William's feelings during this time would be impossible to portray in words. Sometimes anger, sometimes love, sometimes discouragement, sometimes hope swayed him. There was only one fact of which he was always sure; he had never before known what abject misery was. He used to think his home desolate; now he knew the much keener torture of having his loved one in the same habitation and yet being sternly and completely banished from her presence. It was even more disheartening than to have her at a distance.
He worried about Clarissa's health, and the effect so much excitement might have just at this time, especially, when she had gained strength so slowly under happier conditions. Sitting alone, he would work himself into a rage thinking of her injustice to him, when he had meant to do Augustus the most good that lay in his power. Then the thought would come "this nervous shock may make her sick, possibly take her from me." Dinah's assertions did not satisfy him. He wanted to see her. Dinah told him how his voice and step affected her, and he therefore used extreme caution about walking within range of her hearing, or speaking loudly.
Augustus' companionship would have been a welcome relief, but he dared not insist upon it, knowing Clarissa well enough to know she would misconstrue his motive and come after the boy, if the exertion meant her death.
Twice he reached the limit of his patience, and he made up his mind to hypnotize her. He would rather be with his family if they were all hypnotized, than to be isolated from them. How could he tell what she would do? She was liable to go away, even before she was able, taking the children with her.
This thought haunted him until he dared not leave the house. He felt that he had been a good, loving father and husband; a sick woman's whim should not separate them and ruin their lives again. It surprised him to know that Merle and Alice, who had always been such welcome visitors, were not admitted to see her or the children, and that Augustus was not permitted to go with them to their home.
He felt he had been lenient long enough. She needed discipline, and he would give it to her. Never before had he so completely thrown his whole heart and soul into concentration, as he did now, thinking "She shall do me credit. She shall send for me." The whole force of his soul was put into the demand.
Before beginning, he had made up his mind hewould not pause nor rest till Dinah came with a message from Clarissa for him to come to her. One thing that enraged him to use his power was he had himself plucked her some rare blossoms, putting them, fraught with the influence of love, beside the food Dinah was carrying to her. He felt those flowers would carry to her the thought of his loneliness, and surely she would send him some token of remembrance. He watched, expecting Dinah would have at least a message for him when she returned.
He saw her coming, but did not wait for her to reach him, as he saw his flowers, lying undisturbed where he had placed them. Disappointment, so keen that it became rage, consumed his soul. He vowed he would break that haughty, and (he felt) unjust spirit, so he set himself to the task. How long he sat there he never knew.
He waited for Dinah to call him, and did not notice the approach of Augustus. He started up as a man in a dream when he heard the agonized cry:
"Papa, come quick; mamma is dying. Quick. Something is the matter with baby; that is what frightened mamma so. Do not let them die."
William heard the words. He saw distinctly the boy's horrified and suffering face, but he could not bring his mind back to the actualities of the present.
"Papa,—mamma is dying, and sister is dead—"
Without stopping to console or speak to Augustus, William strode rapidly from the apartment, ascending the stairs with long bounds, and was soon in his wife's room. No wonder they thought she was dying. He will never forget that drawn, suffering face. She was sitting up in the bed, sustained by pillows, panting and gasping for breath, and holding closely to her, her rigid baby, lifeless and cold. She did not notice him when he entered, for despite her own suffering, her eyes never left the baby's face.
"Clarissa."
At the sound of his voice, new strength seemed to come to her. Her eyes flashed, even while her breathing came shorter and shorter. The words were separated owing to her difficulty to breathe, but they were clear and calm.
"You have killed one. Are you satisfied?"
"Clarissa! My God! You think I killed my child?"
"I know it."
"My God! Oh, my God! Clarissa, do not look like that. You shall not die.—I say you shall not die. Clarissa—Clarissa—You shall not die cursing me. Clarissa, I defy death to take you. My will is stronger than yours. Live.—Breathe. Clarissa, I will you to breatheregularly. Breathe, I say. Breathe. You cannot and shall not leave me. I will you to breathe."
With his right hand placed upon her heart, he repeated over and over this command, telling Dinah occasionally to give her stimulants. It was a fierce struggle, and more than once he felt the utter cessation of her heart's action. He shook her roughly, even, rubbed her and willed her to breathe, until he was finally rewarded by noting the heart's action was becoming more normal and regular, though her eyes had set fixedly, and her arms refused to support the babe, as in one fierce struggle to breathe, she put one hand to her throat. That let the baby fall, and Dinah caught it. She was so distracted herself, she did not think when she gave it to Augustus, who had just entered.
