"Clarissa, I do not believe you. If I am not his father, who was?"
"That is nothing to you."
"Nothing to me? Are you mad?"
"No. I was never more sane in my life. Ican look you straight in the eye, without the quiver of an eyelash, and say, you, William Huskins, are not the father of my boy. Can a person telling an untruth do that? Would it be natural for a mother to acknowledge her child to be illegitimate, when she might presume upon a man's credulity to claim him as his son and heir, unless she wanted to be honest?"
"I can only account for your words by that fact."
As he spoke the words he moved toward her, and she kept receding, with her eyes fixed upon his. Paler and paler she grew, and larger and larger became the pupils of her eyes, which were gradually so dilated that they seemed to hide the other portions of them; still he gazed at her with an unwavering and stern expression till, finally, she clasped her right hand over her heart, and sank, without a word. She would have fallen prostrate upon the floor had not William sprung quickly to her as she fell.
Immediately he felt her helplessness, all the stern, steady look vanished from his face as though by magic, and in its place there shone all the eager ardor of a lover. Time and the memory of the past both seemed to have been obliterated from his mind, and he was conscious of but one fact. Clarissa, the only woman he had everloved or who had ever held either his heart or senses captive, was again in his arms;—was his.
The thought made him tender and kind as a mother to her first born babe, whom she believes to be the answer vouchsafed to her prayers for a living example of her love for her husband; for this babe she would offer her life, a willing sacrifice, without one thought of hesitation, even if the sacrifice meant physical torture. Her love could generate the power necessary to endure any kind of personal torment if she knew her suffering would purchase the release or happiness of the child which was dearer to her than her own pleasure or welfare.
So William felt, when his arms encircled the object of his love, and he would gladly have endured any discomfort or suffering Clarissa had been subjected to while the combat of their wills had been waging. He realized as only a man whose experience had been as vast as his could realize, that her nervous condition, combined with the unexpected shock of his sudden appearance, had been a great ally to his cause, for without these, despite her naturally susceptible temperament, he would have had a severe struggle.
He lifted her easily and bore her to the couch from which she had arisen upon his entrance. She looked so white and rigid and still and cold—so much like one prepared for burial—that,despite his vast experience with mesmeric sleep, he felt anxious. He was loth to admit, even to himself, he was nervous—supposing she was dead! Supposing her spirit had actually fled, leaving him alone again:—deserted—while her soul was transported into conditions of which he knew nothing, and he could not reach her?
The thought was agonizing. He immediately drew her to him, thinking to warm her cold, inanimate body by contact with his own which was warm and vigorous. Those lips that had but a short time before responded so tenderly and lovingly to his were now cold and unresponsive. For a time, the scientist was lost, while the husband caressed, loved and suffered.
He kept repeating "Clarissa—Clarissa—Speak to me," and after a long interval of silence she spoke.
"Did you speak to me, William?"
If the voice of one dead had answered him, he would not have been more startled. The shock broke the spell that bound him, and the man of science was once more alert. He lifted her head, looked intently into her eyes, rather at her eyes which were closed, and said—
"Clarissa, do you hear me? Are you awake?"
There was a brief pause, then she replied, but her voice sounded far away. "Yes."
"Do you know who is talking to you?"
"Yes—William."
"Have you anything to say to me?"
No answer,—then he said timidly but tenderly, "Clarissa, do you love me?" No words passed the cold, impassive lips, but her arms were raised and entwined themselves about his neck, and her head nestled lovingly and confidently against him. The answer seemed to satisfy him, and for a while, he made no effort to talk, apparently quaffing the enjoyment fate furnished him.—The past and future were a blank to him, and the present was fraught with such exquisite bliss, that he heeded not when Dinah spoke to him.
"Master William."
Not receiving an answer, she entered, spoke again, and not now receiving a reply, and seeing her mistress and him in so fond an embrace, she reverted to the rules of the past and touched him instead of speaking to Clarissa. He looked up at the touch and smiled so pleasantly it seemed they were all back in the past.
"Master William, the Doctor is here to see mistress. I have your dinner all prepared. What shall I tell him? He insists upon seeing her. I told him she was engaged. I would not come in. Do not look so cross, Master William, but he said he would have to see her, and you know she has great faith in him. Aint you, Honey?"
"Dinah, tell him to go."
"But, Master, he is waiting just outside here with Augustus."
"Augustus, my baby, mamma is coming,—mamma is coming."
As these words came from Clarissa's lips, William felt a great change pass over her. He had put her to sleep by his power, but she was no longer rigid, and her arms, which had clung so tightly and lovingly about his neck, loosed their hold, and warmth and animation diffused themselves to every portion of her being. She rose erectly and tried to waken, but encountered a mighty resistance.
"Tell the doctor to remain where he is. I will come to him," said William, while he tried to restrain Clarissa from rising. "Sleep,—Sleep,—Sleep," he repeated, but his mind had been unsteadied by the happiness of thoughts of his brief intoxication. His commands seemed to have no significance for the woman who struggled to free herself from his grasp.
"Augustus—I am coming—mother hears." This was all she said, but it required all William's strength to hold her on the couch, and a feeling of jealousy (which he was at the time ashamed of feeling) overmastered him, and held him in thrall, and he repeated over and over again, "Sleep—Sleep—Sleep" his vigor increasing as hisjealously gained the advantage over his judgment, and she finally collapsed into a comatose state.
Dinah had watched her struggles, but, feeling her mistress was in safe hands, had not interfered in her behalf, although she could not understand the purport of what she saw. When she saw her mistress settle back again, like one dead, she said—
"Master William, shall I show the Doctor in? She sure has fainted."
She received such a look from William as she was not likely to forget, and he replied:
"Dinah, your mistress is sleeping peacefully and well. Take me to the Doctor."
She offered no objections, but led him to a room where Augustus and a man of mature age were waiting. When he had reached there, William's eyes would have been a study for any man. He acknowledged the usual salutation of introduction, but his head was visibly elevated from the position it should have held considering the august presence of so distinguished a practitioner as Dr. Goullard;—in fact, he could not control his feelings sufficiently to remember they were both gentlemen, and said abruptly, "Dr. Goullard, your services are no longer required; I am here as Miss Earle's representative, and will at once discharge her obligations to you forservices rendered if you will advise me as to the amount of her indebtedness."
