"YOU MUST REMEMBER"
Mr. And Mrs. Nichol wonderingly yet promptly complied with the request
for their presence, meantime casting about in their minds as to the
identity of the relative who had summoned them so unexpected. Mr.
Kemble arrived at the hotel at about the same moment as they did, and
Jackson was instructed to keep the carriage in waiting. "It was I who
sent for you and your wife," said the banker. "Mr. Martine, if
possible, would have given you cause for a great joy only; but I fear
it must be tempered with an anxiety which I trust will not be long
continued;" and he led the way into the parlor.
"Is it--can it be about Albert?" asked Mrs. Nichols trembling, and
sinking into a chair.
"Yes, Mrs. Nichol. Try to keep your fortitude, for perhaps his welfare
depends upon it."
"Oh, God be praised! The hope of this never wholly left me, because
they didn't find his body."
Dr. Barnes came down at once, and with Mr. Kemble tried to soothe the
strong emotions of the parents, while at the same time enlightening
them as to their son's discovery and condition.
"Well," said Mr. Nichol, in strong emphasis; "Hobart Martine is one of
a million."
"I think he ought to have brought Albert right to me first," Mrs.
Nichol added, shaking her head and wiping her eyes. "After all, a
mother's claim--"
"My dear Mrs. Nichol," interrupted Dr. Barnes, "there was no thought of
undervaluing your claim on the part of our friend Hobart. He has taken
what he believed, and what physicians led him to believe, was the best
course to restore your son. Besides, Mr. Martine is a very sick man.
Even now he needs my attention more than Captain Nichol. You must
realize that he was to have married Miss Kemble to-day; yet he brings
back your son, sends for Mr. Kemble in order that his daughter, as soon
as she can realize the strange truth, may exert her power. He himself
has not seen the girl who was to have been his bride."
"Wife, wife," said Mr. Nichol, brokingly, "no mortal man could do more
for us than Hobart Martine, God bless him!"
"Mrs. Nichol," began Mr. Kemble, "my wife and Helen both unite in the
request that you and your husband bring your son at once to our house;
perhaps you would rather meet him in the privacy--"
"Oh, no, no!" she cried, "I cannot wait. Please do not think I am
insensible to all this well-meant kindness; but a mother's heart cannot
wait. He'll know ME--me who bore him and carried him on my breast."
"Mrs. Nichol, you shall see him at once," said the doctor. "I hope it
will be as you say; but I'm compelled to tell you that you may be
disappointed. There's no certainty that this trouble will pass away at
once under any one's influence. You and your husband come with me. Mr.
Kemble, I will send Jackson down, and so secure the privacy which you
would kindly provide. I will be present, for I may be needed."
He led the way, the mother following with the impetuosity and abandon
of maternal love, and the father with stronger and stranger emotions
than he had ever known, but restrained in a manner natural to a quiet,
reticent man. They were about to greet one on whom they had once
centred their chief hopes and affection, yet long mourned as dead. It
is hard to imagine the wild tumult of their feelings. Not merely by
words, but chiefly by impulse, immediate action, could they reveal how
profoundly they were moved.
With kindly intention, as he opened the door of the apartment, the
doctor began, "Mr. Jackson, please leave us a few--"
Mrs. Nichol saw her son and rushed upon him, crying, "Albert, Albert!"
It was enough at that moment that she recognized him; and the thought
that he would not recognize her was banished. With an intuition of
heart beyond all reasoning, she felt that he who had drawn his life
from her must know her and respond to nature's first strong tie.
In surprise, Nichol had risen, then was embarrassed to find an elderly
woman sobbing on his breast and addressing him in broken, endearing
words by a name utterly unfamiliar. He looked wonderingly at his
father, who stood near, trembling and regarding him through tear-dimmed
eyes with an affectionate interest, impressive even to his limited
perceptions.
"Doctor," he began over his mother's head, "what in thunder does all
this here mean? Me 'n' Jackson was chinnin' comf't'bly, when sud'n you
uns let loose on me two crazy old parties I never seed ner yeared on.
Never had folks go on so 'bout me befo'. Beats even that Hob't
Ma'tine," and he showed signs of rising irritation.
"Albert, Albert!" almost shrieked Mrs. Nichol, "don't you know me--ME,
your own mother?"
"Naw."
At the half-indignant, incredulous tone, yet more than all at the
strange accent and form of this negative, the poor woman was almost
beside herself. "Merciful God!" she cried, "this cannot be;" and she
sank into a chair, sobbing almost hysterically.
For reasons of his own, Dr. Barnes did not interfere. Nature in
powerful manifestations was actuating the parents; and he decided, now
that things had gone so far, to let the entire energy of uncurbed
emotion, combined with all the mysterious affinity of the closest
kinship, exert its influence on the clogged brain of his patient.
For a few moments Mrs. Nichol was too greatly overcome to comprehend
anything clearly; her husband, on the other hand, was simply wrought up
to his highest capacity for action. His old instinct of authority
returned, and he seized his son's hand and began, "Now, see here,
Albert, you were wounded in your head--"
"Yes, right yere," interrupted Nichol, pointing to his scar. "I knows
all 'bout that, but I don't like these goin's on, ez ef I wuz a
nachel-bawn fool, en had ter bleve all folks sez. I've been taken in
too often. When I wuz with the Johnnies they'd say ter me, 'Yankee
Blank, see that ar critter? That's a elephant.' When I'd call it a
elephant, they'd larf an' larf till I flattened out one feller's nose.
