Rutledge

by Miriam Coles Harris

It was all right, or nearly so. I had found, after the first awkwardness, that it was very easy to tell Mr. Shenstone things that I had never supposed I could tell to any one; there was something in his manner that divested one of all fear and shyness, and suggested only the interest and earnestness of one whose highest desire it was, to set forward in the right way, all who were faltering and uncertain. He made my duty very clear, and gave me many simple suggestions that I wondered I had never thought of before. He then told me what it seemed to him I ought to do, in the matter of remedying the mischief I had caused. Acknowledging my fault to Mrs. Roberts in person, was a very humiliating, but a very wholesome mortification, and one which he unhesitatingly recommended. And the restoration to her of a dress equally as valuable as the one she had lost, was also his advice, and, if it shortened uncomfortably my already rather scanty supply of pocket-money, so much the better lesson it would be. He would himself undertake acquainting Mr. Rutledge with the circumstances, and representing them in the most favorable light. About the miniature I had just begun to tell him, intending to say as much as I could without implicating Kitty, when a knock at the door interrupted us, and "the doctor" was announced. His visit was not quite as trying as it had been in the morning, owing to the increased stock of patience and good resolutions I had been laying in since then; and indeed, they continued to influence my endurance of him during the daily visits that he inflicted on me while I remained at the Parsonage. I had had so much of the effects of willfulness, that I determined never to be self-willed again, and not so much as to ask him when I might go back to Rutledge; and he, for his part, seemed determined not to volunteer the permission till I should ask for it.

But the matter at last was settled by Mr. Shenstone, who came up one morning while the doctor was with me, and said he had just received a note from Mr. Rutledge, saying that from the account the doctor had given him of me, he should fancy I was well enough to come back, and if the doctor's permission could be obtained, he would send the carriage for me that afternoon at four o'clock. I looked at the doctor with breathless interest; the doctor looked at me with searching curiosity, while he said, as slowly as the occasion permitted, and with as long a preface, and as protracted an utterance as he could command:

"I should be most unwilling to be the cause of disappointing Mr. Rutledge, or of occasioning any vexation to the young lady, by denying the permission that Mr. Rutledge seems to expect and desire; though I am certain, he has no intention of influencing my decision against my better judgment, or of inducing me to say anything, that in my capacity of medical adviser, would involve any departure from strict veracity and prudence. I am aware that it is often difficult for a disinterested party to resist the reasonable and natural desires of those whose judgments are warped by their wishes, and that the only reward the conscientious physician gets, in such cases, is the aversion and coldness of those whose good he is most interested in. In this case, however, I am certain, that from the well-known good sense and sagacity of Mr. Rutledge, and the unquestioned amiability of the young lady, I should have nothing to fear."

"Then," said Mr. Shenstone, kindly, evidently seeing my anxiety, and wishing to put an end to it, "then you do not consider it desirable to allow the change?"

"I am not prepared to say so, entirely," he answered; "I was going on to remark, that I should not have allowed any of the considerations I mentioned to influence me, had I really deemed it imprudent for the young lady to leave her present residence. But, considering her rapid convalescence, and the mildness of the day, and the care I am certain will be taken to make the drive an easy one, and the harm which a disappointment might occasion her, I think I am justified in according my consent to Mr. Rutledge's arrangement."

I don't think I could have endured a minute more of this kind of suspense, and probably the doctor knew this, and so brought his discourse to a termination, after having tried my nerves as long, and given me as many cuts, as he considered me capable of enduring. I began to suspect, indeed, that he had perceived my aversion to him, and that in a quiet and unostentatious manner, he returned the sentiment, and would lose no occasion of letting me benefit by it. This was mere conjecture, however, for the doctor's manner was as assiduously polite, as blandly gallant as ever. And indeed, his anxious interest would not suffer him to allow me to go unattended to Rutledge; but at four o'clock, when I was bidding adieu to Mr. Shenstone, and being seated comfortably in the carriage by Mrs. Arnold and Kitty, the sorrel horse and shiny gig drew up beside us, and in an empressé manner, the doctor sprang out, and in his own person superintended the arrangements for my comfort, and declared that he should not feel quite easy till he had seen me safe at Rutledge; and for that purpose, as well as that of paying a professional visit to the master of it, he should drive on, and be there to receive us. An unconscious tinge of hauteur was all, in my manner, that escaped of the vexation I felt at the announcement.

His presence altered very much my conduct at leaving the Parsonage. If he had not been there, I am sure I should have managed to tell Mr. Shenstone something of the gratitude I felt for the unmerited interest in, and kindness toward me, that he had shown; as it was, I could only look down, and appear unspeakably awkward, at his kind expressions of affection and regret, as he said good bye. And, instead of throwing my arms around Mrs. Arnold's neck, as I wanted to do, and telling her I was fonder of her than of almost anybody else in the world, and that I should never forget her care and goodness, I could only, with that man looking on, give her my hand, and say something unintelligibly about coming to see her again before I went away. The carriage started, and the gig first followed, then passed it, and by the time we reached the gate, the sorrel horse was standing before the door, and the sorrel driver thereof waiting for us, in company with Mr. Rutledge on the steps.

"Now Kitty," I said, as we drove into the park, "now Kitty, keep your courage up. Mr. Shenstone says he has seen Mr. Rutledge, and he has promised to excuse you; all you have got to do is to make an apology to Mrs. Roberts, and that's nothing! Why, I've got to do the same thing, and you'll see how brave I'll be about it."

Kitty shook her head dejectedly. "I never hated to do anything more."

And here the carriage stopped, and Mr. Rutledge and the doctor came down to it. "Ah," said the former, kindly, "you have come back at last. I did not know whether the doctor and Mrs. Arnold ever meant to let you return to Rutledge."