; it is I who have been under obligations for your delightful companionship. Whenever you feel timid outside, I would be pleased to attend you. ” “Thank you, I presume I shall be glad often to avail myself of your kind offer.” With a bright parting smile she then passed from his sight. A few daps after the promenade on deck, Dr. Elfenstein was again summoned by Miss Nevergail to attend her aunt, who was very ill, owing to the violence of a storm. Portioning out a sedative, the young physician turned to give it to his companion, and in handing it their fingers met, and at the touch his heart leaped so forcibly into a delightful thrill that it caused an instant feeling of questioning as to its cause. “Why,” he asked himself, “should this state of things exist?” Why was he not able to meet this beautiful girl calmly, as he had heretofore met other beautiful women? Then he resolved to beware of this folly that was gaining such an influence over him, and to remember the solemn work he had to do, the course of life he had lain down as his, which, if followed, would debar him of all fqmale society, except in a professional way, and then once more he determined, if he could not control his feelings, to avoid her presence and by so doing return to duty and' the fulfillment of his vow. Their passage across the Atlantic was an unusually propitious one. It was with relief to both the physician and anxious niece that they saw the termination of the voyage, for, in spite of their united efforts, Mrs. Nevergail’s strength was rapidly departing. Dr. Elfenstein had an unusually tender and sympathizing heart. He could not see so young a girl in such trouble and not, in everything possible, lend a helping hand. Forgetting resolutions almost as soon as formed, he cared for her as a brother, and the eloquent look of gratitude that flashed upon him as, after seeing them both safely in the Liverpool home of their cousin, Mr. Rogers, Ethel placed her hand in his, at parting, and faltered out her thanks, as he bade her farewell, never expecting to see her more, was a reward not soon to be forgotten. After leaving his fellow voyagers, our hero lost no time in pursuing his own journey. Before a week had rolled by his way was made perfectly plain, and a pleasant home was provided. He found by inquiring of Levi Perkins, the landlord of the hotel where he stopped, that the place had just been excited, and almost stunned, by the sudden illness of Dr. Jennings, the only physi- ' cian for miles around. He had been rendered helpless three days before by a paralytic stroke, and, as all feared, would never again be able to attend to his professional duties. Instantly, on hearing this news, the young man had visited the house of the old gentleman, and showing his letters of recommendation, and his written credentials, he had offered to attend to the sick in his place, which offer was accepted, and in a few days the stranger had all the calls for medical advice that he could attend, and the result was that he bought the practice of the old and wornout man, and became his accepted successor. Dr. Jennings lived only two days after

Elfcnstein’s arrival, for a third severe shock laid him at rest from his earthly labors forever. He died lamented by all, having, in truth, been to the inhabitants of the place for years and years a “beloved physician. ” The funeral was a large one, and after the day, with its many excitements, had passed, Dr. Elfenstein again visited the house where the dead had so recently lain, and asking to see the daughter, Mrs. Stewart, he offered to rent the cottage, furnished for a year, provided Mrs. Clum would remain in it, as formerly, in the capacity of housekeeper. This offer relieved Mrs. Stewart of what had been an anxiety, and as Mrs. Clum was delighted to still retain her home, all due arrangements were immediately made, papers drawn up and signed, and one week from the day of his arrival we find “Earle Elfenstein, M. D.,” upon a sign beside the door of the prettiest cottage in the place, and that young disciple of Galen busy night and day attending to the large practice so suddenly thrown upon his hands. CHAPTER VI. SIR REGINALD GLENDENNING. Sir Reginald Glendenning was out of humor one sunny morning in May. The daily mail had been handed him, as usual, just as he had commenced his breakfast, and one letter that he had then received had discomposed and made him surly and cross, which a fearful oath made evident to all. “Jimmy, you young rascal, don’t stand gazing there, but attend to your duties. Lady Constance, just stop gazing in that reproachful way at me, and eat your breakfast! I know what I am saying, though your looks seem to doubt it.” This was by no means an unusual mood for her husband to be in, and Lady Constance Glendenning, whenever she saw the peculiar expression float over his face that it now wore (for it was an ugly look that for years she had been accustomed to meet), knew well that it was best to make no remark, but quietly leave him to himself by vacating the room as quickly as possible, Therefore she, as well as her only brother’s orphan son and daughter, who had been left in their charge, finished their breakfast in silence, and, with as much dispatch as decency would permit, then strolled to their own amusements, leaving the lord and master of the establishment to glower at the unwelcome sheet he still held in his hand, undisturbed by their presence. “Perdition!” he muttered. “What deuced luck is this? After my not going to the funeral of my sister and thus, by my absence, showing that I had not overlooked her plebeian marriage, to think that these people have forwarded such a letter as this to me is absurd! I do not care if it was written by her before her death. They might have known I did not wish it. Take charge of her husband’s niece, forsooth! The girl be hanged! She may go to the alms house for al] me! 1 will not have a thing to do with her. “Suppose my brother-in-law did die, and his wife also, and suppose the girl is left alone, that is no sign that I should be trammeled with her presence and guardianship. No! I will never notice the stuff written there by word or deed!” So saying, Sir Reginald turned to his library, tossed the offensive letter into a drawer of his bookcase, locked it, and, putting the key in his pocket, rang the bell furiously for a waiter, ordering him to have the groom bring to the door a young horse named Tempest at once, as he intended to ride. The baronet stalked to the piazza, where he stood impatiently slashing a lovely trained clematis with his whip, until Michael appeared, leading a fiery young horse by the bridle. . “’Adn’t your lordship better take Jerry this morning? This beast is very wild and skittish like, and I fear ye may ’ave trouble to ’old ’im.” “Bring him hither. If he feels wild so do I. and our