“Then you are willing to undertake any remedy which is not at all disagreeable, and which may be used or omitted à discretion—”
“No, no—indeed you mistake me. I only beg that it may not be too unpleasant. I will do just as you say.”
Mrs. Waldorf now had a fine color, and her eyes sparkled as of old. She had every confidence in the skill of Dr. R——, and the effort of recalling and recounting her symptoms had given an impetus to her thoughts and a quicker current to her blood.
The doctor apologized. He had an appointment and his hour had come.
“But before I leave you thus unceremoniously,” he said, “it strikes me that there is a root in my garden which might be of essential service to you, to begin with at least. You know I have a little spot in which I cultivate a few rare botanical specimens. Might I venture to ask you to search for the root I speak of? It is in that little square compartment in the corner, which appears nearly vacant.”
“Oh, certainly—but had I not better call John, as your own man is going away with you?”
“John! Bless my soul, my dear Madam, there is not a John in the world that I would trust in my sanctum! No hand but mine, and that of a gardener whom I employ occasionally under my own direction, ever intrudes among my pets. Let me entreat you, since I have not another moment to spare, to take this little trowel and search with your own hands until you discover an oblong white root like this—” opening a book of botanical plates and exhibiting something that looked very much like a Jerusalem artichoke—“Take that and have it washed and grated into a gill of Port, of which try ten drops in a little water three times a day. I will see you again very soon—but now I must run away—” and Doctor R—— departed, leaving Mrs. Waldorf in a musing mood.
She cast a look at the garden, which lay just beneath the window, full of flowers; then at the trowel—a strange implement in her hand. She thought Doctor R—— very odd, certainly, but she resolved to follow his directions implicitly. She went down stairs and was soon digging very zealously. Her glove was split by the first effort, of course; for a fashionably fitted glove admits not the free exercise of the muscles—but all was of no avail. Every corner of the little square was disturbed, but no talisman appeared. Weary at length of her new employment, Mrs. Waldorf gave up in despair, and sat down in a little arbor which offered its shade invitingly near her. Here she sank into a pleasant reverie, as one can scarcely help doing in a garden full of sweet flowers, and so pleasant was the sense of repose after labor, that she thought not of the lapse of time until she was startled by the voice of Doctor R——, returned from his visit and exceedingly surprised to find her still trowel in hand.
“Why, my dear Madam,” he exclaimed, “you are forgetting your wish that Mr. Waldorf should not discover your visit to me! If he walks much in town he has had ample opportunity to observe his carriage at my door these two hours. You must learn to carry on clandestine affairs better than this! Have you the medicine?”
Mrs. Waldorf laughed and related her ill success, which the doctor very much regretted, although he did not offer to assist in the search.