Six years have passed by. It is March and we are here at The Laurels
again.
Can this beautiful city with its population of ninety thousand be
Nootwyck? Electric lights, street railways, stately residences,
handsome public buildings and all modern conveniences. What magic wand
wrought this change?
Foreign capital has flowed in, Old Ninety-Nine is still rich, and every
Nootwyckian regards “Old Ninety-Nine” himself as the patron saint of
the valley. The mine is worked on the co-operative plan and, thus far,
results have justified the experiment.
Educational advantages are of the first order. Genung University,
situated on the piece of land known as “The Pines,” is a model
institution ranking with any in the State. The corps of instructors is
composed of eminent men and women and every means is employed to keep
the standing first class. Manufacturing is encouraged. Farmers find a
ready market for produce, thus developing the magnificent agricultural
interests; a railway center, Nootwyck’s prosperity is assured.
Mr. and Mrs. De Vere seem supremely happy. Jack, now the proud father
of one little girl and three boys, is a prosperous ranchman, and his
letters assure his mother that Dora is simply the best wife that ever a
man had. And the children--!
Celeste and Elisha live down in the city. Eletheer expects to graduate
from a training school for nurses in New England next year, and
Cornelia has developed into the family beauty. In point of resemblance,
she is all her grandmother could have wished, a De Vere, every inch.
Reuben and Margaret are unchanged.
Point Wawanda is no more, and where it once towered the shaft-house now
rears its unsightly walls. But what has been lost in the picturesque
has been compensated by material benefit.
Deep down in the bowels of the earth is an underground city in whose
streets the miners are delving and sending the precious metal to the
surface.
Something unusual is in the wind at The Laurels. All is excitement and
bustle of preparation for some great event. Again and again are the
rooms inspected to see that everything is all right, the fires are kept
burning that no one may take cold. Four o’clock brings Celeste who,
with Elisha, will be among those to receive Jack and Dora with the
niece and nephews, who are the only grandchildren.
Celeste is a trifle more matronly, which only enhances her beauty, and
she follows Cornelia about the house, Cornelia feeling that if Celeste
approves there is no cause for criticism.
Jack is coming home and the telegram said he would reach Nootwyck
to-morrow morning.
The air had been spring-like all day with occasional flurries of snow,
but by evening the ground was white. As night came on, the flakes fell
faster and faster and by bedtime the storm had girded up its loins and
turned into a raging one. It meant business, for there was no promise
of a lull. A large body of old snow still lay on the ground and by
morning over a foot had been added to it while it was still falling
furiously. The air was filled with great feathery flakes and the way
the snow piled up was amazing. The wind increased every hour and by ten
o’clock great clouds of snow were sent whirling about and piling up so
that it was impossible to see beyond a few feet.
The De Veres grew anxious. No sound of a locomotive’s whistle since
seven o’clock and now it was noon.
“They are probably in New York City,” said Mr. De Vere.
“But the train leaves there at seven o’clock and at that time no one
could have expected this Dakota blizzard,” Mrs. De Vere protested.
The house, substantial as it was, shook with the fury of the raging
tempest. Long before night, the whole lower floor was in darkness and
the storm unabated. The city below was invisible. All day and night the
storm continued and Monday morning brought no change.
Reuben managed to keep the way to the woodhouse passable and the fires
burning, although the barn was invisible from the house. His devoutly
religious nature caused him to spend most of his leisure time in prayer
and reading the Bible.
“Oh, well,” said Margaret, as she deftly fished out the nut-brown
crullers from a skillet of hot fat, “life is a misery an’ I can’t nohow
unde’stan’ it, but I sholy do mean to live as long as I ken. Po’ Massa
Jack an’ dem sweet chillen all undah dis snow!” and her tears flowed
afresh.
On Wednesday morning the air cleared and by noon the thermometer, which
had registered zero, rose to twenty. The sun coming out melted the
surface, that formed a crust which precluded further drifting.
Reuben and Mr. De Vere were working their way to the imprisoned
animals in the barn, which seemed an endless task. It was quite dark
when they accomplished it and sounds of distress greeted them when
at last the door was forced open. None of the animals in the barn
were seriously injured and they were quickly attended to; but in
the chicken-house, which was built against the mountain side, every
inmate was found frozen stiff--probably smothered--as the building was
completely covered with snow.
