CHAPTER IV.
Although not yet a practitioner, Reuel Briggs was a recognized power in the medical profession. In brain diseases he was an authority.
Early the next morning he was aroused from sleep by imperative knocking at his door. It was a messenger from the hospital. There had been a train accident on the Old Colony road, would he come immediately?
Scarcely giving himself time for a cup of coffee, he arrived at the hospital almost as soon as the messenger.
The usual silence of the hospital was broken; all was bustle and movement, without confusion. It was a great call upon the resources of the officials, but they were equal to it. The doctors passed from sufferer to sufferer, dressing their injuries; then they were borne to beds from which some would never rise again.
“Come with me to the women’s ward, Doctor Briggs,” said a nurse. “There is a woman there who was taken from the wreck. She shows no sign of injury, but the doctors cannot restore her to consciousness. Doctor Livingston pronounces her dead, but it doesn’t seem possible. So young, so beautiful. Do something for her, Doctor.”
The men about a cot made way for Reuel, as he entered the ward. “It’s no use Briggs,” said Livingston to him in reply to his question. “Your science won’t save her. The poor girl is already cold and stiff.”
He moved aside disclosing to Reuel’s gaze the lovely face of Dianthe Lusk!
The most marvellous thing to watch is the death of a person. At that moment the opposite takes place to that which took place when life entered the first unit, after nature had prepared it for the inception of life. How the vigorous life watches the passage of the liberated life out of its earthly environment! What a change is this! How important the knowledge of whither life tends! Here is shown the setting free of a disciplined spirit giving up its mortality for immortality,—the condition necessary to know God. Death! There is no death. Life is everlasting, and from its reality can have no end. Life is real and never changes, but preserves its identity eternally as the angels, and the immortal spirit of man, which are the only realities and continuities in the universe, God being over all, Supreme Ruler and Divine Essence from whom comes all life. Somewhat in this train ran Reuel’s thoughts as he stood beside the seeming dead girl, the cynosure of all the medical faculty there assembled.
To the majority of those men, the case was an ordinary death, and that was all there was to it. What did this young upstart expect to make of it? Of his skill and wonderful theories they had heard strange tales, but they viewed him coldly as we are apt to view those who dare to leave the beaten track of conventionality.
Outwardly cool and stolid, showing no sign of recognition, he stood for some seconds gazing down on Dianthe: every nerve quivered, every pulse of his body throbbed. Her face held for him a wonderful charm, an extraordinary fascination. As he gazed he knew that once more he beheld what he had vaguely sought and yearned for all his forlorn life. His whole heart went out to her; destiny, not chance, had brought him to her. He saw, too, that no one knew her, none had a clue to her identity; he determined to remain silent for the present, and immediately he sought to impress Livingston to do likewise.
His keen glance swept the faces of the surrounding physicians. “No, not one,” he told himself, “holds the key to unlock this seeming sleep of death.” He alone could do it. Advancing far afield in the mysterious regions of science, he had stumbled upon the solution of one of life’s problems:the reanimation of the body after seeming death.
He had hesitated to tell of his discovery to any one; not even to Livingston had he hinted of the daring possibility, fearing ridicule in case of a miscarriage in his calculations. But for the sake of this girl he would make what he felt to be a premature disclosure of the results of his experiments. Meantime, Livingston, from his place at the foot of the cot, watched his friend with fascinated eyes. He, too, had resolved, contrary to his first intention, not to speak of his knowledge of the beautiful patient’s identity. Curiosity was on tiptoe; expectancy was in the air. All felt that something unusual was about to happen.
Now Reuel, with gentle fingers, touched rapidly the clammy brow, the icy, livid hands, the region of the pulseless heart. No breath came from between the parted lips; the life-giving organ was motionless. As he concluded his examination, he turned to the assembled doctors:
“As I diagnose this case, it is one of suspended animation. This woman has been long and persistently subjected tomesmeric influences, and the nervous shock induced by the excitement of the accident has thrown her into a cataleptic sleep.”
“But, man!” broke from the head physician in tones of exasperation, “rigor mortis in unmistakable form is here. The woman is dead!”
At these words there was a perceptible smile on the faces of some of the students—associates who resented his genius as a personal affront, and who considered these words as good as a reprimand for the daring student, and a settler of his pretensions. Malice and envy, from Adam’s time until today, have loved a shining mark.
But the reproof was unheeded. Reuel was not listening. Absorbed in thoughts of the combat before him, he was oblivious to all else as he bent over the lifeless figure on the cot. He was full of an earnest purpose. He was strung up to a high tension of force and energy. As he looked down upon the unconscious girl whom none but he could save from the awful fate of a death by post-mortem, and who by some mysterious mesmeric affinity existing between them, had drawn him to her rescue, he felt no fear that he should fail.