The boy thought she was dead and his mother was dying. He hugged her close to him. She was cold; he tried to warm her by the heat of his own body; he was so frightened he felt no sense of terror, which would have been the natural sensation with him under different circumstances. He wanted sympathy he was so frightened, so he held his sister clasped tightly to him, with his eyes fastened upon his father and mother.
William worked as never before in his life, and gained the victory, seeing Clarissa pass into a natural sleep.
Then only did he realize the amount of strength he had expended. When he saw a natural perspiration break out upon her forehead, and her eyes close in sound, refreshing sleep, he was seized with a strong vertigo.
Dinah brought him a stimulant, and even while he was drinking it, his eyes did not leave Clarissa's face, and the unmistakable symptoms of returning physical vigor, as evidenced by her regular breathing, did more to restore his equanimity than the stimulant itself. The thought of his children had not once occurred to him.
Augustus had been watching him closely, and knew by the expression upon his face his mother was not dying, but better. That fact had no more than made itself clear to him, relieving him from one horror, than he became aware of the cold dead babe in his arms. His idol, his sister was dead!
As that thought bore itself home to him, there came an accompanying one. "Mamma was dying," he thought, "father saved her. He can do what other men cannot. He can bring her back to life."
His faith in his father was supreme. Death and science were both mysteries to him, but he had faith in his father's ability to conquer; he had seen him do it just now. Knowing his mother was all right by the expression on his father'sface, he felt a strong resentment no one, not even Dinah, had noticed the baby. He was her only friend. He thought of her if no one else did. He would see to it she had as much attention as his mother. Women could take care of themselves better than babies. He hugged it closer to him, growing angry instead of sad, as he felt how cold she was. He had not one doubt as to his father's ability to do as well for it as for his mother.
He quickly directed his chair, with one hand, to his father, who did not look up as he approached, but stooped over Clarissa to test her heart's action again, although he knew from her breathing it was all right. He had been under such a tension, such a nervous strain, he was in just that mental condition where one goes from one extreme to the opposite, therefore feeling a touch upon his arm, he looked around to see Augustus with such a look of injured pride upon his face as caused him to feel a sense of humor. A glad smile brightened his face and he spoke cheerfully.
"She is going to stay with us a long time yet, my boy. If you had been a little later—My God! Dead!"
Without a word, Augustus passed the baby forward for his father to take. William had not thought of the baby. There it lay in his arms,inanimate, cold—undoubtedly dead. That was what Clarissa had meant when he entered. Why should she condemn him for murdering it? He had not thought of the baby so much as he should have done. What would Clarissa say when she awoke and found her baby dead? One thing he knew; she would always hold him responsible for her death, though he was as innocent of it as Augustus.
The dead baby between them meant the loss of Clarissa forever. The children had always come between them. Her best love was theirs. He at once made the resolve Clarissa must find that babe alive and warm beside her when she awoke. He never paused to consider he could not raise the dead.
This new obstacle restored to him his customary self-control, and stooping with the babe in his arms, he kissed Clarissa softly and tenderly, and without a word, placed the baby back in Augustus' arms, who clasped it tightly to him, looking at his father with that same injured look William did not try to explain or understand. His mind was too busy with other thoughts.
He had determined the child should waken. He could not, and would not bear the unjust stigma of its death. He hastily explained to Dinah he would soon bring the child to her, andcommanded her not to leave Clarissa, telling her to let him know if there was any change in her.
Dinah's faith in William was as strong as that of Augustus, and, as he had said that he would bring the baby to her well, she believed him implicitly. That feat would be no more wonderful than what he had just done for Mistress Clarissa.
After giving his directions, William leaned over with a pleasant smile, and took both children in his arms, carrying them to his private room. On his way, he met James and a strange gentleman. They were going towards Clarissa's room. To William's surprised look, James answered, "Master, this is the doctor Mistress sent for. She told me to bring him to her at once."
A hot wave of emotion passed over William's face, that a strange physician should be consulted, and have the privilege of entering his wife's room without his consent. Without looking at the doctor, he said:
"Show him into the reception room. I will be there soon."
"Mistress Clarissa said for me to bring him to her at once."
"She is sleeping. I just left her, and do not wish her disturbed. I will come to the doctor in—"
"Father! She moved—she moved!"
