OLIVER'S MOTHER.
It is time to introduce Oliver's mother, who was suffering such cruel
imprisonment within the walls of a mad-house.
It was by a subterfuge she had first been induced to enter the asylum
of Dr. Fox. Her husband had spoken of it as a boarding-school under the
charge of an old friend of his.
"I think, my dear," he said, as they dismounted at the gate, "that you
will be interested to look over the institution, and I know it will
afford my friend great pleasure to show it to you."
"I dare say I shall find it interesting," she answered, and they
entered.
Dr. Fox met them at the door. He had received previous notice of their
arrival, and a bargain had been struck between Mr. Kenyon and the
doctor. A meaning look was exchanged between them which Mrs. Kenyon
did not notice.
"I have brought my wife to look over your establishment, doctor," said
Mr. Kenyon.
"I don't think it is worth looking at," said the doctor, "but I shall
be very glad to show it. Will you come upstairs?"
They were moving up the main staircase when a loud scream was heard
from above, proceeding from one of the insane inmates.
"What is that?" asked Mrs. Kenyon, stopping short and turning pale.
Mr. Kenyon bit his lip. He feared that his wife would suspect too soon
the character of the institution. But Dr. Fox was prepared for the
question.
"It is poor Tommy Briggs," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "He is in
the sick-ward."
"But what is the matter with him?" asked Mrs. Kenyon, shuddering as
another wild shriek was borne to her ears.
"He has fits," answered the doctor.
"Ought he to be here, then?"
"He has them only at intervals, say once a month. To-morrow he will be
all right again."
Mrs. Kenyon accepted this explanation without suspicion.
"How old is he?" she asked.
"Fifteen."
"About the age of Oliver," she remarked, turning to her husband.
"Or Roland."
"What a misfortune it must be to have a boy so afflicted! How I pity
his poor mother!"
"Come up another flight, please," said Dr. Fox. "We will begin our
examination there."
They went up to the next story.
Dr. Fox drew a bunch of keys from his pocket, and applying one to the
door opened it.
"Do you keep them locked in?" asked Mrs. Kenyon, surprised.
"This is one of the dormitories," answered the doctor, who never lost
his self-possession. "Come in, please."
It was a large square room. In one corner was a bed, surrounded by
curtains. In the opposite corner was another bed--a cot.
"Sit down one moment, Mrs. Kenyon," said the doctor. "I want to call a
servant."
He left the room, and Mr. Kenyon followed him.
The two men regarded each other with a complacent smile.
"Well, it's done," said the doctor, rubbing his hands. "She walked into
the trap without any suspicion or fuss."
"You'd better lock the door," said Mr. Kenyon nervously.
The doctor did so.
"Now," said he, "if you will follow me downstairs we will attend to the
business part of the matter."
"Willingly," said Kenyon.
The business referred to consisted of the payment of three months'
board in advance.
"Now, Dr. Fox," said his new patron, "you may rely upon punctual
payment of your bills. On your part, I depend on your safe custody of
my wife as long as her mind remains unsound."
"And that will be a long time, I fancy," said the doctor, laughing.
Mr. Kenyon appreciated the joke, and laughed too.
"I must leave you now," he said. "I hope you won't have much trouble
with her."
"Oh, have no anxiety on that score," said the doctor nonchalantly. "I
am used to such cases; I know how to manage."
The two men shook hands, and Mr. Kenyon left the asylum a free man.
"So far, well," he said, when he was in the open air. "At last--at
last, I am rich! And I mean to enjoy my wealth!"
Mrs. Kenyon remained in the seat assigned her for two or three minutes.
Then she began to wonder why her husband and the doctor did not return.
"It's strange they leave me here so long," she said to herself.
Then she rose and went to the door.
She tried to open it, but it resisted her efforts.
"What does this mean?" she asked herself, bewildered.
She turned, and was startled by seeing a tall woman, in a long calico
robe, in the act of emerging from the curtained bed. The woman had long
hair, which, unconfined, descended over her shoulders. Her features
wore a strange look, which startled and alarmed Mrs. Kenyon.
"How did you get into my room?" asked the woman sharply.
"Is this your room?" asked Mrs. Kenyon, unable to remove her eyes from
the strange apparition.
"Yes, it is my audience chamber," was the reply. "Why are you here?"
"I hardly know," said Mrs. Kenyon hurriedly. "I think there must be
some mistake. I would go out if I could, but the door is locked."
"They always lock it," said the other composedly.
"Do you live here?" asked Mrs. Kenyon nervously.
"Oh, yes, I have lived here for five hundred years, more or less."
"What!" exclaimed Mrs. Kenyon, terror-stricken.
"I said more or less," repeated the woman sharply. "How can I tell
within fifty years? Do you know who I am?"
"No."
"You have often heard of me," said the other complacently. "The whole
world has heard about me. I am Queen Cleopatra."
Mrs. Kenyon knew where she was now. She realized it with a heart full
of horror. But what could it mean? Could Mr. Kenyon have left her there
intentionally? In spite of all she had learned about it she could
hardly credit it.
"What place is this, tell me?" she implored.
"I'll tell you," said the woman, "but you mustn't tell," she added,
with a look of cunning. "I've found it all out. It's a place where they
send crazy people."
"Good Heaven!"
"They are all crazy here--all but me," continued Cleopatra, to call her
by the name she assumed. "I am only here for my health," she continued.
"That's what the doctor tells me, though why they should keep me so
long I cannot understand. Sometimes I suspect----"
"In Heaven's name, what?"
The woman advanced toward Mrs. Kenyon, who shrank from her
instinctively, and whispered:
"They want to separate me and Mark Antony," she said. "I am convinced
of it, though whether it's Cæsar or my ministers who have done it
I can't tell. What do you think?" she demanded, fixing her eyes
searchingly upon Mrs. Kenyon.
"I don't know," answered Mrs. Kenyon, shrinking away from her.
"You needn't be afraid of me," said Cleopatra, observing the movement.
"I am not crazy, you know. I am perfectly harmless. Are you crazy?"
"Heaven forbid!" exclaimed Mrs. Kenyon with a shudder.
"They all say so," said Cleopatra shrewdly, "but they are all crazy
except me. Do you hear that?"
There was another wild shriek, proceeding from a room on the same
floor.
"Who is it?" asked Mrs. Kenyon, in alarm.
"It's crazy Nancy," answered Cleopatra. "She thinks she's the wife of
Henry VIII., and she is always afraid he will have her executed. It's
queer what fancies these people have," added Cleopatra, laughing.
"How unconscious she is of her infirmity!" thought Mrs. Kenyon. "I hope
she's never violent."
"Is there a bell here?" she asked.
"What for?"
"I wish to ring for the doctor and my husband."
"Ho! ho! Do you think they would notice your ringing?"
"Do you think they mean to leave me here?" asked Mrs. Kenyon, with a
gasp of horror.
"To be sure they do. The doctor told me this morning he was going to
give me a nice, agreeable room-mate."
The full horror of her situation was revealed to the unfortunate woman,
and she sank upon the floor in a swoon.