MR. HEATHERFORD'S RECOVERY.
Immediately after Mr. Heatherford's removal to the Lamonti mansion,
Mollie resolved to make one more desperate effort for his recovery and
to spare no expense to put him under the most noted specialists for
diseases of the brain that could be secured. After making diligent
inquiries, she decided to send for Doctor ----, of New York, to come to
Washington and diagnose her father's case. The great man came, but,
after a careful and protracted examination, pronounced the fatal
verdict, which she so dreaded to hear.
"Miss Heatherford, it pains me deeply to have to tell you that there is
not the slightest ray of hope, as far as I can see," he said, and then
lapsed into a learned description of the patient's condition, describing
the state of his brain, the probable progress of the disease, and its
inevitable termination, while Mollie felt as if she would herself become
distracted before he concluded his terrible picture.
"Oh!" she cried at last, "then he must live on like this indefinitely,
growing gradually more and more helpless! He is never to know anything
more of life, never even give me, his only child, one fond word or look
of recognition! How can I bear it?"
"My dear young lady, it is hard, I know," said the physician kindly,
and deeply touched by the tearless grief, "and were it in my power to
give you the least encouragement, I should be more than glad to do so. I
have given you my opinion of the case as it appears to me," he went on
after a moment of deep thought, "but if it would comfort you any to make
one more trial, I will suggest that a noted Paris specialist, who is now
in this country, be called to examine Mr. Heatherford. There is no
higher authority in the world that I know of."
Mollie grasped eagerly at this straw, and the highest authority in the
world, the great Paris doctor, was sent for at once. He came and went;
but he left behind him only bitter disappointment and a sentence of
doom.
Poor Mollie, who had hoped against hope, was utterly prostrated for a
time in view of this ultimatum. She shut herself into her room to meet
this terrible blow and fight her battle out where no eye could witness
her anguish.
The fate to which her father had been doomed by the verdict of the
doctors seemed absolutely unbearable, and she cried aloud in her anguish
that she would not submit to it.
She was nearly worn out with this conflict by luncheon-time, two hours
and more after the departure of the Paris authority, and was only able
to drink a cup of tea when her maid brought a temptingly arranged tray
to her; but she felt that she could not live through the afternoon, left
alone with her own thoughts, and finally, ringing for Nannette, she
ordered her to make Lucille ready for a drive, and half an hour later
found them rolling out toward the Washington monument. They drove for
nearly two hours, and then Mollie ordered the coachman to turn toward
home.
As the carriage was passing through Fourteenth Street something caught
Mollie's eye--something which made her sit suddenly erect, while a look
of eager interest swept over her pale, lovely face. The object which had
attracted her attention was a very modest sign hanging in a window.
It read thus: "John L. Freeman, Christian Science Healer," and into the
girl's mind flashed the thought, accompanied by a wild hope: "Perhaps
that man can help my father--I have heard that Christian Scientists do
wonderful things."
Almost before she was aware of what she was doing, she had ordered the
driver to stop, when, taking Lucille by the hand, she alighted, mounted
the steps, and rang the bell of the house where Mr. Freeman resided.
Then, as the tinkle of the bell came to her ears, she suddenly began to
feel ashamed of her errand, for she had always been both skeptical and
intolerant of all such "metaphysical nonsense," as she had termed it.
She was half-tempted to beat a hasty retreat, and perhaps would have
done so if the door had not been opened at that instant by a sweet,
happy-looking girl, whose winning smile at once won her confidence and
inspired her with fresh hope.
"Can I see Mr. Freeman?" she briefly inquired.
"I think so; come in, please," replied the girl, and, turning, she led
the way into a pleasant room, where a gentleman of perhaps forty years
was sitting.
He arose and greeted Mollie with easy courtesy, his dark eyes searching
her face with a kind but penetrating look, and instantly a strange
feeling of peace fell upon her aching, rebellious heart. She took the
chair he offered her, and then opened her heart to him, telling him all
her trouble and sorrow--of her father's long illness, of the many weary
months of anxious care and hopeless seeking after help from various
sources, and of her last despairing efforts and their result. The
gentleman did not once interrupt her, but sat with downcast eyes and
attentive mien until she concluded, when she tremulously inquired:
"Can you help him--is there any hope, do you think?"
"My dear child, there is every hope," her companion confidently replied.
"God is always a help in time of trouble."
"God!" repeated Mollie, with a bitter inflection. "I have begun to
believe there is no God."
The gentleman bent a pitiful glance upon her.
"I am sure that you will never say that again," he replied after a
moment of silence.
Then he asked her a few questions, after which he remarked that he would
take the case if she desired, and would visit her father later in the
day.
Mollie arose, a peculiar feeling of restfulness and hope having
succeeded her previous weariness and despair; and, opening her purse,
inquired what she should pay for the consultation.
