The Gift of Life. A romance

Book I Chapter

I Herr Schneider lived in a garret. Many Herr Schneiders live in mansions, and this particular Herr might have done so too but that he hated all kinds of display, and held it truth that the eager exhibition of riches is frequently an indication of poverty of character. Herr Schneider had been wealthy, that is to say, six figures had stood representative of his available funds. Two years after attaining his majority he had scattered his largesse with such profusion that every London hospital had written him a letter of thanks for his " generous gift on behalf of medical research," and four figures sufficed to express the remainder of his fortune. Five-and-thirty years had blanched his hair, chiselled his brow, and kindled an intense fire in his penetrating eyes. Philosophy and Science were his friends, and B he entertained them in a poorly-furnished garret, sitting up night after night with the seductive two, and waiting on their exacting and various moods.

As clean as soap and water could make it, but carpetless, was the garret. A strong deal table, an office stool, two or three chairs, a truckle bed — seldom slept upon — scientific apparatus, three small shelves of books, and a polished oak box, coffin-shaped, comr pleted the inventory of the attic furniture — unless the portrait of a beautiful face, which hung over the chimney-piece, be included in the catalogue. For three years things had remained in the same state ; for three years the head of Herr Schneider, or, as those familiar with his tall commanding figure called him, the Professor, had been bowed, almost incessantly, over his books and appliances. Coarse food he ate, and coarsely cooked, but he scarcely heeded that, as with breath coming fast, and eyes ready to start from their sockets, he pursued his various experiments.

Sometimes he lived years in moments, and then he would shake, as though smitten with palsy, for the nerves of his body, always strung at a high tension, vibrated with intense sympathy. After such periods he suffered deeply, and lay as one in a trance or dead. He kept a diary, little more than a mere record of experiments. Before entering daily details of his work he invariably turned to the fly-leaf and read the inscription— "To Franz Schneider, my heart's beloved. There is no Death. An angel form walks o'er the earth, And with a noiseless tread Removes our best loved from our sight, And then we call them Dead !" The handwriting was his own, but the lines were copied from his first diary, in which they were gradually fading away. Sometimes as he read aloud the words, " There is no Death," he would rise from his chair, and with face upturned towards the sky, would shout in sten torian tones — " ' O Grave, where is thy victory ?

O Death, where is thy sting ? ' Cruel, cruel Death, thou too shalt die." Hollow winds and dancing sunshine alike mocked at his frenzy, but Philosophy came to his aid, and quietly and assiduously he resumed his scientific studies. It was a cold day in January. The snow capped the houses, and trimmed the window-sills, and bedecked the naked branches of trees, and, as it fell, so changed the appearance of the earth, that the wee pipers and chirpers, though they used their sharp eyes never so sharply, lost their bearings, and, in spite of continued surveys, sighted no nests, but flew hither and thither distressfully. Herr Schneider stood at his window, when there fell, or was driven against the casement, quite a large bird. Throwing open the window he drew it in, and placing it in his bosom sought to warm it, though he believed it dead.

He saw that it was a carrier-pigeon, and noticed the initialed band attached to one leg, and read the identifying number. It bore no message. What had induced its owner to let it fly on such a day ? An hour passed, and the poor numbed thing had given no sign of life ; gently he applied his galvanic apparatus, there was a faint flutter, it was more than spasmodic, and the bird revived. A flush of joy tinged the face of the scholar ; it was "an omen, and he wanted omens — he had cheated Death, cruel, grim, merciless Death ! — and again he shouted his war-cry, and the beautiful face looked down from the photo with almost a pitying expression. Perched upon the broad frame of the picture sat the pigeon, " Toff," as the scholar called him, and he grew so tame that he would peck the oatmeal from his master's plate and walk sedately about him.

But whenever the bird rested it was on the picture-frame, beside the lovely girlish face, and the eyes of the Herr grew more earnest as he watched, and then, as though anxious to redeem the time, he would resume his labours, and work far on into the night. But there were nights, when the moon shone over the city, and the public squares echoed the footfall, and their mass of marble and stone looked down upon the tall form of the scholar pacing Groyeau Square. One night his eye fell upon the figure of a youth crouching in a doorway. He was not in rags, but his clothes were old and unfit for the sharp night. A hollow cough excited Herr Schneider's compassion, but he was passing by, when the youth hesitantly asked — " Sir, would you lend me _a shilling ? you shall be no loser." In a moment the two stood face to face, and the scholar asked in measured tones — "Have you not made the same request to others to-night ?

" " Ah ! you doubt me," exclaimed the applicant, " but come and see," and seizing Herr Schneider by the mantle he urged him on, saying, " Come quickly, come, or it may be too late." As they hastened on towards a poor part of the city the cough occurred frequently and sounded deeper. Not a word was spoken until they stood before a humble-looking house. Descending to the basement the young man groped his way into a dark room, and whispered huskily, " Wait while I strike a light." The feeble flicker of a toy-taper fell upon a heap of straw, and a pair of loving limpid eyes. " Nell, oh Nell, dear Nell," said the youth, " don't leave me ;" and kneeling on the ground he stroked the head of a huge Newfoundland dog panting her life away. " Poor Nell," said the Herr kindly, " poor dog, has she been ill long ?

" " Three days," replied her master. " I spent my last shilling on the ' vet.' and he told me she was dying, had been poisoned — but I must pay him for tending her. So to-day I tramped up and down the city searching for work, but there are hundreds searching too, well and strong and able, and I found, as before, that employers merely shook their heads at me, and one said, ' We don't employ dying lads here.' " "And this dog?" demanded the scholar, much moved, " have you had her long ? " " We have grown up together," was the reply; " she is the one living creature that knows my happier days, the one living link between my mother and myself. Her dying hand rested on Nell's hairy coat, and my little sister died with Nell by her side." The straw rustled, and the gasping dog raised her head, and dragged herself forward towards her master.