Suddenly he bent down and took both cold hands into his left and passed his right hand firmly over her arms from shoulder to wrist. He repeated the movements several times; there was no response to the passes. He straightened up, and again stood silently gazing upon the patient. Then, like a man just aroused from sleep, he looked across the bed at Livingston and said abruptly:
“Dr.Livingston, will you go over to my room and bring me the case of vials in my medicine cabinet? I cannot leave the patient at this point.”
Livingston started in surprise as he replied: “Certainly, Briggs, if it will help you any.”
“The patient does not respond to any of the ordinary methods of awakening. She would probably lie in this sleep for months, and death ensue from exhaustion, if stronger remedies are not used to restore the vital force to a normal condition.”
Livingston left the hospital; he could not return under an hour; Reuel took up his station by the bed whereon was stretched an apparently lifeless body, and the other doctors went the rounds of the wards attending to their regular routine of duty. The nurses gazed at him curiously; the head doctor, upon whom the young student’s earnestness and sincerity had evidently made an impression, came a number of times to the bare little room to gaze upon its silent occupants, but there was nothing new. When Livingston returned, the group again gathered about the iron cot where lay the patient.
“Gentlemen,” said Reuel, with quiet dignity, when they were once more assembled, “will you individually examine the patient once more and give your verdicts?”
Once more doctors and students carefully examined the inanimate figure in which the characteristics of death were still more pronounced. On the outskirts of the group hovered the house-surgeon’s assistants ready to transport the body to the operating room for the post-mortem. Again the head physician spoke, this time impatiently.
“We are wasting our time,Dr.Briggs; I pronounce the woman dead. She was past medical aid when brought here.”
“There is no physical damage, apparent or hidden, that you can see, Doctor?” questioned Reuel, respectfully.
“No; it is a perfectly healthful organism, though delicate. I agree entirely with your assertion that death was induced by the shock.”
“Notdeath, Doctor,” protested Briggs.
“Well, well, call it what you like—call it what you like, it amounts to the same in the end,” replied the doctor testily.
“Do you all concur in Doctor Hamilton’s diagnosis?” Briggs included all the physicians in his sweeping glance. There was a general assent.
“I am prepared to show you that in some cases of seeming death—or even death in reality—consciousness may be restored or the dead brought back to life. I have numberless times in the past six months restored consciousness to dogs and cats after rigor mortis had set in,” he declared calmly.
“Bosh!” broke from a leading surgeon. In this manner the astounding statement, made in all seriousness, was received by the group of scientists mingled with an astonishment that resembled stupidity. But in spite of their scoffs, the young student’s confident manner made a decided impression upon his listeners, unwilling as they were to be convinced.
Reuel went on rapidly; his eyes kindled; his whole person took on the majesty of conscious power, and pride in the knowledge he possessed. “I have found by research that life is not dependent upon organic function as a principle. It may be infused into organized bodies even after the organs have ceased to perform their legitimate offices. Where death has been due to causes which have not impaired or injured or destroyed tissue formation or torn down the structure of vital organs, life may be recalled when it has become entirely extinct, which is not so in the present case. This I have discovered by my experiments in animal magnetism.”
The medical staff was fairly bewildered. AgainDr.Hamilton spoke:
“You make the assertion that the dead can be brought to life, if I understand your drift,Dr.Briggs, and you expect us to believe such utter nonsense.” He added significantly, “My colleagues and I are here to be convinced.”
“If you will be patient for a short time longer, Doctor, I will support my assertion by action. The secret of life lies in what we call volatile magnetism—it exists in the free atmosphere. You,Dr.Livingston, understand my meaning; do you see the possibility in my words?” he questioned, appealing to Aubrey for the first time.
“I have a faint conception of your meaning, certainly,” replied his friend.
“This subtle magnetic agent is constantly drawn into the body through the lungs, absorbed and held in bounds until chemical combination has occurred through the medium of mineral agents always present in normal animal tissue. When respiration ceases this magnetism cannot be drawn into the lungs. It must be artificially supplied. This, gentlemen, is my discovery. I supply this magnetism. I have it here in the caseDr.Livingston has kindly brought me.” He held up to their gaze a small phial wherein reposed a powder. Physicians and students, now eager listeners, gazed spell-bound upon him, straining their ears to catch every tone of the low voice and every change of the luminous eyes; they pressed forward to examine the contents of the bottle. It passed from eager hand to eager hand, then back to the owner.
