Democratic Sentinel, Volume 18, Number 29, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 August 1894 — UNITED AT LAST [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

UNITED AT LAST

BY MISS H E BRADDON

XX—Continued. “"My pet, ” said Lord Clanyarde. in a ■pleading tone, “1 have brought a new 'doctor to see you, a gentleman who may be able to understa d your case -even better than our iriend Webb.” “No one ever knew her constitution as •well as I do,” commented Dr. Webb, -sotto voce. Constance raised her heavy eyelids -and looked' at her fa her with a lanquid wonder as if the figures standing by her couch were far away, and she saw them faintly in the distance, without knowing what they were. The new doctor did not go through the usual formula of puhe and tongue, nor did he ask the old-established -questions, but he seated himself quietly by Constance Sinclair's sofa and began" to talK to her in a low voice, while Dr. Webb and Lord Clanyarde withdrew to the other end of the room, where Gilbert was standing by a table, absently turning over the leaves of a book. “You have had a great sorrow, my -dear lady,’’said the German doctor, in that low and confidential tone which sometimes finds its way to the clouded brain when louder and clearer accents convey no meaning. “You have had a great sorrow, and have given way to .grief as if there were no comfort either in earth or in heaven.” Constance listened with lowered eyelids, but a look of attention came into her face presently, which the doctor perceived. “Dear lady, there is always ccmfort in heaven; there is sometimes consolation on earth. Why can you not hope for some sudden, unlooked-for happiness, some great joy such as God has •sometimes given to mourners like you? Your child was drowned, you think. What if you were deceived when you believed in her death? What if she was saved from tho river? Ido not srvy that it is so, but you can not be ■certain. Who can know for a certainty that the little one was really drownsd?” The eyes were wide open now, staring at him wildly. “What’s the old fellow about so .long?” asked Gilbert, impatiently. “He is taltring to her about her child,” replied Lord Clanyarde. “He wants to make her cry if he can. He’s a groat psychologist.” “Does that mean a great humbug?” masked Gilbert, “it sounds like it.”

“Hope and comfort are coming to you, dear Mrs. Sinclair,” said the German doctor; “be sure of that.” Again Constance looked at him curiously; but at the sight of the smokecolored spectac es anl the sallow old face, half covered with white hair, turned away her eye 3 with a sigh. If she co 'ld have seen eye-* that looked honestly into hers, it might have given force to that promise of ccmfort, but this blind oracle was too mysterious. She gave a long sigh and kept silent. The Doctor looked at the open piano •on the other si e of the fireplace, and remained in thoughtful silence for a few moments. “Does vour mist ess sing sometimes?” be asked Martha Briggs, who sat on guard by the sofa. “No, sir, not since she's been so ill, but she plays sometimes, by snatches, beautiful. It would go to your heart to hear her.” “Will you sing to ms,” asked the Doctor, “if you are strong enough to go to the piano? Please, trv to sing.” Constance looked at him with tho same puzzled gazo, and then' tried to rise. Martha supported her on one side, the Doctor on the other, as she feebly tottered to the piano. “I'll sing if you like,” she said, in a careless tone that told her how far the mind was from consciousness of the present. “Papa likes to hear me sing. ” bhe seated herself at the piano, and her tinge s wandered slowly over the keys, and wandered on in a dreamy prelude that had little msaninoy The 'Gorman doctor listened patiently for a few minutes to this tangle of arpeggios. and then, bonding over the piano, played the few notes of a familiar symphony. Constance gave a faint cry of surprise, and struck a chord, the chord that closed the symphony, and began “Strangers Yet,” in apathetic voice that had a strange hysterical power in curious contrast with the feebleness of the singer. She sang on till she came to the words “child and parent.” These touched a sensitive chord, and she rose suddenly from the piano and burst into tears. “That may do her good,” said Dr. Webb, approvingly. “My friend is no fool,” replied Lord •Clanyarde. “Take your mistress to her room,” said Gilbert to Martha, wit a an angry look. “This is only playing upon ner nerves. I vv( nder you can allow such folly, Lord Clanyard-'!” “Your own doctors have agreed that •some shock was necessary, something to awaken her from apathy. Poor pet; those tears are a relief,” answered the father. He we nt to his dam hter and assisted in arranging the pillows as she lay •down on the sofa. Martha calmly ignored her msstor’s order. The German doctor bent over Mrs. Sinclair for a moment, and whispered tie one word, “Hope,” and then retired with the three other gentlemen. “Would you like to prescribe anything?” asked Dr. Webb, taking the •stranger into a little room off the hall. “No; it is a case in which drugs are useless. Hope is the only remedy for Mrs. Sinclair’s disease. She must be beguiled with hope, even if it is delusive.” "What 0 ” cried Dr. Webb, “wouldyou trifle with her feelings, play upon the weakness of her mind, and let her awaken by and by to find herself deluded?” “I would do anything to snatch her from the jaws of death,” answered the ■German doctor, unhesitatingly. “If h' pe is not held out to her, she will •die. You see her fading day by day. Do you think there is any charm in vour medi ines that will bring her buck to life? ” ... “I fear not. air,” answered Dr. Webb •despondently. ,

“Then you or those who love her must find soma more potent influence, she is heart-broken for the loss of her child, bhe must be taught to think that her child is still living.” “But when her mind grows stronger it would be a still heavier blow to discover that she had been d cei ed.” “She would be batter ab e to bear tho blow when health and strength had returned, and she might have formed an attachment in the meantime which w uld console her in the hour of disillusion. ” “I don't understa :d,” faltered Dr. Webb. “i’ll make mvself clearer. A child must be brought to Mrs. Sinclair, a little girl of about the age of her own baby, and she mast ba persuade! to believe, now while her brain is clouded, that her own child is given bock to her.” “A cruel deception,” cried Dr. Webb. “No; only a desperate remedy. Which are her friends to do—d.ceive her, or let her die? In her present condition of mind she will ask no questions: she will not speculate upon probabilities. She will take the child to her breast as a gift from heaven. A mind distraught is always ready to believe in the marvelous, to imagine it elf the object of supernatural intervention. ” Dr. Webb looked thoughtfully and half convinced. This German physician, who sp. ke good English, seemed to have studied his subject deeply. Dr. Webb was no psychologist, but he had seen in the mentally atilicted that very love of the marvelous which ur. Ho.lendorf spake about. And what hope had he of saving his patient ' Alas! none, at would be a cruel thing t > put a spurious child in her arms, to trifle with a mother’s sacred feelings: but if life and reason could be saved by this means and no other, surely the ftaud would be a pious one. “Mr. Sinclair would never consent, ” said Dr. Webb. “Mr. Sinclair must ho made to consent. I have already suggested this step to Lotd Clanyarde, and he approves the idea. He must bring his influence to bear upon Mr. Sinclair, who appears an indifferent husband, and not warmly interested in his wife's fat 3.” “There you wrong hi n,” cried the faithful Webb. “His manner does not do him justice. The poor man has been in a most miserable condition ever since Mrs. Sinclair's illness assumed an alarming aspect. Will you make this suggestion to him —propose our introducing a strange child?” “I would i ather the proposal should come from Lord Clanyarde,” answered the strange doctor, looking at his watch. “I must get back to London iby the next train. I shall tell Lord : Clanyarde my opinion as he drives me to the station. I think I have made I my ideas sutlieientlv c ear to you, Dr. I Webb.-” ! “Quite so, quite so,” cried the little • man, whose mother was an Aberdeen [ woman, “it is a most extraordinary thing, Dr. Holler.dorf, that, although I have never had the honor of meeting ; you before, your voice is very familiar to me.” i “My dear sir, do you suppose that Nature can give a distinctive voice to overy unit in an overcrowded world? i You might hear my voice in the Feeees to-morrow. There would be nothing extraordinary in that.” “Of. course, of course. An accidental resemblance, ” assented Dr. Webb. The German would taka no fee; he had come as Lord Glanya de’s friend, and he drove away in Lord Clanyarde’s brougham without any further'loss of time. Gilbert Sinclair ani his friend devoted the rest of the evening to billiards, with frequent refreshment on Gilbert s part in the way of brandy. “You talked the other day about finding a purchaser for this confounded old barrack,” said Mr. Sinclair. “I hate the place more every day, and it is costing me no end of money for repairs—never saw such a rickety old hole, always some wall tumbling down or drain setting choked up—to say nothing of keeping up a large stable here as well as at Newmarket.”

