Wise old Mr. Kemble had indeed proved the better physician.
His misgivings, fears, and needs, combined with his
honest affection, had checked the cold, bitter flood
of despair which had been overwhelming Martine.
The morbid impression that he would be only another
complication, and of necessity an embarrassment to
Helen and her family, was in a measure removed.
Mere words of general condolence would not have helped
him; an appeal like that to the exhausted soldier,
and the thought that the battle for him was not yet
over, stirred the deep springs of his nature and slowly
kindled the purpose to rally and be ready. He
rose, ate a little of the food, drank the wine, then
looked around the beautiful apartment prepared for
her who was to have been his wife, “I have grown
weak and reckless,” he said. “I ought
to have known her well enough—I do know
her so well—as to be sure that I would cloud
her happiness if this thing destroyed me.”
“You must remember”
Mr. And Mrs. Nichol wonderingly yet promptly complied
with the request for their presence, meantime casting
about in their minds as to the identity of the relative
who had summoned them so unexpected. Mr. Kemble
arrived at the hotel at about the same moment as they
did, and Jackson was instructed to keep the carriage
in waiting. “It was I who sent for you and
your wife,” said the banker. “Mr.
Martine, if possible, would have given you cause for
a great joy only; but I fear it must be tempered with
an anxiety which I trust will not be long continued;”
and he led the way into the parlor.
“Is it—can it be about Albert?”
asked Mrs. Nichols trembling, and sinking into a chair.
“Yes, Mrs. Nichol. Try to keep your fortitude,
for perhaps his welfare depends upon it.”
“Oh, God be praised! The hope of this never
wholly left me, because they didn’t find his
body.”
Dr. Barnes came down at once, and with Mr. Kemble
tried to soothe the strong emotions of the parents,
while at the same time enlightening them as to their
son’s discovery and condition.
“Well,” said Mr. Nichol, in strong emphasis;
“Hobart Martine is one of a million.”
“I think he ought to have brought Albert right
to me first,” Mrs. Nichol added, shaking her
head and wiping her eyes. “After all, a
mother’s claim—”
“My dear Mrs. Nichol,” interrupted Dr.
Barnes, “there was no thought of undervaluing
your claim on the part of our friend Hobart.
He has taken what he believed, and what physicians
led him to believe, was the best course to restore
your son. Besides, Mr. Martine is a very sick
man. Even now he needs my attention more than
Captain Nichol. You must realize that he was to
have married Miss Kemble to-day; yet he brings back
your son, sends for Mr. Kemble in order that his daughter,
as soon as she can realize the strange truth, may
exert her power. He himself has not seen the
girl who was to have been his bride.”
