The Doctors Daughter | Page 9

it was, became a
perplexing mystery. I was conscious of no improvement in my attitude
towards my step-mother, I had not even wished, or determined to show
her any more marked affection or respect than I had ever done, and this,
to tell the truth, was precious little.
I did not know then, that this generous impulse of hers was independent
of her own desire or will, that it filled her heart without her sanction or

command, just as her life-blood did; that it permeated her very being,
when she neither sought nor expected it, and that as it was self-creative,
so would it of itself find a satisfactory outlet in expressions and actions
of tender womanly solicitude.
As soon as my half-brother made his entrance into the world, however,
things took another turn. I was no longer the free, unfettered creature I
had been for the first part of my life. I could no longer dispose of my
days and hours as I liked best, but was on the contrary forced to devote
many of them to occupations of a most distasteful nature.
The coming of this insignificant stranger into our home seemed a
disturbing and restless evil in my eyes. Naturally my stepmother was
beside herself with ecstacy, but why should she have expected the rest
of the household to be as absurdly enthusiastic?
When baby slept, the silence and stillness of death were sacredly and
solemnly imposed upon all. When baby was awake, the clatter
provoked for its infantship's pleasure was noisome and deafening to all.
With the advent of this undesirable relative into our home is associated,
for me, the remembrance of all such impatient entreaties as, "Amey,
bring your toys here to baby--Amey, come and sing to baby--Amey,
come and rock baby to sleep"--and I, though striving to encourage a
good intention and a hopeful outlook, finally succumbed to the very
human perversity of my soul, and when every atom of ordinary
endurance had given out, I realized that I had ended by loathing the
very name, or sight, or idea of the unwelcome baby.
Then, came a fresh burden of domestic worries to my unfortunate
step-mother. She could not trust her darling to the care of servants; each
one that she tried seemed determined to kill the little idol; they handled
it as roughly and carelessly as if it were an ordinary baby; shook it
when it screamed and refused to rock it while it slept. In the end, with
the undaunted heroism of unselfish maternity, she resigned herself
wholly and entirely to the exclusive care of her beloved offspring,
ministering to its ever increasing and multiplying wants, with an
admirable forebearance and kindness. Poor woman! she found more

than ample field for her patience and perseverance.
Blest with the healthiest of lungs, my new step-brother had no scruples
about asserting himself loudly and peevishly at all hours of the day and
night; rending the air with prolonged and impatient screams that
wounded the sensitive mother's heart deeply, and irritated the rest of the
household beyond endurance.
By degrees its much tried parent was made to realize that this noisy
acquisition to her home was considered unquestionably and
irreclaimably, her own. No one envied it to her, and as no one sought to
share any of the possible benefits that might follow in its wake, neither
did they seek to bear any of the burden of its existence in the smallest
detail.
The overjoyed, yet afflicted mother, was welcome to whatever comfort
or happiness her prophetic soul foresaw as a recompense to all this
endless worry and trouble. Even my father grew unsympathetic, and
actually arose one night when baby's plaintive minor key was
resounding through the house, and closed his bed-room door most
emphatically, to keep out the disturbing echoes that had broken in upon
his comfortable repose.
None of this passed unnoticed by my fretted stepmother, whose open
soul absorbed every passing instance of this nature, and stowed away
its keen impressions to be acted upon later, when time had modified her
responsibilities, and granted her a little respite from the troubles of
to-day.
In the agitated meanwhile I had begun to try my young wings. I felt
myself growing inwardly and outwardly; something was stirring my
heart with unusual palpitations. I was beginning to realize that life after
all did not mean what daily passed within the narrow arena of my home;
something whispered to me that outside those paltry limits, far away
over all the spires and chimney-tops, where the sky was so bright and
blue, life, real life, unfolded itself under many a varied aspect, and with
this suspicion, sprung up a lingering dissatisfaction, a longing for
something which no words of mine could define.

How clearly does this epoch of my