His strongest efforts were unsuccessful, however, and what was worse, Clarissa sent word she could not join the family at their meals, and made no appearance during the entire day.

When she came, he was surprised at her appearance; she was pale, and visibly uneasy, and darkly settled under the eyes; she shrank from him when he offered to treat her, saying all she needed was quiet repose alone. The repet.i.tion of this furnished another problem for William to solve. Not only his pride but his love was humiliated, and he secretly resolved that his book of personal experiences should not be finished and given to the public until he was a wiser man than he then was; he had thought he knew much, but he now realized that he understood only very little of the science upon which he had worked so zealously.

It was a pitiable condition, when he had no faith in either his subjects or himself, for he had always believed faith and confidence were the greatest requisites for a mesmerist. His years of hard and patient study seemed to have only brought him to this;--a state of general doubt.

Merle, who had been his most trusted subject, had proven false, and he could never again place implicit confidence in any one. In the past, any a.s.sertion that Merle had made was accepted without comment or doubt, but now, that he had been untruthful in the trance condition, being honest and trustworthy in his normal state, he knew absolute faith in a subject's a.s.sertions would never again be his.

Time pa.s.sed rapidly. One night, as he was sitting alone, planning an excursion of pleasure for Augustus and Merle and Alice, knowing Clarissa was with her son, she came to him with a large book in her hand, and said:

"Here, William, is an exact account of all that transpired while Alice was entranced. Read it carefully, and see if she was correct when she told me we would give you knowledge you could not obtain for yourself, because of reasons she has explained. I have not placed one word of my own in it; everything is just as Alice gave it. You will see I have asked very few questions, permitting her to choose her own subjects. I bring it to you now, as I feel I shall soon be ill, and no one knows, at such times, exactly how it will terminate. Do not look so surprised; I am not afraid--I think all will be well, but I wanted you to have this with my explanations. According to Alice's statements, we, working together, have obtained better results in technical points and causes of the various phenomena than you could; we have not obtained the highest nor sublimest wisdom possible, but our united work of love (and that is what this book is) is but designed to be a stepping-stone for you, who have so much more knowledge and power in this line. She says you will glean from it such facts as will enable you to become a still greater power and more ill.u.s.trious man in the realm of science. It is the work of love of two loyal hearts. I hope it will be to you all that she has prophesied. I cannot help the tears, William;--I am nervous."

"Come, you had better retire. You are trembling. How much pleasure you have given me by this loving work, I shall not try to express in words, but I will honestly try from the depths of my soul, to be the man you want me to be. It is a very faulty foundation, Clarissa, but with your love and patient help, I will do my best to be worthy of the wife who was never equaled upon earth, I think. You deserve a better man--"

"William, your words fill me with shame, for I am just one ma.s.s of weakness.--I am cross and irritable with both you and Augustus, but, William, if anything should happen to me, will you not try to forget all my faults, remembering only my love--"

"Clarissa! Clarissa! I will not listen even to your suggestion. Come, let me try to put you to sleep. I am so happy I want to be with you. You are never going to leave me again."

The next morning Augustus slept later than usual. He had been away with Merle all day. He woke fractious and nervous, and nothing seemed just right to him; dressing him was a slow and patient task to Dinah, who was patience itself. After several prolonged altercations, when she had great difficulty in appeasing him, she said:

"You just wait, Honey; Dinah has something for you that will make you just the proudest boy she ever saw. You just wait and see what Dinah brings you."

She pa.s.sed quickly from the room, and soon returned with a small bundle in her arms.

Augustus did not look up when she entered, so did not notice his father was in the room. He was decidedly cross and petulant; he felt he was going to have something he liked to eat proffered to him, and had made up his mind firmly in advance that he would not eat it, no matter what it was. The first thing he knew, Dinah placed the bundle in his arms, and opening the covering, showed him a wee, tiny baby's face.

