CHAPTER VI.

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 294, 29 August 1888, Page 3

CHAPTER VI.

TREATS OP THE DEVELOPMENTS OF SEVERAL YEARS, A full week passed before Mr Huntress heard anything further from Dr. Scherz, and it was a week of anxiety and unrest for him. At the end oE that time the physician went again to see the Huntress protege, taking a noted hospital surgeon with him. After another protracted and critical examinatien the two gentlemen decided to< undertake the operation together. • -The boy was removed to a hospital where .diseases of the brain were treated, and there the delicate and hazardous operation 'Was performed. v - The result proved that Dr. Scherz had thoroughly understood the case — that his theory was the correct one. A severe blow upon the head, years previous, fractured the skull, a portion of which was crowded in upon the brain, the pressure causing temporary paralysis and idiocy, also loss of enei'gy in the hypoglossal or lingual nerve. This piece of bone was removed, the brain relieved of- the unnatural pressure, and the result was both wonderful and startling. .^.Before the patient had fully recovered from the effects of the ether which had been administered to him, memory and speech both reasserted their functions by completeing a senter.ce which had evidently been interrupted at the time of the accident which had deprived the boy of their use. * — (ell my papa ." were the words which fell upon the ears of the startled surgeons, while the large blue eyes of their patient slowly unclosed and gazed up into the faces bending over him, the light of reason once more gleaming in their azure depths. ' What will you tell papa ?' asked Dr. LScherz, in a quiet tone, while the other surgeons drew quickly out of sight. 4 Jack struck Margery,' was the instant reply. 'Who is your papa, my boy ?' • Why he's pnj)a ; don't you know ? — my good papa," was the response, while a puzzled look shot over the lad's pale face. Dr. Scherz knew from his manner of speech that he must have been very young — not more than five years of age — at the time of his injury, and when that great darkness had so suddenly enveloped him. i 'Yes, your good papa,' said the doctor, j soothingly. * Now go to sleep like a j little man.' ' I'm Margery's little man— where is Margery ?' he questioned, drowsily, and, closing his eyes, he was soon in a profound slumber. The two physicians watched him in silence for a few moments, then they looked up into each other's face ; eye held eye for an instant with an eloquent glance, the next their hands met in a prolonged and hearty clasp across their patient, for they knew that, if all went well, they had succeeded in an operation that would give them a famous reputation for all time. , When the boy awoke again he called lustily for ' Margery,' and a kind, motherly nurse was at once appointed to care for him. He appeai-ed to know, however, that she was not ' Margery," although he appeared to take to her and was content to have her attend him. ' Where's Jack ?' he asked of Dr. Scherz, who still remained with him determined to watch him, most carefully, ' Jack who ?' he asked. ' Why, Margery's 7ack ; but he isn't good like Margery,' from which the physician inferred that ' Jack ' must have been Margery's husband, and not an over-kind one either. 1 Ob, Jack has gone away,' hp answered, cai elessly . • What is your name, my boy ?' 'I'm Geoffrey, sir.' ' Geoffrey what ?' ' iyhy, Geoffrey Dale—don't you know ? I'm papa Dale's own boy. ' ' Where is papa ?' ' Gone away oft,' was the reply, accompanied by a grieved look, * and he won't come again for ever so long.' Dr. Scherz would not press him further ; he knew that they must be patient. Memory had lain dormant for so long, and the child had been so young at the time of losing it, that it was doubtful if they could ever learn very much regarding his history. Weeks passed, and Geoffrey was at last pronounced well enough to return to the beautiful home awaiting him in Brooklyn. He had recovered without a single drawback. The light of reason gleamed in his eyes, and he had the full use of all the organs of speech. But, although the doctors had decided that he must be fully fifteen years of age notwithstanding his growth had been somewhat stunted by the .effects of his injury, mentally he was little better than an infant. He talked like a child of five years, and acted like one. But very little could be learned of his previous life. It was evident that he had been living with a woman named Margery — who, probably, was his nurse —and a man named Jack — possibly the woman's husband. Margery he had loved, and he often called for her now. Jack he had feared, and looked frightened whenever his name was mentioned. Of the injury which had deprived him of his memory he seemed to be able to tell nothing, although he affirmed that Jack had struck and tried to choke Margery, and he wanted to * lick the naughty man.' Of his mother he knew absolutely nothing ; his father was not much more than a name to him, although he spoke of him as hie 'good papa,' while he could not tell anything whatever about the place where his former home had been, and knew nothing of the circumstances of his being in New York. He was very quick to comprehend, however, now that he once more had his reason, and readily adapted himself to his new surrounding. Mr Huntress resolved to adopt him legally and do all in his power to atone for the long interval of darkness and mental incapacity to which he had been so strangely doomed. Geoffrey began at once to regard his new friends with the greatest confidence and affection, while toward Gladys he manifested the most devoted love. She, on her part, regarded him with tenderest compassion and sympathy, for, in spite of his remarkable beauty and natural ability, he was truly a pitiable object, with the simple mind and manners of a child five years of age in a body of fifteen ; but he soon began to develop rapidly, physically, after his restoration, and bade fair to be a man of splendid physique. He was not long in realising that he was far from being like other boys of his age, and he began to be very sensitive over the fact — to grow grave and thoughtful, and sometimes positively unhappy. • Why can't I be like other boys ?' he once asked of Mr Huntress, with a per-

