Daisy Part 29

And now, as this all-absorbing subject has driven me all around "Robin Hood's barn," I will tell my story. An elderly lady who was very fond of cats told the story to her daughter, and from her it came to my mistress. A niece of this lady, a beautiful girl, had married a young doctor. Her friends were not pleased with the match, but could not influence her. She was young, beautiful, and rich. She was her own mistress, being an orphan, and under no obligation to obey her aunt unless she would do so willingly. It is a very true saying that love is blind. She could see no flaw in her idol.

For two years she travelled in Europe with her aunt, the separation being a great trial to the lovers. On her return they were married, and his devotion made her life perfect. When their first child was expected, they felt that nothing would be wanting to complete their happiness.

One year from the date of their marriage she died, and a few hours after her beautiful little son followed her. Her husband was prostrated with grief, and in two months from the day of her death he left his home and sought in travel to forget his sorrow. Three years after, he died in Rome, of fever.

His friends believed he had recklessly thrown away his life. Without his wife he cared not to live. But there was a mystery that many friends suspected, but the truth was never made public. The aunt held the key to the mystery and revealed the sorrowful secret to her daughter.

Alice was one of the most sensitive girls. She never would tolerate a falsehood. She had one master pa.s.sion, and that was love of animals. Her horse knew her voice and would follow her about like a dog. But of all her pets, she loved cats the best.

Some time before her engagement to Dr. G. she had a beautiful little kitten. She seemed to live for that little creature. It was always in her arms and seemed to know as much as a child. When it was eight months old it disappeared under the most mysterious circ.u.mstances. Search was made, and great rewards were offered, but all of no avail. She mourned for it, and had it been a child she could not have suffered more.

She fell ill of low fever, and her friends were very anxious about her.

They never mentioned Little Blossom to her, and she never had another cat. After her engagement and marriage she was very happy, but never could speak to her husband about her loss, and he knew nothing of her love for Little Blossom. They were seldom separated, but two months before her death her husband left her to visit a patient in a neighboring town.

As she was well and cheerful, he did not feel any hesitation at leaving her, though he expected to be away all day. He was surprised, on his return, that his wife was not watching for him as usual. He ran up to their room and, finding the door locked, called to his wife to open the door. Receiving no answer, he was alarmed and, going through his dressing-room, entered the room. The odor of chloroform caused his heart to stand still with fear. His wife lay on the lounge insensible.

He threw open the windows and used every means in his power to restore her, and she at last revived. With a look of horror she recoiled from him, releasing herself from his arms in frantic haste. He thought she had lost her reason, and when she again became unconscious he took her in his arms and carried her into her room, where he laid her on the couch, and she soon revived. Very tenderly he soothed her, asking her why she had used a dangerous thing like chloroform so recklessly. He remembered that she had, before her marriage, used it for neuralgia, but since he had the care of her he had never allowed it.

She looked with a dazed expression. She trembled all over if he touched her, and made no answer to his words of tenderness. He telegraphed for one of the best physicians and a nurse. And then, with the aid of her maid, who was very much attached to her mistress, he made her as comfortable as possible.

The maid could give no explanation of the cause of her sickness. Her mistress had received several letters, and had been shut up in her room writing for some hours. She had taken her some toast and tea, though she did not care to take it. She thought she had taken a chill, for she was s.h.i.+vering and looked very white. She said she would sleep, and did not wish to be disturbed. So the maid left her, and had heard nothing of her since, till called by him on his return.

Though conscious when the doctor and nurse came, she closed her eyes and never spoke a word. After an examination the doctor said, "She has evidently received some shock that has unbalanced her mind." He advised her husband to keep away from her, as the moment he came near her she trembled and shrunk away from him.

It was torture to her husband, but his knowledge taught him that the doctor was right--that the nearest and dearest are always turned from by the diseased mind. Though he never left the dressing room, he kept out of her sight.

Two days from the time she was taken sick she died, and her little son followed her a few hours after. She never spoke to them, though they believed her to be conscious. Their agony and grief did not move her at all, and in the last few hours convulsions prevented any attempt to make her speak.

This was a crus.h.i.+ng blow to her husband. To lose her without one word prostrated him. He was to know a deeper sorrow--one that would admit of no consolation. It was a long time before he could look over her papers; but at last it was necessary, and he aroused himself. Then came retribution indeed.

A package met his eye, on opening her desk, directed to him in the handwriting of his wife. The date on the outside convinced him that she had written it soon after he had left her that fatal morning. It contained a letter in a masculine hand, but the letter from his wife he read first.

From that moment his life was ended. He spoke to no one of his friends of his sorrow, giving the charge of their home into the hands of the aunt with whom his wife had lived, and then he left his home, to travel alone.

The letter from his wife, and the one she had received that had caused all her sorrow, was sent to her aunt, at his death, with a letter he had also written. The letter from his wife explained all. She wrote him that after reading the enclosed letter all love for him had died out of her heart, leaving only disgust. She could not endure the thought of him as her husband. She was determined rather than live with him she would take her own life and her child's. She could read only cruel thoughts in his face, and her life would be filled with the dread that she and her child would be subjects for his knife.

"My dear Little Blossom was like a child, and I can see her delicate limbs quivering while you tortured her. I should go mad to live with you, for her dear little face would always be before me."

She had evidently fought with her weakness, to finish her letter, for the writing was almost unintelligible.

He at once recognized the handwriting of the other letter, and he knew that there was no appeal from the truth. He could only say in anguish of heart, "It is just." The letter was directed to her, in her maiden name, and had been forwarded to her by her aunt. By some mistake it was over a year since it had been written, and with other papers was found by her aunt when she opened her house after a long absence.

