The Silver Lining Part 22

"Nonsense;" replied her father, "but if you promise me that in a year you will be Tom Soher's betrothed, I shall be satisfied."

"I cannot promise you that," she replied; "but I shall tell you what I intend to do; perhaps I shall never marry."

"Tom Soher is a sensible man," said her father, satisfying himself with her answer. "When he was younger, he did drink a little too much perhaps, but he is altogether reformed now. We must not blame people who try to lead a new life. I know he can still drink a few gla.s.ses of cider, but what do you want? Was not cider made to be drunk? For my part, I prefer a man like him to half-a-dozen of those white-faced teetotalers. They look as if they had just been dug up--like a fresh parsnip."

"I think Tom Soher would do much better to abstain from alcohol altogether, especially as he has been one of its slaves," remarked Adele.

Pretending not to hear her, or thinking this remark unworthy of notice, the farmer went on with unusual fervour: "Marry him, Adele; save our family and his from ruin and disgrace, and make your old dad happy. I will teach him to work and to be thrifty; we shall get along splendidly."

There was some more talk, and the father went about his work.

Adele had now a year's liberty before her. She determined to make use of it. Recently, upon reflection, she had begun to entertain doubts as to her suspicions about Frank. "He might have been visiting some dear relative's grave;" she said to herself. She again began to hope, and her spirits rose.

Three months of the year's truce had elapsed; as yet, she had learnt nothing. She looked with terror at the abyss opened before her. She shuddered at the thought that there were only nine months left. How rapidly time seemed to be gliding.

About this time, Frank Mathers began to experience a dull sensation in the region of the heart. He did not attach any importance to it at first, but as time wore on, the fluttering increased. He grew anxious. For about a week, his health remained the same, when one day, after dinner, he was quite alarmed to feel his heart thumping vigorously against his chest. "What is this coming to?" he said to himself.

The heart resumed its normal state. Frank tried to satisfy himself that it was only a partial indisposition. A week pa.s.sed. The disease had increased rapidly. He was very anxious now. Sometimes, he would stop his work and listen. He felt his heart distinctly beating against the walls of his chest. He placed his hand over the region of the heart. How this organ thumped and heaved. His nervousness was intense. He quickly unb.u.t.toned his garments and looked at his chest.

His heart seemed to be trying to burst through its prison walls.

He gazed on it for a time, then b.u.t.toned his clothes and walked to and fro trying to pacify the agitated organ. In the midst of his walk, he stopped; mechanically, his hand was placed over his heart, and he listened, anxious, agitated, and holding his breath.

That same evening, when he was falling asleep, he suddenly jumped up in bed. His heart had given a heavy abnormal beat, and was now quietly working, as if ignorant and innocent of everything.

After a while, he fell asleep. Next day, he was worse than ever.

"Am I going to die?" he said to himself. "Life is sweet, it is hard to die so young, when before me lies the future which I would fain penetrate. I should like to accomplish some task before I depart from this world."

Frank! where art thou come to? Didst not thou say, only a few weeks back: "I will smile when the hour of death comes," and now thou art craving for life, and thou art shrinking from death.

Frank Mathers thought that his complaint was _Angina Pectoris_. He consulted a book on Pathology. He learnt that even with this terrible disease a person might, by careful living, attain a certain age.

This did not satisfy him. He consulted a doctor. When he was seated in the medical man's waiting-room, it seemed to him that the doctor was going to p.r.o.nounce his doom. He fancied he could already hear him: "You may, by taking care of yourself, live another year or two."

The door of the room in which he was, opened. His heart gave a great leap. "I wish you to auscultate me," he said, addressing the doctor who entered the room.

Dr. Buisson looked at him with a scrutinizing glance as he replied: "Very well, sir; step in the next room."

Frank followed the doctor into the room adjoining.

The medical man proceeded to auscultate his patient. After he had completed his examination, Frank looked at him inquiringly. "_Angina Pectoris_?" he questioned anxiously.

"No."

A sigh of relief escaped him.

Quoth Dr. Buisson: "You have already sighed a great deal too much.

You have overtaxed your strength. You must not live on pa.s.sion, but you ought to take life more easily, young man. Rest and cheerfulness, with a few bottles of physic, will put you on your legs again. Stimulants would benefit you."

"I do not wish to drink any alcohol," interrupted Frank.

"Who talks about alcohol? Do without stimulants. You do not need them."

"I thought----" began Frank.

The grave voice of the doctor interrupted him. "Young man, you must be careful about your diet; eat slowly--masticate well. Pa.s.s into the dispensing room."

"What an odd man," thought Frank, as he wended towards his home.

He pa.s.sed the next few weeks resting nearly all the time, taking very little exercise and a great deal of physic. He gradually grew better, his nervousness ceased, his heart resumed its normal condition, it palpitated no more.

He tried to be cheerful, but he still had great faith in pessimism.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE EFFECTS OF A SERMON.

One Sunday, contrary to his habit, Frank betook himself to one of the country churches. He had several reasons for doing so. He wanted to hear a French sermon; he wanted to be quiet, away from the world, etcetera.

As he went on his way, he dropped into a none too pleasant reverie.

"What a queer animal man is," he thought; "what a study. It is true that 'the proper study of mankind is man.'

"But, the more one meditates on humanity, the more one becomes disgusted with its artificialness and bad taste. People flock after trifles, they are devoid of refinement, a conjuror will have an immense number of admirers, a third-rate music-hall will fill, even to suffocation, while the man of genius, unless he be rich, often remains unnoticed. He who produces most exquisite poetry, soaring high above his fellow countrymen, carrying them out of life's dusty ways into a pure atmosphere, dies of starvation in a garret."

He arrived at the church of St. ----. He entered the sanctuary and seated himself in a place from which he would be able to see the minister.

"This is a very comfortable position," he said to himself.

He began to examine the people as they took their seats. Very different from one another were those who entered. The men took their seats with a deal of looking round and lifting of coat-tails.

They finally settled down, drawing a deep breath as they did so, as if the act of sitting was a prodigious effort.

Frank was, with his accustomed curiosity, examining an old woman who trudged in, wrapped up in an enormous shawl, when a lady touched him lightly on the shoulder. He turned round.

"Sir, this is my pew," she said, "you may go in any of those,"

pointing to the left.

"I beg your pardon," said Frank, and he hastily left his seat and went in one of the pews which the lady had pointed out to him. Then he remembered that in his haste, he had forgotten to take his hat with him. He proceeded to fetch it. The lady who was occupying the pew with her husband and daughter handed him his hat, smiling as she did so.

"She might have allowed me to remain where I was," thought the young man. He went on thinking: "Perhaps, they have some superst.i.tion about wors.h.i.+pping in their own pew."

He fancied everyone of the countryfolks was superst.i.tious. He wondered if Adele believed in these things. A sudden pang pa.s.sed through him, as he thought of her. His brow clouded as he recollected Jacques' words: "The young Miss's engaged to a young fellow."

The minister entered the church. No one rose. No formalities of any kind. He took his place quietly. The service began.