Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1899-06-22
Recalled to Life.
rom the London Evening News

From the London Evening News.
Blazing noon in the dog days. A
steady, unwinking glare of sunlight
blisters the paint on the ratings of
UP at DR.. Caffyn's house in the hottest
corner Of the square. A tall man
alights, rings, and is forthwith ad-
mitted
There are only three persons before
him. An elderly lady, with a small
boy, who wriggles uneasily on his
chair, and young girl, who sits alone
at the table, turning over a volume of
John Leech's drawings. Burton seats
himself by one of the heavily cur
! tanned windows and falls into a rev.
/ erie
The preternatural silence which fol-
lows does not last long. The door
opens. A servant bows in the direc-
ton of the pair, and the boy is borne
off shrinkingly. Again the door oepns
the girl looks out interrogatively.
! then rises and goes. Only one pris-
Oner left now in the condemned cell.
Burton yaWns with an air of relief,
and saunteTs to the table. He is bat
| Ting with an uncomfortable feeling of
| having been in this room, with the
selfsame people, at some remote stage
j of his past life. Wonders if this can
| possibly be one of the symptoms Of
his illness.
At this moment the opening of a
! door in the hall, a faint murmur and
light football warns the last victim
that his hour has come. He rises and
follows the servant.
quite So" remarks DR.. Caffyn,
thin, Weasel-faced man after examin-
ing his patient. "Quite so. You are.
er-er--'' vainly hunting for his
card.
Burton is my name. Middle Tenn
pie barrister and journalist"
quite So repeats the physician,
with the air of one arriving with some
difficulty at the truth. "Hard-worked
in your profession, Mr.-er-Burton? ?"
''No, not very much. I have not
been able for much lately, owing to
that faintness I told you Of Would
not be better for change of air to
brace me up little, Dr. Caffyn?"
E'The fact is says the physician.
leaning back in his chair and lingering
his eyegless; "the fact is, my dear sir,
can give you only a poor report of
your health Nothing that I-or
anyone else-can give you will do you
much good"
"Plainly speaking, Dr. Caffyn," II
said, rousing myself at last, chow long
have [ to live?"
mot more than a few months. II
fear returns the other, feelingly.
Five or six at most. But you may
find some temporary relief from this"
handing the prescription and rising.
Come and see me, Mr. Burton, when
you like. Avoid worry, excitement.
late hours, and-er-gOod morning"
He passes through the still hall in
to the blazing sunlight once more
the life-giving sunshine which will
never again minister health and
strength to him.
A letter awaits him at his cham
bers. Mechanically he opens it, What
does it matter? What does any
thing matter now?
1t is from Kite & Prabble, the pub
fishers, to the effect that the first edi-
ton Of Mr.. Burton's novel, "Thoth-
mes" having been exhausted in three
weeks, they purposed going to press
with a second edition, in view of the
unprecedented demand. Meanwhile
they inclosed a check for $4,000 in
terms of contract, and remained his
obediently-
TOO late." he exclaims, bitterly.
TOO Iate."
so you really like the book?"
Eyes, very much" she replies. 81
have never read anything which
touched me so deeply"
They were walking in a Devonshire
lane, the niece Of the rector of Dalling-
ton and Burton. The people at the
rectory were old friends of his family,
and it was there that he had met
Emile Conyers.
The book they had just been dis
cussing was "Thothmes," his own an
onymOus novel, but he had not told
her he was the author. Not worth
while now, he thought to himself.
Tell me something you like in
'Thothmes,' Miss Conyers. II read it
lately"
80, well, there is that fine passage
about recognition-no, recollection,
rather. l liked that-about remem-
bering what is happening now as hav-
ing occurred at some far back date
Of ones life. By the by''-this with a
vivid blush-Fthat reminds me, Do
you know. Mr.. Burton, I am quite sure
that l have seen you somewhere be-
fore we met here? I don't remember
where, though I have tried-some-
where, not long ago.
Il am sure / can't say" he says,
quietly, looking down into her frank,
brown eyes. Il don't think we have
met before, and yet-ah, we'll, perhaps
it is only the same curious feeling you
were just speaking of, and to which I
allude-I-I mean the author Of
'Thoth-mes' alludes-in your favorite
passage. Do you know that the
psychologists tell us now that all that
sort Of thing arises from mere twist
ing of our nerve fibers?''
Of course hoforo fboir ctroJ1 o1IoI