Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 38, Number 33, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 January 1906 — The Doetor's Wife [ARTICLE]

The Doetor's Wife

BY MISS M. E. BRADDON

CHAPTER XXIII.--((>ntinue<l.> “Raymond. is.this true?" Mr. Lansiiril •tked, as closed upon his uncle. He spoke as if-tireife had been nq break or change iu'tUe cb Jiversfk ion Gilbert’s nauio bud been mghliattej.If the answer 'to this question had involved a sentence of death, 1 or a reprieve from the gallows. •Upland Lnnsdell eonld not have asked it- inert? eagerly. He ought'to hare Relieved in Isabel no firmly.Ss wo he quite imnTriverl by any village slander; lint lie loved her too ■inch to be reasimaWlei (Jealousy, the demon —closely united ns a - Siamese' twin to Love, the god—was already gnawing at his entrails. It could not be, it could not be, that she had deceived and defended himr but if she had; ah, what baseness, what treachery! “There is « strange - inan staging at a Ittle rustic tavern in Nessborongh 110 l law. Yon know what gossips these countoy people are. lleavou known I have ■ever put myself out of the way to learn •tber people's business; but these things get bruited about in all manner of places.” --—-—r—- “ Tell rottr story plainly. Raymond, There is a strange man staying in Ness--borough Hollow—well, what has all this to do with Mrs. Gilbert?" ' “Only this much—she has been seen walking alone with this man, after dark, to Nesslxirough Hollow.” “It must be a tie; a villainous invention! or if—if she has been seen to meet tills man. he is some relation. Yes, 1 have reason to think that she has some aelation staying in this neighborhood.” “But why. in that case, should she meet the man secretly at such an hour, while-her husband is lying ill?” “There might be a hundred reasons.” Mr. Raymond shrugged his shoulders. “Can yon suggest one?" he asked. “But has she heeu seen to meet him?” cried Roland, suddenly. “No, I will" not believe it, Some woman has been seen walking with some man; and the Grayferidge vultures, eager to swoop down npon my poor innocent dove, must have It that the woman is Isabel Gilbert. No, 1 will not believe this story.” “So he it, then,” answered Mr. Raymond. “In tliul case we can drop the subject.” But Roland was not so easily to be satisfied. The poisoned arrow had entered far into his soul, and he must needs drag the cruel barb backward and forward in the wound. “Not till you have given me the name es your authority.” he said. “Pshaw! my dear Roland, have I not already told you that my authority' is the common Grnybridge gossip?” _ “I’ll not believe that.' You are the last man in the world to be influenced by paltry village scandal. You have better grounds for what you told me. Rome one has seem law he! and this man. Who was that person?” “I protest against this cross-examina-tion. You refuse to be spared, and must take the consequences of your own obstinacy. 1 was the person who saw laabet Gilbert walking with a stranger —a showily dressed, disreputable looking fellow < —in Ness borough Hollo'tv. I had been dining with Hardwick, the lawyer, et Gray bridge, and rode home across country by the Briarwood and Hurston►igh road, instead of going through Waverty. I heard about Mrs. Gilbert •t Graybridge—heard her name linked with that of some stranger staying at Nessborongh Hollow, who had been known to send letters to her, and to meet ber after dark. Heaven only knows bow country people find out these things; but these things always are discovered •omehow or other. 1 defended Isabel—--1 know her head is a good one. though by no means so well balanced as it might be — I defended Isabel throughout a long discussion with the lawyer's wife: but ■Ming home by the Briargate road. I met Mrs. Gilbert walking arm-in-arm with ■ man who answered to-the description I bad heard at Graybridge." “When was this?”

"The night before last. It must have been some time between 10 and 11 when 1 net them, for, it was broad moonlight, tad I saw Isabella face as plainly as I aae yours." “And did she recognize you?” “Yes; and turned abruptly away from the road into the wasted grass between the highway and the tall hedgerow beyond." For some moments after this there was a dead silence, and Raymond saw the yonng man standing opposite him in the dusk, motionless as a stone figure, white as death. „ “Shake hands. Raymond." he said, in a dull, tbiek kiial of voice; “I thank you heartily for having told me the truth; R was much better to be candid: it was better to let me know the truth. Rut. ah, if you could know how I loved her— V yoo could know!” Roland I.ansdeli got up by and by. and walked to the open I'reuch window. There was a silvery shimmer of nioonlght open the lawn, and the great clock in the stables was striking 10. “Good night, Raymond,” said Mr. lnMdell, turning on the threshold of the ■window. “You can make s<>mg kind of apology for me to my uncle and t.wendiVSmr. 1 won't stop to say good night to “But where are yol| going?” “To Nesaborough Hollow;” “Are you mad. Roland?” “That's a great deal too subtle a qjics Ran to be answered just now. lam gmmg to Nessburough Hollow, to ace fcaboi Gilbert." CHAPTER XXIV. The moon was'slowly rising behind a Mark belt of dense foliage— A .noble mm to of elm and beech that sheltered Tojaioli'i domain from the common wwrM without —as Roland Lansdell emotd the lawn, and went in among the tiieknst depths of the park. “The money was wanted for this man. aomsaT' he thought. “And I thought lot an innocent child, who had ignorantly Rmiww * strong man’s heartP Jie walked on slowly now. and with hnsd bent, no longer trying to make

