A Love Story
We watch with undiminished interest, its fitful action--now bursting out
brilliantly--now fading, as if about to be extinguished for ever. Seated
beside George, and thus gazing, what pleasure was Acmé's! We need not say
time flew swiftly. Never did happiness meet with more ardent votary than
in that young bride--or find a more ready mirror, on which to reflect her
beaming attributes--than on the features of that bride's husband.
Their swimming eyes would fill with tears--and their voices sink to the
lowest whisper.
Sir Henry rarely interrupted their converse; but leant his head on the
boat's side, and thoughtfully gazed on the placid waters, till he almost
deemed he saw reflected on its surface, the face of one, in whose society
_he_ felt he too might be blest.
But these fancies would not endure long. Delmé would quickly arouse
himself; and, warned by the lateness of the hour, and feeling the
necessity that existed, for his thinking for the all-engrossed pair, would
order the rowers to direct the boat's course homewards.
Returned to their hotel, it may be that orisons more heavenward, have
issued from hearts more pure.
Few prayers more full of gratitude, have been whispered by earthly
lips, than were breathed by George and his young wife in the solitude
of their chamber.
How often is such uncommon happiness as this the precursor of evil!
Chapter II.
The Doctor.
"Son port, son air de suffisance,
Marquent dans son savoir sa noble confiance.
Dans les doctes debats ferme et rempli de coeur,
Même après sa défaite il tient tête an vainqueur.
Voyez, pour gagner temps, quelles lenteurs savantes,
Prolongent de ses mots les syllabes traînantes!
Tout le monde l'admire, et ne peut concevoir
Que dans un cerveau seul loge tant de savoir."
It was soon after the excursion to Poestum, that a packet of letters
reached the travellers from Malta. These letters had been forwarded from
England, on the intelligence reaching Emily, of George's intended
marriage. They had been redirected to Naples, by Colonel Vavasour, and
were accompanied by a few lines from himself.
In Sir Henry's communication with his sister, he had prudently thrown a
veil, over the distressing part of George's story, and had dwelt warmly,
on the beauty and sweetness of temper of Acmé Frascati. He could hardly
hope that the proposed marriage, would meet with the entire approval of
those, to whom he addressed himself.
The letters in reply, however, only breathed the affectionate overflowings
of kind hearts. Mrs. Glenallan sent her motherly blessing to George; and
Emily, in addition to a long communication to her brother, wrote to Acmé
as to a beloved sister; begging her to hasten George's return to England,
that they might meet one, in whom they must henceforward feel the
liveliest interest.
"How kind they all are," said George. "I only wish we _were_ with them."
"And so do I," said Acmé. "How dearly I shall love them all."
"George!" said Sir Henry, abruptly, "do you know, I think it is quite time
we should move farther north. The weather is getting most oppressive; and
we have nearly exhausted the lions of Naples."
"With all my heart," replied George. "I am ready to leave it whenever
you please."
On Sir Henry's considering the best mode of conveyance, it occurred to
him, that some danger might arise from the malaria of the Pontine marshes;
and indeed, Rome and its environs were represented, at that time, as being
by no means free from this unwelcome visitant.
Sir Henry enquired if there were any English physicians resident in
Naples; and having heard a high eulogium passed by the waiter, on a Doctor
Pormont, "who attended the noble Consul, and my Lord Rimington," ventured
to enclose his card, with a note, stating that he would be glad of five
minutes' conversation with that gentleman.
In a short time, Doctor Pormont was introduced.
He was a tall man, with very marked features, and a deeply furrowed brow;
whose longitudinal folds, however, seemed rather the result of thought or
of study, than of age. The length of his nose was rivalled by the width of
his mouth. When he spoke, he displayed two rows of very clean and very
regular teeth, but which individually narrowed to a sharp point, and gave
his whole features a peculiarly unpleasing expression. His voice was
husky--his manners chilling--his converse that of a pedant.
Doctor Pormont was in many respects a singular man. From childhood, he had
been remarkable for stoicism of character. He possessed none of the weak
frailties, or gentle sympathies, which ordinarily belong to human nature.
His blood ran cold, like that of a fish. Never had he been known to lose
his equanimity of deportment.
A species of stern principle, however, governed his conduct; and his very
absence of feeling, made him an impartial physician, and one of the most
successful anatomists of the day.
What brought him to bustling, sunny Naples, was an unfathomed
mystery. Once there, he acquired wealth without anxiety, and patients
without friends.
Amongst the many anecdotes, current amongst his professional brethren, as
to the blunted feelings of Doctor Pormont, was one,--related of him when
he was lecturer at a popular London institution. A subject had been
placed on the anatomist's table, for the purpose of allowing the lecturer,
to elucidate to the young students, the advantages of a post mortem
examination, in the determination of diseases. The lecturer dissected as
he proceeded, and was particularly clear and luminous. He even threw light
on the previous habits of the deceased, and showed at what period of life,
the germ of decay was probably forming.
A friend casually enquired, as they left the lecture room, whether the
subject had been a patient of his own.