"Who are you, who presume to represent Miss Earle? I only accept dismissal at her injunction. I demand to see her. If she bids me to visit her no more, very well, but I must receive some sign from her."
All the time Dr. Goullard was talking, William's face showed a scornful expression, and when he had finished, William said, "I presume her husband has some right to choose a physician?"
"Certainly," replied the Doctor quickly, "but Miss Earle's husband is dead, therefore, as she has called me regularly for a long time, I consider myself privileged to pass into her presence immediately."
"Not without my permission," replied William, and no person could have mistaken the meaning of his expression. The doctor looked at him interrogatively and he continued: "I presume you have heard of William Huskins, the scientific expert upon nervous difficulties, or diseases; I am he. I see you know of my reputation by your expression. Well, I am Miss Earle's husband. Ah, that startles you.—It is the truth.—I am this boy's father."
"I am acknowledged as an expert practitioner for difficulties and disorders of the nerves,consequently, my wife can have no further need of your services. Doubting my claims as husband to Miss Earle, and father to Augustus, you may refer to Dinah, who has been an attendant of Miss Earle since she was a young miss—"
"Prof. Huskins, I do not pretend to doubt your assertions, but you will, I think, admit that it was quite natural I should make the mistake, as I have been told by Miss Earle personally her husband was dead. I have attended her for some time, and I should be pleased to offer her my congratulations upon having so distinguished a husband as you. I will not long intrude upon the privacy of your glad reunion."
Williams' mind had cleared while the Doctor was speaking. He realized his conduct thus far had not been such as would naturally be expected from one of his reputation. He was too proud to apologize, still he knew some concession upon his part was necessary, and, throwing his head back with that impetuous movement Dinah knew so well, at the same time pushing the hair back from his forehead with his hand, he said, quickly and courteously, "My wife is sleeping now; I have just placed her in a trance condition, from which I shall awaken her shortly, calmed and refreshed, and much stronger. I will take you to her if you desire it."
"I should consider it a great favor for you todo so. I have heard much of your marvelous power, of which I must confess I know very little, but of which I should be pleased to learn more."
Without another word, William turned and walked from the apartment, followed by the Doctor, leaving Augustus and Dinah alone. While the men had been talking, Augustus' eyes had not left William's face. He made no effort to speak, now that William had gone, but fixed his gaze upon Dinah. She said nothing and there was a long silence.
Finally he said abruptly, "Dinah,ishe my father?"
"Yes, honey."
"I want to see Mamma."
"Wait, honey, till the Doctor goes, and your father will take you to her. He is a right good man, but he hasn't much patience. You are just like him, honey;—I always said so. No, you cannot go now. We must wait till we are called, child."
After he had seen the doctor leave, William, instead of going to Augustus, returned directly to Clarissa. He only felt secure regarding her when he could see her. All the varied scenes through which he passed seemed like a dream, and he could not rid himself of the impression he would awaken and find Clarissa gone, leaving him alone again.
He had entirely forgotten Augustus, and in his distracted state of mind the thought of the shock and surprise it must have been to the boy to have him declare himself, a comparative stranger, as his father, did not occur to him. His mind seemed incapable of comprehending or holding more than one image; he felt the deepest chagrin that he, an expert thought concentrator, had so lost control of himself as to make such a scene as he had just gone through with Clarissa to mesmerize her. He had been obliged to use upon her that which he had never used before upon any subject he had ever put to sleep:—physical force.
Why was it she resisted his power so strongly, when she had been so loving and obedient to his very thoughts but a short time before?
As he reached the couch and looked down upon her, a long, deep sigh escaped him, and thethought passed through his mind: Suppose she had not been here, but had gone out of his life again: how sad and lonely and miserable it would be. The very thought was unendurable. He quickly sank down beside her, holding her close to him, that he might have the double assurance of sight and touch, of her actual presence with him.
So engrossed was he with the thought, he was unaware of Augustus' entrance, though the wheel chair made some clatter. He had paused at the door, expecting an invitation to enter, but receiving none, he came directly to them and said:
"Mamma,—"
A tremor passed over Clarissa, so strong as to attract William's notice, while at the same time a hand touched his arm. As he felt the tremor of Clarissa's body, he tightened his hold, even as he turned his head. He was impatient of interruption and his eyes did not express the most pleasant mood as he turned toward the intruder, but when he saw who it was, his entire countenance changed; he quickly noted the pallor of the boy, and the brilliant flashing of his eyes, that told so plainly his intense agitation.
He immediately removed one arm from Clarissa, and before Augustus could divine his purpose,had lifted him from his chair and drawn him close to his heart.
"My son—my boy and Clarissa's."
Augustus, taken completely by surprise, said nothing for a time, but his eyes traveled quickly to his mother's face, which was cold and white and rigid, then his voice rang out sharp and piercing—"Mamma—mamma—speak to me—I am here—Augustus—speak to me."
There was no response. Never having seen his mother thus, as she always devoted her undivided attention to him, he did not understand her apathy and inattention to his call; he made up his mind she was dead, and this man had killed her. That thought brought such a wave of anger and fury, that for all his frailness of body, he had for the time strength to release himself from William's clasp, and throwing both arms about her neck, he tried to lift her, repeating over and over, "Mamma,—Mamma dear, look at me."
The sight of the boy's suffering brought tears to William's eyes, and he said, "Your mother is sleeping; she cannot hear you. She will waken soon, and—"
"I hate you. She is not sleeping. She is dead, and you have killed her."
"Augustus, you will be sorry for such a speech. She is sleeping; gaining strength to make us bothhappy. Have you no greeting for your father, who loves you so dearly? I am proud to—"
"If you were very proud, you would go home, and not stay here where you are not wanted. Mamma—Dinah—Mamma is dead, and—"
"Be quiet, Augustus. Do not shake your mother;—you will? Then I shall be compelled to use force. I didn't want to do that, but you compelled me to. Sit quiet and I will wake your mother."
Anyone having the slightest degree of doubt as to the parentage of this child would have been quickly convinced, if they could have studied their faces as William and Augustus confronted each other; Augustus' excited and distorted face was a perfect miniature likeness of his father's. Eyes flashed into eyes. For all the seriousness of the condition, William thought, "What a perfect counterpart of my own temper. He favors me much more than his mother."
