American fiction -- 19th century; Dime novels; Popular literature
“You say she is pious, or pretends to be, and if she does it is genuine;
there is no deceit in that face. I’d trust it with my soul, if
necessary. I tell you I like the girl. She is just the one to keep men
from losing faith in everything good. I’ll wager now that Forrest is in
love with her, and that’s one reason he does not take any more stock in
you. Is he?” and the doctor looked steadily at Josephine, who turned
very pale as he thus probed her so closely.
So far as affection was concerned she had none for her husband, but it
hurt her pride cruelly to know that with all her beauty and grace she
could not influence him one whit, or turn him from the girl she was sure
he loved as he had never loved her. She generally told the truth to Dr.
Matthewson, who had some subtle power to find it out if she did not, and
now, though sorely against her will, she answered:
“Yes, he worships the ground she treads upon.”
“Then, why in thunder doesn’t he get a divorce from you and marry her?
That surely would be an easy thing to do under the circumstances,” was
the doctor’s next remark.
“That is more than I can guess, unless he is too proud to endure the
notoriety of such a procedure. Certainly it is no consideration for me
which deters him,” Josephine said; adding suddenly, as she glanced up
the street: “There she comes now. You’d better declare yourself at
once.”
But the doctor knew his own plans best with regard to Rosamond, who was
coming toward the croquet-ground with two of her pupils, Clara and Eva
Andrews. She did not see the doctor and Josephine until she was close
upon them, and then simply bowing to them, she passed on and was soon
out of sight.
That night, as she was about preparing for bed, a thick heavy envelope
was brought to her room, directed in a hand she did not recognize.
Breaking the seal and glancing at the signature, she read with a thrill
of wonder and perplexity the name, “John Matthewson, _ne_ Hastings,”
while just above it were the words, “Your affectionate brother.”
“My brother,” she repeated. “What does it mean?” and for a moment she
felt as if she were going to faint with the rush of emotions which swept
suddenly over her.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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