There was such exultation in Augustus' voicewhen he spoke, that James and the stranger, despite their best efforts to look and appear unconcerned, could not help showing astonishment.
"It is gone now, but she did. Hurry, father, hurry. Make her move again."
The boy was beside himself with emotion. He was sure he had felt a nestling motion in his idol. He was impatient to see her eyes open. She was still cold. He thought she was not quite so cold as she had been.
William noted the looks of astonishment, but felt no desire to explain. He spoke sharply to James:
"Take the Doctor to the reception room. I will come there as soon as I have attended to Augustus, who is nervous and excited."
James dared not disobey his master, so he led the physician back, while William, with his children, went into his study. Augustus was so excited that his face flushed and his whole body trembled; his eyes flashed brilliantly.
"She did move, father,—I felt it. Make her move again. She is not so cold as she was. I want to see her eyes open, father."
"Yes, my son. Now remain quiet. What! You will not trust her to me?"
"I want to hold her."
"Do not hold her so tightly. I cannot work onher if you do. There; now you can rub her feet, while I do her spine."
"She moved again, father. I felt it. Make her open her eyes."
"No, my boy, we will be content if she sleeps, like her mother. She is becoming less rigid. Rub them vigorously. There. Her eyes opened just as her lungs did. We cannot feed her. What shall we do?"
"I knew you would save her, father. I love to hear her cry. She shall have something to eat. Will you carry us back to mamma, now?"
Without comment, William took them up, and started back, happy that Clarissa would find her baby beside her, warm and living, when she woke. Just before they reached her room, Augustus spoke:
"Father, I think sister will have as bad a temper as mine. I like to hear her cry, but I think she is angry; do not you?"
"It sounds like it, my son."
"I expect she does not realize she would have died if you and I had not taken care of her. It's a wonder I ever lived to grow up when Dinah is so careless."
Hearing the baby crying, Dinah immediately took her from Augustus, and put her beside her mother, who was still sleeping. William put Augustus in his chair, where he could watch bothmother and babe. He turned toward the bed just in time to see the glad surprise upon Clarissa's face as she heard the fretful cry of the baby. Never was music so sweet as that. She drew the baby to her, and as she leaned to kiss her, William left the room.
He went directly to the reception room, where the doctor was waiting for him. He was by no means pleased a strange physician had been called in. If she was ill and unwilling to have him treat her, why did she not send for Baxter or Harrington? What would they think if they heard of this? What a position it placed him in. He could not, and would not explain to any person (even them) this last estrangement in his family. He would conquer Clarissa's haughty spirit. Now was a good time for him to begin. Entering the room, he bowed and said:
"I am happy to inform you the indisposition from which my wife was suffering when she summoned you, has passed away. She is now resting comfortably. We appreciate your compliance. I will now discharge our obligation and indebtedness to you, if you will apprise me of the amount."
The doctor was surprised at his dismissal, without even a look at the patient, but no more so than at the summons to go to the Professor's house. He thought it very strange that he should becalled there, knowing the Professor was the intimate friend of several prominent practitioners. He felt greatly flattered at the call, but now he was dismissed without so much as seeing the patient.
He quickly took his leave, after expressing gratification at the recovery of Mrs. Huskins, and receiving a larger fee than he had asked "as a reward for his promptness," as William told him.
Relieved of his presence, William went back to his study to try to work out to his own satisfaction, the cause of the horrible scene he had just passed through. That seemed the only word capable of expressing the torture of mind he endured when he saw that look so closely resembling death upon Clarissa's face. How he had fought to conquer that condition. How many more such problems must he meet? Could he always conquer them as he had this?
Think as he would, William could not account for this latest condition of Clarissa and her babe. The thought of the babe had not once recurred to him. From the time of her birth she had appeared to be physically a well child. What could be the cause of this close resemblance to death, which had temporarily deceived such keen eyes as his.
This was not the most perplexing problem either, although this was unanswerable in his present state. The child's passing into this deathlike state was not so remarkable, owing to Clarissa's physical weakness and nearness to death, (for he knew how much the condition of the mother affects the small and negative babe) as was its return to health and vigor, without apparent labor upon his part first, for Augustus had declared, while his mind had been taken up with James and the strange physician, that the babe had moved. To be sure, he had worked hard upon it after he had taken the two children alone to his room, but what made her move before he had worked upon her? He believed Augustus when he said she did move.