He needed no proofs this was his boy, and he felt a thrill of pride. He had an intense nature that no one understood. Most persons thought him cold and distant, while in truth, he possessed an unusually affectionate temperament, but was too proud to admit to anyone how he really hungered for love. All persons could not supply this want; the whole force of his nature had centered itself upon one object. She became his wife andno other woman had ever had power to sway his thoughts and life. He was regarded as austere and cold, yet could be influenced by this woman's smile, to do anything man could do, and the pitiful, angered face which looked into his was his child,—and hers.
For all time he must have second place in her heart, and the pleasure of wife and child should be his study from this moment. Such thoughts produced a very different expression upon his face, and he said tenderly and affectionately,
"Clarissa—Clarissa—Awake."
Slowly her eyes opened. Her face pictured happiness and contentment as she saw William's smiling welcome; who would have believed his proud, haughty head could have bowed so humbly as it did when he saw the bright, glad gleam in her eyes? He stooped to kiss her as though she was just awakening from a natural sleep. As his arms encircled her, her own entwined themselves once more around his neck, and with a happy sigh she gave him kiss for kiss.
Augustus was, for the time, forgotten by both of them, but his eyes and ears were active; for a time, he remained silent, then a tempest of jealousy swept over him. He had ever been first in his mother's thoughts; now he was forgotten for a stranger. His spirit had not been disciplined to expect only his proper share of any one'sattention, for from the earliest time in his recollection, he had been the principal object of attention in his home.
His very infirmity and physical weakness spared him criticisms of even the most wholesome nature; one and all around him had known but one object in life—to please him. He was totally unaccustomed to being overlooked in this manner, and his was not a nature to endure this state of things.
With all the might of his uncultivated and ungoverned will, he hated this man who was engrossing his mother's attention and love. He raised himself erect by the help of his hands, and rage nearly choked him as he said—"Mamma!"
Was there magic in his voice? If not, why did she draw so coldly and quickly from William's grasp?
"Mamma,—send that man away. I hate him."
"Yes, dear. Do not get nervous, Augustus. There—Mamma's little man is not angry—"
"Mamma—I hate him. Send him home. He is not my father, is he? You told me my father was everything noble—everything I loved—I hate that man—I hate him. Mamma, I will not have him for a father—I will not—"
"Hush, dear."
"I will not hush if he stays here. I will not live with him. Come, Mamma, let us go away andleave him here—I will make you a fine picture. Come, Mamma, don't look at him—he is wicked. He sent Dr. Goullard away—I hate him—hate him."
"Augustus, you will make yourself ill. Hush, dear."
"Don't kiss me all the time. Tell him to leave here. This is our home, and we don't want him. I will get ill. I will get nervous. When I get sick, you will know you are to blame for it. If you do not send him off, I will be ill. He lied. He is not my father—I will not have him for a father."
"No, dear;—there, be quiet. I will take you to Dinah."
"I will not go to Dinah unless you stay with me. Tell him to go home."
"Yes, dear; only calm yourself. There, the bell is ringing. Some one is coming, and my little man must not be seen like this. Be yourself, and you shall have anything you want. Here comes Dinah; let us see who is here. Dinah, who has called? Augustus is nervous. You had better take him, and give him some of that medicine for his nerves at once."
"I will not take it. I will not;—not unless you come too."
"Master William, it be someone to see you, and I let him in. Here he is." William andClarissa both looked toward the door. There stood James with a parcel in his hand, his face beaming with pleasure. Clarissa quickly reached him, and gave him her outstretched hands. He tore off the covering of the package he carried, offering her a large bunch of her favorite flowers. This token of affection brought joyful tears to her eyes, and, still holding one of his hands, she led him to Augustus, saying, "This is my son, Augustus. Augustus, this is the man of whom I have so often told you, who was so good and kind to me when I was a mischievous and wilful girl. These are my favorite flowers; he always kept them for me, and you will have to hear him tell all about my girlhood. Will you not, darling? James can tell such lovely stories. He will tell you the same ones he used to tell me. I feel as though I were a girl again. Bid him welcome, Augustus."
"I love you because you were so good to mamma. I welcome you to our home—"
"Bless your heart, honey,—that is what we always called your mother—there were never two persons who looked so much alike as you and your father. I will tell you stories that will make your pretty eyes stick out, all about your mother's naughtiness, picking my choicest flowers. I remember every one. I never expected to be so happy as I am this very minute."
"We will have a jolly time. You can wheel me out and tell me the stories. Do you like my father? Was he a good man? You said I looked like him, so you must have known him."
"Did I know your father? Was he a good man? There was never his equal. He is the grandest, noblest, wisest—"
"That will do, James; possibly you can bring your thoughts away from the past, to the seemingly insignificant present long enough to tell me what has brought you here, and how you knew where to find me."
At the sound of William's voice, which was severe, James turned at once and replied, "Forgive me, master, but you told me yourself that our Miss Clarissa was the famous Miss Earle, the singer, and everyone knows where she lives. I know no other person would make you leave home and come so far, so I reckoned I would find you where she was. When you stayed so long, and there was a telegram came for you, soon followed by another, I knew it must be something of importance, and I thought I would bring them to you. I hope you are not angry, sir."
"If you believed them to be so important, why did you not give them to me at once?"
"Here they are. I admit I was wrong—but I am so happy to see Miss Clarissa—"
"That is the most disagreeable man I ever saw.He shall not scold you. Do not mind him. You come with me; I want you to tell me all about my mother when she was little. I will show you all my pictures. I am so glad you have come. You just push my chair. Dinah will show you where to go. You will send him away, and come right along, will you not, mamma?"
"Yes, dear."
"Come: I cannot walk, but I can stand up. I can paint, and draw and sing. Those were pretty flowers you brought mamma—"
The rest was lost by the closing of a door, which shut out further sound. Clarissa had kept her eyes upon William's face, ever since Augustus left her side; there was little to be gleaned from it. His eyes had not once left the paper before him. As the door closed, he lifted them and looked straight and steadily at her. There was sufficient power there to make her shiver. Her hand went quickly to her heart, but her gaze did not falter—she looked as steadily at him as he did at her. It was an uncomfortable pause, and William was first to break it.