"Nothing for our little talk, Miss Heatherford," said Mr. Freeman, with
a quiet smile; "we are always glad to have people come to us when in
trouble. Scientists, when they take patients, usually treat them by the
week, the sum being uniform, unless frequent visits are required; of
course, you understand that no medicines--no remedies of any kind--are
to be used."
He then mentioned the amount for a week's treatment, and which seemed to
the wondering girl exceedingly paltry; but she paid it, and then went
away with that same strange, sweet peace still pervading her.
A week passed, and while there was no apparent change in Mr.
Heatherford's mental condition, he was not nearly as restless as he had
been, and slept quietly the whole night through, a thing he had not done
for months.
The second week he began to take more nourishment. At the end of a month
his face began to have some color, and Eliza declared that he was
actually gaining flesh, while now and then they found him looking about
the room, vacantly, to be sure, and yet with an air as if a dawning
consciousness was trying to assert itself.
Mollie jealously watched every change, and each time that Mr. Freeman
came she plied him with questions, eagerly seeking to learn something of
the great principle that was governing her dear father's condition.
She read with avidity the books which the gentleman loaned her, and
which taught her much, and gradually a joyous hope--an abiding
confidence, rather--took possession of her, assuring her that her loved
one would ere long be well again.
At the expiration of two months he had once spoken her name, and had
began to try to use his hands to help himself; and finally there came a
day when he actually stood upon his feet, with Eliza's strong arms
around him to support him.
"Bress de Lord! I tole yo' to trust de Lord, honey," the woman
exclaimed, her black face radiant with joy on this happy occasion.
"I know you did, Eliza; and at last I believe I am beginning to
understand what and where God is," Mollie reverently replied, her golden
lashes laden with tears of joy.
Early in May, when the weather began to be oppressive, she closed the
house in Washington and took her family to the beautiful villa--one of
Lucille's many possessions--at Cape May, where they remained all
summer--five delightful, happy months, for the invalid improved with
every day.
Faxon also spent his vacation--the month of August--there, each morning
finding him early at the villa, where he and his betrothed vied with
each other in making the time pass pleasantly for Mr. Heatherford, whose
mind was fast becoming as clear and active as in the vigorous days of
his youth.
He was still somewhat hampered physically, as the obstinate enemy,
paralysis, had not been wholly conquered, although it was rapidly
disappearing; but there was not a happier nor more grateful family in
existence than Mollie's household, all of whom felt as if the dead had
been restored to life.
Faxon returned to Washington the first of September, and a month later
the Lamonti house was once more opened, and the family settled for the
winter.
Mr. Heatherford was now practically well, and "prepared," he said, "to
begin life over again."
Mollie, however, tried to persuade him not to think of business for a
long while yet; there was no need, she asserted, for her income was
ample for their every want. But Mr. Heatherford was eager to test his
recovered powers, particularly as Mr. Freeman encouraged him to do so,
and, having been educated for the bar, he soon made arrangements to go
into business with an established firm, one of the partners proving to
be an old-time friend who knew something of the reputation which Mr.
Heatherford had borne during his more prosperous days; and now the
future began to look very bright to him once more.
As the season advanced and distinguished people began to flock to the
capital, he met many a former acquaintance, and thus it came about that
both Mollie and her father were gradually drawn into society again.
When Mollie began to accept these courtesies and take her place once
more in social life, she insisted that her engagement should be publicly
announced, and so, of course, Clifford was always thereafter included in
all invitations.
He was looking forward to a much brighter prospect in life after the
first of January than he had dared to anticipate for himself thus early
in his career, and it was arranged that his marriage should occur as
soon as he was well settled in his new enterprise; meantime, as he was
becoming quite a favorite in social circles, the young couple gave
themselves up to the enjoyment of the present.
One evening, at a brilliant reception given by a distinguished senator,
Mr. Heatherford and Mollie unexpectedly encountered Mr. and Mrs. Temple
and Philip Wentworth, the family having come to Washington again for the
winter. Mr. Temple had again become interested in politics during the
last year or two, and had been elected a member of the House of
Representatives, and was ambitious for still higher honors.
The meeting between Mr. Heatherford and Mr. Temple was somewhat
startling to both gentlemen, especially so to the latter, since he
believed the former to be still a hopeless paralytic, if, indeed, he
were yet on the earth. They met in the great hall of the mansion where
they were guests.
A slight smile of contempt flitted over Mr. Heatherford's face as he
said: "Ah! Temple; so we meet again!"
"My God! Heatherford!" gasped the man who had so bitterly wronged him
under the guise of friendship; and he was colorless even to his lips.
"Yes; you were not expecting to meet me again--here," returned Mr.
Heatherford.
"It--it is a miracle! Who was your doctor?" panted the false friend,
scarce knowing what he said.
"God," briefly but reverently responded Heatherford. Then, with a
courtly but distant bow, he added: "Excuse me; I am looking for my
daughter."
He passed on, leaving the other still staring blankly after him, and
actually trembling, as if he had suddenly encountered a ghost of the
past--as, indeed, he had.
