"I may as well acknowledge the truth to myself. I would have allowed Merle to suffer before I would have gone out, while she stood there. She would have thought I felt shocked to see her, but she will find me entirely calm and collected;—master of myself.
"To think that now, of all times, Merle fails me! If I ever wanted his help, it is now. I ought to be strong enough and shrewd enough to compete with a woman. I cannot collect my thoughts sufficiently to even try to conjecture the cause of Merle's and Alice's inconsistency in talk. Truly, inconsistency, you never had a more ardent and faithful pupil than I. My whole bearing is an example of inconsistency, without modification. I am glad no person can know from my outward appearance, the great tumult sweeping over my soul.
"Happy? Poor woman, she did not mean to be sarcastic, for she was sincere in her wish, but my worst enemy could not give me a keener thrust. Now to tell James. He and Mrs. C—— must not be seen by her. I seem pursued by fate,yet I have always been an honorable man. Sometimes I am almost convinced those who try least to be so are blessed with the greatest happiness."
When William reached his home, he went directly to his private apartment, telling the attendant who let him in to send James to him at once. He had no more than removed his coat, when there was a rap on the door, and in answer to his "Come in" an aged man appeared, small in stature, but very erect, the personification of neatness and exactness. Looking at this man, one would not suppose he had ever made an error in system, or forgotten any of the rules respecting cleanliness and order.
It was easily to be seen at a single glance his whole soul bowed down in admiration and homage to his master, whom he loved with that degree of fervor that passes the bounds of ordinary affection, and servitude, and enters the realm of adoration or reverence.
The horizon of his present and future was bounded by this man's pleasure and displeasure. His eyes fastened themselves at once upon his master's when he was bidden to enter. The most careless observer would have said, could he have obtained but one glimpse of his attitude and deportment, "that man is a slave to his master, still I would not want to stir the depths of his nature towards me as an antagonist, for he is noordinary character, but a power whichever way he may incline."
For a brief interval after he entered, no word was spoken by either. James, the newcomer, was looking at his master, while William hesitated and seemed confused. Finally he spoke, but anyone would have noticed the hot flush which diffused his face, and which was a very foreign expression to his usually pale and colorless hue.
"James, I have sent for you to impart a most unusual command. Ever since you came into my service, you have been faithful, loyal and considerate of my every pleasure and comfort. Not once have I had any occasion to censure you or doubt your loving service. Such faithfulness demands recognition. During the darkest days of my life, you guided and thought for me, when I was unable to think coherently or strongly for myself. Such service can never be rewarded.
"I hope I have proved myself to be, at least, a kind and considerate master. If I have failed in any respect, it is because I lacked wisdom to express myself, as my heart has overflowed with gratitude."
"Do not say any more, Professor. Never was a poor servant blessed with so kind a master before as I have been here. I have been with you too long not to read the expression of your face aright. You are in sore trouble. This is a chancefor me to show the depths of my devotion to you. Bid me make any sacrifice, ask me to perform any work, however delicate or dangerous, and you shall see how much James loves you. Believe me, Professor, I know only one aim and object in life,—that is to further and guard your happiness, or I should say your bodily comfort, for I know you are not happy, though the Gods have given you riches, power and wisdom.
"You are too good a man not to have somewhere in store for you the same amount of pleasure you are always striving to give to someone else. Surely, you are ill—I will bring you some wine."
"No, James, I do not want it."
"But you have eaten nothing at home for a whole day. Your bed has not been disturbed, and you tremble so I know that you are not well. Let me send for Dr. Harrington."
"NO."
"There, I implore you, take some wine. Rest, and I will see no one disturbs you."
"Sleep! I feel as though I could never sleep again. Wine is impotent to restore my calmness, James. Only a powerful exercise of will can do that. By and by I will gain it. I sent for you to help me pass a darker condition than has heretofore entered my most disappointing and troubled life. You have never yet failed me andI do not think you will now. I would not have permitted any other person to see me so unmanned, but when you came in just then, it brought too forcibly for me to control myself, those old times, when your coming was the signal for my happiness, and now the contrast is so great, it for a time overcame me. I will be myself again soon."
"Pardon an old man's inquisitiveness. You know it can only arise from my love for you, for I have given as good a test as one man can give another of my faithfulness. I have never seen you so agitated and upset since that awful time you forbade me to ever mention. I have been as silent as the grave, but I feel you could not be so upset but by something connected with that or some tidings of it. Forgive my speaking of it when you have commanded my silence, for this is my first disobedience in all these years."
"James, Clarissa is coming here to-day."
"Master—do my ears deceive me? My little Clarissa? My beloved Clarissa? My beautiful lady?"
"James, are you beside yourself?"
"How can I be calm when I shall welcome my blessed lady? You say she is coming. Blessed be the day when her feet cross your—"
"That will do. I see you still love her better than me, who have tried to be your friend, whenshe forsook and forgot you. Such is the gratitude of this world."
"There is no test or sacrifice any man can pass through, I would not gladly and cheerfully endure to prove my loyalty to you. You tell me Clarissa is coming here, then condemn me for rejoicing, when there hasn't been a day passed for years I have not prayed for this very thing. How can I help rejoicing at your happiness? Why do you look so serious? I know—My God! They will bring her poor dead body here. Poor child, we will cover it with flowers. I will cut all those we were saving for the public exhibition. You will not care, will you Professor? It is the last favor a poor old servant can do. You know I always keep one plant of her favorite blossoms growing. There is only one spray of them, but she would like them in her hand. I always felt she would come, and I wanted her to find them in season, or out of season her flowers, a fit sign of the constancy of the love we felt for her."
"Stop! You are giving her more credit than I feel is her due. Your love for her is stronger than I had dreamed. It is well you have not told me before of your keeping a particular blossom among my plants for her, otherwise you would not have preserved the plants, and remained in my service. If your love for her is stronger thanfor me, I will release you from your allegiance to me, and you had better seek her service."
"Remember, I am an old man, no longer quick to understand. Let that fact be my excuse. No other master will I ever serve willingly. I know not how to talk or act. You say she is coming, yet you are angry when I feel joy. Why does she come, if not dead?"
"By her own wish."
"I always told you she loved you."
"She is not coming because she loves me. She has heard I am a powerful mesmerist, and wishes me to mesmerize her."
"No! No! You do not mean to say she is coming here unbidden and unwelcomed by you."
