The Kendrick gazette. [volume] (Kendrick, Idaho) 1892-1968, 1905-04-14
CHAPTER XIII.

on the brain. And then l seemed to
awake from a long, troubled sleep, and
an agony beyond my power to describe.
l made an effort and succeeded in
drawing little apart the curtains at
the foot Of the bed. Almost within my
reach stood a table. upon which was
a moderator lamp, burning low. jug,
tumbler, and some bottles.
The faint rays Of the lamp showed me
large. gloomy oak-panelled room, with
the ceiling painted to match. Tie win
dows opposite me were covered with
heavy curtains, and the furniture was
dark and very old-fashioned. On one
side was huge fireplace, decorated with
oak carvings; in the CRATE burned a
cheerful fire, and there, sitting beside it.
doing, with her face half towards me,
was an elderly woman, a stranger to
me.
Having finished my survey, l crawled
back to my pillow and lay still for a
time, feeling very much exhausted with
my slight exertion. Presently the wom-
an woke up, came to the side of the he'd,
drew the curtains, and looked at me.
you are better,"-she said, kindly.
II am SO glad. You have had a long,
"SAAS tAAHS "a IL, Jul IhC uOSto1 oNAu
there would be a change one way or the
other tonight. You're with friends, who
have taken every care of you"
"Tell me, is Clara foundw asked,
eagerly.
"Oh, yes, she's all right, and will come
and see you as soon as you grow strong
er, but you mustn't talk, or you'll have
a relapse"
II had asked for the Emperor Of
Russia, l believe she would have told
me that he was coming to see ME as
soon as was better. Her answers were
by no means satisfactory. but l could
perceive that it was useless to try to
extract others from her.
Several days passed, and saw no
person except the nurse and the doctor.
l put some questions to the latter, but
he answered crabbedly, that il l wished
to get well. l must keep my mind calm,
and not ask questions.
To keep my mind calm with such
memories as were haunting me was i'm
possible, yet, in spite of my anxieties,
l grew stronger and better day by day.
But the anguish Of my mind waxed
strength with my body.
Nurse" l said one day, determined
ly. Il must know where l am, under
whose care, and l must have certain
questions Of vital Importance to me solv-
ell. l know you are concealing these
things from me for a good motive, hut
1t is mistaken one. Instead of calm
ing, this incertitude is torturing me, re-
tarding my recovery. For heavens sake,
tell me where Fam, whose house this Is,
and what people am with?''
'Well, sir" she answered, II am only
obeying my instructions; if I was to go
flom them, should offend my employ
ers and the doctor, too, and l can't af-
ford to do that. will ask leave to tell
you what l know, which l can assure
you is very little. But il you make haste
and get strong, and get about, you will
be able to find out everything for your
SELF"
That day 1 got out of bed for the
first time, and sat at the window. 1t
looked into an extensive garden, encom-
passed, as far as l could see, by high
wall, lined within by rows Of tall poplar
trees. My room was upon the ground
floor. and this wall and the trees bound
ed my vision. could see naught beyond
them.
One afternoon l had fallen asleep over
the fire, suddenly awoke with a je,k:
the rays of red, autumn sun were
streaming across me, and falling full
upon the face of Judith, who was lean
ing against the fireplace, looking at me.
At first, l thought it was a specter of
my sleep. l could not believe MY eyes:
but l was not long left in doubt as to
the reality of the vision. An ironical
smile curled her lips at the sight OF nv
dismay.
"A visit from your wife is evidently an
pleasure" she said, mocking-
ly.
l could not answer her: could only
bury my face in my hands and shudder
at her appearance.
us this my reward for all the tender
care that has been given you during
your illness?-for bringing you away
from those wretched lodgings. where
You might have died? Our married life
seems likely to be bright one."
Would to heaven you had left me to
die" l cried. you are no wife of
mine"
You will find it rather difficult to
prove that, or to shake me off,"
What pleasure can it be to you to
torture me in this mannerY l cried
why not leave me to myself?"
Because l hate you, and2becauso l
have motives of my own. 1t gives me
pleasure to torture you. No living being
has ever made me feel so deeply the deg
radiation of my life as you have; you, a
miserable, spiritless outcast; you. whom.
as brat, l have beaten with rod,
and always despised; you shudder at
my approach, and turn your eyes from
me with loathing; and you ask me what
pleasure it can be to me to torture you!
From the hour of my birth, my life has
been one torture. l have ever been the
victim. At last, the tables are turned
you are my victim; and as others have
dealt by me, so will l deal by you! No
mercy was ever shown to me; why, then,
should show it to others?"
She was still standing against the fire.
place. l dared not look at her, but l
could feel the tigerish ferocity of her
eyes.
"But I did not come here to rave.
First, I came, like a dutiful wife, to
congratulate my husband on his conva-
lescence," she went on, resuming the old
irony Of voice; ''and to comfort him
with the knowledge that he IL in affec-
tionate hands; and, in the second place,
to arrange certain matters of. business