“Well, I want Dr. Barnes present when you meet
him.”
“Certainly; at least within call.”
“I must stipulate too,” said Mrs. Kemble.
“I don’t wish the coming scenes to take
place in a hotel, and under the eyes of that gossip,
Jackson. I don’t see why Hobart took him
there.”
“I do,” said Mr. Kemble, standing up for
his favorite. “Hobart has already endured
more than mortal man ought, yet he has been most delicately
considerate. No one but Jackson and Dr. Barnes
know about Nichol and his condition. I have also
had Nichol’s father and mother sent for on my
own responsibility, for they should take their share
of the matter. Hobart believes that Helen can
restore Nichol’s memory. This would simplify
everything and save many painful impressions.
You see, it’s such an obscure trouble, and there
should be no ill-advised blundering in the matter.
The doctors in Washington told Hobart that a slight
shock, or the sight of an object that once had the
strongest hold upon his thoughts—well,
you understand.”
“Yes,” said Helen, “I do understand.
Hobart is trying to give Albert the very best chance.
Albert wrote that his last earthly thoughts would
be of me. It is but natural that my presence should
kindle those thoughts again. It was like Hobart,
who is almost divine in his thoughtfulness of others,
to wish to shield Albert from the eyes of even his
own father and mother until he could know them, and
know us all. He was only taken to the hotel that
we all might understand and be prepared to do our
part. Papa, bring Albert here and let his father
and mother come here also. He should be sacredly
shielded in his infirmity, and give a every chance
to recover before being seen by others; and please,
papa, exact from Jackson a solemn promise not to tattle
about Albert.”
“Yes, yes; but we have first a duty to perform.
Mother, please prepare a little lunch, and put a glass
of your old currant wine on the tray. Hobart
must not come to a cold, cheerless home. I’ll
go and have his old servant up and ready to receive
him.”
“No, mamma, that is still my privilege,”
said Helen, with a rush, of tears. “Oh,
I’m so sorry, sorry for him! but neither
he nor I can help or change what is, what’s
true.”
When the tray was ready, she wrote and sealed these
words:
“God bless you, Hobart; God reward you!
You have made me feel to-night that earth is too
poor, and only heaven rich enough to reward you.
“Helen.”
MR. KEMBLE’S APPEAL
It often happens that the wife’s disposition
is an antidote to her husband: and this was fortunately
true of Mrs. Jackson. She was neither curious
nor gossiping, and with a quick instinct that privacy
was desired by Martine, gave at an early hour her orders
to close the house for the night. The few loungers,
knowing that she was autocratic, slouched off to other
resorts. The man and maids of all work were kept
out of the way, while she and her husband waited on
their unexpected guests. After Mr. Kemble’s
departure, the errand-boy was roused from his doze
behind the stove and seat for Dr. Barnes; then Jackson
wrote another note at Martine’s dictation:
