Jasper County Democrat, Volume 3, Number 35, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 December 1900 — Twixt Life and Death [ARTICLE]

Twixt Life and Death

BY FRHNK BHRRETT

CHAPTER XXX. —(Continued.) Certainly the window curtain did bulge sut, taking tbe form of a man’s shoulder; rose sharply, resolved by a movement to dispel her fears if this were the cause. With a scream of terror she sprang up, Snd throwing herself before him clutched Is hand, while she turned her bosom toward the man with the knife whom she knew well had taken refuge behind the curtain. The peril was real enough, as Sweyn saw the next instant when the curtain was swept back and Anderson sprang cut with the dissecting knife in his restless hand. With the swift, decisive judgment of • man trained to meet sudden emergencies, Sweyn measured the danger and his own resources. Passing his left arm quickly round Nessa as she stood between him and the knife, he swung her to his side, and, taking one stride forward, with his right band seized Anderson’s ortn ns he raised it to strike; then with his disengaged left he grasped the maniac by the throat, thrust him back, and pinned him, choking, against the wall. It was done in an instant. For a few seconds Anderson writhed and struggled furiously to free himself from the iron grip, and then exhausted by the effort, purple in the face under the garrote, he let the knife slip from his nerveless fingers. Nessa dashed forward, and flung it to the further end of the room; but the danger was past. As Sweyn relaxed his left hand, Anderson dropped to the ground like a lump of clay. Kneeling beside him, Sweyn glanced anxiously at Nessa. “What shall I do?” she gasped. “Fetch me the long bath towel. There’s J brave woman,” he added, as she rought it quickly to him. “I might have known that you wouldn’t give in while your help was needed. You see, there’s no danger now; the poor wretch is as feeble as a child. Double the towel; now lay it crosswise under his shoulders—a Jittle lower—so. We must fasten his arms down for the present, in case of another outbreak. Are you there, John-, son?” in' .isked, catching th£ sound of a subdued cough in the passage. “Yussir; I thought I heard a noise, sir ” “Quite right. You did. Come here and help me.” “You’ve got one of the thieves there,” said Johnson, in astonishment. “You mustn’t say that of a patient. Now, then, lift hint up on his feet. Have you been in the profession, Johnson, ever pinee you wore buttons, and not learned the symptoms of this poor fellow's disease? There, now; help him into the spare room and Stay with him till 1 come.” He talked in this strain with a specific object—making light of the affair to give Nessa confidence until his hands were free to minister to her wants. All the time he was occupied with Anderson he kept a keen eye on her, aware that her strength would give out as the excitement abated. He saw her totter to the dressing table and rest her hands upon it for support; she was .swaying to and fro with closed eyes as he turned from Anderson. “Now it’s your turn, my bravo little wife,” he said, and taking her in his arms he again carried her to the bed and laid her down. She opened her eyes and smiled at him faintly, but with ineffable love, from her pillow, nud then covered her face with her hands. From head to foot she trembled violently. Sweyn piled on the blankets, and put hot water to her feet; but for an hour nothing availed to subdue the convulsive quivering of her frame.

CHAPTER XXXI. Sweyn was seated at the breakfast table on the following morning when Xessa came down in her dressing gown, her hair simply gathered in a knot. He detected something unusual in her manner the moment she entered the room—a certain nervous rapidity of movement, a wavering look in the eyes, ordinarily so steadfast and calm in their regard. “I hoped you would sleep for another hour,” lie said as they met. “I am ashamed to be so late. And now' I have hurried down like this because I felt so anxious to tell you what —what I did not .tell you last night.” “Oil, about that poor fellow upstairs. I went in to see him just now. He hasn’t woke yet, happily. Well, we can talk about him over a cup of tea ” “No, dear, I want to tell you at once —before anything. He—that man’’—with her hands upon his shoulders she pressed her face close to him that he might not read the lie in it—“he is my brother!” “Your brother!” he exclaimed, holding her from him at arm’s length. She made no reply, but dropped her head to escape his eyes in an agony of shame, believing that he had already detected her in this deliberate falsehood. “Your brother?” he repeated, and then in a joyful accent, “why, this explains everything, my poor, tortured love! Your reticence with regard to the past, your shrinking dread, your mysterious embarrassment—everything. I understand now 'why you fainted m.v arms; why you would not have me go into the study, or leave you in your room. Your brother has not always been in this condition?” “I cannot say. I have only known him a few' months. Oh, do not ask me to tell you nu.v more!” she cried, impulsively, for it cut her to the heart to take advantage of his fkith and generous - love. “Promise me you will make me tell you no more.” “Not a word. There; sit down here and let me pour out some tea for you.” He kept his promise, and avoided speaking of her brother ns much as possible. for he saw that she was restless, unhappy, and painfully self-conscious, ■nd she would not, could not, look him In the face. This perplexed him now that he had conceived the cause of her gnibnt-rassment removed.