One expression chased another so rapidly over his face, that, keenly as William and Dinah watched him they were both unable to distinguish the predominating thought. They had all been anxious to know how Augustus would feel toward the little stranger. William wanted to be present when he first saw it, to a.s.sure him no one could possibly occupy his place in the affections of either father or mother, and was just about to step forward and speak, when the baby began to cry. At the first sound of that cry, Augustus looked up at Dinah, his face a perfect picture of wrath, and said:

"If you do not know how to take care of that baby, I do; I tell you it wants something to eat."

This was such an unexpected result William burst into a laugh, and, bending, kissed first Augustus and then the baby, saying, "Well, my son, see what has been given to us to love."

Augustus paid little attention to his father, but turned, instead, to Dinah, holding the baby close to him.

"Is that the way you treated me? It is a wonder I lived. It shall have something to eat, if I have to go and get it myself. You wait; I will go and tell mamma."

From that minute, there was only one anxiety about Augustus and the baby in any of their minds;--that was he would smother it or feed it. He would watch it sleeping, and drew it in every way. If it cried, he was anxious. He was a greater trouble than the baby. It had been expected he would be sensitive and jealous when the baby came, for he had been such an object of attention himself. They were totally unprepared for the real result.

He and Dinah were in a state of perpetual and continual combat, from his rising to his sleeping. It seemed to him there was never such another babe as that; he could not trust Dinah to care for it. All his boyish plans for the future were changed, and everything was gauged by "when sister is big enough." He insisted that she should be named for his mother;--the dearest name in the world to him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

During Clarissa's illness, William devoted all the available time he could find to the study of the book she had brought him. He had many interruptions, for Augustus appealed to his father in his altercations with Dinah, when they were too severe for him to conquer by might of his own will.

There were many visitors, who came to inquire the health of Clarissa and her babe. Clarissa seemed very nervous if William was long away, so he did most of his reading near her. She said this uncontrollable desire to know he was close beside her arose from the mental suffering she had endured from his absence when Augustus was born. She suffered keenly then, and the same conditions brought similar sensations. She was perfectly satisfied to remain quiet if she saw him present, but if he remained long from her, she was pursued by fears and thoughts that she would not tell even him.

In her weakened condition, they quickly showed themselves in her physical depletion. She was annoyed at her weakness, but her sufferings were none the less acute because she knew that they were visionary.

She was not a weak woman in any sense of the word, but just now her husband's presence furnished her a sense of security; his absence brought weakness. The fact she had had no long or severe confinement made it still harder to account for her subsequent nervousness.

Doctors Baxter and Harrington had for some time been trying to get William to perform an experiment in psychology for them. He put them off from time to time by different excuses, because he was unwilling to leave Clarissa for a long enough time, knowing her confinement was near.

Not having been with her at the time of Augustus' birth, and having no experience in such cases, he was more concerned about it than he would admit.

After her easy and well nigh painless delivery, he felt so relieved the next day but one, he went with them. He was gone almost the entire day, as the physicians asked him to visit a patient of each, who was suffering from nervous troubles, which eluded their powers, and which they felt he could relieve. They were situated at quite a distance one from the other, so it consumed considerable time to visit them.

William felt perfectly easy in his mind regarding Clarissa. He had told her where he was going, and she said she was proud he could do what others failed to do. She was comfortable and happy, when he left, laughing gaily at Augustus' concern because baby slept so long. She had an arm around each as he took his last look at them before leaving the room. That picture of home and happiness had been with him all day.

Once he would not have thought that day's work an arduous one, as he sought for years to crush every sentiment and interest but scientific research. The more work he had before him, the more contented he was; now he could not help thinking, even while he worked, of his family.

Both doctors remarked how quickly he placed each subject in a trance state; in the last instance, especially, it was very noticeable, as the sick girl was a peculiarly sensitive person, but being entirely ignorant of mesmeric power was consumed by fear, exhibiting traits bordering upon convulsions. She did the same when William began to work. Her heart exhibited such erratic tendencies of action, the three men united in the verdict it was better not to force her further.

