Democratic Sentinel, Volume 16, Number 44, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 November 1892 — AWOMANS INFLUENCE [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

AWOMANS INFLUENCE

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BY LULU JAMISON

CHAPTER XXII. A HASTY WORD A\D ITS PUNISHMENT. Dr. Philips, whose recognized partner Brian became, had known him from the hour of his birth, and on this account, and because, tco, of the deep friendship entertained for his father, he took more than usual interest in him. “I want to see in you the worthy successor of my old friend,” he said one day. “You can work out an honorable career, and you should. You owe it not only to his memory but also to that dear, sweet wife of yours. Let her be your inspiration. I promised your father when he was dying that I would act the part of a iriend to her. I don’t believe I can do that more effectually than by helping you. ” “The old refrain. Doctor. In all that is done for me, I see Margaret as the prompting motive. This prevents any feeling of conceit on my part, and I am willing that she shall have the welldeserved credit, but, nevertheless, my windless sails flap rather dolefully.” »-.«♦» “Dr. Philips says I have a dear, sweet wife. What do you think of that, Margaret?” “That he is a man given to overpraise," replied Margaret, glancing up from the scarf she was embroidering. “A very nice man, though,” she added, turning to her work once more. “So good to me and so good to you. ” He was standing behind her chair, and bent his head to look into her eyes. Nervous under such close contact she started up, and made a pretense of arranging some books upon a small table. The sigh with which his eye followed her awakened in her heart some twings Of remorse for what, she felt obliged to confess, was an unreasonable betrayal of ill-huumor.

“Come back to your chair, Margaret. You can be very cruel sometimes.” “Have you ’any right to blame me, Brian?” A glance at his face made her regret this question the second it passed her lips, but before the could recall it he had left the room, with the words destined to echo in her heart through many long, bitter days. “No, Margaret. No right at all. I see your love is 1 ot for me. ” A few minutes later she heard the sound of his horse’s hoofs on the drive outside. It was too late now. She must wait until his return. Then she would te l him how sorry she was. She wondered why the moments dragged so heavily, scarcely an hour had passed since Brian had left her; It seemed more like three. The sound of some disturbance down stairs came to her ears. With a nervous start she listened anxiously. There was no mistaking the hurried footsteps and subdued voices. Something unusual had happened. With a mind filled with terrible dread, and a heart beating to almost suffocation, she flew down the steps, along the hall, and into the library, and there No need to ask the matter now. During a second, In which she seemed to die a hundred deaths, she took In the white face and still form upon the sofa, and then, without even a cry, but with an expression that fixed itself Indelibly upon the minds of those who saw it, ■he knelt beside this remnant of the life and strength ot an hour before, and, taking tpe cold hands between her own, soothed; aftd pressed them in her effort to bring back their lost warmth. Poor hands! a little while ago she had shrunk from their contact, ano now they were all powerless, too helpless to respond even to her touc 1; yet she would still hold them, and, perhaps, after a time he might feet She would lay her heart on his, he would hear its beating and might understand. She would “Margaret.” She heard her name repeated softly; she felt a gentle touch upon her shoulder, and a strong hand lifting her from her crouching position, and she raised her face, haggard an l drawn with suffering, to meet Dr. Philips’ sympathetic glance.

“Don’t give way,” he said kindly, seeing the question In her eyes. .'We must get him to his room, and meanwhile we may hone that things are not so bad as they seem.” “Poor child," he murmured after he had left her; “and poor Brian. I little thought, when I saw him so well and strong yesterday, that to-day he would be so near death. A sad ending to his young career. ” While Margaret sat by Brian’s bed, trying in the pain and remorse which filled her heart to overflowing to make the most of the few attentions she could lavish upon him, a thought came to her like a ray of hope. “I will ask him to come,” she said under her breath. “I will ask him to come. Did you call me, Brian?" She bent over the bed and gazed mutely up n the motionless face. No, Brian had not called, and with a heartbroken Bigb she turned away to write the telegram which was to tell Wilson of Brian’s danger. And three hours later Wilson came. Well might Marsaret say, as her hand rested in his sympathetic clasp: “I felt so sure that you 'would come. Your presence gives me strength and hope. I feel that he will be safe in your hands. ” “As safe as these hands can make him, Mrs. Leigh. Please God, your confidence will not be misplaced. ” Margaret herself scarcely realized th e extern of this confidence until she had taken Wilson to Erian’s <2room, and waited with a suspense that amounted to agony the opinion which she felt would mean so much. She watched his face anxiously, but It revealed little, and only by a subtle intuition did she understand that he considered Brian's state most critical.

