Christian fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
"I think I understand you," said Bergan, after a pause, during which he
had been trying to reconcile these curious and half conflicting
statements with some underlying principles, and finding it, at last, in
his own heart, rather than in the doctor's words;--"a physician's
professional and abstract duty are never at variance, while a lawyer
must often be puzzled to decide if he is justified in using his legal
skill to save a criminal from merited punishment."
"It is a question that puzzles few of them," remarked the doctor,
dryly. "But in regard to this office, _in posse_, of yours;--I rent my
own from a very respectable widow lady, whose house is much too large
for the narrow income to which she found herself restricted, at her
husband's death. I think she has another room, that she would be glad
to let to an eligible tenant. Shall we go and see? It is quite in my
way; I must visit my office before I set out on my rounds."
The house won Bergan's liking, at a glance. It stood on a corner; it
was large and airy; double piazzas surrounded it on three sides; over
it a hale old live-oak and half-a-dozen gray, decrepit china-trees
flung their pleasant shade. In the rear, was a tempting thicket of a
garden, which Art had first planted, and then handed over to Nature, to
be taken care of at her leisure,--the result being an altogether
admirable and Eden-like wilderness of boughs and vines, and, in their
season, flowers and fruits, such as can be seen nowhere but at the
South. The interior of the dwelling wore a most attractive look of
neatness, comfort, and refinement, notwithstanding its extreme
plainness of finish and furniture. Crossing its threshold, he felt
that a true _home_ had received him into its beneficent shadow.
Nothing could be better for him, he thought, than to find an abiding
place therein.
Nor was there any difficulty in the way. The doctor's magical touch
arranged the preliminaries. Then, Mrs. Lyte,--a pale, sweet,
fragile-looking woman, with the gentle gravity of manner that comes of
sorrow at once incurable and resigned--yielded at once to the magnetism
of Bergan's address,--the involuntary softening of tone wherewith he
recognized the claim of her black garments upon his sympathies, the
manifest deference which he paid to her loneliness, her bereavement,
her sorrow. Since it was needful to sacrifice something of the home
seclusion and sacredness to the necessity of daily bread, she could not
hope for a more desirable tenant. The negotiations were quickly
concluded. Not only was an office secured, but a lodging-room in its
rear was also placed at his disposal; and he was to take his meals at
the hotel.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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