This almost killed Maddy; she did not love the doctor, but the
knowledge that he was to marry another added to her misery, while what
he said of her decision was the climax of the whole. Had her sacrifice
been for nothing? Would it have been better if she had not sent Guy
away? It was anguish unspeakable to believe so, and the shadowy woods
never echoed to so bitter a cry of pain as that with which she laid
her head on the ground, and for a brief moment wished that she might
die. God pitied His child then, and for the next half hour she hardly
knew what she suffered.
There was Guy's letter yet to read, and with a listless indifference
she opened it, starting as there dropped into her lap a small _carte
de viste_, a perfect likeness of Guy, who sent it, he said, because
he wished her to have so much of himself. It would make him happier to
know she could sometimes look at him just as he should gaze upon her
dear picture after it was a sin to love the original. And this was all
the direct reference he made to the past except where he spoke of
Lucy, telling how happy she was, and how if anything could reconcile
him to his fate, it was the knowing how pure and good and loving was
the wife he was getting. Then he wrote of the doctor and Margaret,
whom he described as a dashing, brilliant girl, the veriest tease and
madcap in the world, and the exact opposite of Maddy.
"It is strange to me why he chose her after loving you," he wrote;
"but as they seem fond of each other, their chances of happiness are
not inconsiderable."
This letter, so calm, so cheerful in its tone, had a quieting effect
on Maddy, who read it twice, and then placing it in her bosom, started
for the cottage, meeting on the way with Flora who was seeking for her
in great alarm. Uncle Joseph had had a fit, she said, and fallen upon
the floor, cutting his forehead badly against the sharp point of the
stove. Hurrying on Maddy found that what Flora had said was true, and
sent immediately for the physician, who came at once, but shook his
head doubtfully as he examined his patient. There were all the
symptoms of a fever, he said, bidding Maddy prepare for the worst.
Nothing in the form of trouble could particularly affect Maddy now,
and perhaps it was wisely ordered that Uncle Joseph's illness should
take her thoughts from herself. Prom the very first he refused to take
his medicines from any one save her or Jessie, who with her mother's
permission stayed altogether at the cottage, and who, as Guy's sister,
was a great comfort to Maddy.