A woman's mercy is a bark
Set forth on life's broad sea to ride,—
Its course ordained, yet veered about
By every shifting wind and tide.
The Lady Van Tyne was standing before the long pier-glass arranging the final touches of her elaborate coiffure when Dr. Seward was announced. The excitement caused by his sudden departure for America had hardly subsided when it was again aroused by his unexpected return.
Even Lady Van Tyne, revolving as she was in the whirlpool of social duties and pleasures, stopped long enough to express some wonder at the eccentricities of her staid and venerable physician. But her eagerness to greet him now as he entered her[Pg 212] private sanctum did not deter her from once more altering the position of a jeweled pin in her abundant hair and turning again, glass in hand, to note the effect of her artistic alteration.
"Ah, doctor," she exclaimed, as she laid the costly glass carefully upon the dressing-case, "I heard that you had returned but I hardly expected you would so soon honor me with a call;—but what is the matter? you look ill" she said as she noted the unusual pallor of his face.
"No not ill," was his reply, as he stood looking down upon her while his hands toyed nervously with a heavy walking stick. Then making a determined effort as if to have it over as soon as possible, he said abruptly, "Lady Van Tyne, forgive me, but for nearly thirty years I have kept silence upon this subject, but to-day I must speak. I have found your son, and if ever man needed a mother's love, he does. I beg you to hear his story and then let us try together to undo the sin committed so many years ago." The physician's face was flushed with shame and eagerness when he had finished speaking, but the wave of violent anger that swept across his hearer's features left[Pg 213] her with blazing eyes and tightly compressed lips, and for a moment he wondered vaguely what the outcome of her emotions was to be.
It was only an instant's wonderment, for with swift and decided movement she withdrew the heavy portieres, and motioned him to enter a more secluded room, then following, she came close beside him and clutching his arm, exclaimed fiercely, "How dare you speak of this to me? were you not paid for silence as well as for assistance in the matter?"
The physician winced beneath her words but she continued angrily, "learn what you will of this child, but remember, please, that I will hear no word regarding him or his whereabouts. You undertook his concealment,—see you to it that it is continued, at least, so far as I am concerned," and she drew herself to her stateliest carriage before the shrinking form of the unhappy man.
"But he is your first born, dear Lady Van Tyne,—have you no love in your heart for the child of your happy days? No feeling of remorse for the crime committed against humanity? no pity for the unfortunate boy, thrust nameless and alone[Pg 214] upon the careless mercy of this cruel, heartless world?"
"You plead well, Dr. Seward," she sneered as the physician wiped the beads of sweat from his heated brow. "You plead for the very child whose abandonment you first suggested, have you forgotten that?"
"Alas, no," said Dr. Seward, sadly. "I have forgotten nothing. I humbly admit the sin which youth and thoughtlessness permitted, but believe me, I have suffered greatly for that error and now when I have found the innocent babe, grown to full manhood, with his nature cramped and dwarfed by bitterness of spirit; his hand turned fiercely against himself and every man's hand against him, I feel that it is our duty, yours and mine, to come forth boldly in his cause and help if possible to redeem from death and eternal condemnation, the human soul we have so inexpressibly wronged.
"It can not be that you, his mother, will refuse to aid me in this undertaking?" he questioned pleadingly.
But the Lady Van Tyne was weary of the subject. The self control that at first deserted her[Pg 215] had now returned, and curving her lips in a disdainful smile, she said distinctly, "Dr Seward, I have valued your advice for many years but it seems to me that now your judgment is deserting you. If this is true that you have found the child, I can only say, do what you please regarding the matter, but depend upon it, I shall deny your accusations and defend my position before the world with the unlimited means that you well know are at my disposal. I have the dignity of my family to sustain and the claims of unwelcome offspring shall never interfere between Lady Van Tyne and her social position, so"—she continued, as she drew aside the heavy curtains, "if you are determined to play the fool we may as well shake hands and consider our acquaintance at an end forever."
But Dr. Seward did not touch the jeweled fingers that were extended to him so graciously. He merely bowed his head and passed silently out of her presence, feeling in all humility that the sorrow of the moment was but another expiation of the never forgotten error of his youthful days.
After he had gone the Lady Van Tyne returned[Pg 216] again to her mirror and took a long survey of herself in the polished glass, but some way the reflection of her person was not as pleasing as it had been an hour before and she jerked the lace awkwardly about her throat, while wrinkles hitherto unnoticed crept stealthily about her eyes and the wave of fine grey hair upon her brow looked singularly old and unbecoming. She had not deceived herself by her apparent calmness of demeanor during the physician's strange entreaty, and now that she was alone her courage forsook her entirely and she sank heavily upon the sofa in a paroxysm of fear and trembling while she felt the foundations of her respectability shaking beneath her feet and pictured her humiliating position if the truth should ever be revealed. Not a thought of her son's surroundings entered her mind, and, as she finally controlled herself for the evening's pleasure, a prayer for her own protection was the one vague sentiment of her selfish, worldly heart.
It was late that night before Dr. Seward retired to his private office for an hour with his books and drugs, for he had extended his ride after leaving Lady Van Tyne's residence and called upon his[Pg 217] friend at the hospital across the bridge. Here his scientific curiosity returned and he again became possessor of the little vial of brownish powder. That night in the privacy of his professional den, he again investigated the mysterious contents.
Over and over again the breakfast bell was rung in the early morning, but not until the household was thoroughly alarmed at his continued absence, did any one think to try the handle of the office door. There they found him, cold and breathless upon the well worn sofa, while by his side upon the carpet was a curious shaped vial, empty, and bearing on one side a label whereupon was written in Dr. Seward's own handwriting, the extraordinary warning, "Death to the Inquisitive."