Part 33 (2/2)
”Mr. Jarney, you have my full sympathy,” he said, about as expressive as he could say it, without unburdening his own heart's secret.
”Mr. Winthrope,” he replied, turning to John, ”it may seem weak in me giving way so easily; but you do not know, you cannot know what a father suffers in such extremities--no man can know, if he has a heart, unless he goes through it as I have these past few weeks. With all my worldly ambitions, I have willingly permitted my whole being to be infolded by her being, till no other thought so dominated me. She was such a lovable child, so good, so kind, so generous, so unlike any one else I ever saw, that my fatherly soul rebelled at the thought that anything would ever happen to tarnish her name, or that of my own. Of these things I was very careful that they did not come to pa.s.s. I have brought her up and educated her, with the one purpose, that she would be my one consolation in my declining years. And I intend, if she lives, that all I have shall be hers; and I know that she will give no cause for me to ever regret, like so many of the daughters of the rich do. I am rich, Mr. Winthrope, very rich; but I will give all I have, if that would save her for me, and would face the world anew without a dollar. Oh, you do not know--n.o.body can know what my anguish is!”
”Mr. Jarney, I realize what it might be,” said John.
”I had hopes that when she came out of the trance the first time the crisis had pa.s.sed,” he went on. ”She did improve for a few days; but suddenly she took a relapse and began to weaken, and weaken day by day, and now I fear for the worst. She is of my own flesh and blood--oh, G.o.d, I cannot bear it--yes--I must bear it. But in bearing it, what have I as a compensation? Money is nothing; home is nothing; life is nothing, without some one like her depending on you. A child might be ever so bad, but still a parent's love goes out to it, in all its misfortunes and shortcomings. But to have a child like her is not given to every man, and the parent of such a child should be doubly blessed. I know that I am selfish in these views. I know that other parents will differ with me in what I say as to my child being the best; but no one can say that I am wrong did they but know her. I do not know what I shall do, if she is taken from me--I do not know. I am already losing interest in things.”
”Mr. Jarney,” said John, after he had ceased, ”I hope the doctors'
conclusions are wrong, and that your expectations will not come to pa.s.s.
I believe that she will recover; I have believed it all through her trial; but I may be mistaken.”
”I hope you are not mistaken, Mr. Winthrope,” he replied. ”I hope I am.
I have never hoped before that I might be mistaken, and I hope I shall not be disappointed this time.”
Mr. Jarney then took up his acc.u.mulation of letters, that had not been attended to for three days, and began dictating answers. He was so overcome by anxiety, dread and fear, that he had great difficulty in composing himself sufficiently to go through them all. Some he answered with a line, where a whole page would have been necessary before. Many he did not answer at all, being indifferent as to what became of them.
He was nervous, agitated, and careless. After he had finished, although not very satisfactorily to John, who had been used to his methodical handling of his correspondence, and after John began to prepare to depart, he turned to him and said:
”Mr. Winthrope, I am thinking of promoting you; would you like to go to New York?”
”I should not care to leave you, Mr. Jarney, so agreeable have my connections been in this office; but if you desire me to make a change, and if I am capable, I shall go wherever I am sent,” said John.
”An a.s.sistant treasurer is wanted for the New York office; how would you like that?”
”Well, Mr. Jarney, this comes as a greater surprise than when you gave me this position; but, however, I shall accept, if it is the wish of my superiors.”
”They want a man immediately for the place; but--I do not want to see you go away yet, though I want to see you get the place. You are capable, and deserving of it.”
”I would rather remain here; but if I am to go higher, I suppose I should go at once to wherever I am to go.”
”Another thing, Mr. Winthrope; you should not go while my daughter continues ill. Or--or--No, you shall remain here till she recovers. Some one else can fill the place till that time comes. It may seem strange for me to say so, her recovery may depend upon you remaining. It is only an hallucination of her mind, I know; but if her seeing you will do any good, I shall not forget it.”
”Do you believe it is an hallucination?” asked John.
”Can be nothing else,” he replied, gravely and reflectively. ”You were the last one whom she saw and talked with while in her rational mind.
The doctors say this is invariably true in all such cases--the impression of that person is indelibly left on the mind of the one afflicted, and remains there till recovery.”
”But Miss Barton was there also,” returned John, in disputation of his theory.
”That is true; but Miss Barton is with her all the time,” he replied, as an argumentative fact.
”It may be,” said John, in a deeper quandary than ever. ”Then I am to remain here?”
”Yes--till her recovery, or--Be ready to go home with me an hour later today--five o'clock,” said Mr. Jarney, as John left him.
<script>