Love stories; New York (N.Y.) -- History -- 1775-1865 -- Fiction
"Whose interest was it to inquire? No money was left with the injured
man. The sailors who took him to the hospital gave false names, and
address, and he received only such treatment as a pauper patient was
likely to receive. But he made friends, and was supported about the
place. Imagine now what a trial was before madame! It was a difficult
matter to perform the operation, for the patient could not be made to
understand its necessity; and he was very hard to manage. Then picture
to yourselves, the terrible strain of nursing which followed; though
madame says it was soon brightened and lightened by her husband's
recognition of her. After that event all weariness was rest, and
suffering ease; and as soon as he was able to travel both were
determined to return at once to their own home. He is yet however a
sick man, and may never quite recover a slight paralysis of the lower
limbs."
"Does he remember how he was hurt?"
"He declares his men mutinied, because instead of returning to New
York, he had taken on a cargo for the East India Company; and that the
blow was given him either by his first, or second mate. He thinks they
sailed his ship out of the Thames, for her papers were all made out,
and she was ready to drop down the river with the next tide. He vows he
will get well and find his ship and the rascals that stole her; and I
should not wonder if he does. He has will enough for anything. Madame
desires to see you, Cornelia. Can you go there with me in the morning?"
"I shall be glad to go. Madame is like no one else."
"She is not like herself at present. I think you may be a little
disappointed in her. She has but one thought, one care, one end and aim
in life--her husband."
The Doctor had judged correctly. Cornelia was disappointed from the
first moment. She was taken to the dim uncanny drawing-room by Ameer,
and left among its ill-omened gods, and odd treasure-trove for nearly
half an hour before madame came to her. The rudely graven faces, so
marvellously instinct with life, made her miserable; she fancied a
thousand mockeries and scorns in them; and no thought of Hyde, or
Arenta, or of the happy hours spent in that ill-boding room, could
charm away its sinister influence.
When madame at length came to her, she appeared like the very genius of
the place. The experiences of the past year had left traces which no
after experience would be able to obliterate. She looked ten years
older. Her wonderful dark eyes, glowing with a soft tender fire alone
remained untouched by the withering hand of anxious love. They were as
vital as ever they had been, and when Cornelia said so, she answered,
"That is because my soul dwells in them, and my soul is always young. I
have had a year, Cornelia, to crumble the body to dust; but my soul
made light of it for love's sake. Did your father tell you how much
Captain Jacobus had suffered?"
"Yes, madame."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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