e one fatal to the invalid. How is he to draw the nice
line of distinction? he must consider the disease, the constitution, the
probable causes of the attack. His reputation is at stake--his
happiness--for many eyes are turned to him, to read an opinion he may not
choose to give in words.
If he would be like the great Healer, he thinks not only of the bodily
sufferings that he is anxious to assuage, but of the immortal soul on the
verge of the great Interview, deciding its eternal destiny. He trembles to
think, should he fail, it may be hurried to its account. If he be a friend,
how do the ties of association add to his burden. Here is one whom he has
loved, whose voice he is accustomed to hear; shall he, through neglect or
mismanagement, make a void in many hearts? Shall he, from want of skill,
bring weeping and desolation to a house where health and joy have been?
Alice was very dear to Dr. Lawton, she was the companion of his daughters;
he had been accustomed to regard her as one of them; he was untiring in his
attendance, but from the first, had feared the result. Mrs. Weston had
concealed nothing from him, she knew that he considered a physician bound
in honour to know the affairs of a family only among themselves--she had no
reserves, thus giving him every assistance in her power, in conducting the
case. She detailed to him, explicitly, all that might have contributed to
produce it.
"You know, my dear madam," the doctor said, "that at this season we have,
even in our healthy country, severe fevers. Alice's is one of the usual
nature; it could have been produced by natural causes. We cannot say, it
may be that the circumstances you have been kind enough to confide to me,
have had a bad effect upon her. The effort to do right, and the fear lest
she should err, may have strained her sensitive mind. She must have felt
much distress in parting with Walter, whom she has always loved as a
brother. You have only done your duty. I should not like to see a daughter
of mine interested in that young man. I fear he inherits his father's
violent passions, yet his early training may bring the promised blessing.
Alice has that sort of mind, that is always influenced by what is passing
at the time; remember what a child she was when Arthur left. There are no
more broken hearts now-a-days--sometimes they bend a little, but they can
be straightened again. If Alice gets well, you need not fear the future;
though you know I disappro
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