Hungry as wolves, Mr. De Vere and Reuben returned to the house for
supper, thankful that, excepting the chickens, none of the stock was
injured. The path they had made resembled an alley with the snow piled
up fully six feet at the sides.
As they neared the kitchen, Margaret’s melodious voice rang out:
“Dat awful Day, dat drefful Day,
When hebben an’ earth shall pass away.
De’s a l’il’ wheel er-turnin’ in my soul,
De’s a l’il’ wheel er-turnin’ in my soul.
“Fo’ gates on de no’f, fo’ gates on de souf,
An’ yo’ ken enter in at enny gate.
I-n-n-e-r my s-o-u-l, i-n-n-e-r my s-o-u-l,
De’s a l’il’ wheel er-turnin’ in my soul.
“In er my s--o--u--l----!”
“Margaret,” said Mr. De Vere, “is supper nearly ready? We are almost
starved.”
“Law me, Massa John, been waiten’ dis bressed ouah,” she replied,
bustling into the dining-room.
“What is your honest opinion of a blizzard, Margaret?” Mr. De Vere
asked a few minutes later, as she appeared at the table with a platter
of hash.
“De’ jes’ ain’ no sayin’ ’bout dat, Massa John,” she answered with a
toss of her head. “I’se t’inkin’ ’bout dem po’ chillen.”
Margaret’s philosophy was decidedly original and a source of great
amusement to the family.
Night came on calm and beautiful, innumerable stars twinkling in the
heavens above. “The Laurels” stood calm and silent in the shadow of
the mountain and from his chamber window Mr. De Vere looked out with
feelings akin to awe. The world seemed dumb, frozen by the hands of
grim winter; Nootwyck a city of giant snowdrifts. A few twinkling
lights indicated that life was still there but the silence was of that
muffled kind which makes one apprehensive.
“Oh, what untold sufferings this must have caused!” he reflected, tears
starting to his eyes as he glanced in the direction where Shushan lay,
and he thought of the young life among those snow-bound hills, there
being devoured by a relentless foe. What a power for good he might have
been! His very soul recoiled at the thought that one with Hernando’s
fine feelings should be a victim to the most loathsome disease known
and compelled to saturate his poor, disfigured body with the nauseating
fumes of “Stinking Spring.” “Ah, well,” he thought bitterly, “this is
one of the ‘mysteries.’”
Tired out, he retired early but tossed restlessly all night.
Thursday’s paper contained a pretty good description of the blizzard
and at breakfast on Friday, Mr. De Vere read it aloud. It ran, “A
genuine sample of the Dakota article, the severest storm ever known
hereabouts. Nootwyck shut off from the outside world for nearly a week.
Factories stopped, schools closed, and business at a standstill. All
railways and highways blockaded. Snowbanks of dimensions heretofore
existing only in the imagination.
“It won’t do any longer to talk of the snow-storms of ‘auld lang syne.’
The one of this week has eclipsed all previous records. Even those who,
in the early part of the week, had ‘remembered’ greater storms are now
fain to admit that they were mistaken, as inklings from the outside
world begin to come in showing how complete has been the blockade over
such a wide extent of country. No train since Saturday and here it is
Thursday night, and there are good prospects that the embargo may last
wholly or partially for several days longer. The limits of Nootwyck’s
communication with the world about her up to Wednesday night were
Wawarsing and Leurenkill. Nearly all the remainder of the highways are
still completely blockaded, and it is doubtful if many roads will be
opened up in a week yet. No mails have arrived since Saturday night. In
fact, Nootwyck would be completely isolated from the rest of mankind
were it not for the telegraph and telephone. So far as we can learn,
the same condition of affairs exists generally over the State and New
England. Fears are entertained that there may have been considerable
loss of life attending the storm when the full particulars are made
known.”
A loud ring at the door interrupted the reading and Reuben returned
from answering the bell, with a telegram from Jack. It brought the
welcome news that he and his family were safe in New York City and that
they would leave for Nootwyck as soon as the tracks were cleared.