"No!" replied the learned lecturer, "the body is that of my cousin and
schoolfellow, Harry Welborne. I attended his funeral, at some little
distance from town, a couple of days ago. My servant must have given
information to the exhumer. It is clear the body was removed from the
vault on the same evening."
Sir Henry Delmé briefly explained to Doctor Pormont, his purpose in
sending for him. He stated that he was anxious to take his advice, as to
the best mode of proceeding to Rome, and also as to the best sleeping
place for the party;--that he had a wholesome dread of the malaria, but
that one of his party being a female, and another an invalid, he thought
it might be as well to sleep one night on the road. Regarding all this, he
deferred to the advice and superior judgment of the physician.
"Judgment," said Doctor Pormont, "is two-fold. It may be defined, either
as the faculty of arriving at the knowledge of things, which may be
effected by the synthetic or analytic method; or it may be considered as
the just perception of them, when they are fully indagated.
"Our problem seems to resolve itself into two cases.
"First: does malaria exist to an unusual and alarming extent, on the route
you purpose taking?
"Secondly: the existence conceded--what is the best method to escape the
evil effects that might attend its inhibition into the human system?
"Let us apply the synthetic method to our first case."
The Doctor prefaced his arguments, by a long statement, as to the gradual
commencement, and progress of malaria;--showed how the atmosphere,
polluted by exhalations of water, impregnated with decaying and putrified
vegetable matter, gave forth miasmata; which he described as being
particles of poison in a volatile state.
He alluded to the opinion held by many, that the disease owed its origin
to the ravages of the barbarians, who destroying the Roman farms and
villas, had made _desert_ what were _fertile_ regions.
He traced it from the time of the late Roman Emperors, to that of the
dominion of the Popes, whose legislative enactments to arrest the malady,
he failed not to comment on at length.
He explained the uncertainty which continued to exist, as to the
boundaries of the tract of country, in which the disease was rife; and
then plunged into his argument.
George, at this crisis, quietly took the opportunity of gliding from the
room. Sir Henry stretched his legs on an ottoman, and appeared immersed in
the study of a print--the Europa of Paul Veronese--which hung over the
mantel-piece.
"The Diario di Roma," continued the Doctor, "received this day, decidedly
states that malaria is fearfully raging on the Neapolitan road. Pray
forgive me, if I occasionally glide into the vulgar error, of confounding
the disease itself, with the causes of that disease.
"On the other hand, a young collegian, who arrived in Naples from Rome
yesterday evening, states that he smoked and slept the whole journey, and
suffered no inconvenience whatever.
"Here two considerations present themselves. While sleep has been
considered by the best authorities, as predisposing the human frame to
infection, by opening the pores, relaxing the integuments, and retarding
the circulation of the blood; I cannot overlook the virtues of tobacco,
narcotic--aromatic--disinfecting--as we must grant them to be.
"Here then may I place in juxta-position, the testimony of the Diario, and
that of a young gentleman, half of his time asleep--the other half, under
the influence of the fumes of tobacco.
"Synthetically, I opine, that we may conclude that malaria does exist, and
to a great degree, in the Campagna di Roma. Will you now allow me, to
submit the question under dispute, to the analytic process? By many, in
the present age, though not by me, it is considered the more philosophical
mode of reasoning."
"I am extremely obliged to you, Doctor," said Sir Henry, in a quiet tone
of voice, "but you have raised the synthetic structure so admirably,
that I think that in this instance we may dispense with your analysis.
Pray proceed!"
"Having already shown, then--although your kindness has allowed me to do
so but partially--that malaria does indeed exist, it becomes me to show,
which is the best mode of avoiding its baneful effects.
"Injurious as are the miasmata in general, and fatal as are the effects of
that peculiar form in this country, termed malaria; the diseases they
engender, I apprehend to be rather endemic than epidemic.
"It would be difficult to determine, to what part of the Campagna, the
disease is at present confined; but I should certainly not advise you, to
sleep within the bounds of contagion, for the predisposing effects of
sleep I have already hinted at.
"Rapid travelling is, in my opinion, the best prophylactic I can prescribe,
as besides a certain exhilarating effect on the spirits, the swift passage
through the air, will remove any spiculæ of the marsh miasmata, which may
be hovering near your persons. Air, cheerfulness, and exercise, however,
predispose to, and are the results of sleep: and to an invalid especially,
sleep is indispensable.
"In Mr. Delmé's case, therefore, I would recommend a temporary halt."
Dr. Pormont then gave an account of the length of the stages, the nature
of the post-house accommodations, and the probable degree of danger
attached to each site.
From all this, Delmé gathered, that malaria existed to some extent, on the
line of road they were to travel--that sleep would be necessary for
George--and that, on the whole, it would be most desirable to sleep at an
inn, situated at a hamlet between Molo di Gaetà and Terracina, somewhat
removed from the central point of danger.
But the truth is, that Sir Henry Delmé was disposed to consider Dr.
Pormont, with his pomposity, and wordy arguments, as a mere superficial
thinker; and he half laughed at himself, for having ever thought it
necessary to consult him. This class of men influence less than they