Miss Ayr of Virginia, & other stories

by Julia Magruder

Dr. Hubert sat alone in his office opening his mail—a great pile of letters and papers and medical journals, relative chiefly to his practice and the working of his hospital. Many of the people who wrote to the celebrated surgeon from a distance were much surprised, when they came to see him, to find him so young a man. The great success of his surgical practice had brought him almost suddenly into notice and prominence, and now, although he was under forty, he had a well-established and very successful hospital of his own. He was unmarried, despite the fact of such decided personal attractions as made him almost an idol with the ladies; and the current belief was, that he had been “disappointed in love.” Although this fact was generally accepted, no one had ever been able to identify the object of this theory. If the more intimate of his friends and patients ventured to question him on this point, he would laughingly defy them to point out the lady; but, confident as he was of their inability to do this, he acknowledged, to his own heart, at least, that it was literally true that he had been “disappointed in love.” That was exactly it. No loved woman had ever disappointed him, but his feelings came from the fact that love itself had disappointed him; and the little god, though long expected and looked for, had resolutely turned his back and looked the other way. So now, at last, Dr. Hubert had made up his mind to be independent of Cupid; and having spent much of his force in restless watching and wooing of him, he had determined to secure a greater power of concentration in his profession by bidding him farewell. He was essentially a deliberate and methodical man, however; and as it was his habit to study and investigate every theory and practice of medicine and surgery before he either accepted or rejected it, and even to formulate his grounds of action in writing, he had written out his theory of love, and formulated to himself the grounds of his rejection of it. The chief reason for this rejection was the difficulty, if not the impossibility, of realizing his ideal. Dr. Hubert was an intensely energetic man, and the great secret of his success had been in his excellent discrimination between the attainable and unattainable. So in his profession he left the province of abstract and experimental theories to less active men, and only worked along the lines that gave promise of definite results. He was very ambitious in his profession, and he knew that he had so long served it with a divided heart, that he now proposed to do in the matter of love what he had done in all other departments, and give up a search for what plainly appeared to be the unattainable.

Accordingly, it had occurred to him to make the matter more impersonal by writing his thesis on renunciation in the form of a story, and, having written it, to publish it under a nom de guerre, and send it to a journal with a large circulation. He was accustomed to having his papers considered important, and he had never written one that appeared to him more so than this. Moreover, he had an absolute horror of wasted force in any department, and he wanted this paper to be widely read. The message which he delivered in it was a warning to men, and women too, not to spend their best energies in a restless seeking after love, but, rather, after a reasonable amount of time and force had been put into the quest, to make a strong act of renunciation, and to have their faculties unimpeded for whatever work they could find to do.

This was the story which he had sent to Mr. Black’s magazine, and which, with Mr. Black’s usual admirable promptness, had been returned to him, as he supposed. But, lo! upon opening the envelope he had found another manuscript, written in the beautiful handwriting of a refined woman, tied with a bit of blue ribbon, and having a title strongly allied to his own, and a sub-title that was identical.

Of course he read the manuscript. He began it with interest, which increased to eagerness, and ended in avidity. Whoever Ethel Ross might be, she had a soul that answered his; a heart that gave back to his heart, throb for throb. He had dashed off a note to Mr. Black, asking for her address, that he might return the manuscript to its author, and Mr. Black had sent him, by this post, the letter in which he had declined to give the address, and had asked that the manuscript might be returned to him.

This was the letter which Dr. Hubert had singled out of the pile before him, recognizing it by the name of the magazine printed in the corner, and pushing all his other mail aside.

He read the letter twice, with a look of distinct disappointment on his face, but mingled with it there was a look of strong determination. He was in the habit of overcoming difficulties, and he did not purpose to let himself be conquered here. He put Mr. Black’s communication in a drawer, and drew the remainder of his letters toward him.

He read them rapidly through, putting them by to be answered by his stenographer in the evening, until he came to the one at the bottom of the pile. When he saw the address on this letter, he started. All the rest he had read with business-like composure, but now his face actually flushed. The handwriting looked familiar; its character was peculiar, and he had seen it before—he knew where.

He hastily cut it open and turned to the signature. It was “Ethel R. Duncan.” What could it mean? Had she, perchance, read his manuscript, too, and more successful than he, obtained his address and written to him? These questions were soon answered by the reading of the letter.

He found himself addressed simply in his capacity as physician, and the whole tone of the letter was that of a young person speaking to an elder. This grated on him a little, but it was a mere detail, and the main point was, that he found the coveted opportunity, which he had been prepared to do much to win, just within his grasp.

He held the letter in his hand a moment, and then opening a drawer, and taking out the manuscript eagerly, identified the writing. There could not be a shadow of a doubt. This letter proposed to give him immediately the power to make her acquaintance, by coming on to his hospital at once, and bringing her little brother to him for treatment. This was her wish and design, provided the very scanty means which she acknowledged should not be an obstacle. One point that she made, was the necessity for immediate action, as her school was to re-open in three weeks, and she, at least, would have to return.