Stories from the Diary of a Doctor.
By the Authors of "The Medicine Lady."
V.—A DEATH CERTIFICATE.
EW things in my busy life gave me more pleasure than the engagement of my friend, Will Raymond. He was a man of a peculiar temperament, and, from time to time, his friends had experienced some slight anxiety about him. He was a hermit, and He was a hermit, and eschewed society. Women in especial were detestable to him, and although those who knew him well could speak much in his favour, he made few friends and lived a solitary life on his large and beautiful estate in Berkshire.
When Raymond fell in love, however—over head and ears in love is quite the correct phrase on this occasion, and the girl of his choice turned out to be all that the most fastidious could desire—there was rejoicing among his acquaintances, and the wedding-day was hailed with anticipations of pleasure.
Raymond Towers was refurnished for the coming of the bride, and Raymond suddenly blossomed out in a new character—he was friendly to everyone, he laughed at girls' jokes, and was jolly to the many men whom he met; in short, he was a transformed being. All this change was due to the sunny influence of pretty Margaret Travers, or Maggie, as her lover called her.
She was a slight little creature, with fair hair and dark grey eyes. She did not look particularly strong, but she must have had some latent strength of mind to subdue the rough and morose nature of the man who had wooed and won her.
"They were married."
The pair were married in the winter, and were attended to the altar by a numerous company of friends. I happened to be one of them, for Will would not hear of the knot being tied except in my presence. I was too busy to do anything more than attend the pair to the altar. It was then I first noticed a peculiar look in Mrs. Raymond's beautiful eyes. They were large, of a very dark grey, with such thick lashes that at a little distance the eyes themselves looked black. These eyes, set in the midst of a fair face, with soft, light curling hair, would in themselves attract attention. But it was something about the pupils which arrested my observation at this moment. They were not only rather more dilated than usual, but there was an indescribable expression about them which gave me a sort of uneasiness. I had felt very happy about my friend Will ever since I knew of the engagement. Now a sudden sense of depression swept over me, and I wondered if the shy visitor, Happiness, would long remain his guest.
In a busy doctor's life, however, such thoughts have little room to grow. They were soon banished by the pressure of more immediate interests. I had forgotten Will, his bride, and his new-found happiness, when one afternoon a telegram was handed to me.
