Passages from the diary of a late physician / by Samuel Warren, author of 'Ten thousand a-year'.

  • Samuel Warren
Date:
[1890]
Catalogue details

Licence: Public Domain Mark

Credit: Passages from the diary of a late physician / by Samuel Warren, author of 'Ten thousand a-year'. Source: Wellcome Collection.

Provider: This material has been provided by Royal College of Physicians, London. The original may be consulted at Royal College of Physicians, London.

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    not mitigate that father's evil temper, or prevent its iiiauifestatioiis. lie in- sisted ou her spending the greater part of every dayin his presence,nor would he allow her to quit it at the periods when Elliott made his appearance. Tlie first hasty glance that he directed towards her, satisfied him that he had, in hap- py days, been several times in society with her—her partner in the dance. Now he dared not exhibit the slightest indication of recognition; and she, if struck by similar recollection, thought fit to conceal them, and behave as though she tlieu saw and heard of Mr. Elliott for the first time in her life. Every day that she saw him, her wo- man's heart throbbed with pity towards him ; and pity is akin to love. How favourably for him did his demeanour contrast, in her eyes, with that of her father !—And she saw him placed daily in a situation calculated to exliibit his real character—his disposition, whe- ther for good or evil. The fact was, he had become an object of interest— even of love—to her, long before the thought had occurred to him tliat she viewed him with feelings difi'ereut from those with which she would look at the servant that stood at her father's side- board. His mind was occupied by his employer, and bis hundred questions about everything that had or had not hapjjened every day in the City. Thus for three montlis had these unconscious lovers been brought daily into each other's presence. He liad little idea of the pain occasioned Miss Hillary by her fatlier's unfeeling treatment of him, nor of the timid attempts she made, iu his absence, to prevent the recurrence of sucli treatment; and as for Mr. Hil- lary, it never crossed his mind as being pos.sible that two young hearts could by any means, when in ditferent sta- tions of .society, one rich, the other poor, be warmed into a feeling of re- gard, and even love for one another. One afternoon Elliott was obliged to come a second time that day from the City, bearing despatches from Mincing Lane to Mr. Hillary, who was sitting in his chair, flanked on one hand by his daughter, and on the otlier by a table on which stood wine and fruit. Poor Elliott looked exhausted with his long walk through the sunshine. ' Well, sir—what now ? said her fa- ther f>eremptorily, stretching forth his hand to receive a letter which Elliott had pre.iented to him. • Humph I Sit down there, sir, for a feiv minutes !' Elliott olx'yed. Miss Hillary, who had been reading, touched witii Klliott's wearied look, whispered tri her father-' I'a[ia—Mr. Elliott look.s tired ; ujay I oiler him a gla.xs of wine?' , ' Yes, yes,' replied Mr. Hillary ; she poured out a glass of wine ; and as El- liott approaclied to take it from the table, with a bow, his eye encountered hers, which was instantly withdrawn —but not before it had cast a glance upon him, that electrified him ; that fell like a spark of tire amid the com- bustible feelings of a most susceptible but subdued heart. It fixed the fate of their lives. The train so long laid had been unexpectedly ignited, and the clerk returned, or rather staggered to- wards his chair, fancying tliat every- thing in the room was whirling around him. It was well for both that Mr. Hillary was engaged with a letter an- nouncing the arrival of three ships with cargoes of an article of which he had been attempting a monopoly, and in doing so had sunk a large sum of ready money. In vain did the confus- ed girl—confused as Elliott—remove her chair to the window, with her back turned to him, and attempt to proceed with the book she had been reading. Her head seemed in a whirlpool. ' Get me my desk, Mary, immediate- ly,' said her father suddenly. 'No, papa, you didn't,' replied Miss Hillary, as suddenly, for her father's voice had recalled her from a reverie. ' My desk, Mary—d'ye hear ?' repeat- ed her father, in a peremptory manner, conning over the letter which told him that he would return to bed that night four or five thousand pounds poorer than he had risen from it—ignorant that within the last few moments, iu his presence, had happened that which was to put an end for ever to all his vain dreams of a coronet glittering on his daughter's brow! Miss Hillary obeyed her father's se- cond orders, looking in every direction save that in which she would have en- countered Elliott; and whispering a word into her father's ear, quitted the room. Elliott's heart was beating quickly when tlie harsh tones of Mr. Hillary, who had worked himself into a violent humour, fell upon his ear, directing him to return to the City, and say he had no answer to send till the morning, wlien he was to be in at- tendance at an early hour. Scarcely knowing whether he stood on his head or his heels, Elliott with- drew. Borne along on the current of his emotions, he seenied to fly down City Koad ; and when he reached the dingy counting-house where he was to be occu])ied till a late hour of the night, he found himself not in the fittest hu- nicmr for his task. Could ho be mis- taken in interpreting Mi.ss Hillary's look ? Was it not corroborated by her