They had barely finished reading the message when another ring called
Reuben to the door. It was none other than Dr. Herschel who wished to
see Mr. De Vere on important business.
Mr. De Vere’s face blanched when told who the visitor was and he
entered the library with an apprehensive face.
Dr. Herschel lost none of his dignity as he arose to meet Mr. De Vere
with,--“I wonder if Mr. De Vere will believe in the efficacy of my
treatment when I tell him that Hernando is cured!”
“Doctor,” said Mr. De Vere, “you are an eminent man, a profoundly
scientific one, and in presuming to still doubt your ability I must
appear pig-headed; but leprosy has been treated and investigated for
ages. Every known drug in the pharmacopœia has been tried, but always
the result has been disappointing. I appreciate your efforts but
can only reiterate that I have no faith in your ability to effect a
permanent cure.”
The doctor’s expression did not lose one iota of its earnestness as
he replied in a tone so convincing that his listener unconsciously
imbibed some hope. “Listen,” he said, “you are a just man and a good
one. I will not bore you with technical names, nor narrate systems. On
my honor as a gentleman, on my reputation as a physician, backed up by
the proof of microscopical examinations and the expressed concurrence
with me of two of the most eminent dermatologists in the world, I
pronounce Hernando Genung cured.”
Mr. De Vere grew dizzy and the doctor drew his chair near to wait
until he felt able to hear the rest. “Two of my friends--the gentlemen
mentioned--are snow-bound at Shushan. The road from there to Lock Hill
is broken by oxen and from there I came down on a hand-car. If you
say so, I will return in the same manner and come down with Hernando
and the two physicians, who wish to get back to the city as soon as
possible.”
“Are the trains running?”
“Not yet, but they probably will be some time to-day.” At that moment,
the warning whistle of a north-bound train sounded and Dr. Herschel
rushed out of the house.
“Doctor!” called Mr. De Vere, “do as you suggest by all means!”
Reuben, too, had heard the whistle and off he started at the doctor’s
heels. Nothing but paths were as yet broken but his strong arms could
carry two of “dem bressed chillen” who he knew were in that train.
Just as the train was about to stop, Reuben rushed breathlessly up the
station steps. “Suah ’nough, deah young Massa Jack had come, but oh,
how changed!” Rugged as a bear, brown and muscular, but the same “Massa
Jack” as of old.
“Dora,” said Jack, “this is Reuben, the guardian angel of our family!”
Dora’s eyes told Reuben that she had heard of him before and, greatly
embarrassed, he took young Elisha and Celeste--one on each arm--and led
the way to The Laurels followed by the others.
Half way down the yard they were met by Celeste and Cornelia, and Dora
concluded that the De Veres must all be very much alike.
“So this is Dora of whom I am inclined to be jealous,” said Mrs. De
Vere, giving her a real motherly kiss.
Dora was dragged into the sitting-room and as she drank the fragrant
hot coffee, which Margaret said was good for frost bites, she felt
that Jack had not over-rated the virtues of his family. She had rather
dreaded meeting them and it had taxed her courage greatly when she
thought of the dignified mother-in-law who must have strong ideas as to
the fitness of any woman to be the wife of her darling boy. But it was
a clear case of mutual respect and before Dora had spent an hour with
her mother-in-law, she was ready to swear to all that Jack had said.
Celeste and Elisha were now marshalled into the bathroom by “Aunt
Celeste,” while Dora took Jack-the-third under her protection.
Every nook in the dear old place was revisited by Jack. Lost in
admiration, he was gazing from the windows on the city below when he
was interrupted by his father who, in the excitement of their arrival,
had for the time being neglected to mention Hernando’s restoration.
Mr. De Vere had just told his wife of Dr. Herschel’s verdict and
was now in search of Jack on the same mission. Jack’s experience in
Texas, the land of surprises, had prepared him in a measure for this
overwhelming one. He was speechless for a few moments and then said
quietly, “Dr. Herschel’s reputation is such that he would not make the
statement without proof to substantiate it. I am ready to believe it.”
