Western Kansas world. [volume] (WaKeeney, Kan.) 1885-current, 1886-04-24

pected was my appearance that the man
was unconscious Of my presence until /
had placed my hands upon his arm and
paspad in trembling tones: "Dr. West
I-arrest-"-But the sentence was
never completed.
With a cry that might have been
heard almost in the grave, the unhappy
man shrank from me. At that instant !
turned in the direction to which he was
pointing, with that agonized look upon
his face; and, as I did 90. I loosened my
hold and my hands fell powerless to my
side. In the corner Of the chamber
hitherto hidden from me I saw one of
those old-fashioned bedsteads, with
heavy draperies around it. The curtains
were of silk, once pearly white, now
dulled and faded by age. The counter
pane and pillow, once like driven snow,
were white no more. Lying ON the bed,
with her head on the pillow, and her
body partially concealed by the bed linen,
I saw the form of woman-a woman
who once must have been fair and beau
tiful to behold. Her luxuliant hair fell
in wreaths on each side of her face and
was then brought together over the bare
white throat. Her arms were uncovered
by the Counterpart, and clasping an in
FAINT child in their embrace, lay folded
across her breast.
As 1 realized all the details of what
seemed like a vision, I confess that my
nerves failed me- I could only look at
that cold pale face, lying SO still on the
pillow, with the child-face nesting be-
side it; and, as I looked I realized that
the stiffness was the stiffness of death.
Like one entranced, remained mo-
tionless for some moments, when again I
was aroused to action.
A figure clothed in white-the face
scarcely less pale than the face of the
dead, the scant locks of hair, white with
age, hanging loosely about her shoulders,
the eyes fixed on the bed and the hands
stretched out supplicatingly toward it
glided into the room. Then catching
sight of the PROSTATE figure of the man
who had cast himself beside the bed, with
his hand spread out on the form that lay
there, this apparition of woe, turning on
me glance of reproach that will haunt
me to my dying day, exclaimed, amid
streaming tears: "You have killed him!
My son, my sonr'
And now how shall I finish my story
without wearying you with explanations?
Let me go back to that question once
asked by Gideon West: "What ifsuccess
should come too late?" For all the hap
piness it could bring him, it did come
too late. His struggle with fate, if not
long. had been bitter one. There fell
a grievous sickness on the neighborhood;
disease and death stalked abroad, and
moved down their victims without count
ing the numbers. Against the grim ty-
rants Gideon West fought day and night;
his energy was endless, his courage un-
daunted; and he triumphed. No; not
Gideon West; but the weapons of science
triumphed in his hands. Disease and
death were driven from the field; as they
fed, they shot one last bolt at their victor
it glanced off his armor, but left his
wife and child dead at his side.
Yes, he had won. But what was the
victory worth? Fame, reward, wealth,
all were his; but the one hope of his life
was dead. Yet he never spared himself
never ceased work for day-never
hesitated at any sacrifice He lived, he
said, for one object; it was ito wear out
his ife." The old home knew him to
the end, and the faithful and devoted
woman gave all her years to cheer the
one hero of her life, the poor, struggling
surgeon, the great physician, the man
chlld-Gertrude's husband.
But the end came suddenly at last,
and outwardly there seemed to be no
signs of falling power. The mind SEEM
ed as fresh and as vigorous as ever. Only
in one direction did it give way. Years
of never ceasing brooding over his dead
wife and child did its wife's work, and
as the sad anniversary of his wife's birth
day, her marriage and her death once
more approached, the strain overpower-
ed him. A mania seized him; he
must offer her the most costly treasures.
Yet they must not appear to come from
him, but from others, from those who
owed their health, their life, to his skill.
They must be proofs of his fame-prOofs
to the dead wife OF her husbands
triumph. The mania grew upon him.
Whatever he saw anything OF peculiar
value he seemed to claim it as his own,
fully persuaded, as believe, that it was
willing Offering to the memory of his
dead wife. And so those once inexplic-
cable disappearances were explained.
No one suspected, would-dream of
suspecting, the great doctor; and sane in
everything else, yet with his brilliant
intellect already ripe for decay, the un-
happy man for weeks past had been the
victim of mania he neither comprehend
nor was able to resist. I learned after
ward that medical conference had taken
him to the house where the countess
diamonds were lost on that particular
morning, and he must by accident have
entered the room where the diamonds
were momentarily left unguarded, and
at once he had been led, by an irresist-
ible impulse, to possess them.
Before left that strangely haunted
house at Chelsea on that morning. the