How to account for this apparent death and recovery was what baffled him. Had he been theonly one deceived, he would have thought his fears and anxiety for Clarissa had rendered him temporarily nervous and fearful, but Dinah and Augustus were equally deceived, and united in the assertion.
It was the baby's coldness and rigidity that had alarmed and produced in Clarissa the condition of a seeming death struggle. What could it be that had caused this? He asked himself that one question until his mind and brain was a complete tangle of conjecture, but not one plausible or satisfying answer came to his consciousness.
While he was seeking the solution to it, let us try to account for the same. William was a practised and proficient psychologist. He was accustomed to control the individuality and personality of others, by force of will, or, as some persons prefer to say, mind suggestions; use whatever words you will, it all resolves itself to one point. He temporarily dominated the consciousness of others, making them, for the time being, obey and express his own thoughts and desires.
Being shut out from the association and companionship of his family, he chafed, fretted and suffered as only such a nature as his can suffer. He was pursued by pictures of Clarissa's leaving him again and misery of the darkest type settled upon his soul.
His wife was the one object of adoration in his life. He loved his children as well as any man loves his children, and would gladly have suffered to spare them suffering, but never could they occupy their mother's place in his affections, or satisfy his soul's hunger. They could do this better than another woman could, because they were hers; they were a part of her—an expression of their mutual love; therefore, he prized their comfort and welfare beyond his own, but Clarissa was the object of his veneration.
Her smile and approval gauged his happiness. That he was not equally necessary to her tortured him.
Never had she bestowed upon him the same degree of affection he had proffered her. He was satisfied and happy if he had her, but she was not equally contented; after the children came, her first thought was of them, and their happiness, and what time and affection they did not require, she gave to him. He was an unusually jealous and exacting man, and could not help feeling jealous of even his children, for he wanted to be first in her affections and interest, and the thought she should again leave him alone was simply maddening.
This second separation would be incomparably worse than the first. His love for her as a bride had not approached the degree and depth of theardor he felt for the mother of his children. Having for so many years been deprived of her presence and love, he prized it more highly now than he could possibly have done in their early married days.
When he found no man had stepped between them in that first separation, he felt so relieved, so happy, so proud of his boy, he thought at first, he would be content with second place in her love; when little Clarissa came, she was only another object upon which to bestow his warm love, and he fervently believed her coming would cement and strengthen Clarissa's love for him, the father of her children.
His hopes had been rewarded in her early sickness, furnishing him a degree of happiness he had never before known; to be thus positively assured his presence was necessary to their happiness, and then, without warning, when he was planning to do his boy the greatest good possible to perform for him, she turned upon him like a tigress, banishing him from her presence, threatening to take her children and leave him again.
The first desolation had been bad enough, but the second would be infinitely worse. Had he been selfish, cross, jealous or exacting, he could have endured this new and unexpected banishment better, but so far as he knew how, he had strivento make his family happy, consulting, in every instance, their pleasure before his own.
Since she had returned to him, Clarissa herself had been the dictator; he had faithfully kept his promise she should reign and not he, only intruding upon her presence and life when she gave him permission. They had both, he knew, been happier in their reunion than in their first union, or marriage.
Clarissa had proven her love to him many ways. He could not doubt her loyalty to him, and that was what puzzled him. He had not the smallest shadow of a doubt she loved him only, considering other men as his opponents but why—why did she threaten to leave him, when he spoke of trying to heal Augustus?
He repeated over and over to himself that he would not be jealous of his own children, knowing he had no occasion to be jealous of anyone else. He was sorry he had spoken so harshly to her. She was ill and nervous and knew very little about mesmeric influence.
Truly, he had no real distinct memory of what he had said. When she was a little stronger, he would go to her and ask her pardon and assistance to help Augustus, that he, an innocent victim, should not pay his father's debt of jealousy and injustice. As William thought this out, hedid not realize what a growth in real true love it proclaimed.
Studying them from a psychologist's standpoint, it is easy to understand the cause of the phenomena that disconcerted and puzzled him. He was, at the time of the baby's sickness, throwing the full and complete might of his practiced will into the thoughts of demanding his wife to send for him, thinking he would rather be in her presence even though she were psychologized than banished from it as he was now.
She was holding the baby close to her, just at that time, thinking how she should plan out the future so her darlings should be best situated. Suddenly she felt the strong, magnetic power which she knew so well from her experience with it, producing in her head, a dizzy sensation.