"I have sad news for you. Your lover, one of the numerous galaxy, is very ill. I am sent for to restore him to health. Do not looked so shocked and worried. I will not let him die, as he is my best subject, and science would receive too rude a blow if Prof. Huskins' acknowledged best subjectshould sicken and die, and he be powerless to prevent it. He shall live; but as I stand here talking to you, I have the power and will obliterate the memory of every other man from your mind. Pardon me for so noisy a laugh, but the thought came to me quickly: 'William Huskins, you have devoted the best years of your life to science and won the distinction of being the most powerful demonstrator of mesmeric influence living: now the sole use you find for it is to vanquish the remembrance of past lovers from a fickle woman's mind, that you may enjoy her embraces.' Ludicrous enough to make anyone laugh, isn't it?"
"You are talking enigmas. I have and have had no lovers. Your coarse suggestions are an insult to my womanhood and motherhood. I am truly sorry for any man who depends upon you for his life; he had better die—"
"Beware how you try me. You have no idea of the power I possess. Pshaw! You are doubtless tired of him, and would feel better if he were dead. I will that he shall not die. He shall live. Possibly your memory can be refreshed sufficiently to recall the fact that you requested me,—your husband,—to carry him your favorite flowers, which oppressed you at the time."
"I shall answer but one assertion you have made—"
"Mamma, come,—I want you to hear something."
"Yes, Augustus, I will be there directly. You said you were my husband; you are not."
"It would not astonish me much if you told me that I was the second man who had passed through the marriage ceremony with you."
"You are the only man who has ever entered my life. It is not necessary for you to wear that sneering and sarcastic smile. I ought to know the symptoms of your unreasonable jealousy by this time. Once it hurt me; now I defy you. I am a mother, but I was never a wife. That is the reason I said that Augustus was not your son. When I told him his father was dead, I told him the truth. His father was the man whom I idolized as men worship gods. Keep away. Do not touch me. That man was not the William Huskins the world knows. He was what I thought you were.
"Your ardor worked upon my ignorant mind, until it created there an image of a man whose only existence was in my heart, while you, who passed for him, was in reality his exact opposite. Now you understand why I say that I am a mother but no wife, for I believe, from the depths of my soul, that marriage only exists where there is mutual love between man and woman. I meant well, but—"
"Clarissa, I am going to forget every word you have just said, and trust you in spite of all the dark appearances; remembering only what you have said of your love for me before we were married—"
"I never loved nor married you; it was only the image of a man that I had in my mind. Never for one moment in all your life, have you known what it was to love me, and we were, therefore, never married. My child is illegitimate. As this fact has come clearer to me, I have striven to the best of my ability to bring as much happiness into his life as lay in my power.
"The Bible says 'What God has joined together, let no man put asunder.' I believe that God is love. You never loved me, and I loved only the image of a man who had no real existence. Not you, William Huskins. There was no love in our union, and God never sanctioned it; it was not a real marriage."
"You do me a great injustice, Clarissa, when you say I never loved you. How can you say so, when the memory of the past is in your mind? If I lacked in loving demonstration, it was because of ignorance how to express myself. You have seen a side of my nature no one else knows to exist. Surely I proved myself a loving slave while you stayed with me. In your greatest anger, you must admit I was ever beside you, neverbestowing even a passing thought upon any other woman. Your pleasure and presence made up for me the sum of life's happiness, and words can never express the black desolation of my heart since you left me."
"Love! What do you know of love! Let me tell you how you have loved me. You were affectionate, happy and kind just so long as we were alone; let me pet an animal, speak to a man or even a woman, with the most common courtesy, and that kindness was replaced by a demon of jealousy that would listen to no reason, but reviled me without—"
"Clarissa, I know I was hasty, possibly cruel; I did not mean to be so. It was my great love for you that made me jealous. I will admit it was torture for me to see you engrossed with any one, but surely there must be some excuse for me when you think it was love that made me so. I do not pretend I am blameless. I know jealousy changed me from a sane man to a mad one, but I swear to you, give me your love again, and you shall nevermore witness such scenes, for, should I feel the demon's influence coming to me again, I will go away from your presence and only return when I can bring you as much happiness as you give me, when you yield yourself to—"
"That is just it, William,—so long as I yield, so long as I amuse you and gratify your wishes,you are happy, and accept those signs as the offerings of love. Stand where you are till I finish,—your idea is that a woman's love is only expressed by a blind obedience to her husband.
"What is man, that he expects from a woman that which he will not give in return? You believe now just as you have in the past; that is,—if I loved you, I would see, think, feel and act according to your ideas of how a woman should, consigning to your guardianship and care my conscience and opinions, even as I would my body. You have no right to expect from me anything that you would not do yourself. I learned what love was when I became a mother. Do you think my love for Augustus demands his giving up all his desires and expectations? No;—my love for him is so strong I would endure with a smile and never a moan, if I knew that my suffering would purchase his happiness. I do not want him to see, feel and think as I do; I want him to have perfect freedom of choice. I do and always will find my greatest happiness in witnessing his joy."
"A mother's love is different from a husband's."
"So I have found them. Since Augustus was first placed in my arms, I have known but one thought, one desire;—that was to please him. It is for him I always sing; never for the public. I always feel he will be proud to think, in afterlife, his mother was a gifted and talented woman."
"Are you not a little selfish yourself, when you have left me sad and lonely all these years since you have had our boy?"
As he said this, there resounded a peal of boyish laughter, ringing clear and distinct. William hesitated, then resumed: "I make no pretentions to goodness, but there are a few facts I have a right to state. When you left my home, every ray of brightness faded out of my life. I doubted everybody and everything;—I was proud—too proud to want anyone's pity or sympathy, so I sought to hide my suffering beneath a mask of indifference and coldness. What I suffered, no one but myself will ever know. It has made an old man out of a young one;—it has so completely crushed my pride I am willing now to sue for a second place in your affections, when the first is filled by my son. It is impossible for me to go back to my lonely home and endure what I have. If I have been cruel, harsh and unjust to you whom I love better than my life, I ask to be forgiven, and promise that, coming to me again, you shall be the guiding influence of our home. Give me one chance to show the depth and earnestness of my love. Few men have given women the fidelity I have shown you. That ought to be a factor in my favor."
"William, I believe you have been true to me. I have heard you called a woman-hater everywhere, but why have you been? You have not seen another woman who happened to please you as I did. It was no sacrifice upon your part, as you were not strongly attracted to them. I believe I am just and honest with you when I say the feeling you held for me, and which you called love, was only a physical attraction, and that was the cause of your suffering so from jealousy. Do not interrupt me—I know that you do not believe it, but I do, and with good reason."