“This compound, gentlemen, is an exact reproduction of the conditions existing in the human body. It has common salt for its basis. This salt is saturated with oleo resin and then exposed for several hours in an atmosphere of free ammonia. The product becomes a powder, andthatbrings back the seeming dead to life.”
“Establish your theory by practical demonstration,Dr.Briggs, and the dreams of many eminent practitioners will be realized,” saidDr.Hamilton, greatly agitated by his words.
“Your theory smacks of the supernatural,Dr.Briggs, charlatanism, or dreams of lunacy,” said the surgeon. “We leave such assertions to quacks, generally, for the time of miracles is past.”
“The supernatural presides over man’sformation always,” returned Reuel, quietly. “Life is that evidence of supernatural endowment which originally entered nature during the formation of the units for the evolution of man. Perhaps the superstitious masses came nearer to solving the mysteries of creation than the favored elect will ever come. Be that as it may, I will not contend. I will proceed with the demonstration.”
There radiated from the speaker the potent presence of a truthful mind, a pure, unselfish nature, and that inborn dignity which repels the shafts of lower minds as ocean’s waves absorb the drops of rain. Something like respect mingled with awe hushed the sneers, changing them into admiration as he calmly proceeded to administer the so-called life-giving powder. Each man’s watch was in his hand; one minute passed—another—and still another. The body remained inanimate.
A cold smile of triumph began to dawn on the faces of the older members of the profession, but it vanished in its incipiency, for a tremor plainly passed over the rigid form before them. Another second—another convulsive movement of the chest!
“She moves!” cried Aubrey at last, carried out of himself by the strain on his nerves. “Look, gentlemen, she breathes!She is alive; Briggs is right! Wonderful! Wonderful!”
“We said there could not be another miracle, and here it is!” exclaimedDr.Hamilton with strong emotion.
Five minutes more and the startled doctors fell back from the bedside at a motion of Reuel’s hand. A wondering nurse, with dilated eyes, unfolded a screen, placed it in position and came and stood beside the bed opposite Reuel. Holding Dianthe’s hands, he said in a low voice: “Are you awake?” Her eyes unclosed in a cold, indifferent stare which gradually changed to one of recognition. She looked at him—she smiled, and said in a weak voice, “Oh, it is you; I dreamed of you while I slept.”
She was like a child—so trusting that it went straight to the young man’s heart, and for an instant a great lump seemed to rise in his throat and choke him. He held her hands and chafed them, but spoke with his eyes only. The nurse said in a low voice: “Dr.Briggs, a few spoonfuls of broth will help her?”
“Yes, thank you, nurse; that will be just right.” He drew a chair close beside the bed, bathed her face with water and pushed back the tangle of bright hair. He felt a great relief and quiet joy that his experiment had been successful.
“Have I been ill? Where am I?” she asked after a pause, as her face grew troubled and puzzled.
“No, but you have been asleep a long time; we grew anxious about you. You must not talk until you are stronger.”
The nurse returned with the broth; Dianthe drank it eagerly and called for water, then with her hand still clasped in Reuel’s she sank into a deep sleep, breathing softly like a tired child. It was plain to the man of science that hope for the complete restoration of her faculties would depend upon time, nature and constitution. Her effort to collect her thoughts was unmistakable. In her sleep, presently, from her lips fell incoherent words and phrases; but through it all she clung to Reuel’s hand, seeming to recognize in him a friend.
A little later the doctors filed in noiselessly and stood about the bed gazing down upon the sleeper with awe, listening to her breathing, feeling lightly the fluttering pulse. Then they left the quiet house of suffering, marvelling at the miracle just accomplished in their presence. Livingston lingered with Briggs after the other physicians were gone.
“This is a great day for you, Reuel,” he said, as he laid a light caressing hand upon the other’s shoulder.
Reuel seized the hand in a quick convulsiveclasp. “True and tried friend, do not credit me more than I deserve. No praise is due me. I am an instrument—how I know not—a child of circumstances. Do you not perceive something strange in this case? Can you not deduce conclusions from your own intimate knowledge of this science?”
“What can you mean, Reuel?”
“I mean—it is adualmesmeric trance! The girl is only partly normal now. Binet speaks at length of this possibility in his treatise. We have stumbled upon an extraordinary case. It will take a year to restore her to perfect health.”
“In the meantime we ought to search out her friends.”
“Is there any hurry, Aubrey?” pleaded Reuel, anxiously.
“Why not wait until her memory returns; it will not be long, I believe, although she may still be liable to the trances.”
“We’ll put off the evil day to any date you may name, Briggs; for my part, I would preserve her incognito indefinitely.”
Reuel made no reply. Livingston was not sure that he heard him.