“His home-coming must be as happy as lies in our power,” said Mr. De
Vere fervently. “I have telegraphed Eletheer and undoubtedly she will
be home this coming week.”
“And I will help Margaret in getting his room ready,” said Jack.
Mrs. De Vere and Margaret were already busy there. The room was open,
the windows flung wide to let in the sunlight and fresh air. Jack
kindled a fire of fragrant birchwood. An odor of sweet clover from
clean linen scented the room. All hands joined in converting the room
into a bower of loveliness. Elisha appeared with an immense bouquet of
roses. These Celeste arranged on the table beside the latest magazine
which Jack had brought from New York. Nothing was left undone and
everything bespoke loving thoughtfulness.
In the kitchen Margaret was outdoing herself. Only too well did she
remember Hernando’s partiality for certain dishes and Reuben haunted
the city markets.
It was now five o’clock and the first down train was due at six. All
day long forces of men had been busy clearing the streets so that the
main ones were passable, and promptly at six Reuben reined up at the
station. Mr. De Vere sprang out of the sleigh, tramping impatiently
back and forth. Six-twenty and still no train. What could be the
matter? Mr. De Vere’s nervous strain was beginning to tell, and
although accosted by several of his acquaintances, he did not heed; his
mind was intent on one thing. The perspiration stood in drops on his
forehead and every few seconds he took off his hat to wipe a bald spot
on the top of his head. Suddenly stopping, he called:
“Reuben, have you seen Mr. Genung to-day?”
“Yes, Massa, hyah he comes now,” pointing up the street.
De Vere rushed madly down the steps to meet Genung and grasping the
latter’s hand, whispered:
“I’m expecting Hernando on the six o’clock train; and cured! Now, for
God’s sake don’t make a fool of yourself!”
“And I’m here for the same thing you are; but one fool is enough to
amuse this gaping crowd!” Genung gasped with staring eyes.
At last the welcome whistle sounded and before the train came to a
standstill these two dignified men scrambled up the steps, heedless of
the brakeman’s warning “Wait till the train stops.”
But a pair of intensely blue eyes had seen it all from the platform and
their owner gave a joyful exclamation as he sprang down to meet them,
shouting,--“Uncle! Mr. De Vere!” and his arms were around both their
necks.
Dr. Herschel, fearing a scene, hastily introduced Drs. Hinckle and Le
Corr and hustled the three into a sleigh. He then signalled a cab and
motioned Reuben to proceed. “Dear me, these emotional Americans!” he
said, seating himself with the other physicians in the cab.
“A noble fellow,” remarked Dr. Hinckle.
“Interesting psychologically,” observed Dr. Le Corr.
“And personally,” Dr. Herschel continued, who regarded Hernando as his
own handiwork.
Further conversation was cut short by their arrival at the house.
Surely, if appreciation of honest effort is gratitude, Dr. Herschel
must have been a happy man. The entire family from Mr. De Vere to
Margaret burst into tears of joy.
Dr. Herschel blew his nose vigorously and, as every one else seemed
to have lost his head, he took the part of host upon himself and
ushered them into the library. Mr. Genung was the first to collect
his scattered senses and, beckoning to Reuben, he said: “My good man,
lead us in prayer.” Reuben obeyed instantly, and every one knelt. For
a few seconds there was profound silence and then Reuben repeated word
for word the ninety-first Psalm. Though each may have interpreted it
differently, every soul in that group _realized_ that God is “friendly.”
Hernando’s eyes looked bluer than ever under the snow-white curls. The
old hurt look was gone and in its place was one pure and full of loving
compassion for the sufferings of others. The glow of perfect health was
in his cheeks and his frame was vigorous. Mr. Genung hung about him as
one raised from the dead and, as Hernando lovingly stroked those locks,
silvered through sorrow for him, he again and again thanked them all
for their loyal friendship.
“My life has been spared for some definite purpose and it shall be my
duty to find out what that is,” he concluded.
Dinner was announced--such a dinner! Here also, Hernando saw evidenced
the same kindly thought, the same endeavor to make him forget that he
had ever been away from them. It was a Thanksgiving dinner in very
truth, and in each one’s heart was a prayer of gratitude.