"I must have been a most cruel husband indeed."
"No, William, I know you have not meant to be, and I am willing to acknowledge I, too, have made many mistakes; we have both been at fault, but you might at least have come and asked me to stay in your home, when you knew my delicate condition."
"Clarissa! As there is a good Judge in the Infinite, I did not know it."
"You did know it, for I told you so myself, during that last quarrel."
"I will not dispute your words, that would be useless, but will admit much of that interview is a blank in my memory. You know, as well as I, when jealousy or rage controlled me I was not always responsible for what I might do or say.If I were to be weighed in the balance of Infinite Justice, however, I should firmly declare that, had I known your condition, I should have humbled my pride and sought your presence, shielding you from your pain and suffering so far as lay in my power."
"You are the cause of Augustus' infirmity, and every time I see him looking longingly at other boys who can run and walk and play, how do you suppose I feel?"
"How can I be blamed for that, Clarissa? Surely, I injured you in no way."
"You never struck me with your hands, but you struck my heart; pride, fears, disappointment, anguish of mind, and, yes, I may as well admit it, lonesomeness produced such an effect upon me that, for a while, I was unable to walk; my body would tremble and shake so that I could not support myself.
"When my boy,—my idol came, he was physically perfect. How proud I was of him; but when the time came all other children walk, mine could not stand alone! He was called upon to pay the penalty of our sins. My love for him increased when I knew I was the cause of his affliction; I could not help feeling bitter and angry toward you, for without your senseless and unreasonable jealousy, our boy might have beenlike others, only brighter, for every one admits that he is unusually talented."
"If I could take his infirmity from him, I would gladly do so, but I cannot. Every reparation man can make, however, I will make, if you will give me a chance. You have been in my home. Won't you and Augustus come there to live? I promise upon my honor to be guided by your judgment and wishes. You will not believe me till you test it, but I know my love is strong enough to bear any test. You think a mother's love is purest, but that love which a good man offers the woman he wants to make his life complete, cannot be exceeded by any sentiment possible to souls of earth.
"Show me a test of endurance you would undergo for Augustus;—I will double it for you without a murmur. Will you not give me one trial, Clarissa? Come—how you tremble! I must go and leave you—kiss me before I go. I will go ahead, for Merle is very ill and needs me. I will either come back for you, or you and Augustus may come on with James. Nancy will have everything in readiness. We will begin anew. Which will you do?"
"We will come with James, William."
"When?"
"Just as soon as we can get ready."
"I cannot realize you are really coming to meagain, Clarissa;—I fear I will awake and find it is only a dream, as I have so many times before. Look me straight in the eye, and swear you will come.—I believe it now. I will not disturb James and Augustus. He was frightened and thought you were dead. Thinking I had killed you, he disliked me, but you will influence him to love me. Won't you write me while you have to stay here? I will leave a check at my apartments for all you will need. James will fetch it to you. Think of me sometimes, even though I am unworthy."
When he left Clarissa, William walked quickly from the house, and sought his own apartments, preparatory to going to Merle, who, as the telegrams stated, was seriously ill.
Happiness is a great beautifier and youth imparting power, and when William reached home, he looked so different even the servants noticed the change. He made only a short stop at his home, and sending for Nancy, without any explanations broke the tidings that James was shortly to come, bringing Clarissa and her son with him; she must, therefore, have everything in readiness that was best in his home.
Leaving her flustrated and nervous, he hurried to Merle's home, where Mrs. Millard greeted him with visible joy and said, "We are so happy to see you again, Professor,—Merle is much better; we have thought several times he was dying. He seemed to start to improve quite suddenly, and now he is looking almost his natural self. So much so, I am afraid you will think we have intruded needlessly."
"Not at all. Not at all, Mrs. Millard. I am only too glad to know he is improved. How are Alice and yourself? I see you look particularly fatigued."
"That is from so much anxiety about Merle. Alice is the same."
"I will go and see Merle, then I will treat Alice. When they are both better, you will feel better.—Well, Merle, I am sorry to see you here so ill, but am glad indeed to learn you are getting better. You look better than I expected to see you. My thoughts must have reached you soon after I received the news of your sickness."
"You do not know how glad I am to see you. I was sure it was your power that gave me strength again. I was feeling so despondent and weak and discouraged. I would be ashamed to acknowledge how badly off I was, when, all of a sudden, there passed over me a wave of courage, cheerfulness and hope, and from that moment, I began to gain steadily. Now life looks bright and cheery, and I believe I shall soon be in condition for you to finish our experiments, if you wish to do so."
"Do not worry about them, Merle."
"You have been so kind to me, I dislike to feel I am the cause of any disappointment to you. Is it because you have been away, or is it the fancy born of a sick brain, for really you seem to have changed since I saw you. You look younger and happier and more powerful."
"I think you must be turning flatterer. I have a surprise for you when you are a little stronger. My silent and absent treatments are taking good effect. I will not put you to sleep this time. I am a little hurried, so I will go to Alice, then I must hasten home, as I have some business there, andI will come in and see you again before I go to sleep."
"Professor, your eyes are fairly dazzling they are so bright. You must be happy, for I feel a desire to laugh or sing."
"I am happy, and I want everyone to participate in my joy. You must make haste and get well, so your family will all be in condition and position to celebrate my happiness. It will be an occasion that does not require the services of nurses."
"I will gain just as rapidly as I can. I am so glad you are happy, and hope you will always be as happy as you are now."
"Thanks, Merle, for your good wishes. Au revoir. Mrs. Millard, where shall I find Alice? Oh, here she is now."
"Yes, Professor, and we are so glad you have come back. How well you look! Does he not, mother?"
"Yes indeed, sir, you do."
"I am glad to know you think so. Alice, as Merle is not in a condition to be used, and there are some things I am anxious to know about, would you mind my putting you into the trance state? I will not keep you long."
"I would be glad to do it for you. Shall we go into the parlor, or do you prefer that I remain here?"
"We will stay here, and Mrs. Millard will go and sit with Merle."
Mrs. Millard went out, and William immediately placed Alice in a trance.
"Alice, are you waking?"
"Yes."
"Can you tell me what my wife is doing?"
"I did not know you had a wife."
"Find her. Tell me what she is doing. What is she thinking?" There was a long pause. "Alice, can you find her?"
