Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 35, Number 126, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 October 1903 — A DOCTOR’S MISSION [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

A DOCTOR’S MISSION

BY EMILY THORNTON

Author of “Roy Russell's Rule,” “Glenroy,” “The Fashionable Mother,” Etc.

CHAPTER XVll.—(Continued.) Bat the road seemed Tory rough. Great rat* had been made in the earth, softened ¥y the long rain, and these caused her to trip and fall twice. Both times it had jarred 'her arm and drawn forth tears of anguish. At last the gate was reached and opened with difficulty, then a dizzy feeling came over her, and just as her feet stepped on the porch she fell forward in a long, death-like swoon. Dr. Elfenstein had gone into the country, after his call at the baronet's, to rlait a rather critical case, and did not return until quite late. He had reached 'his home, given his horse to the man in waiting, and then turned to enter his door. But what was this he saw lying in a heap upon the porch? Stooping to discover if it might not be a large, strange dog, his fingers came in contact with a human hand, and from its small size he knew it belonged % to child or woman. Throwing open the door with his latchkey, the light from the hall revealed Bthel Nevergail's pale, unconscious face to his astonished gaze. “Ethel, here senseless! Ob, my darling, my darling!” he murmured, as he Mfted her in his anus and bore her to the parlor sofa. “What can this mean?” Placing her there, he ran to the foot es the stairs and called Mrs. Clum to hi* assistance. With joy. at last, they mw her eyes open: but the cry of pain that followed fiHed both with surprise. “My arm! my arm!” she cried. “You hart my arm! I cannot stir my hand or arm, and fear it is broken. I came here to show it to you.”

“Then it was hurt before you left the Hall?” returned the doctor, passing his Land over the useless member, in order to see the nature of the injury. “In order* to replace it. I fear I must cause you pain. It will be imporaible for you to go out again in this storm, therefore Mrs. Chun, my housekeeper, must prepare you a room, and you will SBaAigJhero to-night- After she has made you com fort able 'in rtttr bed, 1 must replace the hones, and then you must keep porfectly quiet, or, after all this excitement, you. will he thrown into a fever.” Giving Airs. Chun several instructions, he saw her leave the room to prepare od* for poor Ethel's reception; then, and aot until then, he bent over the sofa where she lay, and asked her in a low •voice: , “Why did you not tell me this, instead of coining out in tire storm, when 1 was at the Hail this evening?” ■ - “I did not know you were there, and could not have seen you if I had known It. Sir Reginald flew into a furious pns•ion as sooil as he saw me to-day. and hade me instantly leave his house. As my arm was hurt, I was obliged t*> come to you.” “Miss Nevergail, how was your arm dislocated? and what means the mark of those fingers, which 1 see upon the surface?” ' * “Do not ask ise, doctor, for I cannot tell you!” “Well, if you cannot tell )ne that, why Aid- Sir Reginald hid you leave his ho^ae?” “I cannot tell you!" was-stiil her only veply. .. * “Was it for any willful fault you had eommitted?

“No! oh. r»o! I hadmet with an accident the nature of which I cannot explain. In short, I had, without intending it. neglected a duty he had charged ■ne with on the day of my fright l>y the railroad. My nervousness then caused me to forget something, lie had just discovered it and flew in a rage.” “Then the brute seized your arm and gave it this wrench! You need not tell me, child, I know it by instinct. It is ■well I was not there, for one reason.” “Why r “I should have struck him as he lay helpless in bed. I could not have helped It! But you are safe now; he shall never touch you again. Stay here, of course, antil you are well; then a place will be provided, ncror fear! Promise mo one thing now, which is, not to worry the future. I.eave everything of that Mature for time and Providence to make plain, and try to compose yourself in order to recover the sooner. Will you do this?” He took her well hand kindly, almost tenderly, as he spoke; and. meeting his anxious.' beseeching gaze bent upon her, •ne blushed faintly and gave the required promise.

CHAPTER XVIII. That night nn urgent call came for the doctor. It was to attend a rich atul capricious patient whom ho had formerly known in the village, but now very ill •t • town nearly a hundred miles away. Before he departed. Elfenstein saw to k that Ethel's arm was well cared for. Leaving explicit instructions as to her ease with Mrs. Clam, he left home, expecting to return the next day. But in this he wss disappointed. Ilis patient was quite ill; he insisted 90 the doctor remaining constantly at hia and policy and real concern for him kept Barle away for nearly two "weeks. A vast surprise greeted Elfenstein when he i>tumed home—a jierfect series ad them, in tact. During his absence two vary important things had occurred. Sir Reginald had died suddenly, death prob•My being hnateued by bis recent great excitement, and Ethel was no longer an femate of the doctor’s home. Mrs. Plum told him host the yonng girl bad remained two daye. Her arm had come to right! quickly. The death of Hr Reginald had shocked her, and. she ■earned nervous, worried, eager to get «nr»y from the scenes that had horrified bar. She bad left a tear stained note, fervently thanking the doctor for alibis kindness, and saying that she felt she ■sst get work and support herself. In this she had been succesaful. A few miles distant was the home of the Dachas* of Westmoreland. Btbel had somehow learned that she wished tp engage « governess for her daughter, Lady