With the last gleam of hope dying from her heart, she followed him from the room. “The truth,” she pleaded, pressing her, hand to her ejes. “The whole truth. Ah! you hesitate. That is more still. lean bear the truth best.” “Poorchild," heanswered. “You must not give way to this despair. Yet, since you ask me so- the truth, 1 will not deceive you. Brian’s condition is most precarious. The odds are all against him. He has but one bare Chance.” “He has one chance,” she repeated, snatching at this straw of hope. “Then, Doctor, we will make the most of that! one chance. He cannot fight for him-: seif: we must fight for him.” “We will fight for him,” was Wilson’s reply. “Your courage and bravery must win, and I shall exercise all my skill .sad all my experience for him. I shall

wire immediately for a professional nurse, and since we are to work together I need only remind you of the necessity to keep your health and strength." “Let me stay with him,” she replied, with an effort to compromise, “and I promise to be docile in all elsj. Ah, I see Bertie. He has heard. ” Yes, Bertie had heard; and Bertie, as usual, could not hide his feelings as he gave Margaret messages of sympathy from the friends whose hearts were never more truly hers than in this hour of her trouble. CHAPTER XXIII. TUB SHADOW OF DEATH. Two days passed and no change came. The sun lay warm and bright on the lawn outside. The birds sans' their same sweet song. The breath of flowers perfumed the summer air, and the unequal battle between life and death still went on in the darkened room. Bertie sometimes sat up to relieve Wilson and the nurse, but Margaret gave way to none. “It is only the beginning,” she said, in answer to Wilson’s expostulations. “'Let me stay now. After awhile I will sleep." And Wilson, yielding, she spent three nights in a weary vigil, but when the fourth came nature would stand no more. She could no longer endure the ravings ot a delirium which brought the past so sharply and vividly before her. She could not listen to the eloquent pleadings for love in such weak and broken sentences, nor hear her own reproach, so doubly cruel, repeated by his unthinking lips. “Oh, for the power to live it over again, ” she cried In the anguish of her heart. “Oh, for one moment ot consciousness in which he might understand.” 1 The sleep induced by bodily weariness was deep and long, and it was quite late the next morning wh.n Margaret reached Brian's room. Wilson met her with an encouraging smile.

“He has been very quiet,” he said, noting the question in her eyes. “I, managed to snatch several hours’ sleep.” The hours passed slowly. The siledce was unbroken except by the humming of the bees optside the window, for even Brian’s complainings were stilled for the time. Once he murmured Margaret’s name and she felt his eyes upon her face, but there was no intelligence in them, only the dullness of delirium. After a little while he began once more to give expressions to his fevered fancies. It was always Margaret and the shadow between them, Margaret reproaching or repulsing him, or Margaret helpful and encouraging. And Margaret could only sit and listen; though when his sharp cry rang through the silence of the room, “Margaret, I can’t see you; where are you, Margaret?” sha placed her head beside him, and answered in low, wretched accents:

“Here, Brian; close beside you. Can’t you feel my hands? They are holding yours.” Did her voice penetrate that dull brain? For one second she thought so. But no. The heavy eyes turned from her face. “Han.s! Who said hands? Oh, yes; I remember now. You said it, Margaret. Don’t you know you said it? Your hand would be in mine. Do you—think of—the night? And I said—ah, I—said—what did I—say?” His voice sank away in an unintelligible muttering. A few seconds of silence and his mind wandered again. He was fighting his old battles now and calling upon Margaretfor sympathy and help. And in an anguish that could find no other expression, she burled her face in the pillow beside him. “I can’t bear it, I can’t bear it!” she cried, passionately. “Bear it,” repeated the weak voice. “Bear it? Ah, no; I can’t bear your contempt. You are —so hard; so hard—upon me. No right to—reproach you. No right—at—all." Her head sank lower. She could find no answer to these bitter complainings. Suddenly she felt a hand upon her shoulder, and raising her miserable face she saw Wilson standing over her. “Will you c >me out In the air for a few moments?” he said, with quiet authority. “The weather is pleasant. Thomas will take care ot Brian." With a sort of mechanical obedience she followed him to the broad piazza, where the pure air, warm sun and odor of sweet flowers seemed doubly grateful after the close atmosphere of the sick room. He was silent for some seconds. Evidently he found It difficult to put his thoughts in suitable language. She saw and understood his hesitation.

