CHAPTER XXXVIII —A TERROR OF GREAT DARKNESS.

Waikato Times, Volume V, Issue 291, 24 March 1874, Page 3

CHAPTER XXXVIII —A TERROR OF GREAT DARKNESS.

The opportunity o/loivditM If m the ni»x» d>\\ but one. Mi Martin and Mrs C >kt*, ami many othi'r- ninonir the neii,h bourhood. who had .hkv i>tiK>d aloof from (!»•• Ft--*, but \.a<\ been won, to k man an>l u woman, by Floin in*! wen- ill Anxious to see h<Hv thojuilng, h<\ndsom«>, and rich Mra fcjr Quentin locked in her w t *d*. The result of this laudable curiosity was an faiDromptu luncheon partj at the Fin, and ft general itroll in the garden* and plantation*— where the young green ' tassels were beginning to hang themselves out — afterward*, fciiriam detached Mr Martin from the partj, and entered upon the matter in her thoughts with characteristic promptitude, bj aiking him to give her a detailed account of Walter* illness at the time of Mr St Quentin'l death. Mf Martin complied i and Miriam Warned from hi* narrative that h«r brother had been ailing>from ths moment offcia return to the Fir*, and that delirium had *et in ' Tfrt rapidlj. He described the wandering of the mind, and repeated mtoch to which she had the key. Mr Martin acknowledged that tie had bettered Walter's mental.' con* dition to to unsound for Some time after Florence thought hfm perfectly well alain, but he had no suspicion that anything of the kind nd# emitted. Bt not teen much of him •mc* bit recovery, hating been away from Dnngton for nearly thief tnonlht ;. io tii* profeasional capacity he had, tinefchis MtttfO, tisited only the sovereign and all-absorbing baby, afld he had sot taken particular notice of Walter. Miriato, who could not explain the chief source, the real inspiring cause of her disquiet, laid great »tres» upon hit i somnolence and indolence j. but ahe did not imprei* Mr ■ Martin very seriously. ' The truth it, my dear,' he said, ' I am accustomed to regard Walter a* *uch an uncommonly lucky dog, that I am Sot surprised to find him turning out an uncommonly idkone also. With such a wife to adore him — a woman ai> clem at she it good ; nothing that mutt be done to do ; plenty of money ; the remembrance of Tery hard work, which makes a holiday life apt to prolong itielf, and a finr natural capacity for indolence — you must permit ire to remind you, my dear, that Walter nerer liked work of any kind -I really think we need not put hi* laiines* down to any more recondite cause than content.' *Do you think it is content that makes him look so old, t*n years older than hi* age, and at least fire year* older than climate can account for ? Is it content that makes him drop all torts of things »uf of hi* hands, and look racantly at them when they fall ? Is it content that makes him lie down on the sofas all about the house, whenever there's no one to watch him and route him up, and renders him almost insensible to pain F* ' What !' said Dr Martin ; ' Walter insensible to pain P He used to be quite the reverse.' ' He gate himself one of the worst cuts I ever saw, this morning, with a broken pane of glass in the consenatory, and I don't think he knew he had cut himself. I was close by, and I knew nothing, until I saw blood on b <by's frock, and fjund it had come fi on Walter 1 * band.' ' That't bad,' said Dr Martin. ' Anything more ?' 'Many things more. He hardly erer speaks without stammering, and ha constantly stands with his eyes shut. Florence notices none of these things ; (he is- always with him, and is the most serene-minded and adaptire of women. Besides— Mr Martin, pray attend to this — he eats a great deal more than be ought to eat.' ' My dear Miriam, this is one of your French notions.' * Indeed, it is not. I think French people eat a great deal n.ore than English people — it is my observation. I don't like the quantity he eats, or the way in which he eats it. You dine with us to-day ; will you promise me to watch him, and judge for yourself?' • 1 will.' They rejoined* the party ; and Miriam saw that Mr Martin kept an unseen watch upon Walter during the whole of that day. In the course of the week, he came several times to tne Fin, and though be said nothing to her on the subject, •he was satisfied that he was steadily taking observations, and that those observations were leading him in the direotion of the apprehension which she, for a reason far outweighing any within Ins ken, entertained more and more keenly day by day. The unconsciousness of Florence, while it was most fortunate, touched Miriam deeply When anything odd, unusual, uncouth, in Walter's demeanour made itself apparent, Florence was only anxious to conceal it, if possible ; and if that were not possible, to account and apologise for it in some simple way. To keep him from the possibility of being blamed by others, was her object ; it nover occurred to her to read the meaning of these tilings to himself. When Miriam had beeu a fortnight at the Firs, during which time Mr Martin had rarely allowed a day to elapse without a visit, he said to her : ' When is your house in town to be ready for occupation ?' 1 At the end of next weel, I expect.*" ' I advise you to go there, to hasten the preparations by your presence, and to dispense with all superfluous arrangements. My dear Miriam, you are right, fearfully right, about poor Walter. I have watched, him too closely now to be mistaken You must get him and Florence up to London, immediately, on the best pretext yoa can devise. When you have them there, she must be told the truth, and the beet advice in the profession must be- procured without delay. There has been too much of that already — though, whether advice is ever of any use in such case* is more than doubtful.' 1 God help him and her ! said Miriam. And so the first blow was dealt by Fate to that fair structure of hope and purpose which Miriam had built ; a blow which caused it to rock and tremble to its foundations. This involved all she loved in the world. They were not many — two human beings only— but Miriam loved her brother and his wife with all the intensity and depth of such concentration ; and the agony not only of her own sufferings, but of the compassion she fe.t for them both, almost unseated her reason. But the demand for action was too imminent, the necessity for concealment was too absolute, to admit of any yielding on Miriam's part which the utmost strength of her will could subdue. She bore it, not blindly, not listlessly, but with a keen-sighted intelligence which looked it through and through, which saw it all, and foresaw it all, every phase of the humiliating withdrawal of the animating spirit from the form of the one, every successive wrench in the process of the breaking of the strong, loving, simple heart of the other. Of a truth, her palace of pride and pleasure rocked and reeled. Three days later, Miriam was in London, at her heuse in Lowndes Square, where a, few rooms had been prepared for her occupation. A pretext was found for getting Florence up to town, in Miriam's wish to avail herself of her taste in the finishing of the house. Unconscious Florence was quite pleased. She wished Walter had shewn mo c interest about it, but he merely assented. He would brighten up when be found himself in town. A day was fixed for their arrival with the baby and their servauts. Mr Martin was to come to London also, but without their knowledge, and not to Miriam's bouse. He would arrange for a consultation with certain famous physicians, aud then Florence must be (old — something — must be to some extent prepared. ' If she does not raad it in my face the moment she orosses the door,' said Miriam half aloud, as she stood leaning her head on her raised hands, turned with their open palms against the wall, in a room of her London bouse, as she had stood, one night in Paris, by the wires of her aviary, in the perplexity of a far less trouble. ' I could bear it for him, but I cannot bear it for her. O Florence, Florence ! ' A bell rang loudly, and Miriam started from her forlorn attitude, and looked into the street, with a momentary terror lest they had already arrived, \bsurd! They could not be here for some hours yet. How she dreaded seeing Walter now ! What had that former dread, which the bad almost forgotten, been to this ? If he should be more vacant, more indolent, more forgetful, more gluttonous! If What elso ii ust he be ? There could be nothing else but sinking lower and lower until the blank was reached. How awful ! how awful ! Would to God that he, her brother whom she loved, might die first! She turned her white, miserable face at the sound of a step. A servant approached her, with a card on a salver. She took the card, and read : ' Mr Lawrence Daly.'