n ,cut for himself among the trees, • but, absen 11 y follow inga. pa rfffwv .wind tot path. wort) by' slow .'peasants' feet upon the grass. > , Nessborongh Hollow was some dip* -tanc-e-from -Lowland*; amLMr. Lsmstdcib who was faini.iar with almost every inch of hjs native comity, made his way thither by shadowy janes and rarely trodden by-ways, where .the summer wild tjowors smelled *we.etiy in ;the dewy night. Never, surely, had brighter heav ens chotie upon a fairs*- earth. ( The leaves- and blossoms, the long ttiafi “passes, TfffntTj’ stirred by ls'z.y''summer winds, made a perpetual whisper ilia! scarcely diroke; the general stillness; and now and the'n the long rich notes of the nightlrtgale sounded among the ctusieriug foliage that loomed darkly above tangled hedge row's" find broud wastes of moonlit grass. “Perhaps this is a turning point in my life.” lie. thought, during one of these pauses; ‘‘and there may he some chance for me after all. Why should I not have a career like other men, and try like •them be of some use to my species? Better,"perhaps, to lie always trying and always failing, than nr 'Stand nloof forever, wasting my intellect utiofl Vhifrcalculations. I will wash my hands of Mrs, George Gilbert and go back to the I’ri-... ory and sleep peacefully, and to-morrow morning I will ask Gwendoline to be my Wife.” But the picture of Isabel Gilbert and the stranger meeting in Xessborough Hollow was not to be so easily erased from Mr. Lausdell’s brain. The habit of vacillation, which had grown out of the idleness of his life, was stronger in him to-night than usual; hut the desire to see for himself how deeply he was wronged triumphed over every other feeling, and ‘ he never turned his face from tho dircctitjn in. which Xessborough Hollow lay. He came near the place at iast, a little tired by the long walk from Lowlands, a good deal wearied by "all the contending, emotions of the last few hours. He came upon the spot at last, not by the ordinary roadway, but across a strip of thickly wooded waste land lying high above the hollow. He saw all this; and then from the other end of the still glade he saw two. figures coming slowly toward the inn. Two figures, one of which was so familiar and had been so dear that despair, complete and absolute, came upon him for the first and last time, in that one brief start of recognition. Ah, surely he bad never believed in her falsehood until this moment: surely if he had believed Charles Raymond, the agony —otr seeing her here could not have been so great as this. —,, —, — He stood as still ns death, not betraying his presence by-so much ns the rustling of a leaf, while the two figures’ approached the spoF'nboye which he stood. Rut a little way off they passed, and were parting, very coolly, as. it seemed, w'hen Mrs. Gilbert lifted up her face and sftid something to the man. He stood with his back turned toward" Roland, to whom tire very expression- «T Isabel's face was visible in the moonlight. ‘ ll After this the" doctor's ■ Wife went away.. Roland watched her as she turned once, and stood for a moment looking back at the man from whom she had just parted, and then disappeared among the shadows in the gTade. All! IFslie had been nothing more than a shadow — if he could have awakened to find all this the brief agony of a dream! All that was left of the original savage in the fine gentleman arose at the moment in Roland Lausdell's breast. He leaped down the sloping hank with scarcely any consciousness of touching the slippery grass;* but he dragged the ftriis and branches from the loose earth in his descent, and a shower of torn verdure Hew up into the suinmewMir. He had nd weapon, nothing but his right arm. wherewith to strike the broadVhestod. black-bearded stranger. But he

never paused to consider that, or to count the ehanees of a struggle. He only knew that he wanted to kill the man for whose sake Isabel Gilbert had rejected him. In the next moment his hands were on the stranger's throat. ‘You scoundrel.” he gasped, hoarsely, “ypu consummate coward and scoundrel. to bring that woman to this place." There was a brief struggle, aud then the stranger treed himself from Mr. Lausdell’s grasp. There was no comparison between the physical strength and weight of the two men; and the inequality was sensibly increased by a stout walking stick of the bludgeon order carried by the black-bearded stranger. “Hoity-toity!" cried the gentleman, who seemed scarcely disposed to take Mr. Luhsdell's attack seriously; “have you newly escaped from some local lunatic asylum, my friend, that you go about the country flying at people's throats in this fashion? What's the roW? Can’t a gentleman in the merchant' navy take a moonlight stroll 'With his daughter for once iu a way, to wish her good-by before he fits out for a fresh voyage, without all'this hullabajoo?” "Your daughter!” cried Roland Lansdgll. "Your daughter?” ’ Ye*, tny daughter Isabel, wife of Mr. Gilbert, Mtigeon.” “Thank heaven!" murmured Roland, slowly, “thank heaven!” And then a little pang of remorse shot through his heart, as he thought how 'little'hi* boasted love had l>een worth, after all. How ready he had been to disbelieve in her. “I ought to have known,” he thought —*l ought to have known, that ahe'was innocent. If all tbe world had been hauded together against her, f Should have been her champion and defender. But my love* was only a paltry passion after all. The gold changed to brass in the fife of the first ordeal.” Ho thought this, or something like this, nnd then in the next moment be said, courteously: “Upon my wiyd. I have tp apologize for my ” he hesitated a little here, for he really was ashamed of himself; all the murderous instincts were gone, as if they had noTst .hoao. and the pain-

