Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 22, Number 95, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 August 1901 — The Doctor's Dilemma [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Doctor's Dilemma

By Hesba Stretton

CHAPTER XV.—(Continued.) That brought to my mind what I had almost forgotten—the woman whom my imprudent curiosity had brought into pursuit of her. I felt ready to curse my folly aloud, as I did in my heart, for having gone to Messrs. Scott and Brown. “Olivia,” I said, “there is a woman in Guernsey who has some clue to you ” But I could say no more, for I thought ahe would Jiave fallen to the ground in her terror. I drew her hnnd through my arm and hastened to reassure her. “No harm can come to you,” I continued, “whilst Tardif and I are here to project you. Do not frighten yourself; we will defend you from every danger.” “Martin,” she whispered—and the familiarity of my name spoken by her gave me a sharp pang, almost of gladness—“no one can help me or defend me. The law would compel me to go back to him. A woman's heart may •he broken without the law being broken. I could prove nothing that would give me a right to be free —nothing. So I took it into my own hands. I tell you I would rather have been drowned this afternoon. Why did you save me?” I did not answer, except by pressing seer hand against my side. I hurried her •on silently towards the cottage. She was Bhivering in her cold, wet dress, and trembling with fear, It was plain to the that even her fine health should not be trifled with, and I loved her too tenderly, her poor, shivering, trembling frame, to let her suffer if I could help it. When we reached the foldyard gate, I stopped her for a moment to speak only a few words. “Go in,” I said, “and change every one •of your wet clothes. I will see you again, ■once again, when we can talk with one another calmly. God bless and take care of you, my darling!” She smiled faintly, and laid her hand ,in mine. “You forgive me?” she said. “Forgive you!” I repeated, kissing the -small brown hand lingeringly; “I have (nothing to forgive.” She went on across the little fold. : >Then I made my way, blind and deaf, to ithe edge of the cliff, seeing nothing, hearting nothing. I flung myself down on the turf, with my face to the ground, to •hide my eyes from the staring light the summer sun. Married? That was what she had said. It shut out all hope for the future. She 'must have been a mere child four years -ago; she looked very young and girlish still. And her husband treated her ill — my Olivia, for whom I had given up all I had to give. She said the law would compel her to return to him, and I could do nothing. I could not interfere even* -to save her from a life which was worse to her than death. My heart was caught in a vice, and there was no escape from the torture of its relentless grip. Whichever way I looked there was sorrow and despair. I wished, with a faint-heartedness I had never felt before, that Olivia and I had indeed perished together down in the caves where the tide was now sweeping below me. “Martin!” said a clear, low, tender tone in my ear, which could never be deaf to that voice. I looked up at Olivia without moving. My head was at her feet, and I laid my hand upon the hem of her dress. “Martin,” she said again, “see, I have brought you Tardif’s coat in place of your own. You must not lie here in this way. Captain Carey’s yacht is waiting for you below.” I staggered giddily when I stood on my feet, and only Olivia's look of pain steadied me. She had been weeping bitterly. I could not trust myself to look in her face again. Tardif was standing behind her, regarding us both with great concern. ‘'Doctor,” he said, “when I came in from my lobster-pots, the captain sent n message by me to say the sun would be gone down before you reach Guernsey. He has come round to the Havre Gosselin. I’ll walk down the cliff with you.” “Take care of mam’zelle,” I said, when we had reached the top of the ladder, and the little boat from the yacht was dancing at the foot of it. “There is some danger ahead, and you can protect her better than I.” “Yes, yes,” he replied; “you may trust her with me. But God knows I should have been glad if it had gone well with you.”

CHAPTER XVI. My mother pussed n restless and agitated night, and 1, who sat up with her, was compelled to listen to all her lamentations. But towards the morning «he fell into a heavy sleep, likely to last for some hours. I could leave her in gterfect security; and at an early hour I went down to Julia's house, strung up to bear the worst, and intending to have it all out with her, and put her on her guard before she paid her daily visit to our house. She must have some hours for her excitement and rejoicing to bubble over, before she came to talk about it to my mother. “I wish to see Miss Dobree," I said to the girl who quickly answered my noisy peal of the house bell. “Please, sir," wps her reply, “she and Miss Dal trey are gone to Sark with Captain Carey." . “Gone to Bi*k!" I repeated in utter amasement. J “Yes, Dr. martin. They started quite ■early becauso of the tide, and Captain Carey’s man brought the carriage to take them to St. jpampson's. i don't look for then: back lie fore evening." “When dill they make up their minds to go to 8n k?” I inquired anxiously. “Only lati last night, sir,” she answered. Why were Julia and KHte Daltrey gone to Sark? 1 Wiat could they have to do With Olivia i -It made me almost wild with anger s to think of them finding Olivia, and talking to her perhaps of me nnd\n>y love—questioning her, arguing with her, tormenting her! The bare thought of those two badgering my Olivia was enough to drive me frantic. la the 800 l • twilight, Juba and Ivnle ■Ulwpe '■Kutfl&ilia' Ki*. •/<,» niaArf'v * •

