Semi-weekly south Kentuckian. [volume] (Hopkinsville, Ky.) 1883-1889, 1886-08-13

the bare white throat Her arms were
uncovered by the counterpane, and,
clasping all infant child in their elm
brace, lay folded across her breast.
As realized all the details of what
seemed like vision, confess chat my
nerves failed me. could only look at
that cold, pale face, lying so still on the
pillow, with the child-face nesting be-
side it; and rs looked, | realized that
the stiffness was the stiffness of DEATH
Like one entranced, l remained mo-
tionless for some moments, when again
| was aroused to action.
A figure clothed in whitc-the face
scarcely less pale than the face of the
dead, the scanty locks of hair, white
with age, hanging loosely about her
shoulders, the eyes fixed on the bed and
the hands stretched out supplcatingly
toward it-glidcd into the room. Then
catching sight OF the PROSTATE figure of
the man who had cast himself beside the
bed, with his hands spread out on the
form that lay there, this apparition of
voc, turning on me aglance Of reproacb
that will haunt me TO my dying day, eX-
claimed, amid streaming tears "You
have killed him! My son, my son!"
And now, how shall l finish my story
withoutwearyingy you with explanations?
Let me 60 back to that old question
once asked by Gideon West: "What if
success should come too latep" For all
the happiness it could bring him it did
come too late. His struggle with fate,
if not long. had been bitter one.
There fell grievous sickness on the
neighborhood; disease and death stalked
abroad, and moved down their victims
without counting the numbers. Against
the grim tyrants Gideon West fought
day and night; his energy was endless,
his courage undaunted; and he tri-
umphed. No; not Gideon West; but
the weapons of science triumphed in
his hands. Disease and death were
driven from the field; as they fled, 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 worthP Fame, reward. wealth,
all were his; but the one hope of his life
was dead. Yet he never spared himself
never ceased work for q day
never hea.tatcd at any sacrifice
He lived, he said, for only
one object - it was to "wear
out his lfc," The old home
knew him to the end, and one faithful
and devoted woman gave all her years
to cheer the one horo of her life, the
poor struggling surgeon, tho great
phys o an--thc man who, for pure love,
had married her only child; Gertrudo's
husband!
But the end camo suddenly at last,
and outwardly there seemed to be no
signs Of sfal.ng power, The mind
seemed as fresh and as vigorous as ever.
Only in one direction did it give way.
Years Of never-ccOslng brooding over
his dead wife and child did its work;
and as the sad anniversary of his wifo's
birthday, hor marriage, and Of her
death, onoc more approached, the strain
ovorpowered him. A mania seized him;
| he must offer her the most costly treas
urcs. Yet they must not appear TO
como from him, but from others, from
those who owed their health. their life,
to his skill. They must be proofs Of
his famo-proof to the dead wife of her
husbands triumph. The mania grew
upon him. Wherever he saw any thing
that was 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 50
those once inexplicable 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 unhappy man for weeks
| past had been the victim of mania he
neither comprohended nor was able to
resist. learned afterward that medi-
cal conference had taken him to the
house where tine Countess diamonds
were lost on that particular morning,
and he must by accident have entered
the room where the diamonds were
momenarily left unguarded and at
once he had been led, by an Irresistible
impulse, to possess them.
Before ! left that strangely haunted
house at Chelsea on that Christmas
morning, the twice-stricken mother led
me to the dread bedside and placed my
hands on the cold face. l looked at the
mother, and then felt the white hands
that lay clasped before me. The woman
read my thoughts.
"No," she whispered; sit is not the
flesh of mortal! 1t is but fearful coun-
terfeit of DEATH 1t was modelled from
the dead wife and child, and was to have
been reproduced in marble for Gcrtrude's
tomb. But Gideon West would not
have it removed. Call it morbid
fancy or q passionate love, which you
will; but for years ho has spent the
hours of his solitude. beside this poor
image of his wife! Now, tell me, was
yonder dead man a thief, or was he tho
victim to unconquerable maniap'
For Gideon West was dead, and his
secret died with him.
We laid him on his own bed; and
when the coroner's jury said next day
that he died "by the visitation of God, ="
they spoke the truth.
The lost jewels were restored to their
owners with the simple explanation that
he who had taken them was beyond the
reach of human justice.
For my part in the restitution, l was
generously rewarded; but it was the last
investigation ] ever undertook. Many
years have passed, and the world soon
forgcts; but thought it would interest
some to learn what | knew concerning
the Great Jewel Robbery Chambers
Magazine.