Only an Irish Boy; Or, Andy Burke's FortunesAlger, Horatio, Jr.
General
Only an Irish Boy; Or, Andy Burke's Fortunes
Alger, Horatio, Jr.
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Juvenile fiction; Irish Americans -- Juvenile fiction
"MY DEAR DOCTOR TOWNLEY: You cannot think how rejoiced I am
to receive the tidings of my husband's convalescence. I have
been so tortured with anxiety during the last four weeks! You
cannot think how wretchedly anxious I have been. I could not
have endured to stay away from his bedside but that my duty
imperatively required it. I have lost flesh, and my anxiety
has worn upon me. Now, how gladly will I resume my place at
the bedside of my husband, restored by your skill. I am glad
the nurse has proved faithful. It was a good chance for her,
for she shall be liberally paid, and no doubt the money will
be welcome. But don't you think it might be more prudent for
me to defer my return until next week? It will be safer, I
think, and I owe it to my boy to be very careful. You know,
the contagion may still exist. It is hard for me to remain
longer away, when I would fain fly to the bedside of Mr.
Preston, but I feel that it is best. Say to him, with my
love, that he may expect me next week. Accept my thanks for
your attention to him. I shall never forget it; and believe
me to be, my dear doctor, your obliged
"Lucinda Preston."
Dr. Townley threw down this letter with deep disgust.
"Was ever any woman more disgustingly selfish?" he exclaimed. "Her
husband might have died, so far as she was concerned."
Of course, he had to show this letter to Colonel Preston.
The latter read it, with grave face, and the doctor thought he heard a
sigh.
"My wife is very prudent," he said, with a touch of bitterness in his
voice.
"She will be here next week," said the doctor, having nothing else to
answer.
"I think she will run no risk then," said the sick man, cynically.
But Mrs. Preston did not return in a week. It was a full week and a
half before she arrived at her own house.
The doctor was just coming out of the front door.
"How is my husband?" she asked.
"Not far from well. He is still weak, of course."
"And are you sure," she said, anxiously, "that there is no danger of
infection?"
"Not the slightest, madam," said Dr. Townley, coldly.
"I am so glad I can see him once more. You cannot imagine," she
exclaimed, clasping her hands, "how much I have suffered in my
suspense!"
The doctor remained cool and unmoved. He didn't feel that he could
respond fittingly, being absolutely incredulous.
Mrs. Preston saw it, and was nettled. She knew that she was a
hypocrite, but did not like to have the doctor, by his silence, imply
his own conviction of it.
"Mine has been a hard position," she continued.
"Your husband has not had an easy time," said the doctor,
significantly.
"But he has had good care--Mrs. Burke was a good nurse?"
"Admirable."
"She must be paid well."
"I offered her ten dollars a week."
"Humph!" said Mrs. Preston, doubtfully, in whose eyes five dollars
would have been liberal compensation. "It has been a good chance for
her."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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