moods will suit,” was the sullen reply. Springing upon the back of the handsome creature, Sir Reginald Glendenning dashed away, just as his nephew, Robert, a young man about twenty years of age, appeared upon the deserted piazza. He was in personal appearance very tall, with a magnificent figure, dark complexion, handsome features, and large, speaking black eyes, while his whole air portrayed the pride that he had so richly inherited from his own immediate family. “Belle!” he exclaimed, as his <sister, a beautiful brunette, followed him. “See "our worthy relative dashing down the ’ carriage way at that break-neck speed. Zounds! if I were to ride in that savage way, he would rate me soundly for it for the next three days. I wonder what news that letter could have contained to infuriate him as it did. Do you know, he is always terribly provoked when he rides like that. ” “I do not, neither does Aunt Constance. I should like to read it though, would not you?” “Yes; I wonder where he put it?” “In the drawer of his book-case, where he keeps letters not answered. I wish I could unlock it, but the key has gone down the carriage way in the old gent’s pocket,” replied the unfilial girl. “Well, since you express a wish to see it, perhaps I can aid you. See! this key looks as though it might fit any lock,” returned the young man, readily enough falling into the suggestive mood of his sister. Laughing at the impulsive mood of her brother, the young girl turned quickly with him, and both glided with stealthy steps toward the library and their uncle’s desk. The key fitted; a fact Robert well knew, as it was not the first time it had been tried by the unprincipled nephew, and the following letter, written in a hand evidently feeble from sickness, was eagerly read, then as quickly returned to its hiding place, and the drawer relocked, as they had found it. On the envelope was written, “To be sent to Sir Reginald Glendenning, Bart., after my death. ” Sir Reginald Glendenning: Mr Dear Brother—You will doubtless be surprised to receive this letter from one who has been so many years separated from her family, in consequence of having married, secretly, the man of her choice. Allow me merely to say that when you read this, the sister that you once loved will have passed away, and, therefore, she trusts that all hard feelings that her marriage may have occasioned (a marriage that was a happy one until the bond was severed by the death of the devoted husband) will be burled forever. Brother, I write to you now in order to crave a favor at your hands. My only child died in infancy, and just twenty and a half years ago, I, with the consent of my husband, took charge of a little girl of gentle blood and some pleasant future prospects, and gave her the love of a true mother. On her twenty-first birthday she will be at liberty to open certain documents laid aside for her, and then will come into possession of her own property, for some

little awaits her iwxyority. Until then 1 after asy death, she will be friendless and alone. Now, I ask if you will care for her until that date (October 5) is reached? Can she not in some way be of service to you, and thus compensate for her board and trouble? Do this for me, my dear brother; be kind to and care for my dear Ethel, and my dying gratitude will be yours. Your affectionate sister, Gertrude. “Of all impudent proposals, ihat is the climax!” ejaculated Belle, Indignantly. “Take her into his own family, indeed! I will bet the minx don’t come here, if I can help it She is no earthly relation to him.” “Your opinion will not be asked, sister mine,” returned her companion in evil deeds; “and you must remember that you are supposed to know nothing of the contents of that letter. But do not be alarmed. Our relative looked too much like a thundercloud to be cajoled into receiving her here.” “Yes; that is true, so we need not be anxious," was the girl’s reply, as she hastened from the library. Need we stop now, after relating such a scene, to describe the wholly heartless characters of these relations of Lady Constance Glendenning? Indulged from infancy by their own parents as much as by the Lady Constance, whose whole affections had centered upon them, in consequence of the cold manner of her moody, passionate husband toward herself, it is not to be wondered at that they developed with each year selfish and unamiable disposisitions under her foolishly fond sway, until at last they demanded as a right the indulgence of every whim or caprice, even at the expense of honor or the welfare of those around them. As for Lady Constance, her naturally amiable disposition had grown hardened. Life with her violenGtempered husband had proved anything but pleasant, and as she finally saw his ugly features of character being imitated by these children under her charge, she became morbidly indifferent and cold to such a degree that her nearest relatives could scarcely recognize in the proud Lady Constance Glendenning the once lighthearted and gay young cousin, whose society was so much sought in former years by the three brothers before their father’s death, when life had been so different for each. Ah! little had those brothers dreamed in those gay, glad, youthful days, of the hard and cruel future that lay before two, at least, of their number! This morning Lady Constance felt unusually dispirited. Her apathetic heart had been moved the night before by a singularly vivid dream, in which she had met once more her never forgotten early lover, and the face of Sir Arthur had appeared in that midnight hour with all the realness of life, while she seemed to hear him wail In despair: “Oh, Constance, Constance!” Starting from this dreary sleep, she tossed restlessly until morning, and then, after rising, found that the impression made upon her mind had not in the least vanished. Upon being so roughly addressed at the breakfast hour she had with difficulty restrained her tears, and when once njore alone, in the retirement of her own apartment, she sank upon her knees, and weeping bitterly, moaned: “Oh, Arthur, why was I so unfaithful to thy precious memory? Why did I forget thee so soon, my own, my own? Wretched, guilty woman.that I have been, to wed for a title and inheritance so unfeeling and heartless a man as I, alas! have done! Oh, God! forgive this, my sin, and grant me peace with thyself after my weary life is ended!” Long and bitterly she thus wrestled with her own heart, never stirring from her lowly posture, until she was suddenly aroused by a horrified scream from lips she knew to be Belle’s, while a strange call in tones of anguish for “Aunt Constance” caused her to rise and open the door, where she, too,, was startled to see the whole household assembled in the halls, and then the first knowledge of some awful calamity fell upon her heart. [to be continued. |