plexed look on his fine face, and the gentleman kindly explained thab, when he had been very young, someone or something I must have struck 1 him a blow on this head which had injured his brain, so that for years he had been the same as if sound asleep and liad only just waked up again ; that his body had grown, but his mind had not. * Oh, I know, 3 Geoffrey returned, with a startled look, a new light coming into hia eye. ' Jack threw a great stick of wood at me.' ' What made him do that ?' Mr Huntress asked eagerly. The boy bent his head, and seemed trying to recall the events of that dim past. ' He came into the kitchen wit)) a dreadful red face,' he said, 'and he was very ugly to Margery— l can't think about what. He put his hands around her neck, and she screamed. I ran up and struck him, and told him I'd tell my papa, and— that's all I know,' he concluded, with a sigh. Mr Huntress could imagine that the man was intoxicated, and being in a frenzy, he had porhaps seized a stick of wood from the hearth, thrown it at the child, and knocked him senseless. ' What was Jack's other name? 'he asked. 'Jack — Jack — ' GeoflVey began, then shook his head hopelessly. 'I can't tell,' he concluded ; and Mr Huntress felt that it only annoyed him, and it would be useless to try to find out anything definite from him, so he let the matter drop. One day, after GeoflVey had been with the family some three months, he came in from the street looking flushed and angry. Seeking Gladys, he besought her most piteously to teach him to read. Upon inquiring what prompted the request, she tound that Geoffrey had been attracted by a glaring placard that had been posted up somewhere on a building, and had asked some boys what it was. This had at once betrayed his woful ignorance, for if he had even known his letters, he could at least have made out something of the nature of the bill, and they had tormented him unmercifully for being a simpleton. Gladys at once procured a primer and set herself at work to teach him. He proved to be a most diligent pupil, with great perseverance and a wonderful power for memorising, for in a month he had mastered the whole of its contents. Mr Huntress was astonished at his piogress, and wanted to put him ac once into school. But Geoffrey, who was developing rapidly in every way, shrank from the proposal and begged his Uncle August, as he had been taught to call Mr Huntress, to allow Mm to study at home. ' They will laugh at me at school, for I shall have to go into classes with little boys only five or six years old,' he pleaded, with crimson face. ' But you must go to school some time, and you will have to begin with boys younger than yourself,' Mr Huntress replied. ' Won't you keep on teaching me, Gladys?' Geoffrey asked, appealingiy. ' 1 will study hard and never trouble you by not having my lessons, and perhaps I can catch up with other boys by-and-by.' Gladys said she would keep on with him. But she was not allowed to do so, although she often gave him help in many ways. She had her own studies to attend to and was working hard at them, therefore Mr Huntress would not allow her to tax herself any further, and so a tutor was engaged to come to the house every day to attend to Master Geoffrey's lessons. The boy was true to his promise. He studied diligently, and his tutor never had occasion to utter'a word of complaint over ill-prepared lessons. GooffVey seemed to i-ealise more and more how far behind other boys of his own age he was, and with his pride and ambition thus aroused, no task seemed toodifficulttoaccomplish, if it would only serve to help him to overtake them. Another thing troubled him exceedingly. He had learned that Gladys was two years younger than himbelf, and yet she was nearly half through the high school, while he was simply learning his alphabet. The thought overwhelmed him with shame and pain. ' Gladys »s a girl younger than I, and I am years and years behind her, when I should be ever so far beyond her,' he said one day to Mrs Huntress", when he had become almost discouraged over one of his lessons and had .gone to her for help and sympathy. ' But Gladys has always been at school and you have not, Geoff, 3 returned his aunt, kindly. 'Go and ask her to show you about these problems ; she can help you much better than I, for they are fresh in her mind.' But the proud boy had all at once grown I keenly sensitive and would not seek the young girl's aid. He preferred to fight the battle out by himself, rather than be coached by a girl younger than he was. Of course, this was the better way ; he gained in mental strength and self-re-liance by it, and he accomplished more in three year 3 than the ordinary schoolboy would in six. Aside from his pride and sensitiveness in this respect, he was ever ready and eager to be with Gladys. Wherever she went, after school hours, he was her constant and devoted attendant, and no service was too hard or disagreeable to be performed for her. And she enjoyed having him with her. He was outgrowing the delicate, almost effeminate look, which he had had when he first came to them ; an air of manliness and strength had taken its place, while there was a natural gallantry and manliness about him that made him a very agreeable escort. Another year passed, and he made even more rapid strides in his studies than before ; still it was a great trial to him that he had only completed the studies of the second year of the high school course, and Gladys was ready to graduate. He was present at her examinations, and also at the exercises of the class when it graduated, and it was evident, from his flushed cheek and glittering eye, that some bitter struggle was going on within him. He watched the beautiful girl's every movement, he eagerly drank in every word she uttered, and was as proud of her as he could be, yet all the time miserably conscious of his own deficiency. That evening he shut himself within his own room and fought a terrible battle out with his pride and wretchedness. ' I am nineteen years y old, and she is seventeen,' he said, bitterly. 'I am two years behind her, and I should be two years in advance — there are four years of my life lost; no, not lost either;' he added, with sudden energy, ' for I will make them up, I xoill gain them. Can Ido six years' work in four 1 harder work, too, than I have ever done before ? Yes, / will ! He sat down to his table and began to look over his books, making calculations as to how much ground he could get over in a given time, while every few moments he would consult some catalogues that lay beside him. The next morning he walked down to the Fulton Ferry with Mr Huntress, and on the way he remarked, with. more than his accustomed gravity :

* Uncle August, Gladys is going to Vassal next year, isn't she ?' ' Yes ; she is ambitious to .take an advanced course, -and 1 there is no rhdi'ori why she should not do so, if shedeeires.' - ' Will you allow me to continue' my studies during the summer with Mr Rivors, and enter some institution* in the fall whore I can advance more rapidly '?' Mr Hu n trees tv rned and lookod searchingly into the young man's flushed face, as he asked this question. He was a tall, manly fellow of nineteen, strong and stalwart of frame, his fine, massivo head crowned with wavy hair a few shades darker than it' was when we first saw him, his eyes full of lire and intelligence, his whole face glowing with strength of character, and a certain something which gave one an idea of great reserve power, and it was no wonder that the countenance of Mr Huntress .ighted with a look of pride, as he realised Unit, under God, he had been instrumental in giving to the world this noble specimen of manhood. Then a sudden smile broke over his face. " Why, Geoff, are you envious of Gladys, because she is going to college V ho asked, in bantering tones. A deeper flush suffused the young man's handsome face. Then he replied/ in low but intense tones : ' I hope I am not envious of any good that comes to her : 1 am more proud of her than I can express, and 1 would not have her anything but just what fehe is, the kindebt, the smartest, and loveliest of girls ; bub I can't quite stand to be so tar behind her, to have her look down upon me and despise me for being so ignoiant.' 'I do not think that Gladys would ever be guilty of anything &o unkind, Geoff: she loves you far too well for that,' returned Mr Huntress, gravely, but &till closely watching his pro/e</e, for he could well understand the pain he was suffering. Geoffrey's face kindled, and his companion could see his temples throbbing as the blood coursed more quickly through his veins at his words. 'Thank you, Uncle Augu&tus, for abjuring me of Gladys's affection : but I want her respect as well,' he said, with a slight quiver in his tone. August Huntress started at that reply, for it betrayed a great deal. It told him that the devotion and affection which he had manifested for Gladys from the first had now grown into a strong, deep passion, which Avould either make or mar his whole future, and he was strangely moved by this discovery. How would it be with Gladys, if she should discover it? Would her heart respond to this wealth of love ? Would she ever be willing to link her fate with his ? She was far in advance of Geoffery, mentally, but he was making euch rapid strides after her that, at tbe rate he had been gaining on her of late, it could not be i very long before he would reach the plane on which she was standing, even if he did nob distance her altogether. Well, well, it would be a romantic ending to the story of their lives, he thought, if these two bo strangely thrown upon his care— with so much of mystery surrounding their birth and parentage and likely always to envelop them — should some day unite their fates and wed each other. But he allowed nothing of all this musing to appear ; he simply said with his accustomed kindness and genial smile : ' You are worthily ambitious, Geoff, but I don't know how you will stand it to apply yourself so closely all summer and then go right on in the fall. I oannot allow you to sacrifice your health to your love for study.' 1 But I am well, and strong as a giant ; will you let me try, sir? 1 he pleaded, earnestly. ' Yes, indeed, with all my heai b.~ It i« a pleasure to give you advantages when you improve them so eagerly. T will make it an object to Mr Rivers to lemain with you during the vacation, and then we can decide later where you, will go in the fall." ' 'Thank you, Uncle August— you are like a dear father to me, and I could not love you better if you really were. I hope some day to prove, in some tangible way, ■ how grateful I am for your £oodnes&,' Geoffrey said with deep feeling. ' Tut ! tut ! my boy, don't burden yourself with any sen.se of obligation ; I am getting my pay as 1 go along, in the enjoyment I get out of having a fine, manly fellow like yourself in the house. i don't believe I could be prouder of my own son than I am of you, and. taking all in all, I imagine there isn't a happier family in all Brooklyn than the one i-e&iding at No. — , Clinton Avenue. Eh, Geoff?'