Guy could not resist that touching appeal, "to pray for his little
Lucy," and though his lips were all unused to prayer, bowing his head
upon his hands he did ask that she might live, beseeching the Father
to send upon him any calamity save this one--Lucy must be spared. Guy
felt better for having prayed, it was something to tell Lucy,
something that would please her well, and though his heart yet was
very sad, a part of the load was lifted, and he could think of Lucy
now without the bitter pain her letter first had cost him. Was there
nothing that would save her, nobody who could cure her? Her disease
was not hereditary; surely it might be made to yield; had English
physicians no skill, would not an American do better? It was possible,
and if that mother of Lucy's would let her come where doctors knew
something, she might get well; but she wouldn't; she was determined
that no husband should be burdened with an ailing wife, and so if the
mountain would not come to Mahomet, why, Mahomet must go to the
mountain, and Guy fairly leaped from his chair as he exclaimed: "I
have it--Doc!--he's the most skillful man I ever knew; I'll send him
to England; send him to the Atherstones; he shall go to Naples with
them as their family physician; he can cure Lucy; I'll speak to him
the very next time he comes here;" and with another burden lifted from
his mind, Guy began to wonder where Maddy was, and why that day had
been so long.
He knew she had returned, for Flora had said she brought the letter,
and he was about going out, in hopes of finding her and Jessie, when
he heard her in the hall, as she answered some question of Mrs.
Noah's; stepping to the door, he asked her to come in, saying he
would, if she chose, appoint the lessons talked about so long.
Ordinarily, Maddy's eyes would have flashed with delight, for she had
anticipated so much from these lessons; now, however, there was a sad
look upon her face and she could scarcely keep from crying as she came
at Guy's bidding, and sat upon the sofa, near to his armchair. Somehow
it rested Guy to look at Maddy Clyde, who, having recovered from her
illness, seemed the very embodiment of perfect health, a health which
glowed and sparkled all over her bright face; showing itself as well
in the luxuriance of her glossy hair as in the brilliancy of her
complexion, and the flash of her lustrous eyes. How Guy wished that
Lucy could share in what seemed almost superfluity of health; and why
shouldn't she? Dr. Holbrook had cured Maddy; Dr. Holbrook could cure
Lucy; and so for the present dismissing that from his mind, he turned
to Maddy, and said the time had come when he could give those promised
lessons, asking if she would commence to-morrow, after she was through
with Jessie, and what she would prefer to take up first?