Christian fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
"All my life long, Astra," said he, in a deep, moved tone--(it is often
easier to put a desired note into the voice, than a corresponding
expression into the face)--"all my life long, I have had a strange
desire to be trusted,--trusted implicitly. Faith without sight--blind,
unquestioning faith--is to me one of the most beautiful as well as
desirable things on earth; all the more so, perhaps, that it is not
given to me to feel it. But it has always been my dream, my hope, to
inspire it. In my ideal picture of the woman whom I should love, it
was always her consummate, irresistible charm. Must I now make up my
mind to do without it?"
Astra was touched. "If it did not seem to be wrong!" she exclaimed.
The doctor shook his head. "_That_ is not trust," said he, "at least,
not the trust that I mean. Who can so order circumstances that they
shall never seem to condemn him? But the faith of which I speak,
having once assured itself of the integrity of its beloved, never again
admits it to be an open question."
Astra was silent. The doctor heaved a heavy sigh. "I see that I am
not to realize my ideal," said he. "Well, it cannot be helped. I will
give you the explanation that you need. Perhaps, being satisfied, in
this instance, that I have a good reason for what I do, you will be
able to trust me hereafter."
"I will, indeed I will!" exclaimed Astra, eagerly.
"The worst of it is," pursued the doctor, "that you compel me to betray
a trust--your mother's trust."
Astra's cheek flushed. She had been miserable at the idea of keeping
anything from her mother; was she, then, the one really excluded from
confidence?
"Stay," said she, proudly, "I do not wish to hear anything that my
mother desires to conceal from me."
"Then," replied the doctor, "it is impossible for me to explain why our
engagement must not be made known, at present, to your mother."
Astra looked bewildered, as well she might, at this apparently
inscrutable complication.
Doctor Remy seemed to take pity on her perplexity. "Listen, dear,"
said he, "and you will soon understand. Your mother consulted me
professionally, a fortnight since."
Astra's cheek grew white with sudden fear. "What is it?" she gasped.
"There is no immediate danger," said the doctor, "and may not be, for
years, with due precautions. But there is a tendency to heart disease;
and it is imperative, just now, that she should not be agitated. And
this, Astra, is the reason why she must not hear of our engagement, for
some time to come."
Astra looked down thoughtfully. "I think you are mistaken," said she.
"I believe it would be a relief to her to know that my future is in
such good hands."
"Doubtless, that would be the ultimate effect," replied Doctor Remy;
"but there would be emotional excitement, at first, more than is good
for her;--so much that I, as a physician, am bound to forbid it."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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