Claire Linwood. She had applied for the position, and had &ecured it: ' One day Dr. Elfenstein rode over to the sumptuous baronial home. He passed an hour in the company of Ethel. When he lett nia neltrt 1 was hard and cold, and she, poor child, was tortured with the anguish love only can feel. In fact, Earle had asked for an explanation of her seeming part in aiding dead Sir Reginald to frighten the simple natives with tfie superstitious idea that the tower wns haunted. Ethel remembered her solemn promise. She dfired not break it. The doctor grew from suspicion to distrust, so a baleful cloud arose between them About three days after the burial of the baronet, Ethel Nevergail, with Lady Claire accompanied by a groom, started out for their usual horseback ride. Both were skillful horsewomen, and both were extravagantly fond of the saddle. This morning they had resolved to follow a wild looking path, leading through a deep wood, one they never had noticed, in rides past the spot, until the day before. Suddenly, after an advance of about half a mile, both girls noticed at once that footsteps had diverged from the beaten path, and looking towards the point to which they seemed directed, they were artoflished to see the opening entrance to what seemed a large cave, overhung with vines of thick luxuriance. These vines seemed lately to have been parted. Reining up their horses, they paused before the spot, in order to survey it more closely, when all distinctly heard low moans of pain, issuing from a point near the entrance. Surmising at once that some fellowbeing was in distress, Ethel requested the groom to dismount and investigate the place, and immediately return to report the cause of the apparent suffering within. The man as requested and disappeared'from, view, only* to, return with the news that an eccentric bookseller, who had recently made liis appearance in the neighborhood, and Who was known ns the Iter: Edwin C: Styles, was very ill iu that remote and hidden spot. Bidding* Roger assist her to the ground. Ethel at once hastened to the side of the sick man. She found him stretched upon -old cot bed in this damp and gloomy retreat, far away from the haunts of men. She noticed a few articles of furniture, and a few utensils for daily use, but saw no trace of fire or food. ~

On a rude bed lay stretched the form of the eccentric being who had been much talked of during the past few days. His cheeks were flushed with fever, while the weary movements of his head told of intense pain in that region. Clasped in* his thin, white hands upon his breast lay a small wallet. Seeing at once tjiat the poor'.creature was very low, perhaps near death, Ethel stepped back to the entrance of the cave -and requested Roger to ride with all speed to summon Dr. Elfcnstein to his side. She also requested Lady Claire to remain within call, while she herself would watch over the sufferer until aid should come. At once Ethel returned to her self-as-sumed charge, and endeavored to arouse him from the stupor lie was in, in order to ask of his relatives and home. The effort’ Was vain. A low, incoherent muttering, in which the words “brother” and “save me,” were mingled, was all she could hear. It seemed a long and weary while to the anxious girls, before voices were heard in the distance. Dr. Elfensteiu was the first to enter the cheerless place, while two men beside Roger followed, ready to bear the sufferer in their arms to a wagon quite a distance down the road, beyond the narrow pathway the girls had pushed over on the backs of theiv_geutle horses. - The doctor paused a moment to examine the patient, but looked very grave as he did so, and whispered to Ethel: "1 ihink we are too late to save him. He will live but a few hours, as death is even now upon him. He must be removed. however, at once, mid ns I know of no other place, I shall take him to my oiyn house.” - Taking the wallet in his hand to draw it away, he found it impossible to do so, as the death clutch of the dying fingers upon it was tight and still strong; so leaving it where it was on his breast, tlie doctor summoned the men, who gently raised the slight form in their arms, and b<?re him forth. Soon the poor man was lying on blankets and a soft pillow upon the floor of ail easy wagon, while the doctor sat fby his side, carefully fanning away the |lics that might annoy, and thus they wended their way back to their homes. A few hours later, in the comfortable guest chamber at the young physician's home, the poor wayfarer breathed his last, anti as the sympathizing physician closed liis eyes and straightened his form he drew away the wallet carefully apd folded the poor, thin hands upon his breast. *' After dispatching a messenger for an undertaker lje summoned Mrs. Clum as a witness, and passed to his private office in order to examine the mysterious wal-. should, he hoped, reveal the secret of the wanderer's family and home. CHATTER XIX. "Miss Neverjtail,” said Andrew, a pompous footman at .Castle Cairn, as he knocked st the door of Lady I.in wood's boudoir, and was bidden to enter. “A gentleman is in the drawing room who widhos to see you.” "Do you know him?" queried Ethel. “t cannot call his name, yet I have often seen him.” . “It is of no consequence. I will be with him presently," returned the governess, as she resumed her book, and continued the lesson she was giving her charge. On no account would she neglect a duty for any person whatever. When the task was finished, and not until then, she descended the grand broad stairway,