Daltrey were announced. I was about to withdraw from my mother’s room, in conformity with the etiquette established amongst us, when Julia recalled me in a gentler voice than she liac) used towards me since the day of my fatal confession. “Stay, Martin,” she said; “what we have to tell concerns you more than any one.” I sat down again by my mather’s sofa, and she took my hand between both her own, fondling it in the dusk. “It is about Olivia,” I said in as cool a tone as I could command. “Yes,” answered Julia; “we have seen her, and we have found out why she has refused you. She is married already.” “She told me so yesterday,” I replied. “Told you so yesterday!” repeated Julia in an accent of chagrin. “If we had only known that we might have saved ourselves the passage across to Sark.” “My dear Julia,” exclaimed my mother, feverishly, “do tell us all about it, and begin at the beginning.” There whs nothing Julia liked so much, or could do so well, as to give a circumstantial account of anything (die had done. She could relate minute details with so much accuracy that when one was lazy or unoccupied it was pleasant to listen. My mother enjoled, with all the delight of ft woman, the small touchesby which Julia embellished her sketches. I resigned myself to hearing a long history, when I was burning to ask one or two questions and have done with the topic. “To begin at the beginning, then,” said Julia, “dear Captain Carey came into

town very late last night to talk to us about Martin, and how the girl in Sark bad refused him. I was very much astonished, very much indeed! Captain Carey said that he and dear Johanna had come to the conclusion that the girl felt some delicacy, perhaps, because of Martin's engagement to me. We talked it over as friends, and thought of you, dear aunt, and your grief and disappointment, till all at once I made up my mind in a moment. *1 will go over to Sark and see the girl myself,’ I said. ‘Will you?’ said Captain Carey. ‘Oh, no, Julia, it will be too much for you.’ ‘lt would have been a few weeks ago,’ I said; ‘but now I could do anything to give aunt Dobree a moment’s happiness.’ ” “Heaven bless you, Julia,’’ I interrupted, goiug across to her and kissing her cheek impetuously. “There, don't stop me, Martin,” she said earnestly. “So it was arranged offhand that Captain Carey should send for us to St. Sampson’s this morning, and take us over to Sar. We had a splendid passage. Ivate was in raptures with the landing place, and the lovely lane leading up into the island. We turned down the nearest way to Tardif’s. Well, you know that brown pool in the lane leading to the Havre Gosselin? Just there, where there are some low, weath-er-beaten trees meeting overhead anl making a long green aisle, we saw all in a moment a slim, erect, very young-look-ing girl coming towards us. I knew in an instant that it was Miss Ollivier.” She paused for a minute. How plainly I could see the picture! The arching trees, and the sunbeams playing fondly with her shining golden hair! I held my breath to listen.

“What completely startled me," said Julia, “was that Kate suddenly darted forward and ran to meet her, crying, ‘Olivia!’ ” “How does she know her?” I exclaimed. “Hush, Martin! Don’t Interrupt me. The girl went so deadly pale, I thought she was going to faint, but she did not. She stood for a minute* looking at us, and then she burst into the most dreadful fit of crying! I have always thought her name was Ollivier, and so did Kate. ‘For pity’s sake,’ said the girl, ’if you have any pity, leave me here in peace—do not betray me’ “But what does it nil mean?" asked my mother, whilst I paced to and fro in the dim room, scarcely able to control my impatience, yet afraid to question Julia too eagerly. ' “I caii tell you,” said Kate Daltrey In her cold, deliberate tones; “she is the wife of my half-brother, Richard Foster, who mnrried her more than four years ago In Melbourne; and she ran away from him last October, and has not been heard bf since." "Then you know her whole history." I said, approaching her and pausing before her. "Are you at liberty to tell it to us?” “Certainly,” she answered; "it is no secret. Her father was a wealthy col-

