How Jack had a sharp illness of some weeks’ duration after this long walk; how Dr. Hirsch experimented upon him until routed by Dr. Rivals, who carried the youth to his own house and nursed him again to health, is too long a story. We prefer also to introduce our readers to Jack seated in a comfortable arm-chair, reading at the window of the doctor’s office. It was peaceful about him, a peace that came from the sunny sky, the silent house, and the gentle footfall of Cécile.
He was so happy that he rarely spoke, and contented himself with watching the movements of the dear presence that pervaded the simple home. She sewed and kept her grandfather’s accounts.
“I am sure,” she said, looking up from her book, “that the dear man forgets half his visits. Did you notice what he said yesterday, Jack?”
“Mademoiselle!” he answered, with a start.
He had not heard one word, although he had been watching her with all his eyes. If Cécile said, “My friend,” it seemed to Jack that no other person had ever so called him; and when she said farewell, or good-night, his heart contracted as if he were never to see her again. Her slightest words were full of meaning, and her simple, unaffected ways were a delight to the youth. In his state of convalescence he was more susceptible to these influences than he would ordinarily have been.
O, the delicious days he spent in that blessed home! The office, a large, deserted room, with white curtains at the windows opening on a village street, communicated to him its healthful calm. The room was filled with the odors of plants culled in the splendor of their flowering, and he drank it in with delight.
In the scent of the balsam he heard the rushing of the clear brooks in the forest, and the woods were green and shady, when he caught the odor of the herbs gathered from the foot of the tall oaks.
With returning strength Jack tried to read; he turned over the old volumes, and found those in which he had studied so long before, and which he could now far better comprehend. The doctor was out nearly all day, and the two young people remained alone. This would have horrified many a prudent mother, and, of course, had Madame Rivals been living, it would not have been permitted; but the doctor was a child himself, and then, who knows? he may have had his own plans.
Meanwhile D’Argenton, informed of Jack’s removal to the Rivals, saw fit to take great offence. “It is not at all proper,” wrote Charlotte, “that you should remain there. People will think us unwilling to give you the care you need? You place us in a false position.”
This letter failing to produce any effect, the poet wrote himself:—“I sent Hirsch to cure you, but you preferred a country idiot to the science of our friend! As you call yourself better, I give you now two days to return to Aulnettes. If you are not there at the expiration of that time, I shall consider that you have been guilty of flagrant disobedience, and from that moment all is over between us.”