Geoffery Gambado Read online

  CHAPTER IV.

  _Love and Wind._

  The Doctor sat in his easy chair reading, as was his custom, the MorningStar. That paper was then, what the Times is now. The Star had theascendant, but the Times outshone the Star. There is a season for everything under the sun; and two more variable things under the sun canscarcely be mentioned, than the two at the head of this chapter. No two,however, will, with all their variations of calm and storm, be morelasting than these will be found to be, to the end of time. The Times,and all connected therewith, will have an end. Love knows no end. TheTimes may change as often as the winds, but it will be an ill windindeed that blows nobody any good.

  But the Doctor was interrupted in his perusal of his paper by theentrance of his factotum of a servant man, Samuel Footman. Sam wassteward and porter, and waiting man and butler, and a very worthy fellowtoo, for in every thing he was trustworthy, the best quality any manon earth, or woman either, can possess. Sam presented a card, saying thegentleman's carriage was at the door, and he wanted to know if you wereat home. The Doctor looked at it. "Show Sir Nicholas Skinner up, Sam."

  There entered into the Doctor's presence the most melancholyhalf-starved spectacle of humanity that he had ever seen; almost awalking skeleton,--tall, thin, gaunt, and cadaverous,--melancholy in theextreme, eyes sunken, lips drawn down so as almost to form asemi-circular mouth; long, lank, thin light hair; a rough frill of themost delicate white round his neck. His coat was buttoned round a waistas thin as any woman's could be, and his eyes were sharp, black,piercing, and poetical. "Pray, Sir Nicholas, be seated," said the goodDoctor, "you seem fatigued."

  "I am so indeed! I have travelled all night, with post horses, all theway from Salisbury, on purpose to consult you, Doctor; for I have heardthat you are famous in the cure of all nervous debility, and I verilybelieve every nerve in my frame is shattered. How I have sustained thejourney and its fatigue I can scarcely tell; but I suppose it was thehope of living for another, that gave me support."

  Here the gentleman gave so long and so deep a drawn sigh, that itconvinced the Doctor at once, that this was one of those cases ofhopeless malady, _disappointed love_; which nothing but one thing couldeither kill or cure, namely _matrimony_. The Doctor very seldom venturedto recommend this universal specific for one thing or the other. It wasnot exactly in his line.

  "Let me feel your pulse." This he did; he also sounded his lungs, lookedinto his eyes, and listened to the pulsation of his heart.

  "Ah!" he said, "there is a little irregularity there. All is not exactlyright in the region of the heart. It appears to me to be slightlydisorganized."

  "Not slightly, I assure you, Doctor; not slightly; I am afraid,severely!" And this was spoken so very solemnly, that the Doctor, thoughhe felt disposed to smile, could not find it in his heart to treat thecase slightingly.

  "Have you had any advice at Salisbury? Have you been under any medicaltreatment?"

  "O yes; yes, sir; Doctor Crosse has attended me for the last twelvemonths. He treats my case as one of decline, or consumption. I was onceas robust as you are, Doctor; but I have wasted away to a shadow withinthe space of one year."

  "Pray, sir, are you a married man?"

  "No-o-o! No-o-o! Not exactly that, but I am an engaged man. They do tellme, I must be in better health before I marry; and that makes me very,very anxious to get better. They will scarcely allow the slightestbreath of wind to blow upon me; no air, no exercise, no window down, nocurtain undrawn, one even temperature,--and nothing must disturb me. Oh!Doctor, I fear I never shall marry. My intended is very careful over me.She has come up, all the way to town with me, as my nurse; and is now inmy carriage at your door."

  "Dear me, sir! why did you not tell me this before? It is actuallynecessary that I should see your good nurse, and have a few minutes'conversation with her. I am so glad you have brought her; it gives methe greatest hope that I may be able to effect a cure."

  The Doctor rang the bell. "Samuel, request the lady in the carriage tostep into the house. Show her into the drawing-room. With yourpermission, Sir Nicholas, I will speak to her myself concerning yourtreatment?"

  The Doctor was expecting to see an elegant, lady-like woman, somethingslender, and answering to the attenuated gentility of the being in whom"hope deferred, evidently made the heart sick."

  What was his astonishment when he beheld a blooming, buxom, short, fat,merry-looking lass! with a face that sorrow seemed never to havesmitten. She wore a large hat and feathers; such a profusion of richbrown hair, sweeping down her back, as would have made the LordChancellor the finest wig in the land.

  It is needless to relate the conversation. The Doctor soon found thatshe was desirous of becoming Lady Nicholas Skinner, and very soonsettled the matter with great adroitness.

  "_He must ride on horseback!_ You must make him do so. There is nothingthe matter with him, but over anxiety to be better; and it is all inyour hands. You, and you only, have the power of making him better."

  "But about the wind?--state of the weather? what is your advice? east,west, north, or south,--which is best?"

  "No matter; the more wind the better gallop! Show him the way overSalisbury Plains; and make him follow you. Take no notice whatever ofhis feelings; but tell him, if he feels for you, he must keep pace withyou. He will soon be better!"

  "But, about horses? There are no good riding horses in Salisbury."

  "We will arrange that for you. Sir Nicholas may leave that to me. Onlyassure him that he must persevere;--and let me know how he is, this daymonth."

  At the end of the month, the Doctor received the following epistles inone cover; evidently meant to be a mutual acknowledgment.

  Salisbury, August 1st, 1774.

  "DEAR DOCTOR GAMBADO,--Love and wind have triumphed. The horses suited admirably; though I fear the one Sir Nicholas rides is rather short-winded, as he comes to a stand still before we have had half a gallop. Still, I thank you, he is greatly improved. It was hard work, and seemed very cruel at first, but he himself will tell you the news.

  "I remain, Dear Doctor Gambado, Your's, gratefully, CLARISSA DOUBLEDAY."

  Salisbury, August 1st, 1774.

  "DEAR DOCTOR,--I enclose a cheque for L300 upon my banker in town; L200 for the horses, which are delightful creatures, and I thank you for obtaining them for us; and L100 for the last fee to Doctors!--by far the best; for I hope to be married in September. It is an ill wind that blows nobody good.

  "But in love, and wind, I remain, Dear Doctor, Your's obliged,--NICHOLAS SKINNER."

  "Doctor Gambado, Bread street, Cheapside, London."

  Love blows a blast, to conquer every man, Let him resist it,--long he never can; 'Twill conquer all, and in the end bring peace, Hurrah for love! true love can never cease!