"Yes. But I do not want to tell you what she is thinking."
"Why not?"
"It would make you unhappy."
"Does she love me, Alice? Do not hesitate to tell me the truth. I want it, and demand it. I am no coward."
"She loves you dearly."
"Then why do you hesitate to tell me what she is thinking?"
"Because you could not understand her feelings."
"Why not?"
"You cannot place yourself in her position. She is trying to discover which she loves better, and Oh, I see so much misery. I want to wring my hands. Please take it away."
"No, Alice, tell me exactly what she isthinking. You must and shall. Who stands between her and me?"
"A boy."
"Thank God! Now, Alice, you have been a truthful subject,—I know you love me and wish me well; help me pass this crisis in my life creditably and right, for I begin to suspect my own powers of penetration and wisdom."
"That means you are growing in knowledge. Only ignorant persons place implicit confidence in their opinions. You are a grand man, but all finite beings are fallible. This woman is an equally grand and noble woman, but her thoughts are obscured by doubt at this time. She wants to do just what is right, she is afraid to trust her own desires."
"Desires for what? Be very careful in answering, as the happiness of several lives may depend upon your answer."
"She loves you, and wants to come to you, but the boy does not. She is afraid her desire to be with you is a selfish one. She would do for him what she would not do for herself; unless you use force, he will defeat you—"
"How can he? She has promised to come to me."
"She wants to, but she feels in some way indebted to him, anyway, I know she is struggling between the two influences, and if you do not go toher quick,—right off—she will go away with him, a long way,—where he wants to go, and you will be unable to reach her for a long time. Hurry, for she does not want to go; she is crying, but he will make her go if you do not go right off. She is afraid of him."
"But, Alice,—she promised to come here."
"And he insists on going there."
"You are sure, Alice, it is a boy who comes between us?"
"Yes."
"Whose boy is it?"
"Her boy,—and if you do not hurry, they will go on the boat. Go to her. She is ill and suffering."
"If she is ill and suffering, she knows where to send for me."
"She dare not."
"Why? She knows I love her."
"No, she does not know it."
"I say she does."
"But she does not. Oh, hurry! Please go to her."
"I will not go a step. She promised to come to me. If she does not care to do so, I shall never urge her more."
"She does want to come, but the boy does not."
"Then let her choose between us."
"No. Go to her. Heed my warning. Go atonce. You will arrive in time to save suffering to many. The boy is selfish. He is influencing her to do what she does not want to do. If you go to her, she will mind you."
"I do not want her to come to me if she is forced to do so."
"She loves you. She is sick. Go to her, and you will never be sorry. Merle is going to be ill again, but do not stay here, for it is your suffering that affects him, and makes him so. You have magnetized him so often, and he is so strongly charged with your magnetism, that whatever affects you, influences him and affects him physically. You will come out all right if you will only heed my warning, and go to her. Remember I told you you were going through a cloud, and I would guide you. You must follow my advice, otherwise I cannot guide you. Go as quickly as you can. She needs you. If you love her, you will put away pride, and go to her."
"Why should I do all the seeking? I have given her proof enough of my love. If she does not want to come to me, and prefers his love to mine, I shall not interfere."
"You shall. You must. She wants to be with you, but she feels it is selfish upon her part to wish to. The boy is selfish, and you will both be miserable. Do not be harsh with her. Show your love. Make her see it is not selfishness to wishto be with you, and that it would cause both herself and you so much suffering to gratify the boy. You need each other, and the boy needs discipline."
"Alice, are you sure she wants to be with me?"
"Yes, I am sure. Will you not go to her now,—right away? She is sick,—heart-sick as well as physically."
"Yes; I will go. If I find conditions as you say, you have earned my lasting gratitude;—I do not know what to think, what to believe, what to do. You have always been truthful, so was Merle for ten years, then he told me untruths; perhaps you are doing the same. If I find you have deceived me, it will be another of life's lessons well learned. I have always advocated truth could always be obtained from an entranced subject, if their minds were left totally unbiased by the operator's will. I can never again teach that, nor place implicit confidence in any assertions I may receive. My book I have put the work of years into is practically valueless, for all I shall now give to the public will be what Merle gives me, eradicating all my own views upon the subject."
"Why do you not go to your wife instead of staying here? I do not believe you love her after all."
"Alice! Silence."
"You are making her suffer. You want to spare anyone you love from suffering."
"There is no logic nor reason in your utterances. I seem to have struck a cross tide, that brings me no good. Wake up, Alice."
"Promise you will go to her right away."
"Yes, I will go. Probably I shall find I have been duped, but I will go, for I am weak enough to want to see her before me all the time. Wake up.—Wake up.—There, you are yourself again. I think it would do you and Merle good to go out in the air and sunshine. I will send a carriage for you. Your mother can go with you, too.—Mrs. Millard,—
"Mrs. Millard, I have been telling Alice I think a ride in the air and sunshine would be beneficial to both her and Merle. You had better go with them, and see they do not over-exert themselves. On your way home, call at my house for a luncheon and a bouquet of flowers. I will send a carriage for you and notify Mrs. C—— to have the food and flowers ready when you call. I am going away again for a very short time. If you need me, send for me."
"What a good man you are, Professor Huskins,—always trying to make others happy. The good God above ought to shower happiness upon you. We shall miss you while you are away, but we always say, we hope you are enjoyingyourself. We can never even hope to repay your goodness to us, but a mother's prayers ever follow you, because of the good you have done me and mine."
"There, Mrs. Millard, you praise me beyond my deserts. I must go now. I am glad to find Merle so much improved. Enjoy yourselves as much as possible, and you will soon find me back with you. Do not hesitate to send for me if I am needed. I will not speak to Merle before I go."
When William reached his wife's apartments, Dinah let him in as she had upon his previous visit. Her face seemed to beam with happiness. He put his finger to his lips, and, divining his wish to surprise Clarissa, she said nothing, but pointed to a door beyond and, smiling, nodded and disappeared.
Leaving his outer garments in the hall, he quickly traversed the distance between him and the door, and without pausing to be announced, opened and entered Clarissa's private room. She lay prostrate upon the bed, crying and moaning piteously, and as she had not heard him enter, was only aware of his presence when she felt his arms about her and saw his face as he bent over her.