Believing he was going to carry out his threat to make her fear her children's presence, (for she knew it was his thought waves), she drew her baby still closer to her, in defiance, while her eyes at once sought Augustus' face to see if he was in any way affected.
She had no concern for the baby who was feeding from her breast; her one thought was of Augustus. He was the one his father had threatened to mesmerize; he should not do it while she was alive. Augustus sat drawing before her. He was irritable and cross, for he had wanted to goand see Merle, but his mother had insisted upon his staying with her.
Well as he loved to draw, the enjoyment vanished when he was crossed in his desires and compelled to draw. His face was the picture of disappointment. His mother's anxious scrutiny marked the pallor and symptoms of yielding to what she thought his father's mesmeric influence.
She could not fully understand and comprehend the boy's reluctance to forcible restraint. She watched his face eagerly and saw that he was nervous and uneasy, and strove to defeat the dreaded condition by the might of her will.
Augustus finally threw down his utensils impetuously, and said, "I am going to my father"; starting to move his chair back. This was a perfect confirmation of her fears. She instinctively tried to rise, saying in a harsh tone, "You cannot go." But as she arose, she became suddenly aware of the babe and that it had stopped nursing, and looking down, she saw it lay quiet and limp in her arms.
Her anxious, overwrought nerves rushed her to the quick conclusion that William's power had killed her baby. Being weak, this sudden shock threw her into such a vertigo her heart became erratic in its movement, and she was fast sinking away, believing that her baby had preceded her,when William came, compelling her to live and breathe normally.
Coming to consciousness and finding both children well, and hearing Augustus' and Dinah's glowing accounts of William's powers, which were largely exaggerated by their love for him and their ignorance of what had produced these results, she began to feel her ire towards him vanishing, and it was soon supplanted by a longing to see him.
Why should he work so to save her and her baby, if he had no love for them? She longed for his presence, whether as father, husband or hypnotist. Should she send for him? She was proud, and hesitated and promised herself to do so the next day. She would not admit how nervous she was, even to Dinah.
She fought with her inclination to see William all day. She had no more trouble with Augustus, for he could not be coaxed from the room. When it came time for him to retire, his mother granted his request that he might this once sleep with the baby, and as she was sleeping he clasped her close to him, seeming to be nervous about her.
Clarissa felt such pride in seeing the children sleeping, she wished William could see them too. That was the most beautiful picture she had ever seen. Augustus had the baby close to him in a loving embrace; looking at her treasures, shewondered if any other mother had such cause for pride as she. She turned over upon her side, that she might look easily at them. The picture of their happiness soothed her troubled nerves, and she fell into a refreshing sleep.
How long she slept, she did not know. She was vaguely conscious of an arm passing around her shoulder, and holding her lovingly and close. She knew that it was William's, without opening her eyes. She felt such a sense of security in that embrace, she would not open her eyes, though she was awake and conscious whose arm it was. She felt if she spoke, she must censure him, and she was, at present, so content she did not want to argue, or even talk; so she seemingly slept on.
William had felt so strongly he must see his treasures, he had sent word to Dinah to apprise him when they were asleep. She did so. He told her to lie down in her own apartments and he would call her when there were any signs of their awakening. She was glad of a reprieve, and he was happy to be with his family.
For a time, it seemed enough to look at them, then he felt a longing to touch Clarissa. Sitting beside the bed, he leaned over, resting his head near hers, while one arm passed over her. Afraid to waken her, he did not dare to draw her to him, so his head moved closer to hers. He thought her sleeping, and unaware of his presence.
His position soon became uncomfortable, yet he was afraid to change it, for fear she should awaken and banish him. She seemed to be sleeping soundly like the children, and he ventured as she made an uneasy movement of the head, to as easily as possible pass the other hand and arm under her head, at the same time, forsaking the sitting posture for a reclining position beside her.
Her back was toward him, as she faced the children, but there was a certain security in feeling his arms close around her. She must be asleep, as she made no movement.
The pride of both prevented their speaking, and perfect quiet reigned until the baby began to cry, waking Augustus, who was all concern for his sister. Without speaking to William, nor attempting to move from his embrace, Clarissa reached over and took the babe to her. William did not speak nor move, except to reach out his hand and draw Augustus as well as the baby into his embrace.
To Augustus' query "Is that you, father?" he answered "Yes, my boy. Now go to sleep, that you and sister may be good natured tomorrow."
