XXIV.
FATHER AND CHILD.
"The night which followed this day was a sleepless one for me. Yet how Idreaded the morning! How I shrank from the first sight of my father'sface! Had Auntie Lovell been with us I should have prevailed upon her tohave gone to him and tried to smooth the way to some sort ofreconciliation between us, but she was in Chicago, and I was not yetupon such terms with Emma that I could bear to make of her a go-between.I preferred to meet him without apology, and by dutifulness in all otherrespects make him forget in time my failure to oblige him in one. _I hadmade up my mind to go out of the house that day, though not with Mr.Harding._
"But sometimes it seems as if Providence stepped in our way when we tryto recover from any false position into which we have been betrayed bythe heat and stress of our own passions. When I tried to rise I foundmyself ill, and for several days after that I knew little and cared lesswhere I was, or what my future was like to be. When I was well enough toget up and go about my duties again, I found the house and my father invery much the same condition as they were before the fatal appearance ofMr. Harding. No look from his eye revealed that any great change hadtaken place in his attitude towards me, and after learning that Mr.Harding had come once since my illness, been closeted with my father forsome time, and had then gone away with a rather formal and hard good-byto the anxious Emma, I began to feel that my fears had been part of thedelirium of the fever which had afterwards set in, and that I wasalarming myself and softening my heart more than was necessary.
"The consequence was that I did not go out that afternoon, nor the nextmorning, nor for a week after, though I was always saying to myself thatI would surprise them yet by a sudden dash out of the house when theyshowed, or rather my father showed, any such relenting in his studiedattitude of indifference as would make such an action on the part of oneconstituted like myself, possible.
"But he was thinking of anything else but relenting, and even I beganto see in a few days that something portentous lay behind the apparentapathy of his manner. He worked as he had of old, or rather he shuthimself up in his laboratory from morning until night, but when he didappear, there was something new in his manner that deeply troubled me. Ibegan to shrink at the sound of his step, and more than once wentwithout a meal rather than meet the cold glance of his eye.
"Emma, who seemed to have little idea of what I suffered and of what Idreaded (what did I dread? I hardly knew) used to talk to me sometimesof our father's failing health; but I either hushed her or sat like astone, I was in such a state of shuddering horror. I remember one day asI stole past the laboratory door, I beheld her with her arms round hisneck, and the sight filled me with tumult, but whether it was one oflonging or repugnance, or a mixture of both, I can hardly tell. But Iknow it was with difficulty I repressed a cry of grief, and that when Ifound myself alone my limbs were shaking under me like those of onestricken with ague. At last there came a day when father was no longerto be seen at the table. He ordered his meals brought to the laboratory,but denied being sick. I stared at Emma, who delivered this message, andasked her what she thought of it.
"'That he _is_ ill,' she declared.
* * * * *
"Two weeks later my father called me into his presence. I went in fearand trembling. He was standing by his desk in the laboratory, and Icould not repress a start of surprise when I saw the change which hadtaken place in him. But I said nothing, only stood near the doorway andwaited for what he had to say.
"'Look at me,' he commanded. 'I am standing to-day; to-morrow I shall besitting. I wish you to watch your work; now go.'
"I turned, so shaken by his look and terrible wanness that I couldhardly stand. But at the door I paused and cried in irrepressibleterror:
"'You are ill; let me send for a doctor. I cannot see you dying thusbefore my eyes.'
"'You cannot?' With what a grim chuckle he uttered the words. 'We willsee what you can bear.' Then as my eyes opened in terror, and I seemedabout to flee, he cried, 'No doctor, do you hear? I will see none. Andmark me, no talking about what goes on in this room, if you do not wishmy curse.'
"Aghast, I rushed from that unhallowed door. What did his words mean?What was his purpose? Upon what precipice of horror was I stumbling?
"The next day he summoned me again. I felt too weak to go, but I darednot disobey. I opened his door with a shaking hand, and found himsitting, as he had promised, in an old arm-chair that had been hismother's.
"'Do I look any better?' he asked.
"I shook my head. He was evidently much worse.
"'The poison of disobedience works slowly, but it works sure,' he cried.
"I threw up my arms with a shriek.
"He seemed to love the sound.