The doctors wished to take the ten o’clock train for New York City,
so, after dinner, they, with Mr. De Vere and Mr. Genung, withdrew to
the library and as soon as they were seated, Mr. De Vere said, “Dr.
Herschel, money cannot pay our debt of gratitude. It seems an insult
to mention it in connection with such miraculous skill; but this is a
practical world, and if you will allow us to place at your disposal a
certain sum, it could be used in any way you thought best.”
“To ‘Old Ninety-Nine,’ not me, is your gratitude due,” Dr. Herschel
replied.
“And but for you his cure would without doubt be still unknown,” broke
in Mr. Genung. “No, modesty is an estimable trait but, giving ‘Old
Ninety-Nine’ due credit, our indebtness is to you.”
“‘Old Ninety-Nine’s’ will more than pays me,” returned the doctor in a
tone so decided as to preclude further discussion. “And,” the doctor
continued, “as an ‘immune,’ Hernando’s assistance will be invaluable to
me, should he decide to give it.”
At this both De Vere and Genung started. “Surely, Doctor, you will not
again part us!” they exclaimed.
“Not soon at any rate--perhaps never.”
It was nearly train time and the doctors arose to leave with,--“Just
let us slip off quietly. There has been quite enough excitement in the
family for one day.”
“But you will not desert us, Doctor?” De Vere protested.
“No indeed. In the fall I propose going abroad for six months, but my
earnest desire is that our friendly relations continue.” And with a
parting hand-shake they were gone.
Who can describe Hernando’s feelings as in his own room, so dainty
and wholesome, he sat before the fire on this chill March night? We
are told that in this life perfect happiness is never attained; some
obstacle, some blot interposes just short of realization. But is this
not materialistic philosophy? Some one has said that,--“It is possible
for a man to so conquer the subjective world within himself that he may
rule over the objective, thus bringing himself _en rapport_ with the
harmonious vibrations of nature in a happiness vouchsafed only to those
who understand and obey her laws.” Sweet was his sleep as he lay on the
soft bed that had once been Granny’s, and who can say that she was not
drawn thither by the law of spiritual attraction?
Saturday was a busy day in town. Reports of the blizzard’s havoc were
harrowing in the extreme. Relief expeditions were sent out to aid the
suffering mountaineers, still imprisoned in the mountains, some in a
starving condition. Several had lost their way in endeavoring to reach
town and had perished.
All hands joined in the good work and by night the greater part of the
sufferers had been attended to.
“Anyway,” said Mr. De Vere, “terrible as was this storm, it does not
equal the one they had out West in January. Two hundred and thirty
lives were lost and the drop in the thermometer was one hundred
degrees.”
“But this one has extended over several States and we do not yet know
how many lives have been lost,” his wife replied.
It was almost bedtime, the last north-bound train had arrived and no
Eletheer yet; so the family decided that she would not be home before
Monday. Hernando and Jack recalled her old habit of surprising people
and proposed going to meet the train anyway, but had abandoned the idea
and were busy with Reuben at the barn.
However, on receiving the telegram announcing Jack’s arrival and the
restoration of Hernando, she as quickly as possible obtained permission
to drop out until fall, and both she and Mary Genung--who was taking
a post-graduate course in a New England college--were aboard the
nine-thirty express. Mr. Genung met the train and a long conversation
followed, which accounted for Eletheer’s late arrival home. She had
developed into an independent woman, giving promise of mental breadth,
though inclined to be opinionated; had entered the training school with
rosy-hued visions of reforming the world through kindly ministrations
and well-timed advice; but the probationary month quickly disillusioned
her. The first principle to learn was absolute, unquestioned obedience
to superior officers. Many were the bitter tears shed in secret, but
pride sustained her and she struggled on through hard facts, winning
the respect of all.
Mr. Genung left her at the gateway and, crunching the snow under her
stout boots, she soon sprang up the steps and into the house. Her
manner was breezy and her greetings were characteristic. She regarded
all demonstration of affection as nonsense, and this was generally
understood. After shaking hands, she looked around inquiringly for Jack
and Hernando.
