Only an Irish Boy; Or, Andy Burke's Fortunes by Jr. Horatio Alger (ebook pdf reader for pc .TXT) 📕

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."

"It is far from adequate," said the doctor, disgusted. "Money cannot pay for such service as hers, not to speak of the risk she ran, for cases have been known of persons being twice attacked by the disease."

"You don't think my husband will have a relapse?" asked Mrs. Preston, with fresh alarm.

"Not if he has the same care for a short time longer."

"He shall have it. She must stay. Of course her duties are lighter now, and six dollars a week for the remainder of the time will be enough—don't you think so?"

"No, I don't," said the doctor, bluntly; "and, moreover, I am quite sure your husband will not consent to reducing the wages of one whose faithful care has saved his life."

"Oh, well, you know best," said Mrs. Preston, slowly. "I am quite willing that she should be well paid."

Mrs. Preston went upstairs, and entered her husband's chamber.

"Oh, my dear husband!" she exclaimed, theatrically, hurrying across the room, with affected emotion. "I am so glad to find you so much better!"

"I am glad to see you back, Lucinda," said Colonel Preston; but he spoke coldly, and without the slightest affectation of sentimental joy. "I have passed through a good deal since you left me."

"And so have I!" exclaimed his wife. "Oh, how my heart has been rent with anxiety, as I thought of you lying sick, while duty kept me from your side."

"Is Godfrey well?" asked her husband, taking no notice of her last speech.

"Yes, poor boy! He sends his love, and is so anxious to see you."

"Let him come next Friday afternoon," said the sick man, who doubted this statement, yet wanted to believe it true.

"He shall. I will write to him at once."

So Mrs. Preston resumed her place in the house; but from that time there was a something she could not understand in her husband's manner. He was graver than formerly, and sometimes she saw him watching her intently, and, after a little, turn away, with a sigh.

He had found her out in all her intense selfishness and want of feeling, and he could never again regard her as formerly, even though she tried hard at times, by a show of affection, to cover up her heartless neglect.