The Ponsonby Diamonds | Page 2

not medical.
"I don t find much the matter with you," I said, cheerfully; "your disease is more fancy than reality--instead of lying here, you ought to be having a gallop across those moors yonder."
Lady Violet gazed at me with a look of surprise and even faint displeasure in her large brown eyes.
"I love riding," she said, in a gentle voice, "but it is long since I have had the pleasure of a canter over the moors or anywhere else."
"You should not give up riding," I said; "it is a most healthful exercise and a splendid tonic for the nerves."
"I don't think you can realize how very weak I am," she answered, something like tears dimming her eyes. "Did not mother explain to you the strange symptoms from which I suffer?"
"The symptoms of which you complain are clearly due to an over-wrought imagination," I replied. "You must try to curb it by every means in your power. I assure you I am only telling you the true state of the case when I say that there is nothing serious the matter with you."
She sighed and looked away from me.
I took her slim hand in mine and felt her pulse. It was weak, fluttering, and uneven. I bent forward and looked into her eyes--the pupils were slightly dilated. Still I held firmly to my opinion that nervous derangement, that most convenient phrase, was at the bottom of all that was wrong.
"Now," I said, rising as I spoke, "I will prescribe a drive for you this afternoon, and in a day or two, I have no doubt, you will be strong enough to get on horseback again. Take no medicines; eat plenty, and amuse yourself in every way in your power."
Soon afterwards I left the room, and saw Lady Erstfield alone.
"Your daughter is an instance of that all too common condition which we call neurasthenia," I said. "Although, unlike the name, the disease is not a coinage of the nineteenth century, still it has greatly increased of late, and claims for its victims those who have fallen out of the ranks of the marching army of women, in the advancing education and culture of their sex."
"I don't understand your placing Violet in that position," said Lady Erstfield, with reddening cheeks.
"My dear madam," I replied, "your daughter is the undoubted victim of over-culture and little to do. Were she a farmer's daughter, or were she obliged in any other way to work for her living, she would be quite well. The treatment which I prescribe is simply this--healthy occupation of every muscle and every faculty. Do all in your power to turn her thoughts outwards, and to arouse an active interest in her mind for something or someone. I assure you that although I am not anxious about her present state, yet cases like hers, if allowed to drift, frequently end in impairment of intellect in some degree, either small or great."
Lady Erstfield looked intensely unhappy.
"Violet is our only child," she said; "her father and I are wrapped up in her. Although you seem to apprehend no danger to her life----"
"There is none," I interrupted.
"Yet you allude to other troubles which fill me with terror. There is nothing Lord Erstfield and I would not do for our child. Will you kindly tell me how we are to provide her with the interests and occupations which are to restore her mind to a healthy condition?"
I thought for a moment.
"Lady Violet is very weak just now," I said, "her whole constitution has been so enfeebled with imaginary fears and nervous disorders that a little good nursing would not come amiss for her. I propose, therefore, to send a nurse to look after your daughter."
Lady Erstfield uttered an exclamation of dismay.
"A hospital nurse!" she exclaimed; "the mere word will terrify Violet into hysterics."
"Nothing of the kind," I answered. "The nurse I propose to send here is not an ordinary one. She is a lady--well born and well educated. She is extremely clever, and is remarkable both for her tact and gentleness. She thoroughly understands her duties--in this case they will consist mainly in amusing Lady Violet in the most strengthening and invigorating manner. Her name is Temple. I will ask you to call her Miss Temple, and never to speak of her or to her as nurse. She will soon win her own way with your daughter, and I shall be greatly surprised if she does not become more or less indispensable to her. She is just as healthy-minded, as bright, as strong as Lady Violet is the reverse."
After a little more conversation with Lady Erstfield, it was arranged that Miss Temple was to be telegraphed for at once.
I wrote her a long letter, giving her full directions with regard to the patient. This letter I left