"You may be sure I have extended her no invitation. I suppose she thinks she can deal with me as before. If she can come unbidden, I am a very weak man, if I cannot act the part of an hospitable host."
"There must be some mistake here; Clarissa is too proud to place herself in such a place. She does not know whom you are."
"Why doesn't she? She went to Dr. Baxter and solicited his influence to do for her what she knew I would not."
"My poor old brain is numb; but I know that Clarissa has some motive good and true, or she would not humble herself to you. I know shethinks by bending her pride, you will forget and forgive. She knows you too well to believe you will seek her, although we all were to die of lonesomeness and sorrow. That is the way she used to do when she was small. Be imperious and wilful as a little queen, then come and—"
"There,—reminiscences are not interesting to me. They might be to her. You have the privilege to choose between her and me, as you did once before. There will be the same conditions attached to the bargain. You cannot serve both. Consider yourself entirely free to choose. You have served me well—I appreciate your faithfulness, but could not hope to vie—"
"Do not say any more,—my head is going round and round. Won't you tell me why she is coming here?"
"I have told you."
"Master, you do not think that is the only reason? I know she is hungry to see you. You will not go to her, so she is coming to you. She is proud, and must have suffered awfully before she could do it. When you see her, you will forget what she did, same as I used to when she had picked all my choice—"
"Enough. There is not the slightest resemblance between a man's heart and a flower, though she does seem to think so. I told you Merle was sick, and you professed to be sorry,as you said you thought him to be an unusually fine young man."
"I meant it. He is, next to yourself, the best man I ever saw."
"What do you suppose caused his illness?"
"How could I know?"
"Your idol of admiration and worship—Clarissa."
"No, it cannot be so. She would not make an insect to suffer. I remember—"
"I do not care to hear remembrances. He told me so himself. He had been her lover at one time, and the knowledge he was only one of several ruined his life. He had not seen her for some time, but, coming suddenly into her presence, being weak from long entrancement, he received such a shock he has been weak and feverish ever since. The same old story, you see!"
"I do not think Merle would lie, Professor, but I cannot believe Clarissa would willingly ruin any man's life. Everything seems to be tending to a more dense darkness. When she comes, I will take her the bunch of flowers I have raised for her, and tell her how perplexed I am. She will explain. She always told the truth, no matter what she did."
"How she must have changed since childhood."
"Do not laugh like that."
"That was a droll remark. She always told the truth, no matter what she did.—Well, time is flying. She will soon be here. Which are you going to be loyal to, her or me? You have not much time to decide. That is her fault, not mine. If you conclude to remain in my service, you must make a quick decision, as I shall insist upon both you and your wife's shutting yourselves up in your own apartments while she is here, that she may neither see you nor know you are here."
"Not even see her? Not one glance?"
"No. Not and remain in my service; furthermore, your wife must not even know she is coming. I do not trust women. She might promise secrecy, but would yield to the temptation to look at her, to see how she had changed. While she was looking, the famous Miss Earle would see her, and then such a scene would follow as I don't wish Baxter and Harrington to see. What are you looking at me like that for?"
"You do not mean that Miss Earle, the great singer, is Clarissa?"
"None other, James. Time makes many changes. But quick,—you must choose."
"I never did, nor never will condemn or believe anything against her."
"Then you decide to go to her? No doubt she will be glad to have you with her again."
"I did not say that. I said I trusted her, andI do. She had reasons I did not know, and probably never shall, for doing what she did. I shall serve you lovingly and faithfully as long as breath remains in my old body, unless you send me away. I had rather die than know that she was here though, and not hear the sound of her sweet voice, or feel the touch of her soft, white hands, but I will follow your directions, and so shall Nancy. I will keep her working. May I ask just one question?"
"I have never refused to answer you, have I?"
"Shall you mesmerize her? If you do, may I not take just one look at her? She will not know it."
"I shall have nothing to do with her."
"But, master, everyone says you have wonderful power. I do not understand it. Couldn't you mesmerize her and find out why she left us?"
"Nonsense. I know well enough."
"If you wanted to do so, could you make her tell you in that way?
"Yes."
"Then why do you not do it?"
"It is not worth the trouble. I want to thank you for your loyalty to me. You will never be the loser, James. I trust you to keep both yourself and your wife from sight while she is here. To reward you, I will tell you the principal account she gives of herself during the interview,after she has gone. I am done with you now. Do not look so solemn, James; your part is far easier than mine."
"If you should mesmerize her, may I see her?"
"I can easily promise you that—"
"I will put those flowers in the library, under your picture, just where she loved to see them. She will know she isn't forgotten here. When you want me, tell Robert to come to my private room. Nancy and I will be there.—I was only saying to send Robert to my room when you wanted me, as Nancy and I would be there."
* * * * *
As the door closed, William threw himself into the nearest chair, repeating James's words "rather die than know she was here and not hear the sound of her sweet voice, or feel the touch of her soft, white hands." His lips closed firmer and firmer together, as he felt how much easier it was not to see her than to meet her as he must; as a stranger; calm and collected, while his whole being was swaying with emotions so varied and conflicting; he could not separate nor enumerate them himself.
Of all the bitter lessons life had furnished him, this was certainly the bitterest. Then came the thought, "I must control my thoughts. I will be brave and calm—apparently satisfied and happy with my lot in life. If she has the heartlessnessto seek me, she shall witness no ravages her perfidy has made upon me. She shall not gloat over my misery. I will dress now. I will show her that there is at least one man who can resist the witchery of her presence, despite her fame."
When William had dressed, and entered his library to attend to the writing which the day's excitement had caused him to neglect, not even the most careful observer of human nature could have discovered signs of a disturbed mind in either his face or his bearing. He seated himself, and immediately began to critically examine the papers which awaited his attention, and before the bell announcing the arrival of his guests rang, he had done quite an amount of work.
He arose at once, and went to the reception hall to greet them. There was not the least perceptible tremor in his voice when he bade them welcome, and acknowledged the introduction to the lady who came with Dr. Baxter.
After the usual salutations were over, he invited them into the adjoining room, and Dr. Baxter said,—
"You see we were right on time, Huskins. One of my pet foibles, you know, is punctuality. Miss Earle, unlike most of her sex, was promptness itself, waiting for me, instead of keeping me waiting for her. Harrington sent his regards, as he was unable to join us. He was suddenly called from town, to be gone several days. I hope I will not prove 'de trop' at this interview;if so, however, consider me yours to direct. I will go into another room, and remain until you have finished. Miss Earle, you look very pale, and you are trembling violently. You are nervous. There is no occasion for fearing Huskins; he is a royal good fellow. Most women are nervous toward him. Eh, Huskins?"
Miss Earle spoke up quickly. Her voice was calm, though she trembled visibly. "I have no fear of Prof. Huskins. Far from it; but I am troubled considerably with this most distressing form of nervousness. I shall soon recover."
"You work harder than you should, perhaps. It is no uncommon thing for women, and sometimes men, to be seized with a sort of vertigo when they first meet Huskins. They seem to feel that he has some mysterious power; their doubts and fears temporarily control them. You will feel more at ease after you have talked with him a while. His power is just the thing to remove your nervousness. It was wisdom upon your part that prompted you to come to him to be mesmerized. Medicine could not do what he can for you. Would you feel freer to talk if I were to leave the room?"
"You will please me best by remaining here. Both of you gentlemen have doubtless heard, and probably believe, that women are but living types of contradiction and inconsistency. I shall be toyou but another proof of the adage. Yesterday, I had but one absorbing thought—to be mesmerized; and I naturally desired to be taken to the most renowned exponent and operator. My exorbitant wish granted, my enthusiasm, strange to state, entirely vanished. I am very sorry that any whim of mine has discommoded you whose time is so valuable."
"Not at all, Miss Earle, it has afforded me great pleasure to be of service to you, and Huskins has any quantity of time at his disposal. He only works when he feels like it. I am sure your enthusiasm only failed you because you are uncertain of the sensation accompanying the trance condition. It is not unpleasant. I know that you would be a good 'subject' and could be put to sleep easily. Am I not right, Huskins?"
"Miss Earle has a temperament very susceptible to magnetic influence, and would experience no unpleasant sensations while passing to sleep. I am sure I could remove the nervous disorder."
"I appreciate your kindly interest in me, gentlemen, but all my desire for personal experience with magnetic sleep has gone, never to return: I feel now. It may seem strange to you,—I came to you, to two strangers, for such an experiment, without bringing with me an attendant, or obtaining your services through the intervention of mutual acquaintances. The reason for my singularaction was, I wanted no one to know about it. Your reputations were both such I knew you to be gentlemen. Really, I did not pause to think how it would look. It seemed to me as though I was going to a physician. It is quite proper to go there unattended."
"Such an apology is unnecessary. Do not allow such a trifling obstacle to interfere with the accomplishment of your wish, for Huskins' housekeeper is a venerable and estimable woman. She often assists him. She is a woman you would trust as a mother. You may never have such an opportunity again, for I had considerable work to gain the Professor's consent to mesmerize you. I imagine, however, your remarkable singing last night had more to do with it, after all, than any persuasion on my part. Who could refuse anything to the possessor of so matchless a voice?"
"Allow me to express the admiration I felt at the rendering of the first number you sang—doubtless all were equally good. Unfortunately for me, one of my subjects who went with me was taken violently ill, and we were compelled to leave. He is a friend of yours, he tells me."
"You flatter me by your encomiums. I am pleased you enjoyed the song. You say the gentleman who was with you was a friend of mine. May I ask his name?"
"Merle Millard."
"Merle Millard? That is a strange name to me. I have no recollection of ever having met him. No person who works in public can hope to remember all the estimable people whom they meet. I hope he has recovered from his indisposition."
"I am sorry to say he has not. It is strange you do not recall him at all. He told me today he once knew you intimately."
"I have had few intimate acquaintances in my life. I have no recollection of ever having heard that name before. I may have met him at some reception, and forgotten him; more than that, I do not know him. I hope he will have a speedy recovery. I will not intrude longer on your time."
"Can we say nothing to induce you to carry out your original intention?"
"No, Dr. Baxter; I thank you sincerely and earnestly for your kindness and courtesy."
"They are ever at your disposal. Would it be overstepping the bounds of politeness to ask you to sing just one song? The Professor is quite a musician, himself, and has a piano in perfect order; for I know he is so susceptible to discords. I have never had the pleasure of hearing you sing. Granting my wish, I shall always regard this day in my memory as one of the mostfortunate in my life. I know the Professor will gladly accompany you on the piano."
"You have been too kind for me to refuse. I owe you both some return for the patience you have shown my varying moods. I will not trouble the Professor to play for me, as I am used to playing my own accompaniments. I will sing you a song from memory, if that will be your pleasure."
"We will adjourn at once to the music room. The Professor is not a married man, but he keeps an establishment of as many rooms as though he had a large family. He is a lucky man:—rich, happy, powerful and talented. How he has managed to escape designing mothers and beautiful daughters, is a continual problem to his friends."
"Science is a jealous mistress, and is at present the wife of my choice; the presiding mistress of the house. I hope, Miss Earle, you will find the instrument in fairly good tune. Had I known I was to be so highly honored, I should have had it especially tuned for you, but I know that you are too gracious not to make allowances for any defects that may be found."
* * * * *
"What an exquisite voice! Words fail to express my gratitude for this feast of music; I shall never forget it. Permit me to offer youthese flowers which have been placed beneath Huskins' picture. Such music is only fitly rewarded by flowers."
"It is a beautiful bouquet. I appreciate your compliment and kindness. These waxy, white tuberoses are very rare at this season of the year. They are beautiful flowers, but their odor affects me unpleasantly. Singers, you know, are very sensitive to the fragrance of flowers. May I ask the Professor if he will kindly send them to the sick gentleman, with my compliments and best wishes? Flowers bring such a cheerful influence to the sick room. Permit me to thank you for your hospitality, Professor, and to apologize for my unseemly intrusion. Believe me, I truly appreciate all your kindness."
"It affords me great pleasure if I have been of any service to you, Miss Earle; may success attend you always. I will call at your office sometime tomorrow, Baxter. Au revoir."
After watching his guests depart, William strode quickly back to the music room. Any person seeing him would have known that some strong emotion was raging in his soul. His eyes flashed with that brightness that only shows itself under stress of strong feeling, and he walked straight to the bouquet which Miss Earle had left upon the table, near where she had stood. He took it up, and throwing it upon the floor, crushedthe sweet flowers under his feet until all their beauty was gone, but the whole room was filled with their fragrance.
"She dared ask me to carry these to her old love. She dared ask me! Me! Is she not satisfied with past torture, and must she add present insult to it? I carry flowers from her to another man? Why did I not crush them here before her? She does not like their odor—they affect her unpleasantly. She has changed her mind since I can remember. Once they affected her differently. She was nervous and trembling like a child. What sent her here? She shall not defy or humiliate me in the future. She is a rarely organized sensitive. I am an expert mesmerist. I will her to come and beg me to mesmerize her. First, I will refuse, then, when I am ready, I will influence her. She shall see, think and act just as I will her. I will put every particle of force in my soul into the work. I will make her my obedient slave. Ask me to carry flowers to your old lover! You dared to look me calmly in the eye, and to say without a quiver, 'Carry them, with my compliments and best wishes to the sick man.' My flowers, I was to carry to him. Think of it! My flowers with her compliments. If there is any power in magnetism, and I have proven its efficacy, I will crush out of your heartthe pride that prompted that insult, as thoroughly as I have the beauty of these flowers.
"Not one throb of pity for you. You are weaving a net for Baxter, too, probably. Make the most of your time, for I solemnly swear I will make you suffer just as much as you have made me. I have made a success of every work I have ever undertaken, and I will make one of this. These flowers make me feel faint and dizzy. I will go and walk and get the air. Her presence has polluted the very atmosphere of the whole house."
After leaving Prof. Huskins, Dr. Baxter escorted Miss Earle to her temporary home, and by every means in his power, sought to make her cheerful and at her ease. Despite his efforts she seemed a different woman, than she had been when he conducted her to the Professor's house.
He painted in the most glowing colors the remarkable wisdom and power of the Professor, recounting all his virtues, and his singular manner of living, acknowledging him to be the very "prince of men," of all his large acquaintance.
To his keen disappointment, she seemed not at all interested in his narration, and it might have been plainly evident to the most careless observer her thoughts and interests were far from the subject under consideration. His pride had been considerably wounded, but she was far too beautiful and distinguished a woman toward whom to cherish any animosity.
He was conscious of the fact that he had been signally honored by her seeking his aid to reach the professor, and he attributed her sudden change of purpose entirely to womanly fickleness of nature, being convinced in his own mind that, desiring a mesmeric sleep or state of unconsciousness, the presence of so austere anddignified a personage as the Professor had inspired her with a degree of awe and fear that, for the time, was uncontrollable.
He did not wonder greatly at this, for in all his acquaintance with the Professor, he had never seem him appear to so great a disadvantage. He was always affable and pleasing, especially when he desired to secure a person's approbation to being psychologized. In this interview, he had scarcely been hospitable, speaking only when he was actually spoken to or necessity demanded. He had a degree of deference and respect for Prof. Huskins that he felt for none other of his acquaintances, knowing him to be superior, from a moral standpoint, to all the rest, and he did not want an unpleasant impression to be left in this woman's mind.
Huskins had appeared to a disadvantage, and he endeavored, so far as lay in his power, to remove the unsatisfactory impression from her mind, but the woman did not appear to recover from the agitation, that the sight of the Professor had produced, although to most women, he was not only agreeable but captivating.
Arriving at her destination, she thanked him for his kindness to her, and his intercession with his distinguished friend, in a most charming manner, and he went away feeling well repaid for all his efforts. He felt sure that, had he beenthe Professor, she would not have refused to be mesmerized.
It was well for his egotism, and the peace of his mind, that he could not see the woman when she had reached her private apartments.
No audience ever had or ever would see her portray such a tempest of emotion as swayed and shook her soul. Her whole body quivered, like the single petal of a flower that has been drawn into the fury of a gale, and cannot control its action, but is swept hither and yon by an irresistible force. Finally the tempest of tears and grief subsided, leaving her languid and weak. Only then did her thoughts become cogent, and they ran something like this:
"What did he think? What could he think? He must have believed I knew whom he was, and went to see him, hoping for a reconciliation. How cold and stern and unrelenting his whole bearing was! How well I remember that expression in his eyes. I would have passed through any torture, rather than put myself in such a position; even death itself.
"How could I know that the distinguished Prof. Huskins was William? The two persons who quoted him, said he was an old man, a scientist who had experimented years, and was capable of removing all bodily infirmities.
"It was only natural my thoughts should turnto Augustus, who, while gifted with remarkable talent, is afflicted with a weak and impotent body. My one thought and ambition has been to so improve his physical condition as to make it easier for him to express his talent, and hearing of the Professor's power, I thought perhaps he could help Augustus. I would gladly be a martyr to benefit him in any way. He is the one object of my interest and love upon earth. I have tried every kind of physician, and, hearing of this man's marvelous and wonderful powers, I resolved to submit myself to his influence, to test its power and to see what it was, and if it was good, to secure his services for Augustus, even though it required all the money I had.
"How could I know that he was Augustus' own father? What power, what fate placed me in so embarrassing a position? What have I done that I should be subjected to such humiliation and chagrin? I have been a patient, faithful and devoted mother while he has enjoyed pleasure and renown. If there is a God of Justice, why have I been compelled to enter this cruel, selfish and heartless man's home in search of my poor child's health?
"How well I knew that expression in his eyes. He thought me a woman who seeks men of renown; he was as jealous and exacting as when his taunts and suspicions separated us.
"I thank the Giver of all Good that William did not know the real object of my going to him for the exercise of his powers.
"If there is a good God, and I sometimes question it, I pray that William may class me as he used to do with wicked and depraved women, for that would be preferable to the truth of a loving mother seeking her child's strength. If he believed Augustus to be his child, he would take him away from me, or I should at least have to divide Augustus' love. I will never do that, if it costs my life. He is mine. All mine. I would gladly suffer the torments of Hades to bring him one throb of joy.
"He shall never know his father's perfidy and treachery, if my suffering can prevent it. How glad he will be to see me! Augustus, it is for you I sing; not for the public who pay me. In me you must find both father and mother. No power but my love for you would have given me strength to resist the magnetism of your father's eye, which, in times past, has so influenced me.
"My body trembled, but when the two loves of my soul were placed in the balance, the mother's love was purer and stronger, and outweighed the wife's. It is useless to deny I love William; the very sight of him set every nerve aquiver, throbbing with an almost exquisite delight. I could not have controlled that condition, hadthere not come to my mind the memory and presence of one whom he denied, and who depends entirely upon my strength, fortitude and love.
"This memory gave me the strength to conquer my woman's love, and only manifest a mother's. The love of a wife, that is, of a true wife, is enduring, but that of a mother is the nearest infinite love that can be. A wife's love may wane and weaken by facts of infidelity, but a mother's only strengthens with every token of weakness.
