Waterbury evening Democrat. [volume] (Waterbury, Conn.) 1887-1895, 1891-03-30

itself passport into Maynard's admira>
than do" he had often unused, land
not let him drop as somehow must"
Still, since his marriage, Maynard had
smoked good many social pipes in the
company of his friend, though latterly
they had seen less and less of each
other, as the big hum and hustle Of
London had seemed to slip separatively
between them. While he now heard
DIR. Thorndylze speak, an expression OF
pain touched Maynard's hueless face.
He had swiftly suspected his wife OF
duplicity; he could not refrain from the
belief that she had served him a horrid
and stealthy trick.
But his brain, at present thoroughly
clear, saw the futilitY of attempting
either accusation or remonstrance. The
will-to-live was strong in him. If such
peril menaced speech, he would strive
to preserve silence. By a gesture and q
meaning movement of the features he
showed DIR. Thorndyke that he would
impose no further search. Resolving to
live on through the preservation Of ST.
Hence, he suffered for the next three
days untold fortunes. Mentally he was
vitality itself; physically he was almost
complete failure of fiber and nerve.
Georgina would come into his room and
perform the offices Of nurse with care
full exactitude. Now and then she
brought the boys In to stand at his bed
side and let him clasp their hands. Syl-
van would be very gentle and demure;
Gerald would sometimes press his warm,
plump cheek against the chill and thin
paternal hand, and show with trembling
lips and fearful eyes the depths of his
pity and regret. DIR. Thorndyke would
drop in twice q day, always ordering
continued silence by the elevation Of his
forefnger, and always uttering, as well.
words of sympathy mixed with cheer.
Meanwhile Maynard still suffered be-
yond words, and at last, one evening,
he determined to suffer no longer In
Just this same horrible way. He might
be called upon to endure fresh misertes,
but at least they would be Of new and
less CHASTITY kind. His wife had left
him; the candles were lit In his small
! bedchamber; he was quite alone; 1t
would be only step to his laboratory.
He felt much stronger than at any time
since his Weakening to consciousness.
After slowly quitting his bed and
standing erect on the floor, he felt bet
ter still. A dressinggown lay on q
near chair, and he hastily ensheathed
his form In its folds. The room was
cold, and he longed for slippers YET
could find none. Soon ceasing the
quest for them, he glided into the outer
hall, carrying with him q box Of wax
tapers which he had snatched exultant
" from the mantel.
To gain his dark laboratory was but
the work Of minute. To light its
gloom took even less time. There he
was, girt by the old scene Of his tot
and yearning. With gaze that sho'
from corner to corner of the well
known room, he sought for his los
flask. Nowherel He scented, like some
heavy and repulsive smell, the treaoh
cry of his wife. Soon he gave up search
ing. What If at any moment some new
Illness gripped himP And there was hi
desk; paper, pens, ink were on it, just a
of old. To write out the full recipe o
that incompatible drug would not tax,
more than twenty minutes at the most
He seated himself before the desk
and began to write. This was o mes
sage-perhaps dying message-to hi
son, his eldest boy, Sylvan. He knew
Just how to frame the whole formula
1 Il - III