“Eat your supper and by the time you have finished, they will be in
from the barn,” said her mother, leading the way into the dining-room.
“I ate supper at Middleburg but will ask Margaret to get me some
crullers,” and she darted past Mrs. De Vere into the kitchen, shouting,
“Hello, Margaret!”
“Law me, Honey, how you do skeer a body!” exclaimed the latter. “I
sholy is glad to see yo’,” and she produced the crullers with the
ever-ready coffeepot.
“How do you like Dora, Margaret?”
“She’s just lubly. No po’ w’ite trash.”
“And the children? I’m aunty, you know,” with pride.
“De bressed angels!”
“And Jack looks like a cowboy, I fancy.”
“Law me, Honey--he’s bigger’n yo’ pa”--here her voice became full of
awe--“Massa Hernando, he do look jes’ like St. John.”
Eletheer finished her lunch in silence and then, throwing a shawl over
her head, started for the barn, where she found them mending a harness.
So intent were they on their task that her appearance was unnoticed
until she gave Jack a sound slap on the back, at the same time
shouting,--“Hello, everybody!”
“Good heavens! Eletheer. At your old tricks,” Jack answered, whirling
her around in a jig.
Hernando burst out laughing but managed to grasp her outstretched hand
as they brushed past him.
Reuben’s heart was full to overflowing. Once more to see his dear
children gathered together in this world of meetings and partings! But
his feelings always under control, few guessed their depth.
“Dear old Reuben,” said Eletheer, impulsively flinging her arms around
his neck, “always the same! I have you to thank for many valuable
points. In my daily rounds at the hospital your example is always
before me.”
“Pshaw, Honey, yo’se gwine to be a scientific nurse,” he replied
overwhelmed with confusion.
Just here the clock struck eleven and they hurried into the house. Mr.
and Mrs. De Vere had gone to bed but the others still sat before the
library fire.
“Celeste, sing for us,” said Jack, bringing her guitar.
She hesitated.
“Please do. I have heard no music since you sang for me,” Hernando
urged.
Instantly she took up her guitar though it was some minutes before
she could control her voice, and then, her tones were pathetic; but
gradually the musician conquered and she poured forth her soul in
strains divinely sweet and melting.
“You have a rare gift in your voice, Celeste,” said Hernando, when she
had put aside her guitar.
“I believe we all possess some talent,” she returned.
“So do I,” he answered, “and we will be held responsible for the use we
make of it. I am wondering for what purpose my life has been spared.”
“An earnest one, I am sure you will make it,” said Eletheer. “Tell us
about your life at Shushan.”
All but Hernando started at this allusion to that hateful place for,
by common consent, they had avoided mentioning it. He, however, seemed
pleased as he said--
“Dr. Herschel’s Chinaman, Wing--my companion at Shushan--is a very
intelligent man. He speaks several languages fluently and his own
perfectly. I studied Chinese under him, also botany and astronomy. Like
myself, he was a leper. Our treatment, of course, consumed some time
and aside from that we made astronomical observations, botanized and
studied. I must show you some rare specimens found among those rocks.”
“Of what beside baths and hygiene did your treatment consist?” Eletheer
asked.
“Prepared snake venom, given hypodermically.”
“Oh, how dreadful!” cried Celeste, whom the very sight of a snake sent
into hysterics. “Were you ever bitten by any of the snakes?”
“No, immediately after arriving there, I received my first
injection--an infinitesimal amount, of course, and one which produced
no toxic symptoms; but, strange as it may seem to you, none of the
snakes came near our cottage, and though frequently encountered and
provoked in our rambles, they did not retaliate. Wing, my companion,
did not arrive until some days after I did so I was in a measure
prepared for the horrible sight he presented. His rigid forehead,
entirely bare of eyebrows; the knotty, flattened nose; face and hands
completely covered with leprous tubercles; immense ears and peculiar
leper tones--but let us not dwell on this.
“Dr. Herschel began treating him at once, and after a few days, during
which he taught us his methods, we were left on honor to carry out
orders implicitly, with a promise that he would return in about six
weeks.