Putting one arm around his sister, and hearing her regular breathing, Augustus was soon fast asleep. Neither William nor Clarissa spoke; each was waiting for the other to make the first advances; both too proud to acknowledgethemselves in error. Finally, Clarissa fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. Dinah found them so when she came, early the next day.
William offered no objections, when she ordered him to leave, for he felt his banishment would not be long. Clarissa knew that he was there before she went to sleep; she did not censure him, nor bid him depart, therefore, she did not hate him. It was probably her sickness that had made her hasty and harsh to him. That sickness was largely his fault, so he would be patient.
Small babes are but sensitive plates upon which are reflected the strong emotions of the mother. Clarissa was nervous and weak, and feeling the strong magnetism flowing from William's thought, she was consumed by actual fear, in her secret soul giving him credit for more power than he possessed. The nursing babe imbibed all her nervous condition, but, unlike her, had not sufficient power to throw off the depression, and therefore it succumbed to a swoon. Clarissa thought she was dead, and her anxiety produced an effect deeper still, owing to the fact that it was only picturing her thoughts.
All physicians know that many of the illnesses of small babies are the result of the nervousness or real sickness of the mothers; set the mother's mind or body at rest and ease, and the babyrevives as quickly as a dry and parched plant, supplied with water. So much for the cause of babies' sickness.
The cause of its resuscitation and movement, without visible aid, was due to precisely the same cause that had made it sick;—its mother's thought.
When William had succeeded in placing Clarissa in a sound, refreshing sleep, there was no further depressing magnetism flowing towards it. Dinah and Augustus had perfect faith he could restore the babe, and he was determined she should not die, knowing Clarissa would always hold him responsible for its death, though he was as innocent of it as the baby herself.
Like any negative, a babe will reproduce the strongest power coming to it at a given time. As it had no power to put away thoughts of depression, it was equally powerless to thrust from it cheerful and healthful ones. The strongest waves of thought at that time said "Live," and it began to manifest symptoms of life, while in close contact with those two who had insisted it must and should live;—Augustus and William.
It was only a case of temporary suspended animation, as the child was physically well. Many psychologists would have made a similar mistake as William, for while they can easily dominatethe consciousness of others, there are many subtle phases of thought and action they cannot understand nor account for. The realm of thought action is as infinite in its scope as is the Universe.
The next day Clarissa thought William would come to her, knowing she was waking while he was there the night before, as she did not rebuke him nor send him away. This thought pleased her and she determined he should feel proud of his family when he came. Dinah marveled at the orders she received, but she said nothing, thinking her mistress ill and notional. She was too glad to have her mistress improved to care how much work she was called upon to do.
First, there was the baby and Augustus to wash and dress, with Clarissa directing and insisting upon their being arrayed with unusual care and elegance. This was no easy task, for mother and son did not always agree, especially about the baby. This over, Clarissa insisted upon having herself robed with great care, and having her room changed in several ways; finally all was arranged to her fancy, and Dinah drew a long sigh of relief. It had been a trying time to her.
Baby was asleep, and Dinah left mother and son talking; Augustus coaxing to go and see Merle. Clarissa was continually listening for William's footsteps, believing, with her usual faith in conquering conditions, he would come early to see her. She wanted him to find bothchildren there. Few fathers had such beautiful children. He must be proud of them as she was; so she coaxed Augustus to remain, under one pretext or another, but there were no signs of William.
She grew restless and uneasy. Suddenly it dawned upon her that he expected her to ask him to come to her. He wanted to make her humble herself; her pride arose at once. She would not do it. Thinking it over, she grew restless and feverish—even anxious. Augustus kept plying her with questions. He wanted to go to see Merle; he would come home by the time baby sister would wake. Why could he not go?
Thinking it over, Clarissa thought "Here is a chance to reach William without really sending for him," so she said cheerfully:
"You may go ask your father if Merle is at home and disengaged to-day, also if he does not think baby sister ought to have some of James' choice flowers."
Before she could say more, Augustus was out of range of her voice. She lay thinking how she would greet William when he came in; she was sure he would bring the flowers as a peace offering to her. He had been rude and harsh to her; she would appear cold and distant to him to show that she resented his conduct, and she would tell him just what she thought of his mesmeric power.She was not afraid of him; he should see that. If she acted pleased to see him, he would think his power had influenced her, and that was not the impression she wanted him to have, so when she heard Augustus' chair coming, and the boy talking animatedly to his father, she quickly turned her back toward the door, and feigned arranging the baby more comfortably.