It seemed like a pleasant dream to feel his lips upon her own,—his arms encircling her, and for a moment, she gave herself unrestrainedly to the happiness she felt. Her perfect abandonment to his embrace was the strongest proof William had ever had of her love for him.
Her greeting left no room for him to doubt her sincerity, and for a while both were oblivious to time and their surroundings. Clarissa was first to speak.
"Did you come in answer to my prayer?"
"I hope so. Tell me what it was, dear."
"I prayed I might be guided to do what was right, and not be influenced by any selfish motive to gain my own happiness. I do not wish to be selfish."
"Clarissa, let your heart speak, for our future happiness depends upon your answer. Is my love and presence capable of bringing you any joy? Am I ever necessary to you?"
"Always, William—always. I was never truly happy when you were absent. Even when Augustus came, I wanted you to share my joy. I have been so lonely and miserable. You will not leave me again, will you? I am sick;—a weak and feeble woman."
"I never left you, Clarissa; you know that. You left me. I have been thinking it over. I do not doubt my love was often obtrusive and selfish, but I never meant it to be so. Let me now give you the benefit of my riper judgment. All I ask is to see you and to know you are present in my home, which has been so desolate without you. I promise you, I will not obtrude myself upon you unless you ask me to do so. I was selfish, but you know it was only my jealousy that got the better of me. When such tempests come, I have not the power to resist; do not heed my looks nor words, for they are not true to the real man, butcome to me, and place your arms around me as you have them now. The touch will restore to me my lost senses. I do not doubt your honesty, Clarissa, but at times, there sweeps over my soul such a wave of power I cannot resist it, depriving me even of my reason. If any man were to come to me and even hint that I should doubt you, I should resent it as a gross insult. I do trust you, still, I do not. You cannot understand me; I do not really understand myself. Just have patience. Help me to overcome this monster. Really, I only doubt my power to please and satisfy you, and I wish to be dearer to you than all else in life. Will you not help me to conquer this Demon who rules and governs me, and renders me insane for the time? The touch of your arms and lips will always dispel him if you will but have patience with me. Try to realize how I love you. Tell me, dearest, why were you sobbing when I came?"
"I am afraid to."
"If you have one spark of love for me in your soul, never think—much less say that you are afraid to tell me anything. Whatever is to be told, tell me, and let us work out the problem together. I have thought over carefully all you said to me in our last interview, and acknowledge I have often been selfish and exacting, still you were wrong, for God is love, and love has thepower to sanction the union of the sexes. My soul was wedded to yours; we were married in the highest sense of the word. I may have made exorbitant demands upon you and your patience then, but, Clarissa, your love will give you patience to restrain my selfishness, and hold me where I ought to be. Whatever I say,—whatever I do, only come and put your arms around me as they are now, and you will find, instead of a dictator, you will have a slave."
"I believe you, William. The assurance of your love makes me the happiest woman upon earth, but what am I to do with Augustus? I cannot help feeling I am responsible for his infirmity; therefore, I ought gladly and willingly to sacrifice every desire of my heart to be with him, doing what he wants me to do. I do not want to be selfish, William, am I not so when I find my only happiness in your presence and your love?"
"No, dear; love—real love—cannot be selfish."
"You ask me one thing, he asks me another totally different. Each says if I love him, I will do as he wishes; I love you both, and I want to go to your home, William, I am tired of struggling alone. I want your care and love, but Augustus wants to go elsewhere, and thinks if I do not do as he wishes I do not love him. When I seehis helplessness, I feel that I am to blame for it, and ought to do whatever he asks me. I cannot please you both. I cannot do what both want. I love you both far dearer than myself; what shall I do? Can you not help me, William? Am I selfish when I long to put my trust in you,—to have you think for me? Tell me what to do. I want to do for Augustus all that a mother could do, but my soul hungers for you and your love."
"Clarissa, how can the love of man and wife be selfish? Augustus is our child—I would gladly offer my life for him, but he can never be to me what you are; I may be wrong, but it seems to me the love of husband and wife is the strongest that can be expressed. Can a child's love for its mother outbalance her husband's? Not if she loves her husband. As I understand the Infinite law, man and woman blend their loves to make a complete whole, while a child leaves its parents to unite itself with its opposite. A mother's love may be strong and powerful, but I believe the true love of husband or wife outweighs in power that of a mother, or even of a child. Tell me truly;—which love satisfies you better—a child's or a husband's?"
"Do not ask me, William, for I am so weak a woman, that my soul cries out for your love and appreciation, and will not be stilled, although Iknow my boy ought to engross every sentiment of my life."
"Why should he engross your whole attention any more than other children? Are they the sole thought of their mothers? Is it not selfish for him to make us both miserable simply because he took a dislike to me for putting you to sleep? He was frightened. I was to blame for announcing myself as his father with no preparation. He liked me at first, and will again. We will make it the study of our lives to make him happy. Where does he want to go?"
"To Australia."
"Australia?"
"Yes, William. How did you happen to come back just now, when you expected us to come to you? I was just going to write you that you need not expect us, and by the time you would have received my letter, we should have left here. That was why I was crying. Augustus would have made himself ill if I had not promised him he should go.—Now he has gone out, happy; James is with him. He loves James. How did you happen to come now? Is the young man better? James has told me all about his family, and how you have lived since I went away."
"Merle was much better when I got there. I wanted so much to hear from you, and how you were getting on, I asked Alice if I mightentrance her; she told me to leave at once and hurry back to you, for you were thinking of going away where I could not reach you for a long time. I left at once, and here I am, for I do not intend you shall leave me again if I can help it."
"Tell me; how could she know I intended going? I do not understand much of your power."
"I cannot explain it to you now. When we have more time, I will teach you the science. There is Augustus. His voice sounds happy. What makes you tremble so? Surely, you are not afraid of your child! I will deal with him."
"No! No! You must not. It would make him so nervous he would be ill. We have to be very careful not to allow him to become excited. We have tried to spare him suffering in every way since he was a baby."
"You do not think I intend to be cross with him, do you?"
"No; but when he makes up his mind to do a thing, you cannot refuse him, he gets so nervous. William, could not you go to Australia for a journey? You have nothing to keep you here, and that would pacify him,—to know you were willing to please him. I am sure we could soon reconcile him to your going."
