Professor Huskins Part 14

She is ill and suffering."

"If she is ill and suffering, she knows where to send for me."

"She dare not."

"Why? She knows I love her."

"No, she does not know it."

"I say she does."

"But she does not. Oh, hurry! Please go to her."

"I will not go a step. She promised to come to me. If she does not care to do so, I shall never urge her more."

"She does want to come, but the boy does not."

"Then let her choose between us."

"No. Go to her. Heed my warning. Go at once. You will arrive in time to save suffering to many. The boy is selfish. He is influencing her to do what she does not want to do. If you go to her, she will mind you."

"I do not want her to come to me if she is forced to do so."

"She loves you. She is sick. Go to her, and you will never be sorry.

Merle is going to be ill again, but do not stay here, for it is your suffering that affects him, and makes him so. You have magnetized him so often, and he is so strongly charged with your magnetism, that whatever affects you, influences him and affects him physically. You will come out all right if you will only heed my warning, and go to her. Remember I told you you were going through a cloud, and I would guide you. You must follow my advice, otherwise I cannot guide you. Go as quickly as you can. She needs you. If you love her, you will put away pride, and go to her."

"Why should I do all the seeking? I have given her proof enough of my love. If she does not want to come to me, and prefers his love to mine, I shall not interfere."

"You shall. You must. She wants to be with you, but she feels it is selfish upon her part to wish to. The boy is selfish, and you will both be miserable. Do not be harsh with her. Show your love. Make her see it is not selfishness to wish to be with you, and that it would cause both herself and you so much suffering to gratify the boy. You need each other, and the boy needs discipline."

"Alice, are you sure she wants to be with me?"

"Yes, I am sure. Will you not go to her now,--right away? She is sick,--heart-sick as well as physically."

"Yes; I will go. If I find conditions as you say, you have earned my lasting grat.i.tude;--I do not know what to think, what to believe, what to do. You have always been truthful, so was Merle for ten years, then he told me untruths; perhaps you are doing the same. If I find you have deceived me, it will be another of life's lessons well learned. I have always advocated truth could always be obtained from an entranced subject, if their minds were left totally unbiased by the operator's will. I can never again teach that, nor place implicit confidence in any a.s.sertions I may receive. My book I have put the work of years into is practically valueless, for all I shall now give to the public will be what Merle gives me, eradicating all my own views upon the subject."

"Why do you not go to your wife instead of staying here? I do not believe you love her after all."

"Alice! Silence."

"You are making her suffer. You want to spare anyone you love from suffering."

"There is no logic nor reason in your utterances. I seem to have struck a cross tide, that brings me no good. Wake up, Alice."

"Promise you will go to her right away."

"Yes, I will go. Probably I shall find I have been duped, but I will go, for I am weak enough to want to see her before me all the time. Wake up.--Wake up.--There, you are yourself again. I think it would do you and Merle good to go out in the air and sunshine. I will send a carriage for you. Your mother can go with you, too.--Mrs. Millard,--

"Mrs. Millard, I have been telling Alice I think a ride in the air and sunshine would be beneficial to both her and Merle. You had better go with them, and see they do not over-exert themselves. On your way home, call at my house for a luncheon and a bouquet of flowers. I will send a carriage for you and notify Mrs. C---- to have the food and flowers ready when you call. I am going away again for a very short time. If you need me, send for me."

"What a good man you are, Professor Huskins,--always trying to make others happy. The good G.o.d above ought to shower happiness upon you. We shall miss you while you are away, but we always say, we hope you are enjoying yourself. We can never even hope to repay your goodness to us, but a mother's prayers ever follow you, because of the good you have done me and mine."

"There, Mrs. Millard, you praise me beyond my deserts. I must go now. I am glad to find Merle so much improved. Enjoy yourselves as much as possible, and you will soon find me back with you. Do not hesitate to send for me if I am needed. I will not speak to Merle before I go."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

When William reached his wife's apartments, Dinah let him in as she had upon his previous visit. Her face seemed to beam with happiness. He put his finger to his lips, and, divining his wish to surprise Clarissa, she said nothing, but pointed to a door beyond and, smiling, nodded and disappeared.

Leaving his outer garments in the hall, he quickly traversed the distance between him and the door, and without pausing to be announced, opened and entered Clarissa's private room. She lay prostrate upon the bed, crying and moaning piteously, and as she had not heard him enter, was only aware of his presence when she felt his arms about her and saw his face as he bent over her.

It seemed like a pleasant dream to feel his lips upon her own,--his arms encircling her, and for a moment, she gave herself unrestrainedly to the happiness she felt. Her perfect abandonment to his embrace was the strongest proof William had ever had of her love for him.