"Just in proportion to Augustus' physical infirmity, does my affection increase in force and intensity. I once thought William the center of interest in the world, but the love I had for him pales into insignificance beside that for Augustus.
"William was jealous of me today; I saw it in his eyes, whose expression I know so well. Once such a look would have controlled not only my actions, but my very thoughts as well. His influence over me has not waned. I am well aware of that by the weakness I manifested;—I actually trembled visibly;—but there has come into my life a newer and stronger influence—a mother's love, and that has rendered the other impotent. I was weak and negative to him until I had placed in my arms a babe who depended upon me for every comfort and shelter as I had depended upon William.
"This dependence has generated in me a love and power he can neither overcome nor remove. He loves me yet. I saw and read the fact in his eyes. He appeared cold and unconcerned, but I know him too well to be deceived. No other woman has filled my place. He would have been glad to mesmerize me, and I am sure that I could never have resisted the power of his influence over me, had it not been for my thoughts of Augustus. A wife may be strong, but a mother is stronger, and I am to Augustus both mother and father. He shall never know the sacrifice I made for him this day. His father denied him, but his mother will be as true as his father is false.
"I defy the power which has made him famous. My heart refused to beat regularly while I was there. I know it was due to the sudden shock I received. He could not have entranced me against my will, nor made me tell of Augustus.
"He knew my condition when I left him, and he has never tried to find trace of my child, nor whether we both died; still I am weak enough to yield to the magic influence of his presence. Such a weakness shall not be repeated. By all the powers of my soul I defy it. I am Augustus' only natural protector, and my love shall be the insurmountable barrier that shall separate him from his father.
"At the time when my very life blood seemed to stop, there came a piercing cry that stirred the depths of my soul. Since that time, I have known but one object in life—one only ambition and interest:—to be famous for my darling's sake. If I could only purchase by suffering his bodily freedom of action, I would endure the fiercest torture without a murmur. It would be impossible to endure more excruciating agony than I have experienced this day. Why was I, an innocent victim from the beginning, compelled to encounter the humiliation of going to William's house?
"I had almost rather that my darling Augustus, my heart's idol, remained a hopeless invalid than have him rescued by his father's power. His cruelty made Augustus a cripple, and me a hopeless and despairing woman. That power which has been our scourge, can never be our hope of release. Better the hatred of our crudest enemy than the influence of William's love in our lives.
"I will leave this city. I cannot breathe the same atmosphere I know is feeding him and live. I bid every idol but the image of my boy to depart from my soul. I will go where he is; there I shall find peace and happiness. How sharp love's eyes are! I must calm myself; I will becheerful and happy; otherwise, Augustus will note the difference, and ask the cause.
"Never was a mother blessed with so noble a son as mine. I will be his protector though the legions of ignorance and evil conspire against him and me. Nothing can daunt my love. I will calm myself for your sake, Augustus. Mother will come to you, and we will be happy despite your father's influence. I feel it now. I will, Augustus, break this annoying sensation."
Saying this, she arose with a visible effort, apparently suffering from great lassitude, and went into an adjoining apartment to write her son, where we will leave her while we follow the movements of William.
Before William left his home after the interview, there came a hurried messenger from Merle, asking his immediate presence, as there was a decided change for the worse in his condition. William knew such tidings must mean a serious state of affairs, as in all the time he had been using Merle as a subject, he had never before been summoned by his people. On the contrary, Merle had improved physically ever since he had been controlling him.
He hastened to Mrs. Millard's house as quickly as possible, trying to keep Merle in his mind as manifesting strength, health and calmness, yet, when he arrived, Mrs. Millard, who had been eagerly awaiting him, let him in, he saw by the expression of her countenance, which was clearly dejected, that his thought waves had thus far been futile.
Despite his own anguish and torture of mind, there arose the spectacle of what a blow it would be to science, if he, one of its advocates and acknowledged experimentors, should allow his principal subject to sicken and possibly die. He tried to the utmost of his will to focus his mind upon the thought, "Merle shall and is manifesting health."
How many times, when other men's minds had failed and their courage had flagged and waned, had his shone forth like a bright and radiant light, illumining the darkness and bringing out congenial conditions. Somehow he did not seem to really know himself. He no longer felt secure or sure of anything, still he greeted Mrs. Millard with words of encouragement, and asked to be shown immediately into Merle's presence.
Arriving there, he was astonished to note how weak and feverish Merle was. Even his presence did not seem to awaken him or to especially attract his attention. He asked Mrs. Millard to leave them alone. He would have been loth to admit how long a time it took him to gain sufficient power to put Merle into a peaceful and refreshing sleep, but at length he accomplished it, and passing out of that apartment, asked if Alice was willing to be mesmerized, while her mother went to watch by Merle's bedside.
In that house his word was law, and Alice was soon put into the trance condition. Her first utterances were all of Merle, but by gradual degrees her thoughts were directed into different channels. After several questions, she was able to tell William that he had had two callers, when he had expected three, and the visit of these two had been productive of disappointment instead ofsatisfaction. He could not find out from his questioning why such a condition existed.
He asked every variety of question he could think of, but, beyond what he already knew, he could get no enlightenment. This exasperated him greatly, for he was not in search of what he already knew, but striving to obtain information upon a point about which he was ignorant. Why had Miss Earle come to him?—That was the question he wanted answered, but all he could get from Alice was "She came to get help for him she loves."
Such a declaration, repeated over and over, by no means calmed William's troubled mind. Finally she said:
"Do not force me. I do not know whom she loves, but I know she loves someone better than you. Your power, which is strong enough to influence Merle and me, is not strong enough to penetrate through the other love, yet she loves you better than her life."
Realizing how futile it was to force her further, William bade her awaken, and, after looking in to see Merle again, and leaving such instructions as he thought it necessary to follow, left the house and walked toward his own home.
His thoughts traveled rapidly, and the expression of his eyes showed that anger or somekindred feeling was one of the most potent forces operative in his spirit at the time.
His thoughts ran something like this:—"She came to me to get help for him she loves.—She loves me better than her life, still there is one dearer yet.—My power is not strong enough to penetrate through this other love.—That remains to be proven; I think differently; I prophecy her idol will fall separate himself from her, and she be compelled to come to me for assistance. How she must love herself when she loves me more! Love! She does not know what love is, but she shall know, and shall suffer, even as she has made me suffer—and Merle. The boy is very ill, and is weakening instead of growing stronger. I had hard work to put him to sleep. His illness means the indefinite postponement of our scientific researches. I am in no condition to conduct them now even if Merle were well, so his illness does not really interfere with the matter. I shall know no rest, but devote my every energy and power to the bending and breaking of Clarissa's proud spirit. I will help her loved one. Oh, yes, I will help him—to grow weak and negative, and the very antipathy of her desires, and she shall come to me humbly, and sue for help. She will never again ask me to carry flowers to her past lovers. I swear it."