"'You do not enjoy the fruits of your actions,' said he. 'You love yourold father so dearly.'
"I held out my hands; I entreated; I implored.
"'Do not--do not look on me like this. Some dreadful thought is in yourmind--some dreadful revenge. Do not cherish it; do not make my alreadyruined life a worse torture to me. Let me have help, let me send for adoctor----'
"But his sternly lifted finger was already pointing at the door.
"'You have stayed too long,' he muttered. 'Next time you will barelylook in, and leave without a word.'
"I crouched, he cowed me so, and then fled, this time to find Emma,Doris, some one.
"They were both huddled in the hall below. They had heard our voices andwere terrified at the sound.
"'Don't you think he is very ill?' asked Emma. 'Don't you think we oughtto have the doctor come, in spite of his commands to the contrary?'
"'Yes,' I gasped, 'and quickly, or we will feel like murderers.'
"'Dr. Dudgeon is a big know-nothing,' cried Doris.
"'But he is a doctor,' I said. And Doris went for him at once.
"When he came Emma undertook to take him to the laboratory; I did notdare. I sat on the stairs and listened, shaking in every limb. What wasgoing on in that room? What was my father saying? What was the doctordeciding? When the door opened at last I was almost unconscious. Thesound of the doctor's voice, always loud, struck upon my ears likethunder, but I could not distinguish his words. Not till he had comehalf-way down the stairs did I begin to understand them, and then Iheard:
"'A case of overwork! He will be better in a day or two. Send for me ifhe seems any worse.'
"Overwork! that clay-white cheek! those dry and burning lips! the eyeshollowed out as if death were already making a skeleton of him! I seizedthe doctor's hand as he went by.
"'Are you sure that is all?' I cried.
"He gave me a pompous stare. 'I do not often repeat myself,' said he,and went haughtily out without another word.
"Emma, standing at the top of the stairs, came down as the door closedbehind him.
"'Father was not so angry as I feared he would be. He smiled at thedoctor and seemed glad to see him. He even roused himself up to talk,and for a few minutes did not look so ill as he really is.'
"'Did the doctor leave medicine?' I asked.
"'Oh, yes, plenty; powder and pills.'
"'Where is it?'
"'On father's desk. He says he will take it regularly. He would not letme give it to him.'
"I reeled; everything seemed turning round with me.
"'Watch him,' I cried, 'watch----' and could say no more.Unconsciousness had come to relieve me.
"It was dark when I came to myself. I was lying on my own bed, and bythe dim light burning on a small table near by I saw the form of Dorisbending over me. Starting up, I caught her by the arm.
"'What is going on?' I cried.
"Rude noises were in the house. A sound of breaking glass.
"'It comes from the laboratory,' she exclaimed, and rushed from theroom.
"I rose and had barely strength enough to follow her. When we reachedthe laboratory door Emma was already there. A light was burning at oneend of the long and dismal room, and am
id the weird shadows that it castwe saw our father in a loose gown he often wore when at work, standingover his table with lifted fist. It was bleeding; he had just brought itdown upon a favorite collection of tubes.
"'Ah!' he cried, tottering and seizing the table to steady himself; 'youhave come to see the end of my famous discovery. Here it is; look!' Andhis fist came down again upon a jar containing the work of months.
"The smash that followed seemed to echo in my brain. I rushed forward,but was stopped by his look.
"'Another result of your obduracy,' he cried, and sank back faintingupon the hard floor.
"I let Emma and Doris lift him. What place had I at his side?
"'Shall I go for the doctor again?' inquired Doris as she came to myroom a half-hour later.
"'Does he seem worse?' I asked.
"'No; but he looks dreadfully. Ever since we got him on the lounge--hewould not leave the laboratory--he has lain in one position, his eyeupon those broken pieces of glass. He would not even let me wipe up thered liquid that was in them, and it drips from table to floor in a wayto make your blood run cold.'
"'Can I see him,' I asked, 'without his seeing me?'
"'Yes,' said she, 'if you come very carefully; his head is towards thedoor.'
"I did as she bade, and crept towards the open door. As I reached it hewas speaking low to himself.
"'Drop by drop,' he was saying, 'just as if it were my life-blood thatwas dripping from the table to the floor.'