“Neither Wing nor I had one grain of confidence, in fact, we regarded
the whole thing as a _fetish_ which, believed in, would undoubtedly
assist the forces of nature in prolonging our miserable existence;
but the pathology of leprosy shows that to cure, something besides
faith is needed, and that something had never been discovered. But we
persevered conscientiously, and instead of abandoning ourselves to
despair lived mechanically day by day. My rheumatic pains were greatly
benefited by the baths, and Wing’s appetite surely spoke well for the
bracing climate; but otherwise there was no perceptible change on Dr.
Herschel’s first visit to us.
“Three months passed by, six; surely I felt better than in years; but
poor Wing! even in six months, I could see progress in the ravages of
the disease, but he made no complaint.
“October, and another visit from Dr. Herschel. He pronounced me better
and my companion worse. Unpacking his bag, the doctor carefully took
out two syringes and, filling both, emptied the contents of one into
Wing’s cheek; then, baring one foot, the contents of the other
instrument were injected into it and Dr. Herschel told him to lie down,
which he did.
“Really interested, I, too, watched results.
“‘Eureka!’ Dr. Herschel shouted, springing to the side of Wing who lay
gasping for breath, with every symptom of snake-bite poisoning.
“‘Thank you, Doctor,’ I said, ‘justice will neither call you a murderer
nor that poor, accursed piece of flesh a felon.’
“He made no reply, only with finger on pulse remained immovable. An
hour passed and still Dr. Herschel made no sign. Unable longer to
endure the strain, I said, ‘Is he conscious?’
“‘No. Prepare me a hypodermic of strychnine sulphate gr. one-fortieth,’
handing me the instrument and bottle of tablets. This given, he again
placed his fingers over Wing’s pulse. Wing was fast sinking into a
state of coma and every breath drawn seemed shorter.
“‘Nitro-glycerine, quick!’ called the doctor.
“Again the syringe was filled and emptied. All night long we
watched, and morning found poor Wing still alive. For a week he lay
in a comatose condition, cruelly, to my way of thinking, kept alive
by stimulants, and then delirium set in; mild at first, but growing
wilder and wilder. Had I not known his abstemious habits, I should have
pronounced his case delirium tremens. All the terrifying illusions,
delusions and hallucinations were present, snakes, devils, enemies
were after him. Shouts for help brought no assistance and at last,
completely exhausted, he would crouch on the floor, a picture of
abject terror. With the greatest difficulty we managed to force down
sufficient food to keep him alive, each paroxysm leaving him weaker
until finally he lapsed into a low fever that lasted for weeks. Dr.
Herschel never left us.
“‘Doctor,’ I said to him one day as we stood together by our patient’s
bedside, ‘those tubercles certainly look smaller!’
“‘And will look still smaller,’ was his calm reply.
“I started and took a close look; the feet were without one! My heart
gave a great bound and then seemed to stop.
“‘There, my boy,’ said Dr. Herschel, ‘calm yourself! ‘Old
Ninety-Nine’s’ cave contained a rarer treasure than money and jewels.’
“A tedious convalescence and Wing rose from his bed clean, not a mark
left to indicate that he had ever been a leper. His gratitude knew no
bounds, and with the dawning of the new year, Dr. Herschel pronounced
us both cured. However, for surety, we were to remain indefinitely
at Shushan, now no hardship surely. How different life looked with
an incentive to live; but, knowing the nature of the disease, we
gratefully accepted this respite, and I can truthfully say that the
remaining years there were the happiest of my life.”
“And in six years you have learned the secret of happiness,” said
Eletheer meditatively.
“Which is found through obedience to nature’s laws,” Hernando replied.
Then, turning to Jack, he made minute inquiries regarding his mother’s
last illness and death, again and again thanking him for his kindness,
expressing a desire to show some means of appreciation of the part Miss
Kurtz had taken in the vindication of his mother’s character.
“I reckon you don’t remember Tim Watson, Hernando,” Jack asked.
Hernando replied in the negative, but his manner showed that they would
not long be strangers.
“Why can’t you go back with us when we return?”
“I see no reason at present. It would give me great pleasure to do so.”
“Oh, don’t any one talk of going!” cried Celeste.
“Except to bed,” Eletheer laughed.