“ Why not give up Newmarket?” sug-ge-ted Mr. Wyatt, with hia commonsense air. “I m not such a fool. Nemarket gives me some pleasure, and this place gives me none. ” “You must keep up a home for Mrs. Sinclair, and a London house would hardly be suitable in her present state. ” “I can take her to Hastings or Vontnor, or to my box at Newmarket, if it comes to that.” “Isn't it better for her to be near her father?” “ What doss she want with her father, an old twaddler like Clanyarde, without a thought beyond the gossip of his club? Don’t humbug, Wyatt. You told me you could put your finger on a purchaser. Was that bosh, or aid you mean it?” “It was not bosh," answered Wyatt; “but I wanted to be quite sura you were in earnest before i p ished my proposal any further You m’ght consider it an impertinence for me to think of such a tning.” “What are you driving at?” “Will you sell Eavenant to me?” Gilbert dropped his billiard cue and stord staring at his friend in blank ama ement. Here was a new state of things, indeed. The professional man Leading on the heels of the millionaire. “You!” he exclaimed, with contemptuous surprise. “I did not think fifteen per cent, ard renewals could be made so profitable.” “I’m too thickrskinned to recent the insinuation,” said James Wyatt, cushioning his opponent’s ball. “I can afford to buy Davenant for the prjee you gave for it. I’ve got just enough money disengaged. I sold out of Palermos the other day when they were up, to provide the purchase money. I brought down a deed of transfer, and if you are in earnest we can settle the business to-morrow morning.” “You're buying the place as a speculation,” said GLbjrt, susoiciously. “Not exactly. But what would it matter to you if I were? You want to get rid of the place. I am ready to take it off your hands. ” “You have heard of a bid from somebody else.-” “No, I have not.” “Well, you re a carious fellow. Going to get married, 1 1 suppose, and turn country squire.” “Never mind my plans. Do you mean to sell?” “Yes.” “Then I’m ready to buy. ” The deed was executed next morning. Gilbert st pulatei that he was not to turrenderthe hou e till the midsummer quarter, and that James Wyatt wftt to take the furniture at a valuation. Mr. Sinclair was much pleased with

the idea of gettingba’k firs-and-thlrty thousand pounds of ready money for q place the purchase of which had been a whim, and of the occupation whei.eof he was heartily tired. Those miners of the norta were still holding out, and) money had n t been flowing into his coffees nearly so fa t as it nad been flowing out during tho last half year. He hud made unlucky ba gains in horseflesh -squandered his money on second-rate stock, and in winning small iaces that were not worth his people's traveling expenses. In a word, he had done all tho.e fooii-h things which an idle man who thi iks himself extremely clever, and yet lends an ear to every new advisor, is apt to do. “Five-ard-thirty, thou' will pi t me into smooth water." he said, as ho signed tho contract wr.h a flourish. The one suspicion as to Mr. Wyatt 'q intentions, which would have prevented Gilbert Sinclair agreeing to the bargain, had never presented itself tq Lis mind. James Wyatt went back to London that afternoon, promising to meet his client next day at the avrgyie street branch of the Union Bank, and hand over the purcha-e money. At eight o'clock that evening he presented himse.f at sir Cyprian Davenant s chambers. He found his friend sitting alone among his books, smoking an Indian hookah. ” Wyatt, old fellow, this is a surprise,” said Cyprian, as they shook hands. “Have you dined?” “Thanks, yes; I took a chop at the Garrick. I’ve just c:me from Davenant.” "Indeed! How is Mrs. Sinclair? ' “.Pretty much the same, poor soul. How long is it since you heard of her?" “I saw Lord Clanyarde at his club about a week ago.” “ Well, there’s been no change lately. Something wrong with the mind, you see, and a gradual ebbing uway of strength. She’s not long for this world, I'm afraid; but she was too g.od for it. Angels are better off in heaven than they are with us. We don’t appreciate them.” No more than swine appreciate pearls,” said Sir Cyprian. “What would you give to get Davenant back?” asked Mr. Wyatt, without preface. “What would I give? Anything—half my fortune.” “What is your fortune worth?” “About a hundred and fifty thousand.” “Well, then, I sha’nt want so much as half of it, though your offer is tempting. Davenant is mine. ” “Yours!” “Yes, at the price you got for it, with another live thousand as a sporting b d for the furniture and improvements. Give me tive-and-twenty per cent, on my purchase and Davenant is yours.” "uillingly. But how about Mrs. Sinclbir? Will it not grieve her to lose tae place?” “Whether or no, tho place is sold. I tell you, Sir Cyprian, a stand before you the owner of Davenant and all its appurtenances. I did not buy it for myself, but on the speculation that, as 1 bought it cheap, you would be glad to give me a prolit on my purchase. I knew Sinclair well enough to be very sure that he would let the roof rot over his head before he would consent to sell the place to you.“ “You have done a friendly thing, Wyatt, and I thank you. I should hesitate, perhaps, in agreeing to such a bargain were any other man than Mr. Sinclair in question, but I do not feel myself bound to stand upon punctilio with him. “Punctilio, man! There's no punct'lio to stand upon. Sinclair sold tho the estato to me, unconditionally, and I have an indisputable right to sell if to you." |to be continued. |