I was at Stormfield pretty constantly during the rest of that year. At
first I went up only for the day; but later, when his health did not
improve, and when he expressed a wish for companionship evenings, I
remained most of the nights as well. Our rooms were separated only by
a bath-room; and as neither of us was much given to sleep, there was
likely to be talk or reading aloud at almost any hour when both were
awake. In the very early morning I would usually slip in, softly,
sometimes to find him propped up against his pillows sound asleep, his
glasses on, the reading-lamp blazing away as it usually did, day or
night; but as often as not he was awake, and would have some new plan
or idea of which he was eager to be delivered, and there was always
interest, and nearly always amusement in it, even if it happened to be
three in the morning or earlier.
Sometimes, when he thought it time for me to be stirring, he would call
softly, but loudly enough for me to hear if awake; and I would go in,
and we would settle again problems of life and death and science, or,
rather, he would settle them while I dropped in a remark here and there,
merely to hold the matter a little longer in solution.
The pains in his breast came back, and with a good deal of frequency as
the summer advanced; also, they became more severe. Dr. Edward Quintard
came up from New York, and did not hesitate to say that the trouble
proceeded chiefly from the heart, and counseled diminished smoking, with
less active exercise, advising particularly against Clemens's lifetime
habit of lightly skipping up and down stairs.
There was no prohibition as to billiards, however, or leisurely walking,
and we played pretty steadily through those peaceful summer days,
and often took a walk down into the meadows or perhaps in the other
direction, when it was not too warm or windy. Once we went as far as
the river, and I showed him a part of his land he had not seen before--a
beautiful cedar hillside, remote and secluded, a place of enchantment.
On the way I pointed out a little corner of land which earlier he had
given me to straighten our division line. I told him I was going to
build a study on it, and call it “Markland.” He thought it an admirable
building-site, and I think he was pleased with the name. Later he said:
“If you had a place for that extra billiard-table of mine [the Rogers
table, which had been left in New York] I would turn it over to you.”
I replied that I could adapt the size of my proposed study to fit a
billiard-table, and he said:
“Now that will be very good. Then, when I want exercise, I can walk down
and play billiards with you, and when you want exercise you can walk up
and play billiards with me. You must build that study.”
So it was we planned, and by and by Mr. Lounsbury had undertaken the
work.
During the walks Clemens rested a good deal. There were the New England
hills to climb, and then he found that he tired easily, and that
weariness sometimes brought on the pain. As I remember now, I think how
bravely he bore it. It must have been a deadly, sickening, numbing pain,
for I have seen it crumple him, and his face become colorless while his
hand dug at his breast; but he never complained, he never bewailed, and
at billiards he would persist in going on and playing in his turn, even
while he was bowed with the anguish of the attack.
We had found that a glass of very hot water relieved it, and we kept
always a thermos bottle or two filled and ready. At the first hint from
him I would pour out a glass and another, and sometimes the relief came
quickly; but there were times, and alas! they came oftener, when that
deadly gripping did not soon release him. Yet there would come a week or
a fortnight when he was apparently perfectly well, and at such times
we dismissed the thought of any heart malady, and attributed the whole
trouble to acute indigestion, from which he had always suffered more or
less.
We were alone together most of the time. He did not appear to care for
company that summer. Clara Clemens had a concert tour in prospect, and
her father, eager for her success, encouraged her to devote a large
part of her time to study. For Jean, who was in love with every form
of outdoor and animal life, he had established headquarters in a vacant
farm-house on one corner of the estate, where she had collected some
stock and poultry, and was over-flowingly happy. Ossip Gabrilowitsch
was a guest in the house a good portion of the summer, but had been
invalided through severe surgical operations, and for a long time rarely
appeared, even at meal-times. So it came about that there could hardly
have been a closer daily companionship than was ours during this the
last year of Mark Twain's life. For me, of course, nothing can ever be
like it again in this world. One is not likely to associate twice with a
being from another star.