Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1890-04-05

! groan OF agony, staggered back into the hall
| and sank into n chair and sat there languid al
most to faintlng. wiping the perspiration
J from his forehead / could see his hand
| tren,ble as he drew his handkerchief out of his
| coat pocket
came from behind the pillar and ran To
him. He gave cry at sight of me jus. as if ]
had been ghost. | offered to get him some
! brandy. bnt he said there was no occasion. He
lad only suffered from sudden faintness.
! which had come over him us he opened the
library door.
Don't tell your mother" he said; sit would
/ only alarm her causelessly."
But she ought to know" told him. an
deed. indeed. indeed, Uncle Ambrose, you
] must consult some clever physician-you must
! not go on any longer like this"
well. child. will consult physician. if nv
submission upon that point will make you and
| your mother any happier; although can tell
you beforehand that no doctor in London-not
| the whole College OF Physicians-can do any
| good for me. The evil suffer from is purely
| nervous and no doctor has vet fathomed the
/ mystery of the nerves any more than any theo-
| Logan has fathomed the mystery of the worlds
that lie behind this life or in front Of IT..
| took his hand III mine and found it cold
as ice. and the perspiration KEEP. starting out
afresh upon his forehead. His whole being
seemed eonvulsed and shattered. had heard
/ of catalepsy and could but think that he was
| in a cataleptic state during those minutes in
/ which ne stood on the threshold of the library.
IF you will promise TO go up to London to-
morrow with mother to See doctor will not
| tell her anything about this attack today"
| said: but if You refuse ] must tell her."
Haven't | said that | will do anything to
] please you and your mother. Daisy?''
! He kept his word and mother and he went
| of to Cavendish Square. and my cousins from
| Harley street came down Tor u long day at
| tennis. / can only say that it was long day.
| The interval between lunch and tea was a
Pacific ocean of time. l thought the blessed
| break of afternoon tea would never come; but
| the tea kettle appeared at last and mother and
| her husband came home soon after.
She knew | was almost as anxious as herself
and she told me all the doctor had said. Il
did not seem to amount to much. but no doubt
| il was comforting All the wisdom of Caven-
! dish Square might be summed up under three
heads--a judicious diet. as per haif-page of
| note paper filled with the great mans writ
| ing-less intellectual work-and bromide of
| potassium. The diet was the most important
point. according TO the physician. and / sup-
pose he was right, and that an njudiciOus help
ing of Aylesbury duck may have been the cause
OF that strange seizure at the door of my
| fathers old den.
! Cyril took his fathers illness rather lightly
| / told him OF the attack. though said not one
word about it to my mother.
My father is paying the penalty of having
no fixed purpose or pursuit in life; he is suffer
ing from too much money and too much meta
! physics. He has brain capable of better
work than lie has ever done. and he is begin
| ming to suffer from wasted energies"
but he has written books that have made
their mark in the most intellectual circles, :"
said |.
"Yes. and therefore books that the British
public don't care two pence about-books that
interrogate everything and solve nothing
books that leave us not one hairs breadth
further advanced toward the comprehension of
the three great mysteries of matter. life. and
| mind than Aristotle and Plato left us three hun
dred and fifty years before the birth of Christ
Some of the reviews said that your father
/ book marked a new era in philosophy" said L
My dear Daisy. philosophy is like the sea.
| The waves rise and fall and change their forms
| every hour; but the shore is always at exactly
I the same distance from mid ocean,"
felt that it seemed hard upon Uncle Am
brose that the sor should make SO light of the
labors of tine fathers lifetime.
Oh am wicked. desperately wicked steeDed
to the lips in ialsehood and dishonor | ought
never to have listened; ought to have silenced
him III the first moment as / silenced him at
last. He is too honorable a man to have in
sisted upon speaking had been firm. But the
crisis OF my life came upon me suddenly
Those imprisoned words took me unawares
and longed so 10 hear all he had to saw |
wanted so much to know the secret of his heart
though that heart could never be mine
Gilbert FlOrestan had not gone TO Scotland
after all. When l woke yesterday morning 1
thought of him far away in Argyleshire
pictured the barren heathery hills. russell and
palest green under the baking July sky as
Flora and Dora-who go everywhere
often described them to me: and thought
how much nicer those wild hills above the
hyIes OF Butte must be than our pretty little
toy shop river with its willowy eyots, which
look as if one could hold them in the hollow
of ones hand.
felt such longing for Scotland Yesterday
morning, almost as if / were homesick for a
. nm ha nay 4 hzx,. i'll. n
must have Scottish ancestor hidden in some
corner of the family tree. All our fancies and
vagaries are put down to heredity nowadays
aud certainly yesterday morning felt Scotch
blood seething and bubblinS IN my veins
But he was not in Scotland. Mother had mig
understood him about the date of his journey
Oc else he had changed his mind. At any rate
he had only gone TO London to see about
guns and fishing tackle for the autumn and
there he was yesterday morning at IL O'Clock
coming suddenly between Inc and the light as
l sat reading alone IN the summer house in the
shrubbery
Cyril had left us by an early train for a two
days visit 10 a manor house near Guiidford in
religious observance of one of those college
friendships which young men esteem SO highly
HIS friend had telegraphed to him urgently
Come and he went, having carefully ascer-
tanned first that did not mind. How | wish
had minded more.
felt sense OF relief when saw him drive
HIM. missed his cheerful society," which gen.
orally makes thought impossible and L sat
thinking deeply in the stiffness OF the shrub
berry, where there were no birds singing any
more II seemed. l had books work a little
sketch block and color box. ample means for
employment or amusement, and vet | sat idly
thinking. Idly dreaming and picturing q life
that was not the life had pledged myself TO
lead.
IL the midst of these vain and foolish dreams
he whose image had mixed itself with all of
them stood suddenly before me- l looked up
and saw him standing there, mute and serious
My guilty conscience sent the blood I'D TO NV
face In great wave OF crimson. could not
speak, nor think could lie Just at first.
Il thought youswere III Scotland" l said at
last. and really felt as if it was a brilliant re-
mark.
He explained and, the sound of our voices
having made us both just little more at our
! took up my books, ono by one, and looked at
their titles
How learned you are" he said cousin.
Spinosa. Reid did not think that little girls
troubled their curly heads about philosophy !"
Il am not a little girl" I answered, huffed at
this impertinence, land philosophy is my Uncle
Ambroses favorite subject. He taught me all
know and l like to read the subjects that in
teres. him"
Have you read much this morning." he
asked. looking me straight i'll the face, with a
cruelty deliberate scrutiny
Again the hot blood rushed up to cheeks and
brow, and l felt that he must know by my
wretched bushes that had not read = word;
thst had J1st given over my heart and my
mind to utterly foolish thoughts Of him; profit