One day he came to her with delight in his eyes. “I have good news for you, dear,” he said. “Dr, Channing has been here, and we have had a long consultation over your brother. He agrees with me entirely that the primary cause of insanity in this case is accident, und that the disease has grown to its present terrible proportions through neglect if not wrong treatment. Your brother has not the appearance of an hereditary maniac; the symptoms nil indicate a merely temporary derangement. I think we may confidently hope that your brother may be cured.” “I am glad of that,” Nessa said, gravely, without raising her hend. “I have asked Channing to bring Dr. Hewet. He, you know, is the greatest living authority upon mental disease. If he is of our opinion, that your brother may be restored to reason, all your distress will be at an end, my poor darling.” She made no reply. She could ipot even pretend to feel relieved. She would have had still less cause for relief if Sweyn had told her all that passed between him and Dr. Channing. “We shall have to find out how long this has been coming on,” Dr. Channing had said. “I don’t see how we’re to do that, 11 Sweyn replied. “My wife can give no account of him before a auite recent period, and in her present dangerously nervous condition I fear to press her for any explanation.” “Who has been his keeper?” —— “I wish I knew. He’s responsible for a deal. I think his name must be Hexham, or something like that; it is the only name my brother-in-law seems to remember, and he always speaks of him with fear.” “Hexham, Hexham,” repeated Dr. Channing, reflectively, as he felt in his pocket for his notebook. “Why, that reminds me that a man with a name like that has been inquiring at Bartholomew’s whether a man of unsound mind has been brought in there. I made a note of it at his request. I’ll hunt him up.” A few days after that Dr. Chaining brought the great specialist, and they held an exhaustive consultation over Anderson. When they had come to a definite conclusion, Sweyn sought bis wife. “You have to decide a very grave question, love,” he said. “Our opinion is unanimous that your brother’s reason may be restored. A tumor, probably the result of a blow, has formed under the cap of the skull. Dr. Hewet has determined its exact position. It presses upon the organ of memory, and is the cause of all the terrible manifestations we have observed. If the tumor is allowed to remain, your brother must grow worse, and his sufferings be indefinitely prolonged. It is horrible to think what those sufferings may lead to before death ends them. You are his nearest relative; and it is for you to decide whether or not the operation is to be performed.” “If I refuse, he will never know me,” Nessn said to herself. “If I agree to it, he will claim me as his wife.” „ “Shall I say that you will give your decision to-morrow?” he asked. “No; I will give it now. The operation shall be made.” And as Sweyn left the room with this sanction she said to herself: “There is no escape.” > The operation was performed with complete success. Anderson awoke as if from a horrible nightmare. The relief from pain was instantaneous; memory slowly, surely returned. One afternoon Sweyn came to Nessa and said: “He remembers his sister. He has asked to see you. Come.”