fullysacnte pe/reption of tlx* -riflli'irtnije belt) r fyiUf he felt that he had msdey gsrijgpfßnngT£ ~ • , Sic»p a’lnti’ cried Mr. Sleaford, jfe#.. SwitSHw^^sTofrlPEit! I .thought 1 kn*w your -Voice. • You're the languid aWelb who was so jo Illy knowing at the trial * —the languid swell \jho had udth'mg better to do than-join, the hunt, against a poor fellow that 'nprer cheated you out of sixpence. I said, if ever ! come* out"of prison alive I'd kill yon; and FIB keep my promise.” * ■ • Ho. -Juska.j J out these, last words Ho/tvycen his -Jet teeth. His big 'muscular hands were fastened- on Roland L.ansdell's' throatand his face, was-pushed ("forward till it almostrtoudied .that ot'ner hanilsiVihe face which defied him in the proud insolence of a moral conrage that rose ahove physical Superiority. The broad bright moonlight streaming through a wide gap in the foliage fell full upon thy* two ine:i; and in the dark face glowering atji.ih, Mr„. JUinsdell recognized rhe~man whom he had followed drfwji for flu* mere amusement. of tho chase—the man des.-r'.hed in ’the policl record* lyy a dozen aliases-, best, known by his familiar soubriquet or Jack the Scribe. ■'You dog,” cried Mr. Sleaford. dreamed about such a.meeting as thus; and it did me good to feel Wy fingers at ynur threat, even iff ujy dreams. I’ll do for you, if I - swing for this night’s work.’ r , *' ■*! ■' There was a struggle—a brief and desperate "struggle, in which the two men wrestled with each other, and the chances of victory seemed uncertain. Then Mr. Sleaford's bludgeon went whirling up into Hie air, 'and descended with a dull thud, once, twice, three times, upon Roland Lausdell's bare-head. After the third, blow,- Jack the Scribe loosed his grasp from the young man’s throat, and the master of Mordred Priory fell crashing down among the fern and wild flowers, - * . -- : " , He lay very quiet whereihe had fallen. CHAPTER XXV. After that farewell meeting with Mn Sleaford in Nessborongh ..Hollow, a sense of peace came upon Isabel Gilbert. She had questioned her father about his plans, and he had. told her that he should leave by the 7 ohdock train from IV arch am on the following morning. He should be heartily rejoiced, he said, to leave a place where, he felt like a fox in a hole. The sentimental element was by no means powerfully developed in the nature of Jack the Scribe, to Whom the . crowded pavements were infinitely more agreeable than tho wild roses and branching fern. His daughter slept tranquilly that night for the first time after Mr. Sleaford’s appearance before the surgeon's door. She slept In peace, worn out by the, fatigue and atixiety i of the iast fortnight; and no evil dream disturbed her slumbers.

Mr. Pawlkatt sat looking at his patient longer than usual that morning.* ■ George Gilbert lay in a kind of stupor, and did not recognize liis- medical attendant, and sometime -rival. He had long since ceased to be anxious about his noor patients ia the lanes behind the church, or about anything else upon this earth, as it seemedi/flnd now that her great terror had been lifted from her mind. Isabel saw a new and formless horror gliding swiftly toward her, like a great iceberg sailing fast upon an arctic sea. She followed Mr. Pawlkatt out of the room, and down the little staircase, and clung to. his arm as he was about to leave her. “Oh, do you think he will die?” she said. “I did not know"until this morning Thar he"-WTrr-gtr Tery ill. . Do you think that he will die?” “I am very- anxious, Mrs. Gilbert,” he answered gravely. “I will not conceal from yqy, that I am growing very anxious., The pulse is feeble and intermittent; and these low fevers—there, there, don’t cry. I’ll drive over to Wareham as soon as I’ve seen the most important of my cases; and I’ll ask Dr. Ilerslett to tome and look at your husband. Pray try to be calm.” “I am so frightened,” murmured Isabel, between her low, half-stifled sobs. “I never saw any one ill—like that—before.” - “I am not sorry to see this anxiety on your part, Mrs. Gilbert. As the frisnd and brother professional of your husband, and as a man who is—ahem—old enough to be your father, I will go so far as to say that I am gratified to find that you—l may say your heart is in the right place. There have been some very awkward reports about you, Mrs. Gilbert, during the last few days. I—l—of course should not presume to allude to those reports, if I did not believe them to be erroneous,” the surgeon added, rather hastily. (To be continued.)