Six months have passed since we last saw William. During that time a noticeable change has taken place in his appearance. He seems many years older, and his eyes appear incapable of expressing anything but sternness. In a way these changes add to his dignity in a manner not altogether pleasant to contemplate.
Since last we saw him, his time has been given to the task of controlling Clarissa's spirit, by silent thought suggestion, but so far he had been unable to bring her to him by their power. Having experimented so long and thoroughly with mesmeric power, he was able to distinguish at a single glance those persons who were sensitive to his influence, consequently knew her to be a sensitive of an unusually susceptible and refined order, and he naturally thought that by concentrating upon her with the entire strength of his will he would cause her to gravitate to his presence, drawn by an irresistible force, in a very short time, as many others had before.
There had been no lack of interest upon his part, as he had thrown into this work all the force and intensity of his power, but so far as he could see, there was no sign of Clarissa'syielding, and she made no movement to seek his presence.
Such a result was exasperating in the extreme, and humiliating to him. Almost every day he had questioned either Merle or Alice, after putting them into a trance state, concerning her movements, but he only received the most vague and indefinite replies, not one of which was satisfactory. Alice had said several times that she would never come to him, and told him to go to her, but the idea seemed preposterous to him. He go to her? No—she should come to him. This at first, but after a while he added "or send for him," and now, here he was in search of her.
It was easy to trace her movements, as her singing at any particular place was advertised in all directions. He kept in close touch with her movements, hoping to find a trace of the person whom she wished him to assist, but so far he had been unsuccessful in his search. The last reports he had had of her announced that she was in poor health as the result of overwork, which necessitated a complete rest from all public work.
He was not deceived by this report, as he knew his constant thought was affecting her nervous system and undermining her strength, and this was not wholly unpleasant knowledge. He made a sudden resolution to go to her. It was uselessfor her to resist, so he immediately started on the journey, and we now find him entering the hotel where he had learned she was stopping.
All the way, he had been devising plans as to how he should get into her presence. If he sent up his own name, she would claim she was indisposed, refuse him admittance, and he was a man who disliked to be thwarted in his plans. He would be compelled to send some name to her, and it must be someone whom she would want to see, as, naturally in this nervous condition, she would not see many people. She would see him though—in that he was determined.
He had pictured exultingly the shock it would be to her, and trusted a great deal in the fact that the force of the shock would be in his favor.
Finally he decided to send up the name of Dr. Baxter. He had two reasons for the selection,—Dr. Baxter was a noted expert in nervous disorders, a man whom one in her condition would be glad to see, and she had expressed herself as indebted to him for her intrusion upon his time and patience to satisfy her whim. Everything transpired exactly as he had anticipated, and he was soon following a guide to her apartments.
His countenance had that impassive expression that usually characterizes so-called distinguished persons, but he was innately far removed fromthe calmness and immobility that his appearance indicated. It seemed to him his heart beats might be plainly heard by the young man ahead of him, and pausing when he had arrived at his destination to calm himself, he felt as though his strength were oozing out of his usually vigorous body, and he noticed his hands were actually trembling. He soon regained control over his nerves, however, and gave the signal announcing his arrival.
The door was opened almost immediately, and as he stepped forward, in the natural perturbation of his mind, he failed to notice who it was who opened the door. All his attention was fixed upon the coming ordeal, but just as he passed the threshold he heard someone say in a hushed and awed tone, vibrant with emotion: "Master William! Master William!!"
He turned quickly toward the speaker, and as he saw the expression of not only wonder but pleasure on the face of the colored woman, his own eyes filled with tears, for he was just in the mood, wrought up and nervous as he was, that any unexpected noise or temporary shock would agitate him. He held out his hands to her, but no words came.
It was different with the woman; her face seemed to beam with happiness, as she carried his outstretched hands to her lips, murmuring, "Master William has come; now mistress willget well.—Augustus will be right back, and Oh, Master William, we have been powerful sad and lonely. Bless your heart, you are looking fine! I will go and tell mistress you are here; You don't want me to tell mistress? Well, joy don't kill even sick people. I reckon your face and love will do her more good than medicine.—That's her voice—She's right in there and you shall not be disturbed only when Augustus comes."
This unexpected welcome, too honest and sincere to be doubted for a moment, did what nothing else could have done for William. He seemed to break away from the cold sensation that had for so long been clutching at his heart, and held every emotion in its relentless grasp. This expression of faithfulness and these words of welcome when he had schooled himself to look for and expect coldness, hauteur, and possibly defiance, had defeated the man who had come there by dint of force, carrying him back in fancy to scenes of past happiness, and had unwittingly unlocked the volcano of love and emotion, which he had so long repressed.
His whole countenance underwent an immediate change; his eyes shone with a lustre almost dazzling, and his step quickened. He could not control his voice to speak, but he pressed the hand of the servant tightly, and with a quickness andagility of movement a youth might envy removed his outer garments, and started for the place that the servant had pointed out to him.
He met Clarissa just at the door, for she had risen to greet Dr. Baxter as she supposed. As his glance fell upon her, he advanced yet more quickly, and before she had time even to think, he clasped her in his arms, drawing her tenderly to him. Neither was conscious of what transpired, and of that scene there only remained in her memory in later times the feeling of such happiness as deprived her of speech and emotion, while in her ear was murmured words to her at the time unintelligible.
The shock was so great she was powerless to resist and when he turned his eyes toward hers, they seemed to hold her irresistibly. It seemed to her he had never before been so handsome. How good it was to feel his arms about her. She was sick and weak.—Closer and closer came his face to hers, and when his lips met hers, there was neither power nor wish to resist or repulse him. Without knowing or realizing what she was doing, she raised her arms and placed them around his neck, and her head nestled closer to his breast, instead of shrinking she gave kiss for kiss.