“I know what you would say,” she broke in, covering her face with her hands. “I know so well. You have heard Brian. You understand. And you must realize now what a hard, unkind, . undutiful wife I’ve been. What a ” “Hush,” he interrupted, in a strange voice. “I must not allow even your lips to say such unkind words about yourself. They are not deserved. You lay too much stress upon what he says, forgetting that it is only the raving of delir.um. Brian has made me his confidant and I feel that I can judge. “You cannot know all,” she answered, pressing her hands together. “You cannot know of the hundred little things —the motions, expressions, words—all meaning so much* You cannot know of them, but I do. They are always before me, and the last day—the very last day—l spoke unkindly. I shall never forget it—never. I saw that it hurt him. I intended to tell him I was sorry. I had no chance. They brought him back so. Now he cannot know; he cannot understand that I would suffer any pain for a moment of consciousness to tell him lam sorry. God will not grant me even that—not even that. ” “Why will you think of all these thingsr” heaske I.pres ntly. “Isitnot human to be a little unkind sometimes? Then look at the other side also. What you have done for Brian. We must not bewail the past, but go on bravely to meet the future, promising ourselves always to do better and better. You want to go in now?"

“Yes, Doctor, I feel stronger, and I thank you. - ’ The days passed, bringing but little perceptible change in Brian’s condition. But the crisis came at last. Gradually the fever spent Itself, and the tired frame, wearied with its long struggle, sank into a stupor so deathlike that only the faint heart beats told that life was still there. Margaret knew that he would either waken with a new lease of life or pass into that deeper sleep that knows no waking on this side of eternity. She watched and waited, and prayed for the long hours to pass. The shadows of night, which seemed to have held the anguish of years, gave place to the light of dawn. The lines of blue grew deeper and deeper in the east, the rim of the rising sun rested upon the brow of the hills, and the distant crowing of a cock, welcoming the

open’ng day, came like a clarion note through the silence. —‘ ” It reached Brian’s can He turned uneasily. Margaret was on her knees In a second, a feeling half joy, half fear clutching at her heart. She bent her face close to his. Perhaps he realized her presence, for he turned again and moaned sightly. His waking mind was struggling for comprehension, his eyelids trying to throw off the heaviness that held them down. At last they opened slightly, then wider, and their slow wandering gaze fell upon Margaret's face, a face white and drawn from long and anxious watching, but revealing a story of love. Those eyes were not slow to read. “Thank God," murmured Brian, with an effort to overcome his intense weakness. “Margaret, you —love me—at last?” With a cry of passionate joy she buried her face upon his breast. “Oh, Brian, eo much! so much that I could not live without you.” “Thank Goi,” he eaid again, in a voice scarcely above a whisper, yet vibrating with such Inexpressible happiness that it reached Wilson, as he stole silently from the room. “ Youihave found your true place at last, my darling, my wife. Your true resting place. It is a weak defense now." “It is my chosen rest and support,” she answered, with brimming eyes, catching and holding in its place the weak arm that had tried to clasp her so lovingly. “It is weak now, but it will be strong soon. Let me lean upon its strength always. Let me have your heart, as you have mine, fully and entirely. Oh, if you could know how I tried to tell you this, as I sat by you during those hours when you could not understand; how often I laid my heart upon yours, hoping you might hear its beating, and maybe realize that it was full of love for you! You did not know then, but you know now, and—you may kiss your wife.” Brian could not speak, but his eyeß filled with something strangely like tears, as she held her loving, blushing face for the long, tender kiss he left upon her lips. Neither spoke again. With his hand in Margaret’s, Brian was content to He still until overcome by weakness ho slept. [to bb continued. 1