Later in the evening Mollie found herself standing almost side by side
with Philip Wentworth. She was richly and beautifully clad. Her dress
was a gauzelike material of black, made over a very light-gray satin
that gleamed like silver underneath. The trimmings were all of silver,
and a diamond spray, with a silver aigrette, gleamed in her hair.
The corsage of her robe was cut modestly low, and the full, puffed
sleeves were short, thus revealing her perfect arms and neck, which were
like chiseled marble. It was a strikingly effective costume, and just
suited her, for it threw out the fairness of her faultless complexion to
great advantage.
She gave a slight start as she caught Philip's voice and realized his
proximity, but did not glance at him. She turned slightly away, and was
about to address a lady whom she knew; but before she could do so,
Philip stepped directly in front of her, determined that he would not be
ignored.
"You have told me never to speak to you again--that we are strangers,"
he began in a low tone that was husky with emotion; "cannot you forgive
and forget? I have suffered bitterly for my folly of that night--I have
repented in sackcloth and ashes."
Not a muscle of Mollie's face moved during his speech. She stood and
looked like a statue--beautiful as a young goddess--but cold as snow,
and a feeling of bitter remorse--of utter despair crept over him as he
realized how he had lowered himself in her estimation and lost all
chance of ever winning her.
Since learning of Mr. Lamonti's will and that Mollie had now an
independent fortune, and would once more take an enviable position in
society, he had cursed himself a thousand times for his past folly.
While he was speaking Mollie was wondering how she could escape him
without replying to him and without making herself conspicuous.
There was an awkward pause for a moment after he concluded; then
Mollie's quick ear caught the voice of her hostess, who was just behind
her, remarking:
"No, I have not seen Mr. Wentworth since he first entered the room; but
I am sure he is still here."
Mollie turned gracefully toward the speaker, thus revealing Philip to
her.
"You were inquiring for Mr. Wentworth, Mrs. Blackman," she observed,
with a charming smile. "Behold him just at hand!"
Then, with a bow to the lady, she slipped away, leaving Philip in a
white heat of rage and disappointment over having failed to win even a
glance of recognition from her.
But Mollie escaped Philip only to run almost into the arms of Mrs.
Temple, who also had already arrived at the conclusion that the girl's
acquaintance was worth cultivating again. Mollie Heatherford, with a
handsome fortune in her own right, was an entirely different person
from the poverty-stricken private secretary of a year ago. She extended
her hand with a beaming smile, and greeted her with much of her former
maternal fondness.
Mollie's quiet "good evening, Mrs. Temple," together with the
ceremonious touch of her finger-tips, was something of a facer; but the
shrewd woman of the world was not one to easily relinquish a project,
and she continued in her most cordial tone:
"Really, Mollie, it seems like old times to meet you in society again;
and what a romantic experience you have had! I assure you, no one could
be more delighted than we were when we learned of your good fortune. Are
you back in the Lamonti house again this season?"
"Yes," Mollie briefly replied.
"I understand that it is very elegant--that Mr. Lamonti was exceedingly
refined in his tastes, and made his home a perfect gem," Mrs. Temple
continued, and determined to trap Mollie into asking her to call if it
were possible.
"Yes," the fair girl again composedly replied, "Monsieur Lamonti spared
no expense to make his home attractive, and took great pride and
pleasure in gathering treasures from all parts of the world to beautify
it."
"I have been told that many of the paintings are from the hands of the
best masters," pursued her inquisitor.
"That is true."
"Do you ever entertain as you used to in the old days in New York,
Mollie?"
"We have not as yet; it is quite early in the season, you know," said
Mollie, and barely able to suppress a smile as she saw the drift of
these questions; "but papa and I were talking the matter over recently,
and I think we may have a regular reception evening later on."
"Ah!" exclaimed Mrs. Temple eagerly; "then you will be well launched
upon the sea of Washington society, and if at any time you should feel
the need of some one to matronize your affairs, you will know where to
come, dear," she concluded, with her most affable smile.
"Thank you, Mrs. Temple."
"And I wish you would drop in upon us occasionally," the lady went on
appealingly, but flushing slightly over the failure of her scheme. "We
were all very fond of you always, Mollie, and Minnie would be delighted
to see her old friend."
"Yes, Minnie and I were close friends; give my love to the dear child,"
Mollie replied, with more of heartiness than she had yet expressed.
Then, catching sight of Mr. Heatherford, she added: "Excuse me, but I
see papa looking for me. Good-night, Mrs. Temple."
And with a graceful inclination of her bright head she glided away. Mrs.
Temple's face was a study as she watched the slight, perfect figure move
down the room. She had been utterly baffled, and she was filled with
mingled disappointment and mortification.
"Mollie is very shrewd, with all her sweetness," she muttered, with a
frown; "she can hold her own anywhere, and we have all made a grand
mistake."