"Clarissa, I am surprised that you who were so fearless with me, so impatient of dictation, should be governed by a mere child. Your own boy!If I thought you, or he, either, really needed the change, or that it would do you good, I would gladly go, no matter what I left behind, for it shall be the object of my life to make you both happy.—As it is, this is but a childish whim, and you will both be much more comfortable in my home. You need rest and quiet. Do not look so pained and sad. I will manage the boy easily, and promise that he shall not be ill."
"You do not know him, William, but I will promise him a pony that he can drive himself. That may please him. He wants one—"
"You never tried so hard to please me.—There;—that was unkind—I will take it back. Now let me make you sleep a while. You will wake rested and calm. Do not resist. I will not make Augustus ill. Sleep. Sleep and gain strength.—Now for Augustus. No wonder Alice said he needed discipline. I shall need all my power to rule my home."
Having arranged her comfortably, William left the apartment, and following the sound of voices, entered without announcing himself, speaking pleasantly to Augustus and James and Dinah. James was delighted to see him, but Augustus' face darkened at once. He did not offer to return his father's greeting, but said quickly to Dinah, "Where is mamma? I want to see her."
He started to leave the room, but Williamstood in his way, looking him steadily in the eyes with a calm, quiet gaze.
"Get out of my way, or I will hurt you. I am going to see my mother. She will send you away."
"Your mother is tired and sleeping. You do not want to disturb her. Have you no welcome for me?"
"I hate you. I will not stay where you are. I will wake mamma. She will make you leave. I will run my chair against you if you do not move. I tell you I want to go to my mother. James, push him away."
"Honey, do not get nervous and sick; if you do, you can not go away."
"James, I tell you to make him move out of my way, or he will wish he had."
Dinah went to the boy and tried to smooth his hair and pacify him. He only pushed her away, glaring all the time with the might of his will at his father. He was becoming very much excited. William had expected an unpleasant scene, but not quite such as this. If it continued long, the boy would make himself ill. What an indomitable will he had! He was fairly choking with rage and anger.
"Dinah and James, you may retire. Leave us alone."
"They shall not go. They belong to mother. You have no right to tell them what to do. Youhad better go yourself. Move out of my way, or I will hurt you."
"James—Dinah,—leave us. I do not wish to speak to you again."
The tone of William's voice left no room for doubt he meant what he said, and they closed the door behind them without a word. As they did so, Augustus pushed his chair forward; William's face was white. He stood with folded arms, right in the path, his eyes gleaming brilliantly. They were stubborn wills that conflicted, but William's had all the advantage, as he knew how to direct his thoughts clearly, while Augustus was spending his wildly.
Just as the chair reached him, William put out his hand and stopped it right in front of him. That he should be stopped so enraged Augustus, who had always been accustomed to seeing everyone bow to his wishes, that, raising himself to his feet, and supporting himself with one hand, he struck William with all the force of his strength. William seized the wrist with one hand and holding it firmly, with the other he forced the boy back into his chair. Augustus was trembling in every limb. The unconquered force of will was shining in his eyes, but his body was too frail and weak to support it. He struggled to speak several times before he could articulate.
"Let me go. I will be sick and frightenmamma so she will send you away. Mamma! Dinah! James! Let me go, I say. If I were a man, I would be ashamed to hold a sick boy. Mamma!"
"I am not holding a sick boy, but a cross one. Do not call your mother or anyone else again. They will not come to you."
"What are you going to do, kill me? Mamma—mamma!"
"Do not dare to call her again. When you and I have finished, we will both go to her. Stop. Stop struggling. You are powerless to get away. Calm yourself and listen to me."
"I will not be calm. I shall be sick, and mamma will wish she had listened to me. She is always scared—"
"You are not going to be ill."
"I will. I am sick. I feel my heart beating fast; that always means I am going to be awful sick. Why are you looking at me that way? You are hurting my wrist. I cannot breathe, I am—"
"You are feeling well. See, you are not trembling so much; Augustus, look at me. There, there,—you cannot get away, so you may as well obey me. Be a good boy and we will go to your mother. Let us tell her we are friends. I know you are tired;—I will carry you."
"What will you give me if I won't be sick?"
"I shall not allow you to be ill. Come; youare exhausted. I will carry you in my arms to your mother. You may rest beside her when you have told me you are sorry for your behavior, and are ready to come home with me."
"I shall never say I am sorry. We are not going home with you."
"You shall sit right where you are until you do say so."
Suddenly Augustus burst forth into a perfect tempest of crying. He shook from head to foot, and every little while he called "Mamma—Dinah!" William stood beside him, offering no remarks or assistance, but when the fury had spent itself he said quietly, "It is useless for you to try to frighten me. We will stay right here until you do what I say."
"Mamma will come soon. She will hate you for making me sick."
William said no more, but his face showed, even to the boy, he had no intention of changing his mind, and they continued to look at one another. Augustus was weak and exhausted, but he would not give in and say he was sorry. As time slipped by, his head began to droop; the excitement was too much for him. He was used to winning his battles quickly, and this was a new experience for him. Seeing he was tired, William spoke again.
"Shall I take you to your mother now?"
"Yes."
"Then say you are sorry and will go home with me."
"I will not. I will never say it."
There was another long wait. Augustus' eyes drooped heavily. At last he gave his head a toss and said: "If you cure mamma, I will go home with you. Then I may be sorry I struck you."
William could not help smiling at this answer. It was hard to give in, and the boy wanted to get away. This was the best compromise he could think of, but, having started to conquer him, William felt it his duty to finish, as it would save that much trouble later.
"That is not what I asked you to say."
There was another silence. William pitied the boy, he was so tired and weak. After a time Augustus said: "I am sorry you made it necessary for me to strike you." As he looked in his father's face, he saw no signs of relenting. This time the pause was longer. Finally he looked up with a pitiful expression and held out his hands, saying: "Please take me to mamma. I will tell her I have been naughty and cross."
William lifted him easily; as he laid his head against his shoulder, Augustus clasped his neck and nestled down, wan and tired. That was thehardest task he had ever done. He was thoroughly conquered, and looked up with a pleasant smile when he felt his father's kiss upon his face, and was soon lying by his mother's side fast asleep.
William was content to watch them, and as he sat there, he thought what a blessing Alice's advice had been to him. He had his family back now. Could he keep them? If love would hold them he would. He was tired himself, but he must go and consult with James and Dinah. So he left them together and went out to perfect his plans for their future happiness.