The chair soon stopped beside the bed, and Augustus said, "See, mamma, what father sent to sister. James did not want to cut them yet, but father said that nothing he owned was too good for her, and of course he owned them, so James had to do it. He said he was growing them to get a prize from the public exhibition, but father said sister's pleasure was more to him than any prize. Are they not beauties, mamma? This one is for you; he told me I could have it to give you. You are to wear it while we are gone, and think of me. Father is going to take Merle and me to see all the lovely pictures somewhere. I forget where. Then we are going to have dinner and go to the theatre. Won't that be jolly? He says I look very nice this morning. He wants me to kiss baby for him. Good bye, mamma."
Before she had time to remonstrate, he was gone. How deep was her disappointment, she was unwilling to admit, even to herself. She had been sure William would come with the flowershimself. He had sent the baby rare flowers and allowed Augustus to give her one (they were her favorite tube-roses, which James always kept in bloom). He had sent her nothing, and was going away to stay all day, seeking pleasure with Augustus and Merle, leaving her at home, ill in bed, without even a question as to how she had recovered from her indisposition of yesterday.
This thought produced anger that supplanted all the softness and tenderness she had so lately felt. She heard them go, and drew her baby to her with a sigh of injured pride. They were forgotten; she was ill, but he could go and enjoy himself.
She did William an injustice. He thought if he went to her without an invitation, she would consider it as an intrusion, after what she had said at their last interview. When Augustus came with his request to go to Merle, and said mamma asked him for flowers for sister, he thought he saw signs of Clarissa's forgiveness, and he would have given anything his money could have bought to prove to her how glad he was that she had sent to him for a favor.
He had not dared to leave the house after her threat to leave him, for, being there, she could not go;—even if it was necessary to use force. He would not be left again. He knew she would not leave without Augustus, so he thought toplease her by making the boy happy therefore he had planned to give Augustus and Merle a holiday.
He knew if Clarissa had intended to see him or send for him, she would have sent her message by Augustus. He thought she would see his love in the selection of the flowers. He was disappointed not to have been called in when he went to the very door of her room with Augustus; she knew he was there, for he had purposely talked all along the passage. He was anxious to see how fully she had recovered from yesterday's illness, and was not satisfied to take Augustus' and Dinah's words concerning her health.
She might be taken suddenly ill again while he was gone, and die before he could be reached. Augustus was away now, if he had not come to him so quickly, she would have died.
These unpleasant thoughts began to haunt him about as soon as he closed the door of his house. He said nothing to Augustus, for the boy was all enthusiasm, but long before father and son had reached Mrs. Millard's, he had concluded to go back at once. He would run no risk.
Arriving at the Millard's, he pleasantly asked them to join Augustus in a day of recreation and pleasure, doing so in such a way he seemed to consider it a favor for them to care for Augustus, and entertain him. He planned out theprogramme, gave them the necessary money, and departed, telling them that he had business that should be attended to, but must first go home for something he had forgotten. He would send the carriage back.
Arriving home, he ran up the steps, he was so anxious to know that all was well. He met no one. Removing his street garments as quietly as possible, and hoping that he would not be heard, he ascended the stairway that led to Clarissa's room, looking for Dinah, whom he wished to tell he was at home, and would remain there; thus she was to call him if anything was wrong.
The door was open, but no Dinah was in sight. He hesitated then approached the door, trying to make no noise. He wanted to look in;—and did, undiscovered. Clarissa had been crying; that was easily seen. There was too much color in her face. Was it fever or nervousness? He was glad that he had come home. His gaze was so steady she looked up quickly and saw him just as he tried to dodge from her sight. She was so surprised she spoke before she thought.
"William!"
At the sound of his name, he stepped back into the room.
"Where is Augustus?"
"At Merle's."
"Why are you not with him? He said you were going with him."
"I did."
"What brought you back?"
"You want to know the exact truth?"
"Yes. Of course I do."
"You."
"Me?"
"Yes; I was afraid you might be ill again—"
"Probably you mean you wanted to work upon me again. Well, I am not afraid of you."
"What do you mean?"
"You need not get angry; it was you, and you alone, that almost killed baby and me."
"Clarissa, you do not know what you are saying. I make you sick!—Never. It was I who cured you."
"William, let us not get angry with each other, but try to find out the truth. Were you or were you not thinking of me when I was stricken yesterday?"
"I was."
"I knew it. I told you you made me ill."
