THE LADY VAN TYNE WILL FIGHT FOR HER HONOR.
A woman's mercy is a bark
Set forth on life's broad sea to ride,--
Its course ordained, yet veered about
By every shifting wind and tide.
The Lady Van Tyne was standing before the long pier-glass arranging the
final touches of her elaborate coiffure when Dr. Seward was announced.
The excitement caused by his sudden departure for America had hardly
subsided when it was again aroused by his unexpected return.
Even Lady Van Tyne, revolving as she was in the whirlpool of social
duties and pleasures, stopped long enough to express some wonder at the
eccentricities of her staid and venerable physician. But her eagerness
to greet him now as he entered her private sanctum did not deter her
from once more altering the position of a jeweled pin in her abundant
hair and turning again, glass in hand, to note the effect of her
artistic alteration.
"Ah, doctor," she exclaimed, as she laid the costly glass carefully upon
the dressing-case, "I heard that you had returned but I hardly expected
you would so soon honor me with a call;--but what is the matter? you
look ill" she said as she noted the unusual pallor of his face.
"No not ill," was his reply, as he stood looking down upon her while his
hands toyed nervously with a heavy walking stick. Then making a
determined effort as if to have it over as soon as possible, he said
abruptly, "Lady Van Tyne, forgive me, but for nearly thirty years I have
kept silence upon this subject, but to-day I must speak. I have found
your son, and if ever man needed a mother's love, he does. I beg you to
hear his story and then let us try together to undo the sin committed so
many years ago." The physician's face was flushed with shame and
eagerness when he had finished speaking, but the wave of violent anger
that swept across his hearer's features left her with blazing eyes and
tightly compressed lips, and for a moment he wondered vaguely what the
outcome of her emotions was to be.
It was only an instant's wonderment, for with swift and decided movement
she withdrew the heavy portieres, and motioned him to enter a more
secluded room, then following, she came close beside him and clutching
his arm, exclaimed fiercely, "How dare you speak of this to me? were you
not paid for silence as well as for assistance in the matter?"
The physician winced beneath her words but she continued angrily, "learn
what you will of this child, but remember, please, that I will hear no
word regarding him or his whereabouts. You undertook his
concealment,--see you to it that it is continued, at least, so far as I
am concerned," and she drew herself to her stateliest carriage before
the shrinking form of the unhappy man.
"But he is your first born, dear Lady Van Tyne,--have you no love in
your heart for the child of your happy days? No feeling of remorse for
the crime committed against humanity? no pity for the unfortunate boy,
thrust nameless and alone upon the careless mercy of this cruel,
heartless world?"
"You plead well, Dr. Seward," she sneered as the physician wiped the
beads of sweat from his heated brow. "You plead for the very child whose
abandonment you first suggested, have you forgotten that?"
"Alas, no," said Dr. Seward, sadly. "I have forgotten nothing. I humbly
admit the sin which youth and thoughtlessness permitted, but believe me,
I have suffered greatly for that error and now when I have found the
innocent babe, grown to full manhood, with his nature cramped and
dwarfed by bitterness of spirit; his hand turned fiercely against
himself and every man's hand against him, I feel that it is our duty,
yours and mine, to come forth boldly in his cause and help if possible
to redeem from death and eternal condemnation, the human soul we have so
inexpressibly wronged.
"It can not be that you, his mother, will refuse to aid me in this
undertaking?" he questioned pleadingly.
But the Lady Van Tyne was weary of the subject. The self control that at
first deserted her had now returned, and curving her lips in a
disdainful smile, she said distinctly, "Dr Seward, I have valued your
advice for many years but it seems to me that now your judgment is
deserting you. If this is true that you have found the child, I can only
say, do what you please regarding the matter, but depend upon it, I
shall deny your accusations and defend my position before the world with
the unlimited means that you well know are at my disposal. I have the
dignity of my family to sustain and the claims of unwelcome offspring
shall never interfere between Lady Van Tyne and her social position,
so"--she continued, as she drew aside the heavy curtains, "if you are
determined to play the fool we may as well shake hands and consider our
acquaintance at an end forever."
But Dr. Seward did not touch the jeweled fingers that were extended to
him so graciously. He merely bowed his head and passed silently out of
her presence, feeling in all humility that the sorrow of the moment was
but another expiation of the never forgotten error of his youthful days.
After he had gone the Lady Van Tyne returned again to her mirror and
took a long survey of herself in the polished glass, but some way the
reflection of her person was not as pleasing as it had been an hour
before and she jerked the lace awkwardly about her throat, while
wrinkles hitherto unnoticed crept stealthily about her eyes and the wave
of fine grey hair upon her brow looked singularly old and unbecoming.
She had not deceived herself by her apparent calmness of demeanor during
the physician's strange entreaty, and now that she was alone her courage
forsook her entirely and she sank heavily upon the sofa in a paroxysm of
fear and trembling while she felt the foundations of her respectability
shaking beneath her feet and pictured her humiliating position if the
truth should ever be revealed. Not a thought of her son's surroundings
entered her mind, and, as she finally controlled herself for the
evening's pleasure, a prayer for her own protection was the one vague
sentiment of her selfish, worldly heart.
It was late that night before Dr. Seward retired to his private office
for an hour with his books and drugs, for he had extended his ride after
leaving Lady Van Tyne's residence and called upon his friend at the
hospital across the bridge. Here his scientific curiosity returned and
he again became possessor of the little vial of brownish powder. That
night in the privacy of his professional den, he again investigated the
mysterious contents.
Over and over again the breakfast bell was rung in the early morning,
but not until the household was thoroughly alarmed at his continued
absence, did any one think to try the handle of the office door. There
they found him, cold and breathless upon the well worn sofa, while by
his side upon the carpet was a curious shaped vial, empty, and bearing
on one side a label whereupon was written in Dr. Seward's own
handwriting, the extraordinary warning, "Death to the Inquisitive."