Dr. Rumsey's Patient Part 17

"I happened to have half-an-hour at my disposal, and thought I would drop in for a chat," said Dr. Rumsey in his pleasant voice.

Awdrey's somewhat fretful brow relaxed.

"You are heartily welcome," he said. "Have you dined? Will you take anything?"

"I have dined, and I only want one thing," said Dr. Rumsey.

"Pray name it; I'll ring for it immediately."

"You need not do that, for the person to give it to me is already in the room."

The doctor bowed to Margaret as he spoke.

"I love the 'Moonlight Sonata' beyond all other music," he said. "Will you continue playing it, Mrs. Awdrey? Will you rest a tired physician as well as your husband with your music?"

"With all the pleasure in the world," she replied. She returned at once to her shady corner, and the soothing effects of the sonata once more filled the room. For a short time Awdrey sat upright, forced into attention of others by the fact of Dr. Rumsey's presence, but he soon relaxed the slight effort after self-control, and lay back in his chair once again with his eyes half shut.

Rumsey listened to the music and watched his strange patient at the same time.

Margaret suddenly stopped, almost as abruptly as if she had had a signal. She walked up the room, and stood in the bright circle of light.

She looked very lovely, and almost spiritual--her face was pale--her eyes luminous as if lit from within--her pathetic and perfect lips were slightly apart. Rumsey thought her something like an angel who was about to utter a benediction.

"I am going up now to see little Arthur," she said. She glanced at her husband, and left the room.

Rumsey had not failed to observe that Awdrey did not even glance at his wife when she stood on the hearth. There was a full moment's pause after she left the room. Awdrey's eyes were half closed, they were turned in the direction of the bright blaze. Rumsey looked full at him.

"Strange case, strange man," he muttered under his breath. "There is something for me to unravel here. The man who is insensate enough not to see the beauty in that woman's face, not to revel in the love she bestows on him--he is a log, not a man--and yet----"

"Are you well?" cried the doctor abruptly. He spoke on purpose with great distinctness, and his words had something the effect of a pistol-shot.

Awdrey sat bolt upright and stared full at him.

"Why do you ask me that question?" he replied, irritation in his tone.

"Because I wish to question you with regard to your health," said Dr.

Rumsey. "Whether you feel it or not, you are by no means well."

"Indeed! What do I look like?"

"Like a man who sees more than he ought," replied the doctor with deliberation. "But before we come to that may I ask you a question?"

Awdrey looked disturbed--he got up and stood with his back to the fire.

"Ask what you please," he said, rubbing up his hair as he spoke. "As there is a heaven above, Dr. Rumsey, you see a wretched man before you to-night."

"My dear fellow, what strong words! Surely, you of all people----"

Awdrey interrupted with a hollow laugh.

"Ah," he said, "it looks like it, does it not? In any circle, among any concourse of people, I should be pointed out as the fortunate man. I have money--I have a very good and beautiful wife--I am the father of as fine a boy as the heart of man could desire. I belong to one of the old and established families of our country, and I also, I suppose, may claim the inestimable privilege to youth, for I am only twenty-six years of age--nevertheless----" He shuddered, looked down the long room, and then closed his eyes.

"I am glad I came here," said Dr. Rumsey. "Believe me, my dear sir, the symptoms you have just described are by no means uncommon in the cases of singularly fortunate individuals like yourself. The fact is, you have got too much. You want to empty yourself of some of your abundance in order that contentment and health of mind may flow in."

Awdrey stared at the doctor with lack-l.u.s.tre eyes. Then he shook his head.

"I am past all that," he said. "I might at the first have managed to make a superhuman effort; but now I have no energy for anything. I have not even energy sufficient to take away my own life, which is the only thing on all G.o.d's earth that I crave to do."

"Come, come, Awdrey, you must not allow yourself to speak like that. Now sit down. Tell me, if you possibly can, exactly what you feel."

"Why should I tell you? I am not your patient."

"But I want you to be."

"Is that why you came here this evening?"

Dr. Rumsey paused before he replied; he had not expected this question.

"I will answer you frankly," he said, with a pause. "Your wife came to see me about you. She did not wish me to mention the fact of her visit, but I believe I am wise in keeping nothing back from you. You love your wife, don't you?"

"I suppose I do; that is, if I love anybody."

"Of course, you love her. Don't sentimentalize over a fact. She came to see me because her love for you is over-abundant. It makes her anxious; you have given her, Awdrey, a great deal of anxiety lately.

"I cannot imagine how. I have done nothing."

"That is just it. You have done too little. She is naturally terribly anxious. She told me one or two things about your state which I do not consider quite satisfactory. I said it would be necessary for me to have an interview with you, and asked her to beg of you to call at my house.

She said you did not consider yourself ill, and might not be willing to come to me. I then resolved to come to you, and here I am."

"It is good of you, Rumsey, but you can do nothing; I am not really ill.

It is simply that something--I have not the faintest idea what--has killed my soul. I believe, before heaven, that I have stated the case in a nutsh.e.l.l. You may be, and doubtless are, a great doctor, but you have not come across living men with dead souls before."

"I have not Awdrey; nor is your soul dead. You state an impossibility."

Awdrey started excitedly. His face, which had been deadly pale, now blazed with animation and color.

"Learned as you are," he cried, "you will gain some fresh and valuable experience from me to-night. I am the strangest patient you ever attempted to cure. You have roused me, and it is good to be roused.

Perhaps my soul is not dead after all--perhaps it is struggling with a demon which crushes it down."

CHAPTER XII.

Dr. Rumsey did not reply to this for a moment, then he spoke quietly.

"Tell me everything," he said. "Nothing you can say will startle me, but if there is any possibility of my helping you I must know the case as far as you can give it me."

"I have but little to say," replied Awdrey. "I am paralyzed day after day simply by want of feeling. Even a sense of pain, of irritation, is a relief--the deadness of my life is so overpowering. Do you know the history of my house?"