As he witnessed the girl's suffering, he thought of his own baby girl, similarly terrorized, for it was only terror that caused the condition.

Immediately the scientist and man of force was submerged, and the father was the predominating man. Without any thought but loving sympathy, he placed his hand upon the girl's head and said:

"Poor child;--do not worry;--you shall not be molested, nor forced by me, any more than I want my baby girl so treated."

He smoothed her head, and she gave him such a look of grat.i.tude as he could not soon forget, then closed her eyes. He saw she was pa.s.sing into a comatose state, without his forcible dictation. Once placed there, he gave her the customary suggestions, telling her to wake at a certain time, then left the doctors to return home, feeling tired, but cheered by the knowledge of the presence of the three loved ones who were awaiting him.

How he pitied the two men whom he had just left, who were going to their elegant homes, but for whom there was no wife or children waiting. Often the three had communed together in the past, upon their good fortune in having a place of quiet and repose, where they would be unmolested, and free to think. Now William knew that, whatever conditions of perplexity, even of discord and confusion awaited him in his home, it was infinitely sweeter and preferable to the quiet and peace they had pretended to like, for while he joined them in congratulations upon this condition, his soul had hungered for his wife's presence. How did he know there was no similar episode in each of his two friends' lives?

They believed him when he had lied. Yes. There was no escaping the truth; he might as well own up to himself, if he would not to anyone else. He, a truthful man, in all other respects, lied rather than reveal a heartache he felt to be a weakness. No one but himself knew he lied.

How did he know that Baxter and Harrington were not lying too, actuated by the same motive--their inability to secure the companionship of the particular woman they loved.

As he thought of his own heartaches, when alone, he felt a profound pity for them, while respecting the motives that kept them silent. It was as natural for man to love woman, as it was to breathe the air into his lungs. Yes, there must be some tragedy in each of his friends' lives.

His earnest wish was they might terminate as happily as his had.

He had arrived home by the time he had reached this conclusion, and, for all his fatigue, he ascended the steps with the buoyancy and elasticity of a youth, he was so anxious to look at his treasures.

His animation and joy received a rude shock, when he saw James' face, and he happened to be the first person he met. There was such a look of anxiety and sadness there, as was not to be mistaken by anyone who knew him well. Without waiting for William to ask him the cause, he said:

"Oh, Master, I am so glad you have come! Mistress Clarissa was stricken suddenly very ill. We are much concerned about her, long ago sending to both Doctors Baxter and Harrington, thinking to bring them and you. She isn't quite herself, sir. Won't you hasten?"

No need for this last injunction, for William was already ascending the stairs with rapid strides, not waiting for all the steps. Soon he was in Clarissa's room, where he found both Dinah and Nancy; Dinah was holding the babe while Nancy tried by every means she knew to coax and divert Clarissa's attention.

One glance showed William the condition of affairs. She had a high fever; her face was red, and her eyes sparkled with an unnatural brilliancy. She was talking rapidly but disconnectedly. How he felt, he could have told no one, and, unlike his usually calm and sensible self, he rushed at once to the conclusion this was that dangerous and weakening fever that so often accompanies childbirth.

The sudden reversion from thoughts of happiness to those of acute anxiety was too great for him to immediately overcome, for like most anxious persons, he pictured the worst. Like a horrible panorama, there came before his consciousness, instantaneously, the spectacle of her death. For the time being, he lost sight, entirely, of his power to control such conditions, and instead of being calm and collected, he was anxious, and full of thoughts of doubt and suspense. He spoke in a quick, agonized way:

"Clarissa--Clarissa."

She listened, then answered: "Yes, William; what is it?"

"Are you suffering?"

"No, William; now you have come. I thought I was alone again. That thought made me so miserable! Will you not sit with me a while until I become calm?"