Chapter 17

SHADOW AND SUNSHINE.

What was Adele doing? She was not engaged. It was one of Jacques' inventions, or rather deductions, from what he saw.

She was being gradually drawn towards the abyss, where her soul would lose all that it possessed that was divine, and into which, to all appearances, she was finally to plunge, pushed by an unseen hand, drawn thither by a magic power.

She shuddered. After all her dreams of happiness, Fate had condemned her to this. How often had she pictured herself, the possessor of true love, streams of happiness flowing into her heart. She had formed a high ideal of life; the present did not satisfy her. Hope had sustained her, and that hope, that idea of a pure, refined, elevated and noble life, chastened by love, was now dwindling away and she seemed destined to join the great multitude of ordinary beings.

Still, she hesitated. She dared not trust her future happiness to a man for whom she barely felt friendship.

One day, her father, being in a better mood than was his wont, told her that she ought to make up her mind about whom she wanted to marry.

"It is not my intention to marry young," she said; "I want you to leave me quiet for a whole year."

"Nonsense;" replied her father, "but if you promise me that in a year you will be Tom Soher's betrothed, I shall be satisfied."

"I cannot promise you that," she replied; "but I shall tell you what I intend to do; perhaps I shall never marry."

"Tom Soher is a sensible man," said her father, satisfying himself with her answer. "When he was younger, he did drink a little too much perhaps, but he is altogether reformed now. We must not blame people who try to lead a new life. I know he can still drink a few glasses of cider, but what do you want? Was not cider made to be drunk? For my part, I prefer a man like him to half-a-dozen of those white-faced teetotalers. They look as if they had just been dug up--like a fresh parsnip."

"I think Tom Soher would do much better to abstain from alcohol altogether, especially as he has been one of its slaves," remarked Adele.

Pretending not to hear her, or thinking this remark unworthy of notice, the farmer went on with unusual fervour: "Marry him, Adele; save our family and his from ruin and disgrace, and make your old dad happy. I will teach him to work and to be thrifty; we shall get along splendidly."

There was some more talk, and the father went about his work.

Adele had now a year's liberty before her. She determined to make use of it. Recently, upon reflection, she had begun to entertain doubts as to her suspicions about Frank. "He might have been visiting some dear relative's grave;" she said to herself. She again began to hope, and her spirits rose.

Three months of the year's truce had elapsed; as yet, she had learnt nothing. She looked with terror at the abyss opened before her. She shuddered at the thought that there were only nine months left. How rapidly time seemed to be gliding.

About this time, Frank Mathers began to experience a dull sensation in the region of the heart. He did not attach any importance to it at first, but as time wore on, the fluttering increased. He grew anxious. For about a week, his health remained the same, when one day, after dinner, he was quite alarmed to feel his heart thumping vigorously against his chest. "What is this coming to?" he said to himself.

The heart resumed its normal state. Frank tried to satisfy himself that it was only a partial indisposition. A week passed. The disease had increased rapidly. He was very anxious now. Sometimes, he would stop his work and listen. He felt his heart distinctly beating against the walls of his chest. He placed his hand over the region of the heart. How this organ thumped and heaved. His nervousness was intense. He quickly unbuttoned his garments and looked at his chest. His heart seemed to be trying to burst through its prison walls.

He gazed on it for a time, then buttoned his clothes and walked to and fro trying to pacify the agitated organ. In the midst of his walk, he stopped; mechanically, his hand was placed over his heart, and he listened, anxious, agitated, and holding his breath.

That same evening, when he was falling asleep, he suddenly jumped up in bed. His heart had given a heavy abnormal beat, and was now quietly working, as if ignorant and innocent of everything.

After a while, he fell asleep. Next day, he was worse than ever.

"Am I going to die?" he said to himself. "Life is sweet, it is hard to die so young, when before me lies the future which I would fain penetrate. I should like to accomplish some task before I depart from this world."

Frank! where art thou come to? Didst not thou say, only a few weeks back: "I will smile when the hour of death comes," and now thou art craving for life, and thou art shrinking from death.

Frank Mathers thought that his complaint was _Angina Pectoris_. He consulted a book on Pathology. He learnt that even with this terrible disease a person might, by careful living, attain a certain age.

This did not satisfy him. He consulted a doctor. When he was seated in the medical man's waiting-room, it seemed to him that the doctor was going to pronounce his doom. He fancied he could already hear him: "You may, by taking care of yourself, live another year or two."

The door of the room in which he was, opened. His heart gave a great leap. "I wish you to auscultate me," he said, addressing the doctor who entered the room.

Dr. Buisson looked at him with a scrutinizing glance as he replied: "Very well, sir; step in the next room."

Frank followed the doctor into the room adjoining.

The medical man proceeded to auscultate his patient. After he had completed his examination, Frank looked at him inquiringly. "_Angina Pectoris_?" he questioned anxiously.

"No."

A sigh of relief escaped him.

Quoth Dr. Buisson: "You have already sighed a great deal too much. You have overtaxed your strength. You must not live on passion, but you ought to take life more easily, young man. Rest and cheerfulness, with a few bottles of physic, will put you on your legs again. Stimulants would benefit you."

"I do not wish to drink any alcohol," interrupted Frank.

"Who talks about alcohol? Do without stimulants. You do not need them."

"I thought----" began Frank.

The grave voice of the doctor interrupted him. "Young man, you must be careful about your diet; eat slowly--masticate well. Pass into the dispensing room."

"What an odd man," thought Frank, as he wended towards his home.

He passed the next few weeks resting nearly all the time, taking very little exercise and a great deal of physic. He gradually grew better, his nervousness ceased, his heart resumed its normal condition, it palpitated no more.

He tried to be cheerful, but he still had great faith in pessimism.