Just then there came a joyous laugh, which was quickly shut out by the closing of a door, buta large St. Bernard dog leaped upon William with a savage growl. Before the dog entered William felt a change in Clarissa; she was apparently changed from a loving woman to a rigid statue. He had not noticed the boyish laugh, as his mind had but one thought. He only knew he held Clarissa in his arms—the only woman he had ever loved instead of repulsing had yielded lovingly to his embraces and answered his caresses. Her eyes fed his hungry, starving soul, and shed the glances and promises of love.
The whole world might have quivered and shaken at this time, and he would have still been oblivious, but, looking into her eyes with all the eagerness of his soul, and revelling in the unexpected happiness he felt, he saw a change, that like some magical influence extinguished from her countenance its expression of love, loosened her closely clasping arms, and rendered cold and irresponsive the lips that had been so warm. He did not try to analyze the cause, but instinctively drew her more closely to him.
His eyes gleamed more brightly, as he pressed his lips more firmly to hers, and then came the shock of the dog's attack upon him, and the low sullen growl. Clarissa spoke quickly and sharply, and the dog moved slowly away, while she strove to free herself from William's embrace, but though she struggled, he drew her more tightlyto him, and he felt a quiver as of a strong emotion pass over her. Then for the first time he remembered her illness, and a feeling of shame came to him that he had startled her so.
Probably the shock of his sudden appearance had made her faint. He had been the cause of her suffering—he would remove it. He lifted her easily in his arms, and placed her upon the couch from which she had risen when he entered. Her face was wan and pale, and her body seemed cold and inanimate, but her color returned as a voice said, "Come, Rex—get your supper." Then a door shut, and he heard no more.
With a sudden bound, and eyes flashing, Clarissa arose and confronted him. The change was so sudden he was wholly unprepared for it, and seeing the great struggle she was making to speak, he could only account for it by the supposition she was enraged because he had come upon her so unexpectedly, compelling her to admit by her acts if not by her words that her love for him had not waned any more than his for her. Her pride was wounded. He would not notice whatever she might say;—he would soon have her back in his arms again.
Finally she spoke. Her voice sounded cold and strange, and her words came slowly, and distinctly, but there was an apparent effort:
"You will excuse me if I retire. I am ill.—Iwill ring for my maid to escort you out, and so long as we live, never enter my home again."
The expression of William's face never changed. He opened his arms and approached her, intending to draw her to him, but something in her eyes stopped him before he reached her; they stood there looking at one another fixedly and neither spoke. She pointed her finger significantly toward the door. This position, which William made no move to change, became unbearable, and she exclaimed sharply: "If you have any of the instincts of a gentleman, you will not wait to be again asked to leave my presence."
Every word she uttered made a visible change in William's look and manner; all the gladness fled from his face, and he seemed to strengthen and expand, while his eyes glowed like orbs of fire. "I have always understood that the customs and usages of the best society permitted a gentleman to remain in the presence and home of his wife."
"William, go—I beg of you—don't look at me that way.—I feel faint and dizzy."
"Then my arms are your proper resting place. See—I will forgive your sharp words. I know you are not well. There, rest against me.—You won't kiss me? You struggle to get away, but just now you nestled close to me as you used todo. Be still. I have power; you shall be strong again."
"Mistress, Augustus is home and insists upon seeing you. Shall I let him in?"
"No—I will be out very soon."
When the servant spoke, William released Clarissa, but his eyes did not leave her face. When she had gone, he strode to her, and grasping her arm in no gentle manner, said: "Who is Augustus? Why don't you answer me? Another of your innumerable lovers, I suppose. Well, there have been a few kisses since he left that did not go to him. They were as warm and tender as any you ever gave him, and you may assure him, with my compliments, that they are not the last I shall have either. A fool's paradise is better than none. You belong to me by every law of God or man, and no one shall ever again come between us, for I have the power to slowly kill him.—Do you realize what that means? I will put him or any other person out of my way as I would kill a viper. You need not turn pale—I mean it. Your beloved Augustus shall die. I swear it."
"William, take that back."
"Oh, you plead for him, do you? I register a solemn vow to Heaven—"
"William! You shall not say it—It is toohorrible.—Say that you do not mean it.—See, my arms are around you.—Do not speak."
"Do not speak? I do not need to. My thought has power to blast him, soul and body. Now—this very day. You need not cling to me. I will not share your embraces with him.—He shall die.—I am not the first man who has murdered for the sake of a woman. The sight of you has crazed me. I swear—"
"Mother, Dinah said I might bring you these flowers. May I come in?"
At that word "mother," uttered by a voice in the distance, which kept coming nearer, accompanied by the barking of a dog and the sound of wheels, William stopped abruptly and looked at Clarissa, with severely questioning eyes. Her face lit up at the sound of the voice, then her whole body shivered and shook, threatening to prevent her standing, and her hand went to her heart while she struggled for breath.
"Mother dear, may I come?"
The voice and dog stopped, for the boy would not enter till he was bidden. William's eyes did not leave her face. He said coldly: "Why do you not answer? It is evidently you who are addressed."
No wonder she trembled as she looked at him. She made a visible effort and said, "What is it, dear? I will come presently."
"But, mamma, I want you to wear these, they are so pretty. Just let me put them in your dress, and I will go back to Dinah."
By this time, William's eyes blazed, and his voice was calm as he said, "Bid him enter." Clarissa seemed under a spell as she said with a vacant expression, "Come, Augustus."
The words had scarcely left her lips, when the voice began, the dog barked, and a young boy, guiding a wheeled chair, came into the room. He was a remarkably handsome child, probably about twelve years old, a cripple. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes glowing, and he looked more like an animated picture than a real boy. Being the personification of refinement and beauty, he needed only a robust body to appear a miniature God.
One glance at the boy, a sudden start, and a complete change took place in William's countenance. All the anger and jealousy and uncontrollable rage faded away, and so kindly a light came into his eyes it attracted the boy's attention. Rolling his chair to his mother's side, he put his arm around her, and rising to his feet, with the other hand he placed in her dress a bunch of tuberoses, and gave her a loving kiss. Then he quickly sat down in his chair, bowed to William, and said "Come, Rex," at the same time starting for the door.
"Will you not speak to me, or give me a flower, or at least tell me your name?" said William.
"Yes, sir. My name is Augustus Earle, and I will buy flowers with all my money and bring them to you,—I won't even buy a picture or anything if you will just cure my mamma. Dinah said you were a doctor, come to cure her, and we are going to have a jolly time when she gets strong again."
"Your father must be very proud of you; such a bright boy as you are."
