The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1883-09-14
and mine we could afford a modest

and mine we could afford modest
home.
We would begin plainly and live
cheaply. She would still ply her brush
and / would dig away down in Wall
street, but we should be together. We
had our love as splendid capital.
That was invested tor us, and with that
we could not be poor.
These were days and NIGHTS full Of
happiness. Helen seemed to need no
sleep. She was often by my side at
that dread hour of three in the morning.
wiping the deWs from my brow and
helping to account for the strange
noises. We came to, the conclusion
that the periodic dropping of the crow
bar was some midnight assassin of
sleep repairing the elevated railroad.
The little tinkling bell, we thought,
might be some cat entangled in net
work of resounding metal, the descend
ant Of Ben the Cat, whoever he might
be. Helenwas the only person who
had attended me through my illness,
who ever tried to explain, and to help
me out of my intellectual mazes. The
others ignored them.
1t was the power of love, that one
blessed inspiration, which never tires,
never grows antagonistic, never sneers
and never treats as trivial the slightest
wish or theory of the beloved object.
Helen was always fresh. She seemed
to have just stepped from her firing
women, like Helen of Troy. I never
saw in her the disorder of early morn
ing or night; the fatigue and heat of
the sick room never reached her The
freshest colors, the freshest flowers, the
sweet, careful arrangement Of her hair,
the perfume of neatness-all this and
more followed my beloved and made
her priceless. And then began to call
her my wife. To be sure, it was pre-
mature. But she forgave it. Perhaps
the sweetest word known to the ear of
man or woman carried with it its own
apology. She should be my wife!
And preposterous as it was, she for
gave me.
She was not by my side when need
ed her most, when the two men were
rubbing me with salt flannel cloths and
the doctor was pouring brandy down
my throat. Oh, how / needed her in
that painful struggle, when, as they
said, 1.-THE fever turned.n Howl need
ed her in those hours of mortal weak
ness which succeeded. / could not ask
for her. | could not speak. could
only think and pray for her, and look
at the door to see If she were coming
in. 1t was the third day, think, after
this that the doctor told me that Arthur
had the fever, upstairs; that had worn
out two trained hospital nurses, and
that had been so delirious as to need
the attendance of two men.
j" These pictures" said the doctor,
smiling, "have come in for good deal
Of brain trouble" and he pointed to the
Cenci, still covered.
He stepped to the frame and took
down the cover. How poor and pale
a copy it seemed, how utterly insignif-
can't!
g But said I, "doctor, all this is
very well; but what has become of
Helen, my Helen Froment, my wife?"
The doctor laughed.
/" My dear boy, said he, s'she was
only a part of the fever. One of your
insane dreams. That excellent Miss
Hunt she is elderly and plain enough
for all professional purposes, but she
had to ring the bell and summon Simon,
you made love to her so feryently. She
knew, however, that you were as mad
as halter, and shewill never sue you
for breach of promise of marriage She
is down with the fever herself, poor
girl. "
j would not believe it; I did not be-
lieVe it, and / don't believe it. Iwould.
wait and see Arthur, and ask him if it
were nota conspiracy Of my enemies.
When we two met again we were two
ghosts of long standing. The same i'm
perfect plumbing which had made me
ill had reached my generous friend, and
together we had made night hideous for
the respectable mansion in West Blank
street.
But Arthur had not lost a wife as
had done, and he got well quicker. l
could not help asking him if there was
not some foundation for my theory of
Helen. Had not somebody entered the
house by the balcony that dreamy, star
ny night?
g Yes" said Arthur, ''that was true.
My sisters goYerness did come home
late, after a railway detention, and did
get in over the balcony, and was scared
at finding you in the room. She was
off the next morning however, bright
and early, and you would not call her
Helen if you saw her now, / am sure.n
| did see her later; and / agreed with
Arthur that she was not nag Helen, at
least.
But the memory was too strong to be
shaken off. Where had gone that real,
that beautiful person who had made me
so happy? Where was that rare intel
igenee, that cool hand, that fresh, vig-
orous, untiring young girl? Ii I had
created that Eve | was q demi-god I
could not surrender the powerful inn
preston to disbelieve in her. 1t seemed
like an infidelity to real woman.
What if, unknown to all the world.
some dear creature, inspired by divinest
pity, had deceived the nurses and the
doctor had entered and cared for me,
had loved me and had accepted my love
in return? Twas pledged to this being.
Shewas mine. She should be my wife.
| should meet her again. I shall meet.
her again; am convinced of it. aa'
My doctor sent for DR.. Hammond to
come and talk to me about the brain.
He told me of one of his patients, who
always saw Sir Walter Raleigh if he
tied his necktie too tight, and so on.
'.Doctor,n said I, twill you kindly
tie my necktie in such manner that I
can see Helen again."
'Afraid to do it, sir!" said the great
brain man. ''Helen was born of q Sc
we're typhoid delirium, and picture.
Your nurse-the curtain even took her
shape. She was the aesthetic untouched
side of your brain, the relief from the
tortured side; that in you which loved
music and painting and poetry, called
itself Helen. No! / am afraid you have
lost your wife. 4a
doctor" said l, edo these spirits
or visions paint in water colorsPn
And drew from q little drawer in
my table. where l had seen her place
it, Helen's copy of the Rubens.
That's pretty study said the
doctor, looking up at the original.
"Done by one of Arthur's sisters, T