Free House of Masques by Fortune Kent

Samuel Gunn, delighted to make your acquaintance.” He walked to the bedside. “Your man, Edgar something-or-other, found me in the village. He was journeying to Newburgh to seek a physician when he chanced to stop in the taproom of the local inn and through a chance remark discovered I was visiting in the vicinity. Well, how’s my patient this morning?”
    â€œI don’t really believe there’s much wrong with her,” Mrs. Lewis said. “She seems to be completely recovered.”
    â€œHrrrp,” the doctor cleared his throat. “We’ll see, we’ll see. An experienced practitioner often discovers symptoms overlooked by the layman, no matter how discerning she may be. After four years at the Philadelphia School of Medicine, and having written several modest essays for the Medical-Surgical Journal , and lately having devoted myself to research for a medical volume for home use, I consider myself well-qualified in the science of diagnosis.”
    He sat beside the bed and felt Kathleen’s pulse, and his hazel eyes peered with interest into her mouth, eyes, and ears. “I had a patient only last year,” he said with a sideways glance at Mrs. Lewis, “a young bride who, not wanting to forego her wedding entertainments, ignored an inflammation of the throat, and three weeks later passed to the great beyond. Most unfortunate. The bridegroom was quite overcome with grief, as you can well imagine. He’s since remarried, however, and this time he chose a home-loving, though plain, girl.”
    â€œI knew a similar circumstance some years ago at the Krom Place,” Mrs. Lewis began. “One of the young Krom sisters—”
    â€œYes, I’m sure,” the doctor said. “Quite common these days.” He removed a stethoscope from his bag and inserted the earpieces. “Remove the robe, please,” he told her. Kathleen sat up and Mrs. Lewis took the garment from her and laid it across a chair. “Lay on your back,” he instructed Kathleen.
    â€œHmmmm,” the doctor said. The instrument was cold on her chest, and she flinched away. “Breathe deeply. Again. Yes, I was afraid so.”
    â€œWhat is it?” Mrs. Lewis asked. Kathleen began to feel the gnaw of worry. Was something really the matter? Had she inhaled too much smoke after all?
    â€œGenteel,” the doctor said. “That’s the problem. Too genteel to perform physical exercise to ward off the onset of disease. Girls and women who should know better, beautiful girls like this young lady, from vanity go thinly dressed, coming out of warm rooms into inclement weather, neck and arms bare, clothed in thin muslin or fancy dresses. Who can expect anything else from such a course of conduct but sore throats, pleurisy, rheumatism, and a variety of other diseases which may suddenly destroy life or injure the general health?”
    Mrs. Lewis began to answer, but the doctor did not pause. “Take the daily life of the wives and daughters of our men of wealth. From morning to night the same listless, sluggish, stagnating existence, with no physical exercise more invigorating than a walk up and down the street. With no mental employment more inspiring than the reading of a few indifferent novels, or the making of idle morning calls, or spending evenings at balls where late hours, thin dresses, excessive dancing, and improper food do more injury than you can imagine.”
    The doctor nodded his head as he spoke, and by the time he finished Mrs. Lewis was also nodding vigorously. So much talk, Kathleen thought. Dr. Thompson, back in Ohio, had been terse and to the point. But what had the doctor found, she wondered. “Wh-what’s the matter with me?” she asked.
    â€œInflammation of the lungs. A relatively mild case. You were very fortunate to seek out a physician before the disease could establish a foothold and make dangerous headway.”
    â€œMy father once