"I have no father. Didn't mamma tell you? No? Papa is dead, and Aunt Dinah and Rex and I take care of mamma. Aunt Dinah says I look like my father and have his temper, but you must not think he was a bad man, for mamma says he was grand and good and noble. I would like to be like my father when I am a man, only of course he could walk and I can not without crutches. But I don't care, only sometimes. Have you any little boys or girls?"
"Yes; I have one boy."
"I suppose he can walk and run and jump and swim. You just wait, I like you—I am going to send your little boy a present, for you are going to cure mamma, I know. How old is your little boy?"
"He is twelve years old."
"Just the same age I am. How do you supposehe would like a horse? Do you think he would rather have a dog? Oh, I don't mean a truly one—only one I draw. You tell him, when you give it to him, Augustus Earle, a boy who can't run and walk like him, drew it, and sends his love with it.—I will not be gone long."
After Augustus had left, neither spoke for some time; not till the clatter of his chair was lost, then William said, and his voice was low and gentle:
"Clarissa, why did you not tell me of this years ago?" She made no reply. "Why did you let me remain ignorant that I was a father?—Won't you speak?"
"He does not belong to you."
"Clarissa, you don't realize the significance of what you say. That is my son—I know it, and it is useless to deny it. Why you should try to I cannot understand.—What is the cause of his lameness? I may be able to cure him, and make him so he can walk. He is a handsome boy."
"I say you shall not cure him;—I have cared for him so long, and—"
"Here I am, Dr. Baxter, I think I will send both of these, then he will be sure to be pleased. I am so glad you are going to eat with us—Aunt Dinah has put an extra plate, and made me promise to be on my best behavior. You see, Aunt Dinah forgets that I am not a baby because Icannot walk, but I can play and sing and draw better than boys that can play games. I have a boat—I will go fetch it. Do you know, Rex has learned to swim and sail it for me, and I sit and watch it. It is a good boat, for a fisherman told me so. Rex, go and get my boat. Now Doctor, you just see if he does not fetch it. He knows what I want, for he takes care of me.—There is Aunt Dinah calling. I have to go and let her fuss over me. She rubs my face and hands, and combs my hair just as they do a baby's, and if I get angry and wash myself, she says I am not clean.—If I do not go, she will come for me, and rub soap and water into my mouth and eyes and say, 'You are the perfect acting image of your father, you are.' I will be ready by the time supper is; I am so glad you are going to stay. I will show you my drawings, and sing for you too. Mamma says I sing splendidly.—There's Dinah again.—We will have a jolly time, and you can tell me all about your little boy."
Various expressions had chased one another over William's face while the boy was talking, and anyone watching his countenance would hardly have believed it capable of expressing any but the kindliest of emotions, and solicitude for others. Tears were in his eyes, and his voice trembled as he thanked Augustus for the drawings he had given him, and as he started to wheelhimself away, William stooped to kiss him; but, as though she had the power to divine his thoughts, Clarissa, who had remained silent during the boy's last entrance, moved quickly between them, herself kissing his animated face, and pushed his chair toward the door, saying: "Dinah will be cross with you—go quickly.—Remain in your room until I call you—I wish to talk with the Doctor, alone."
"All right, mamma; do not be long—I want to hear all about his little boy."
Clarissa watched him until he had passed from sight into another room, then turned, like an avalanche, upon William. The intensity of her feelings seemed to lend her strength.
"If there was ever one faint spark of interest—I will not desecrate the name of love by calling any feelings you may have entertained toward me by that title, but if you have ever had even a passing interest, I implore you by the remembrance of it, to leave my home immediately, and so long as my child and I may live, never bring your unwelcome presence to us again. Go.—You don't move? Whatever other feelings I may have had for you, I always give you the credit of possessing the ordinary courtesy of a gentleman.—You will compel me to resort to very rude measures, and as I am not very strong,and this interview is not only taxing my patience, but my strength—"
"Why should I go, Clarissa? Heretofore, there has been only one loved object in my life; now I find another, unexpectedly, it is true, but none the less dear. Where these two are, there I wish ever to be. You both need me and I need both of you."
"You are mistaken. We do not need you, and love is a sentiment unknown to your soul. Do not longer parley with words. Go—or I shall lose what little respect I still have for you—"
"I cannot leave you ill."
"Who has made me so? I know you have. I know very little about the science that has made your name illustrious, but I know enough of it to know your power lies in the concentration of thought. Have I not been pursued by your image and influence, sleeping or waking, ever since the day I entered your house? Do not flatter yourself this image has been welcome, for it has been far from it, and I have had but one means of banishing it.
"It has been this continual struggle to throw off this unwelcome influence that has shattered my nervous system. I am gaining upon the power to throw it off, however. I thought, one while, I would surely die, as at times my heart would cease beating, and everything begin to turn black.You would have succeeded in your nefarious scheme, but for the remembrance of my helpless boy, who has no one but me to depend upon. I cannot and will not leave him alone.—
"Nights, when I have felt your evil power so strong, I could almost see you before me; I would rise and go to Augustus, and, kneeling beside his bed, I would pray for the powers of good to give me strength to live and care for my blessed child. These prayers have been answered; I no longer fear either your image, your influence, or your actual presence.
"A mother's love has strength to overcome every evil for her child's sake. I defy you and your boasted power. I did wrong to ask you not to try it upon Augustus; the power of my love will counteract any influence you can send him. Will you leave us now?"
"I make all due allowance for your condition, and rather than cause you more suffering, I will go immediately, leaving you by yourself to think it over and reflect if you have not been a little harsh to me. Think over the early days of our marriage; how happy we were. Can you recall one act of mine that was not an expression of my loving solicitude for you? Had I one thought beyond you and our home?
"Since you went away, I have lived the isolated life of a student. No woman's smile has causedme a moment's thought. I have been as true a husband to you as in those happy days so long ago. The misery and suffering have made me old before my time, but I am clean in every thought so far as women are concerned.
"Isn't that proof of some love? I see by your face you do not believe me, but I will prove it to you.—Come home with me.—James and Nancy are with me, and always have been. You will believe them, even though you doubt me. They know my life. We will nurse you back to health—possibly I can do much for my son—"
"Stop. I told you before that Augustus was not your son."
"I know he is. His every look and movement proclaims it. It is useless to deny that I am his father. Why do you want to put such a stigma upon the child?"
"I am telling you the truth. His father is dead, just as he told you."
"Then how do you account for his remarkable likeness to me?"
"Probably the dislike I had for you before he was born marked him with your features."