I dunno nothin' 'bout elephants; but the critter they pinted at wuz a
cow. Then one day they set me ter scrubbin' a nigger to mek 'im white,
en all sech doin's, till the head-doctor stopped the hull blamed
nonsense. S'pose I be a cur'ous chap. I ain't a nachel-bawn ijit. When
folks begin ter go on, en do en say things I kyant see through, then I
stands off en sez, 'Lemme 'lone.' The hospital doctors wouldn't 'low
any foolin' with me 't all."
"I'm not allowing any fooling with you," said Dr. Barnes, firmly. "I
wish you to listen to that man and woman, and believe all they say. The
hospital doctors would give you the same orders."
"All right, then," assented Nichol, with a sort of grimace of
resignation. "Fire away, old man, an' git through with yer yarn so
Jackson kin come back. I wish this woman wouldn't take on so. Hit makes
me orful oncomf't'ble, doggoned ef hit don't."
The rapid and peculiar utterance, the seemingly unfeeling words of his
son, stung the father into an ecstasy of grief akin to anger. A man
stood before him, as clearly recognized as his own image in a mirror.
The captain was not out of his mind in any familiar sense of the word;
he remembered distinctly what had happened for months past. He must
recall, he must be MADE to recollect the vital truths of his life on
which not only his happiness but that of others depended. Although
totally ignorant of what the wisest can explain but vaguely, Mr. Nichol
was bent on restoring his son by the sheer force of will, making him
remember by telling him what he should and must recall. This he tried
to do with strong, eager insistence. "Why, Albert," he urged, "I'm your
father; and that's your mother."
Nichol shook his head and looked at the doctor, who added gravely,
"That's all true."
"Yes," resumed Mr. Nichol, with an energy and earnestness of utterance
which compelled attention. "Now listen to reason. As I was saying, you
were wounded in the head, and you have forgotten what happened before
you were hurt. But you must remember, you must, indeed, or you will
break your mother's heart and mine, too."
"But I tell yer, I kyant reckerlect a thing befo' I kinder waked up in
the hospital, en the Johnnies call me Yankee Blank. I jes' wish folks
would lemme alone on that pint. Hit allus bothers me en makes me mad.
How kin I reckerlect when I kyant?" and he began to show signs of
strong vexation.
Dr. Barnes was about to interfere when Mrs. Nichol, who had grown
calmer, rose, took her son's hand, and said brokenly: "Albert, look me
in the face, your mother's face, and try, TRY with all your heart and
soul and mind. Don't you remember ME?"
It was evident that her son did try. His brow wrinkled in the perplexed
effort, and he looked at her fixedly for a moment or more; but no
magnetic current from his mother's hand, no suggestion of the dear
features which had bent over him in childhood and turned toward him in
love and pride through subsequent years found anything in his arrested
consciousness answering to her appeal.
The effort and its failure only irritated him, and he broke out: "Now
look yere, I be as I be. What's the use of all these goin's on? Doctor,
if you sez these folks are my father and mother, so be it. I'm learning
somethin' new all the time. This ain't no mo' quar, I s'pose, than some
other things. I've got to mind a doctor, for I've learned that much ef
I hain't nuthin' else, but I want you uns to know that I won't stan' no
mo' foolin'. Doctors don't fool me, en they've got the po'r ter mek a
feller do ez they sez, but other folks is got ter be keerful how they
uses me."
Mrs. Nichol again sank into her chair and wept bitterly; her husband at
last remained silent in a sort of inward, impotent rage of grief. There
was their son, alive and in physical health, yet between him and them
was a viewless barrier which they could not break through.
The strange complications, the sad thwartings of hope which must result
unless he was restored, began to loom already in the future.
Dr. Barnes now came forward and said: "Captain Nichol, you are as you
are at this moment, but you must know that you are not what you were
once. We are trying to restore you to your old self. You'd be a great
deal better off if we succeed. You must help us all you can. You must
be patient, and try all the time to recollect. You know I am not
deceiving you, but seeking to help you. You don't like this. That
doesn't matter. Didn't you see doctors do many things in hospitals
which the patients didn't like?"
"I reckon," replied Nichol, growing reasonable at once when brought on
familiar ground.
"Well, you are my patient. I may have to do some disagreeable things,
but they won't hurt you. It won't be like taking off an arm or a leg.
You have seen that done, I suppose?"
"You bet!" was the eager, proud reply. "I used to hold the fellows when
they squirmed."
"Now hold yourself. Be patient and good-natured. While we are about it,
I want to make every appeal possible to your lost memory, and I order
you to keep on trying to remember till I say: 'Through for the
present.' If we succeed, you'll thank me all the days of your life.
Anyhow, you must do as I say."
"Oh, I know that."
"Well, then, your name is Captain Nichol. This is Mr. Nichol, your
father; this lady is your mother. Call them father and mother when you
speak to them. Always speak kindly and pleasantly. They'll take you to
a pleasant home when I'm through with you, and you must mind them.
They'll be good to you everyway."
Nichol grinned acquiescence and said: "All right, Doctor."
"Now you show your good sense. We'll have you sound and happy yet." The
doctor thought a moment and then asked: "Mr. Nichol, I suppose that
after our visit to Mr. Kemble, you and your wife would prefer to take
your son home with you?"
"Certainly," was the prompt response.
"I would advise you to do so. After our next effort, however it
results, we all will need rest and time for thought. Captain, remain
here a few moments with your father and mother. Listen good-naturedly
and answer pleasantly to whatever they may say to you. I will be back
soon."