"It was a terrible thing to hear, for _me_ to hear, and I shrank back.But soon a certain sense of duty drove me forward again, and I leanedacross the threshold, peering at his rigid and attenuated figure lyingjust where he could watch the destruction of all his hopes. I could notsee his face, but his attitude was eloquent, and I felt a pang strikethrough all my horror at the sight of a grief the death of both hischildren could not have occasioned him.
"Suddenly he bounded up.
"'Curse her!' he began, in a frenzy; but instantly seemed to bethinkhimself, for he sank back very meekly as Emma stooped over him and Dorisrushed to his side. 'Excuse me,' said he; 'I fear I am not just in myright mind.'
"They thought so too, and in a few minutes Doris stole out after thedoctor, but I knew whatever delirium he had sprang from his hate of me,and was awed into a shrinking inactivity which Emma excused while onlypartially understanding.
"The doctor came and this time I stood watching. My father, who had notexpected this interference, showed anger at first, but soon settled backinto a half-jocular, half-indifferent endurance of the interloper, whichtended to impress the latter, and did succeed in doing so, with thefolly of those who thought he was sick enough to rouse a doctor up atmidnight. Few questions brought few replies, and the irritated physicianleft us with something like a rebuke. He however said he would comeagain in the morning, as there was a fitfulness in my father's pulsewhich he did not like.
"But before the doctor appeared that morning father had called me forthe third and last time to his side.
"'I wish to see my eldest daughter alone,' he declared, as Emma lingeredand Doris hovered about the open door. They at once went out. 'Now shutthe door,' said he, as their footsteps were heard descending the stairs.
"I did as I was bid, though I felt as if I were shutting myself in withsome horrid doom.
"'Now come in front of me,' he commanded, 'I want to look at you. Ihave just five minutes left in which to do it.'
"'Five minutes!' I repeated hoarsely, creeping round with tottering andyet more tottering steps to where he pointed.
"'Yes; the poison has done its work at last. At eight o'clock I shall bedead.'
"'Poison!' I shrieked, but in so choked a tone the word sounded like asmothered whisper.
"But he was alarmed by it for all that.
"'Do not tell the world,' he cried. 'It is enough that you know it. Areyou pleased that you have driven your father to self-destruction? Willit make your life in this house, in which you have vowed to remain, anyhappier? I told you that your sin should be on your head; and it willbe. For, listen to me: now in this last dreadful hour, I command you,heartless and disobedient one, to keep that vow. By this awful death, bythe despair which has driven me to it, beware of leaving these doors. Inyour anger you swore to remain within these walls; in your remorse seethat you keep that oath. Not for love, not for hatred, dare to cross thethreshold, or I will denounce you in the grave where I shall be gone,and my curse shall be upon you.'
"He had risen in his passion as he uttered these words, but he sankback as he finished, and I thought he was dead. Terrified, crushed, Isank upon my knees, having no words with which to plead for the mercyfor which I now longed. The next minute a horrible groan burst upon myear.
"'It eats--it burns into my vitals. The suffering has come,--thesuffering which I have often noted with unconcern in the animals uponwhich I tested it. I cannot bear it; I had rather live. Get me theantidote; there, there, in the long narrow drawer in the cabinet by thewall. Not there, not there!' he shrieked, as I stumbled over the floor,which seemed to rise in waves beneath my feet. 'The other cabinet, theother drawer; _you are where the poison is_.'
"I halted; weights seemed to be upon my feet; I could not move. He waswrithing in agony on the floor; he no longer seemed to know where Istood.
"'Open it--the drawer,' he cried. 'Bring me what is in it.'
"I reached out my hand; heaven and earth seemed to stand still; redlights danced before my eyes; I drew out the drawer.
"'Quick, quick, the powder!' he moaned; 'fetch it!'
"I was staring at him, but my hand groped in the drawer. I felt a littlepacket of powder; I took it and crossed the room. As soon as I was nearhim he stretched out his hand and grasped it. I saw him empty it intohis mouth; at the same instant his eyes fixed themselves in horror onthe drawer I had left open behind me, the drawer in which the poison waskept.
"'Curse you for a----' He never said what. With this broken imprecationupon his lips, he sank back upon the floor, dead."