CHAPTER XXXII. Jamas Redmond was at Grahame Towers, occupied in the prudent pursuit of making hay while the sun shone. As soon ns it was discovered that Mrs. Redmond had failed to kill Xessa in the arena he saw the folly of relying on further hopgfsju that direction. Destitution, and the fear that Xessa would find friends before long to protect her interests, prompted him to return to the towers, with a view to getting what he could from the estate before the hour came when he must holt to escape arrest and punishment far his wroug-doing. “It’s a slave life,” he said to himself; “but what’s the odds? It’s only for a time. When I do g6t the money for that timber I’ll make up for all this drudgery and privation.” One afternoon, having worried two pounds on account out of a weak-minded wheelwright in Lullingford, with the purchases for the week in his cart, he jogged home to the Towers. When lie reached the open space before the house, he found two visitors waiting for him—both seated on the low parapet of the terrace by the gate. One was his wife; the other a mau he had not the pleasure of knowing. “What have you cotne here for?” he asked, drawing up at the gnteway. “Because there’s nowhere better to go to,” answered his wife. “1‘ suppose I’ve as much right to be here ns you have. Anyway, I’m your wife, and f mean to stick to you while you’ve got anything to stick to.” “And who’s that, I should like to know?” he asked, pointing his whip at Cummings, who, with less effrontery than Mrs. Redmond, was still sitting in the background, waiting for his introduction. v “That’s Cummings, no’s standing in with us. We’ve been saving up to come to see you, and it took us ail we had to get to Lullingford. We’ve walked over—” “More fools you!” said Redmond, with a sickly grin. “We didn’t know you were there, beauty, with that lovely trap,” retorted the lady. "Well, you’ve conic over here for nothing, and you’ll have to walk back with nothing.”

“We know a trick worth two of that—don’t we, Cummings?” Thus addressed, Cummings rose from the parapet, and, coming forward, said: “We’ve come here for business, and back answers won’t get us on to a pleasant understanding. If the governor will listen to reason, I’m agreeable to explain my views on the subject, and come to terms with him; if he won’t, I shall do the best I can on the other side. But we don’t want any bullying, you understand,” he added, with a significant nod. “What have you got to do with my affairs?” asked Redmond. “What have I got to do with it?” exclaimed Cummings, losing his temper at once—he and his partner were both irritable and touchy with their long walk —“well, I think I’ve had a pretty good lot to do with it, one way and another. I’ve lost the best situation a man could wish for; I've risked my neck twice, spent all my savings, parted with ray last shilling to bring your missis down here—without which she’d never have come; I’ve done five miles of a dusty road, sat jogging my heels here waiting for you over an hour, and got a back answer the' moment 1 spoke a civil word; if that ain’t enough to do in your interests I should like to know what you would have.” “Who asked you to do anything?” “That’s neither here nor there,” chimed in Mrs. Redmond. “We’ve each of us had a turn at the affair, and we’re going to stand in equal for anything that’s to be got out of it.” —--- — “Oh, I know what you’ve been at. Nichols has told me. You’ve bungled the business all round. You’ve wasted your chances, and you’ve lost your money, and you expect me to repay you. You’ve come down here as a last resource, in fact.” Both Mrs. Redmond and her partner agreed with a ready nod to this last statement of the case. “And you want a share in whatever I’ve got—is that it?” They acquiesced again with perfect unanimity. - “Wait a bit,” said Redmond, jerking the reins, and giving the pony cart a cut with his broken whip. As he disappeared with the pony and cart through the gateway, Mrs. Redmond and Cummings, exchanging a glance of intelligence, descended the terrace steps sharply, and followed through the gateway. They suspected some treacherous maneuver on the part of Redmond, but he had gone simply to put up the pony ! in the court. They helped to carry the ! goods into the house when Redmond un- I locked the door in the gatehouse. “There,” said Redmond, when they reached his filthy room, “that is all I have to share.”" “Well, we’ll begin on the victuals,” said Mrs. Redmond. Redmond could not prevent that; he sat with his linnds in his pockets, glaring at them in sullen silence as they ate with ' greedy voracity. “Now, then,” said Cummings, “let’s : come to business. We’re agreed to go ! shares. Now, Hr. Redmond, what’s the : assets?” “I’ve got nothing in the world but what j you see in this room,” said Redmond. I “Humbug!” said Cummings. “Rot!” said Mrs. Redmond. (To be continued.)