The Two Elsies | Page 3

then crossed the
lawn to an artistic little summer-house built on the edge of the cliff,
where it almost overhung the river.
The view from this spot was magnificent, extending for many miles
and embracing some of the grandest scenery of that region; and to
Evelyn and her father, both dear lovers of the beauties of nature, it was
a favorite resort.
Seating herself upon a rustic bench, she passed some moments in
absorbed, delighted contemplation of the scene so familiar, yet ever
new.
The thought that anything worse than a passing illness threatened her
beloved father had not yet entered her youthful mind, and she was
serenely happy as she sat there waiting for the departure of the
physician as the signal that she might return to him.
From her earliest recollection he had been father and mother both to her,
Mrs. Leland's time being too fully occupied with her onerous duties to
society to allow her to bestow much attention upon her child.
Had the husband and father taken a like view of his responsibilities,
Evelyn would have been left almost entirely to the care of the servants;
but to him the formation of his child's character, the cultivation of her
mind and heart, was a duty that outweighed all social claims, and to
which even business might to some extent be sacrificed.
Nor was it a duty only, but also a delight. And so well was she
rewarding his efforts that he found her, at thirteen, more
companionable than her mother had ever been; taking an enthusiastic
interest in his professional work, and sharing his aspirations after
perfection therein and recognition as one of the foremost architects of
his day.
In her esteem he had already distanced all competitors; no one else
could plan a house so well for comfort, convenience, and beauty
combined. Also he was to her the very embodiment of all that was

unselfish, good, and noble.
She thought, and truly, that her mother failed to appreciate him.
While Evelyn waited the doctor subjected his patient to a thorough
examination, not only feeling his pulse, listening to the beating of his
heart, sounding his lungs and looking at his tongue, but
cross-questioning him closely, his face growing graver with every reply
elicited.
"You have told me everything?" he inquired at length.
"Yes, I think so; every symptom that I can recall at this moment. And
now, doctor, I want you to be equally frank with me; tell me exactly
what you think of my case."
"I cannot hold out any hope of recovery," was the unwilling reply; "but
there is little, if any, immediate danger."
"You but confirm my own impressions," said Mr. Leland quietly. "But
I would have a clearer understanding of your verdict; do you mean that
I may have years of invalidism before me, or that a few weeks or
months must bring the end?"
"You really desire to know the worst, my dear sir?" returned the
physician inquiringly, a look of deep sympathy on his kindly face.
"I do," was the calmly resolute reply; "let me know the worst and face
it in the strength God gives to His children according to their day."
"Then, my dear sir, I will be plain with you; but bear in mind that I lay
no claim to infallibility; I may err in judgment, but I see no reason to
hope that your life on earth will be prolonged for more than three
months at the farthest, and I much fear the end may come in less than
half that time."
The doctor could not at first judge of the full effect of his words, for Mr.
Leland sat with his face half hidden in his hand.

For a moment a deathlike stillness reigned in the room; then Dr. Taylor
said, low and feelingly, "You are a Christian, my dear sir, and for you
dying will be but going home to a brighter and better world."
"Yes," was the reply, "and your tidings would have no terrors for me
were it not--for those who must be left behind; but oh, the parting from
helpless dear ones for whom my care and protection seems so
necessary!--that is the bitterness of death!"
"'Leave thy fatherless children, I will preserve them alive; and let thy
widows trust in Me,'" quoted the physician in sympathizing tones.
"Yes, yes; thank God for that precious promise!" exclaimed Mr. Leland.
"And you, doctor, for reminding me of it," he added, stretching out a
hand to his kind comforter.
It was taken in a warm grasp and held for a moment while other of the
many sweet and comforting promises of God's Word were recalled to
the mind of the sufferer, to his great consolation.
"I would it were in my power," the doctor