onist, and he died when she wai fifteen, leaving her in the charge of her stepmother, Richard Foster’s aunt. The match was one of the stepmother's making, for Olivia was little better than a child. Richard was glad enough to get her income. One-third of it was settled upon her absolutely, ltichhrd was looking forward eagerly .to her being one-and-twehty, for he had made ducks and drakes of his own property, and tried to do the same with mine. He would have done so with his wife’s; but a few weeks before Olivia’s twenty-first birthday she disappeared mysteriously. There her fortune lies, and Richard has no more power than I have to touch it. He cannot even claim the money lying in the Bank of Australia, which has been-re-mitted by her trustees; nor can Olivia claim it without making herself known to him. It is accumulating there, while both of them are on the verge of poverty.” “But he must have been v'ery cruel to her before she would run away!” said my mother in a pitiful voice. “Cruel!” repeated Kate Daltrey. “M ell, there are many kinds of cruelty. Ido not suppose Richard would ever transgress the limits of the law. But Olivia was one of those girls who can suffer great torture —mental torture I mean. Even I could not live in the same house with Richard, and she was a dreamy, sensitive, romantic child, with as mugh knowledge of the world as a baby. I was astonished to hear she had had daring enough to leave him.” “But there must be some protection for her from the law," I said, thinking of the bold* coarse woman, no doubt his associate, who was in pursuit of Olivia. “She might sue for a judicial separation, at the least, if not a divorce.” “I am quite sure nothing could be brought against him in a court of law,” she answered, “He is very wary and knows very well what he may do and what he may not do. A few months before Olivia’s flight, he introduced a woman as her companion. He calls her his cousin. Since I saw her this morning I have been thinking of her position in every light, and I really do not see anything she could have done, except running away as she did, or mak-

ing up her mind to be deaf and blind and dumb.” “But could he not be induced to leave her in peace if she gave up a portion of her property?” I asked. “Why should he?” she retorted. “If she was in his hands the whole of the property would be his. He will never release her —never. No, her only chance is to hide herself from him. The law cannot deal with wrongs like hers, because they are as light as air apparently, though they are as ail-pervading as air is, and as poisonous as air can be. They are like choke-damp, only not quite fatal. He is as crafty and cunning as a serpent. He could prove himself the kindest, most considerate of husbands, and Olivia next thing to an idiot. Oh. it is ridiculous to think of pitting a girl like her against him!” "But what can be done for her?” I asked vehemently and passionately. “My poor Olivia! what can I do to protect her?”

“Nothing!” replied Kate Daltrey, coldly. “Her only chance is concealment, and what a poor chance that is! I went over to Sark, never thinking that your Miss Ollivier whom I had heard so much of was Olivia Foster. It is an out-of-the-world place; but so much the more readily they will find her, if they once get a clue. A hare is soon caught when it cannot double; and how could Olivia escape if they only traced her to Sark?” My dread of the woman into whose hands my imbecile curiosity had put the clue was growing greater every minute. It seemed as if Olivia could not be safe now, day or night; yet what protection could I or Tardif give to her? “You will not betray her?” I said to Kate Daltrey, though feeling all the time that I could not trust her in the smallest degree. “I have promised dear Julia that, she answered. It became my duty to keep a strict watch over the woman who had come to Guernsey to find Olivia. If possible I must decoy her away from the lowly nest where my helpless bird was sheltered. She had not sent for me again, but I called upon her the next morning professionally, und stayed some time talking with her. But nothing, resulted from the visit beyond the assurance that she had not yet made any progress towards the discovery of my secret. Neither did I feel quite safe about Kate Daltrey. She gave me the impression of being ns crafty and eunning as she described her half-brother. Did she know this woman by sight? That wns a question I could not answer. There was another question hanging upon it. If she saw her, would she not in some way contrive tn give her a sufficient hint, without positively breaking her promise to Julia? Kate Daltrey’s name did not appear in the newspapers among the list of visitors, os she was staying in n private house; but she and this woman might meet apy day in the streets or on the pier. t had to croes over to Sark the next

week, - alone and independent of Captain Carey. The time passed heavily, and on the following Monday I went on board the steamer. I had not been on deck two minutes when I saw my patient step on after me. The last clue was in her fingers now, that was evident. She did not see me at first; but her air was exultant and satisfied. There was no face on board so elated and flushed. I kept out of her way as long as I could without consigning myself to the black hole of the cabin;, but at last she caught sight of me, and came down to the forecastle to claim me as an acquaintance. “Ha, ha! Dr. Dobree!” she exclaimed; “so you are going to visit Sark, too?” “Yes,” I answered more curtly than courteously. ' (To be continued.)

“PERHAPS YOU WILL FEEL MELANCHOLY BY-AND-BY.”