"I deny it. I was thinking of anything but your being ill. I swear my only thought was you should send for me to come to you. I wanted to be with you. I was lonesome and desperate at the thought you would leave me again. I neverthought of the baby. I am as blameless of the cause of her sickness as you."
"It was the sight of her that frightened me so."
"I do not wonder, Clarissa. I have tried and tried to account for her close resemblance to death, when she is physically such a perfect specimen of health. Try to do me justice. I am not so unnatural a man as to torture any person."
"You threatened to make me fear my children."
"I did no such thing. Only a vicious coward would do that. What a husband I must have been to you, when you suspect me of doing such things!"
"You did say so, William; that was what alarmed me."
"I say I did not. I said I could do it."
"I say you cannot."
"I shall never try. You are no more proud of the children than I, and you may be sure if they never suffer injury or injustice at any but their father's hands, they will have a pleasant life. Tell me why you were so angry, when I wanted to help Augustus. Can you not realize how I feel, when I know he is passing through life maimed for my sin? Is it not a duty I owe him to use every means in my power to assist him to walk? No person has ever been injured by my influence."
"Merle has."
"Merle? How?"
"You made him lie."
"That very experience brought me wisdom. I was jealous. I could not account for his sudden sickness upon seeing you. Can you not forgive me my indiscretions?"
"Knowing the cause;—yes. But has your gain in knowledge given Merle any more power? William, think well. Think well. The power you use, I am afraid of. Do not speak yet. Listen. You are a good man. Merle is a truthful boy. You made him tell a lie, and then believed it, placing the responsibility upon an innocent person. If a good man can make such a blunder, what great evil a bad man could do with it! Knowing what you do now, would you want Augustus or baby or me to be mesmerized, and subject to the thought of any man you know? Think what it means, William. Would you? Answer from the depth of your spirit."
The thought of the children did not so strongly impress him, but when he thought of Clarissa's being subject to the commands of any man he knew, he started as though he was stung by a wasp.
"No."
"What right then, have you to influence other men's wives and children?"
"None, I suppose. I had never thought of it that way. I honestly believed I was doing good. Help me to unravel this problem. You have shown me a picture I know is faulty, but I cannot detect the weak points. Alice has said, and you seemed proud enough of it, that I should be an illustrious exponent of science. I used to think it an infallible power; now I do not know what to think of it. If it is true that I have made my best subject lie, and almost killed my wife and babe—I who am considered an expert in practice,—you are right. I do not want to think of its force in the use of corrupt men. After all my study, and all my work, I admit I know nothing. I am discouraged."
"Come look at baby. She has just awoke. Is she not a treasure? You have not kissed her for days. Do you not want to?"
"Nor her mother either. Clarissa, what shall I do? I want to be just the man you respect and admire."
"Wait until I am well, William, then you shall explain to me the science of mesmeric control, and we will work together with Alice to find out those facts that you do not know. Somehow, I feel you are really stronger and wiser than you have ever been, though you do feel discouraged just now."
"Clarissa, you will not leave me?"
"No. I took you for better or worse, and I shall stand by the contract. I have been trying to think how you could help Augustus."
"How, dear?"
"By magnetic treatments the whole length of his spine and limbs. He is only weak there; not deformed. I was the same before he was born; but you will not mesmerize him, will you?"
"Never."
"Has she grown since you have seen her? She looks much as Augustus did at her age, Dinah and I think, so she must look like you."
* * * * *
Peace was restored, and a happier family would be hard to find than that of William Huskins. With his wife's help, he became a noted writer and exponent of mesmeric influence, reasoning from the effects or phenomena, back to the basic principles which produce them.
They worked together, and he told his friends she was the inspiring genius; he but the crude expresser. They both grew in character, making it a study how they should and might do for others, as they would wish their children done by.
Augustus, through his father's treatment, acquired sufficient strength in his limbs to forsake the wheel chair and crutches, as manhood approached, and was able to walk with a cane. He gave promise of being unusually talented in artand music. His parents sought in every manner to develop it.
Baby Clarissa was a mischievous child. James said she was the exact counterpart of her mother. The entire household set their happiness by her. The wonder is she was not spoiled and wilful, but, instead, she was winsome, and charming, doing her mischief in such a way it added, rather than detracted from her excellence.
Having passed through the fiery furnace of suffering, and coming forth grander and nobler for it, let us leave William and Clarissa with our best wishes that their children may represent them in worthiness of heart and character.