Her greeting left no room for him to doubt her sincerity, and for a while both were oblivious to time and their surroundings. Clarissa was first to speak.

"Did you come in answer to my prayer?"

"I hope so. Tell me what it was, dear."

"I prayed I might be guided to do what was right, and not be influenced by any selfish motive to gain my own happiness. I do not wish to be selfish."

"Clarissa, let your heart speak, for our future happiness depends upon your answer. Is my love and presence capable of bringing you any joy? Am I ever necessary to you?"

"Always, William--always. I was never truly happy when you were absent.

Even when Augustus came, I wanted you to share my joy. I have been so lonely and miserable. You will not leave me again, will you? I am sick;--a weak and feeble woman."

"I never left you, Clarissa; you know that. You left me. I have been thinking it over. I do not doubt my love was often obtrusive and selfish, but I never meant it to be so. Let me now give you the benefit of my riper judgment. All I ask is to see you and to know you are present in my home, which has been so desolate without you. I promise you, I will not obtrude myself upon you unless you ask me to do so. I was selfish, but you know it was only my jealousy that got the better of me. When such tempests come, I have not the power to resist; do not heed my looks nor words, for they are not true to the real man, but come to me, and place your arms around me as you have them now. The touch will restore to me my lost senses. I do not doubt your honesty, Clarissa, but at times, there sweeps over my soul such a wave of power I cannot resist it, depriving me even of my reason. If any man were to come to me and even hint that I should doubt you, I should resent it as a gross insult.

I do trust you, still, I do not. You cannot understand me; I do not really understand myself. Just have patience. Help me to overcome this monster. Really, I only doubt my power to please and satisfy you, and I wish to be dearer to you than all else in life. Will you not help me to conquer this Demon who rules and governs me, and renders me insane for the time? The touch of your arms and lips will always dispel him if you will but have patience with me. Try to realize how I love you. Tell me, dearest, why were you sobbing when I came?"

"I am afraid to."

"If you have one spark of love for me in your soul, never think--much less say that you are afraid to tell me anything. Whatever is to be told, tell me, and let us work out the problem together. I have thought over carefully all you said to me in our last interview, and acknowledge I have often been selfish and exacting, still you were wrong, for G.o.d is love, and love has the power to sanction the union of the s.e.xes. My soul was wedded to yours; we were married in the highest sense of the word. I may have made exorbitant demands upon you and your patience then, but, Clarissa, your love will give you patience to restrain my selfishness, and hold me where I ought to be. Whatever I say,--whatever I do, only come and put your arms around me as they are now, and you will find, instead of a dictator, you will have a slave."

"I believe you, William. The a.s.surance of your love makes me the happiest woman upon earth, but what am I to do with Augustus? I cannot help feeling I am responsible for his infirmity; therefore, I ought gladly and willingly to sacrifice every desire of my heart to be with him, doing what he wants me to do. I do not want to be selfish, William, am I not so when I find my only happiness in your presence and your love?"

"No, dear; love--real love--cannot be selfish."

"You ask me one thing, he asks me another totally different. Each says if I love him, I will do as he wishes; I love you both, and I want to go to your home, William, I am tired of struggling alone. I want your care and love, but Augustus wants to go elsewhere, and thinks if I do not do as he wishes I do not love him. When I see his helplessness, I feel that I am to blame for it, and ought to do whatever he asks me. I cannot please you both. I cannot do what both want. I love you both far dearer than myself; what shall I do? Can you not help me, William? Am I selfish when I long to put my trust in you,--to have you think for me? Tell me what to do. I want to do for Augustus all that a mother could do, but my soul hungers for you and your love."

"Clarissa, how can the love of man and wife be selfish? Augustus is our child--I would gladly offer my life for him, but he can never be to me what you are; I may be wrong, but it seems to me the love of husband and wife is the strongest that can be expressed. Can a child's love for its mother outbalance her husband's? Not if she loves her husband. As I understand the Infinite law, man and woman blend their loves to make a complete whole, while a child leaves its parents to unite itself with its opposite. A mother's love may be strong and powerful, but I believe the true love of husband or wife outweighs in power that of a mother, or even of a child. Tell me truly;--which love satisfies you better--a child's or a husband's?"

"Do not ask me, William, for I am so weak a woman, that my soul cries out for your love and appreciation, and will not be stilled, although I know my boy ought to engross every sentiment of my life."

"Why should he engross your whole attention any more than other children? Are they the sole thought of their mothers? Is it not selfish for him to make us both miserable simply because he took a dislike to me for putting you to sleep? He was frightened. I was to blame for announcing myself as his father with no preparation. He liked me at first, and will again. We will make it the study of our lives to make him happy. Where does he want to go?"

"To Australia."