It was from one of her old friends, a gentleman of high standing, holding a very important position in a neighboring city. The news of her marriage had never reached him, else the letter would never have been written. He had known her from childhood and had loved her hopelessly.

His letter stated the fact that a power stronger than his own will obliged him to write to her, and save her from marriage with a man who would surely make her unhappy.

"If I cause you great sorrow, in this terrible relation, it may save you from a life-long unhappiness. Doctor L., my cousin, whom you well know, is my authority, and will swear to the truth of my story. Willard C., your little friend and neighbor, will also vouch for its accuracy, for he took an active part in the scene of which I write.

"Dr. L., as you well know, is a cla.s.smate of the man to whom you are engaged. And as he was a frequent visitor at your home, and a great friend of your aunt, you will know there is no appeal against his report. He returned from Germany last week, and when he asked my sister regarding news of his old friends, she spoke of your engagement.

"'Impossible,' he exclaimed, 'of all things this is the most unaccountable.'

"'Why?' said my sister; 'they are very fond of each other, and you are not so shabby, because you have broken with him, to grudge him his happiness, for he is devoted to her. You will admit it is a good match.'

"'Yes,' he said, 'so it looks to the world, but he never ought to marry her.'

"Then he changed the subject, though my sister tried to get at his reason for speaking in this manner. After she left us, I at once insisted on an explanation. Then to my horror and disgust I heard this fearful story.

"My cousin said: 'You know my love of animals and my opposition to vivisection. I have never allowed myself to listen to or a.s.sist in any act of this nature. You know my intimacy with Dr. G., and I never for one moment suspected him of the cruelty of which I proved him guilty.

"'Visiting Alice M. so often, I knew all her feelings in regard to animals, and I knew that her love for cats was the master pa.s.sion of her life. Her last pet was a beautiful little kitten. You surely remember it? She called it Little Blossom.

"'One evening I called on her and learned from the servant that Miss Alice had been ill for some days.

"'On my way home I had to pa.s.s Dr. G.'s office, and as I had some business with him, I thought I would call. I found him very busy. Two young students were waiting to accompany him to the cla.s.sroom. He invited me to go with them, saying, "We have a most interesting subject to-night." I never thought to ask the nature of the study, and finding an old friend in the outer room, I remained talking with him.

"'Soon cries the most agonizing came from the next room, and my friend, an old physician said: "This is h.e.l.lish work! G. is a fiend when he is at it. I must go and prevent all the cruelty I can."

"'Some power stronger than my own will made me follow him. Dr. G. was the actor in one of the cruellest cases of vivisection. A lovely little kitten about eight months old, a pet kitten evidently, he was torturing, without the least pretence of anaesthetic. Its cries were fearful, but there was no release for it. I cried to him to give it something to deaden the pain, but he was deaf to my request. If ever a man's face was transformed to that of a demon, it was that man's.

"'Two of the students, to their credit be it said, turned away sick and faint, while one of them, Willard C. cried out, "My G.o.d! it is Alice M.'s pet, Little Blossom."

"'I gave one spring forward, and--yes, it indeed was dear Little Blossom, her lovely eyes starting from her head, her soft fur matted with blood, while her intestines were exposed to his cruel hand, to be tortured. I tore a long scarf from my neck, and finding a bottle of chloroform near, I saturated it with it and covered the dear little kitten, holding it down with my breast till every sound was still. It was a fearful task, for I was almost overpowered by the chloroform, and Dr. G. fell upon me like a madman despoiled of his prey. But others came to my aid, and Willard C. took the body of the little victim, saying he would bury it himself.

"'To Dr. G. I said: "I will never take your hand again in friends.h.i.+p.

Professional honor requires silence, and in this case sympathy with the owner or the victim will allow you to escape punishment. You know there is a law against taking a pet animal."

"'He was in a great rage, saying, "That is not your business. I bought her of a boy, supposing she was his property. I do not think you are much of a doctor if you shrink from procuring the knowledge so necessary to science, however painful the ordeal."

"'"Never would I be a doctor," I answered, "if I must also be a fiend.

Heaven grant you may never have wife or child, for they would not be safe from you, if you needed subjects."

"'He laughed a scornful laugh, saying, "My wife, if I ever have one, will be obliged to you."

"'And now, great Heaven! he is engaged to the loveliest and dearest woman I ever knew, and she is the mistress of Little Blossom whom he murdered.'

"'It must be prevented,' I said, as soon as I could control my feeling, for the fearful tale my cousin had so feelingly related, made me sick.

'She shall never be his wife. I will prevent it, even though I have to tell her this heartrending story. If she should discover the truth after her marriage, it would kill her.'

"I could not sleep that night. I could see Little Blossom in your arms, with her blue bow on her neck, just under one ear, and I could feel her soft little paws, when she would give them to me when you told her to. I could hear you say: 'Jack, I love her better than I could love a child.

If anything should happen to her, it would kill me, for I mean to keep her all my life.'

"And then the face of that man, as he bent over that innocent little creature! Even when she tried to lick his hand it did not touch his heart.

"Can you blame me for telling you this? I know you so well that I do not fear that the loss of such a fiend will ever trouble you. I know your love will die at once, and Little Blossom will be avenged. And I cannot answer to my conscience if I allow you to marry this man. Wife or child would not be safe with a man who has entered into this compact with Satan, called vivisection. Let no mother ever trust her boy after he has willingly a.s.sisted in this cruel pastime.

"Show him this letter, if you wish, and Willard C. will tell you where he made the grave of your dear little pet."

After Dr. G. read that letter he no longer needed a clew to the loss of wife and child. Little Blossom was avenged. But at what a fearful cost!