and entered the drawing room «l IB* castle. There a surprise, indeed, awaited her, In the presence of Robert Glendenning. ”* Certainly she had never anticipated , a visit from her formef tormentor, and the sight of him now brought back many unpleasant recollections. The young man started forward and placed himself between the door and her slight figure; thus completely preventing her flight. "Pardon me, Miss Nevergail,” he remarked in a perfectly respectful manner, very different from his former unpleasantly familiar one. “I am very anxious to have a little conversation with you, before leaving this place, forever, and therefore I beseech you to remain a few minutes. I promisa not to detain you long.” “Very well,” returned the young girl, ■4traieli. taking the seat he offered her. “Why do you leave?” - “The death of my uncle has, of course, deprived my sister and myself of his care and guardianship. - As the title and estate now fall to his younger brother, Fitzroy; the present incumbent must remove and leave the hall, to be occupied or not, by the new baronet, as he sees fit. Lady Constance will seek a residence with some relatives in London, and we shall make a home somewhere together, unless—uuless ” Hero the young man paused, greatly embarrassed for a proper conclusion to the sentence he had commenced. Breaking the silence again, for it was becoming oppressive, he resumed: “Miss Ethel, I come this morning to lay before you a proposition that I hope will meet with your sanction. I must first, however, express to you my deep regrets for offensive manner in which I used to treat you. I know not why I was led to make myself so disagreeable. I 'Vas probably prompted by a spirit of mischief, but as soon as you left the hall so suddenly I became aware of my great mistake. I loved you, but I felt it was withouhihope. In my egotistical haste I knew that I had won, perhaps, what I merited, your contempt. To-day I felt that I could endure this misery no longer. I resolved to see you, to ask forgiveness for my course in the past, and to crave the privilege of retrieving my former mistake by being allowed to visit you as a friend until I can win your love, and ask you to become my wife.” “Mr. Glendenning,” interposed Ethel, “what you propose is an jitter impossibility. I can and do forgive the annoyance I confess your conduct occasioned me in other days, but the proposed visits I must positively decline. It could never result as you seem to imagine, for I assure you my 'affections could never be won.” “You are hasty in thus answering,” interrupted the lover. “You surely cannot thus foretclL what . your feelings would be under such different auspices.” “Indeed, indeed, Mr. Glendenning, I must interrupt you by distinctly saying that, as I am situated, I cannot receive visits; therefore, I must beg you to receive this, my final answer. It would bo the same after years of friendly intercourse. I do not love you, and I never can love you. I forgive you, and will ever think of you kindly; beyond that we can never go.” “Then there is no necessity for myrer . maiuing,” he said, sadly, as he arose to leave. “None whatever,” was the firm r^ply. “Miss Nevergail, believe me, ns long nsT live I shall regret having made your residence at the „hall so disagreeable. You certainly had enough to endure in being under obligations to amuse an irritable invalid. The rude manner in which you were dismissed excited my deepest sympathy." “For which I am very grateful,” kindly returned the young girl. “If ever, as a friend, I can serve you in any manner, will you allow me to do so?” - - d . “I will, if I know your address.” “That is not quite decided, but I will leave it with the postmaster of this place. And now, thanking you for your kind forgiveness, although feeling deeply my unrequited love, I will bid you farewell.” Robert Glendenning held out his hand as he spoke, and seeing that genuine tears were floating in his eyes, Ethel laid hers in it without hesitation. Stooping over the little white hand, he pressed his lips upon it, then hurriedly left the room, and she saw his face no more. That night the whole family left the hall, and the grand old mansion was closed, waiting for the arrival, or orders, of Sir-Fitzroy Glendenning. The residence of this gentleman was unknown, but it was believed that ,he went to America, therefore every effort was to be made by the proper ones to discover his retreat, in order to make known to him the honors that awaited his acceptance. Yet, while this resolve and duty was to he immediately put in force, many hearts rebelled against his return. All united iu feeling that, although acquitted by law of any knowledge of his unhappy brother's fate, circumstances still looked very dark where he was concerned. (To bo continued.)