The White Rose of MemphisFalkner, William C. (Clark)
General
The White Rose of Memphis
Falkner, William C. (Clark)
Memphis (Tenn.) -- Fiction
other man.’ ‘No matter if it does--why should she care? the world will
never feel the loss--the sun will shine as bright, the flowers grow as
sweet, and the seasons will come and go after you are dead just as they
did when you were alive.’ With such unpleasant reflections as these I
had managed to work my mind up to an unusual degree of excitement. I
became gloomy and unhappy to such an extent as to attract the attention
of my good mother (as I called Mrs. Dodson), and she begged me to tell
her the cause of my misery. I evaded her questions, and sought solitude,
where I could give vent to my sorrow unmolested. She cast many an
imploring look at me when I would leave my food untasted. My cheeks grew
pale and my appetite failed, and I hugged my misery to my breast, and
told my secret to none. I was proud, and felt offended, but had no
reasons to give for it. No one had been unkind to, or in any manner
maltreated me, yet I was querulous, melancholy and despairing.
“‘Ah, ha! here we come, my boy,’ said Doctor Dodson one morning as he
came into the store. ‘What’s the matter, what’s the matter, Ed, my boy?
speak it out, speak it out, let it come; what makes you look like a
ghost, my boy? Pshaw! don’t tell me such a tale as that, my boy, ah, ha!
don’t you do it, I say; indigestion! did you ever know a Russian bear to
have bad digestion? No, no, Ed, my boy, you needn’t try to fool me--you
can’t do it. The disease is in your mind, ah, ha! don’t you see? Yes,
yes, that’s what’s the matter. Something has gone wrong. I’d say it was
a love scrape, if it was any other boy; but my old booby has too much
sense for anything of that sort; ah, ha! don’t you see how it is, my
boy?’
“I soon became convinced that the good old doctor would pry the secret
out of me unless I resorted to falsehood, which I resolved not to do;
therefore I begged him to let me alone, promising to tell him everything
at the end of ten days.
“‘Ah, ha! very good, my boy; I won’t press you further just now, but I
mean to hold you down to your promise, don’t you see? I won’t let you go
to Philadelphia while you are looking like a defunct specimen of
humanity, ah, ha! don’t you see? You look more like a fit subject for a
grave-yard than a medical school, ah, ha! yes, that you do, my boy.
There now, go to work, and quit this moping about as if you wanted to
sneak into a tomb.’
“I was glad when the doctor was called to see one of his patients.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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