" Ha ! " muttered Herr Schneider, " the phantom again," and taking a phial from his breast-coat pocket he gently forced open the creature's mouth, and poured down her throat the contents of the bottle. " We'll fight and conquer this accursed Death," he said ; " see, the dog sleeps. Meet me in the Square to-morrow evening, and for the present take this and buy the necessaries you require ; " and before Wilfrid Allan could express his thanks the cloaked form of the Herr had vanished. " How can I thank the man whose compassion has given me back my only friend ? " he asked next evening, as he clasped Herr Schneider's hand in his own with fervour. " My life is yours to command." " Do you mean it ? " asked the scholar, looking searchingly into the youth's upturned face. "I would give you a test."

" Name it," replied Allan proudly. " You are anxious to work ? " " Ah ! you would load me with fresh benefits ! " " No, on the contrary, I should be the debtor. I need for my experiments a subject ; I would do you good, I might do you harm, but should pay you well." Allan cut short further explanations by an impetu ous " I have nothing to lose, but all to gain by such an offer ; bid me follow you." Day after day in the garret laboratory worked the earnest scholar and sat the patient subject of numer ous operations. His cough lessened ; his cheek assumed a healthier appearance. His work was manifold. A great part of his time was taken up in personal visits to aged men and women, with over tures from his employer, the secret nature of which he divulged only to those he deemed likely to close with his master's offers.

Eagles, elephants, parrots, and canaries, with other long-lived creatures, were pur chased and housed at the scholar's expense. Strange as these and kindred transactions at first seemed to the young man, who was working in the dark, he soon treated them as matters of course. As the nearest church clock chimed six, Herr Schneider invariably bade him good-night, and draw ing on his coat, his employer's gift, Allan withdrew till morning. After his withdrawal the scholar, disrobing of all save his shirt, lay down in his polished oak coffin. It was a fearful ordeal ! The sweat stood on his brow, and a trembling seized his limbs, but he endured in the oaken box a vivid half-hour face to face with Death. As the last minute of the thirty spent itself he rose, and dressing himself again, continued his labours.

Once, as he lay shaking and quaking with an indescribable horror, the roosting pigeon flew across the room, and perching upon the left-hand corner by the head of the coffined man, quietly resumed her broken sleep. Herr Schneider groaned aloud, " Alas ! heartless one, what care you for the hideous power that darkens all the days of all the sons of men ? " And again he caught the pitying expression upon the beautiful face in the picture. Wilfrid Allan had been in the service of the scholar about two years, when tapping gently at the door of the little garret for admittance as was his morning wont, he heard no reply, although he listened attentively. Thrice he repeated his tapping, and then, thinking his master might be sleeping, and hesitating to disturb him, he withdrew to visit some old people who lived a distance out.

It was the first time during two years that no answer had been given him, and he missed the hearty " Come in, lad," of the Herr. It was high noon, a winter's noon, when again the young man knocked at the garret door. Herr Schneider opened it, but what had changed him so ? He looked younger by years, there was almost a boyish air about him, yet a quiet strength and assurance in the tones of his voice, as though he had explored and found new worlds in the face of derision and opposition. " I have discovered that to-day, Allan, which millionaires would gladly have laid down their millions to know ; that which will make new heavens and a new earth, add dignity to human kind, destroy time, space, the fear of disease, and the grave." " My master and friend," cried the young man, " you are overdone ; continual study has injured the mind.

Rest, rest, and let me, in such way as I can, continue your work for you." "Look into my eyes," replied Herr Schneider. " Are they the eyes of a madman ? For years I have sought this great secret, and now I have wrested it from Nature by the force of an indomitable will and by the aid of science. The secret is mine, and its vastness, its magnitude, indisputable. Say, boy, if one should come to you, skilful in medical science, and honourable in all his dealings, and offer to cure you, would you think it worth while to trust him, to follow his suggestions ? " " Dear Herr, such thanks and trust will never be demanded from me, for no man would assert that he could make the dying live ; yet were there one man alive who possessed the wondrous power he should find me a willing patient." The bright eyes grew brighter until tears stood ready to fall at a sympathetic word or motion of the scholar's. Life to the young consumptive was sweet.

" To-morrow," said Herr Schneider, " come to me to-morrow, and I will divulge to you, my trusted helper, enough of my secret to inspire you with belief in my discovery, but to-day I am overpowered." Never night passed more slowly. With the scholar, time, after his discovery, was an ecstasy. The first action of the waning day was one so singular that, arrested by a flood of thoughts, he stayed his hand and wept aloud for very joy. With chisel and ham mer he broke in pieces the coffin in which he had suffered hours of excruciating mental agony, and burnt them, and watched the flames and smoke and charring wood as though they were sacrifice and incense. He carried the picture of the girlish face to the opposite side of the garret, and placed it in a position where it could see the consuming of the coffin, when, tortured by the sudden recollection that his great discovery had come too late to save her — his precious bride — he groaned in anguish of spirit, and lay down exhausted.

It was a strange picture : the low garret, the scientific apparatus, the learned scholar, the con suming coffin, and the timid gentle bird, so out of place, yet so at home. But stranger still was the result of years of search — years of which the months seemed ages to the mind of Herr Schneider. He dare hardly think of his secret as a discovery ; it was a revelation, and he the apostle to whom it had been vouchsafed ! He shook, as though palsy-smitten, as the significance of the revelation dawned upon him. He saw its influence paramount on the battle-field, upsetting the most accurately planned campaigns ; he watched it spread, by the aid of an intensely active imagination, to the gibbet, defeating all capital punishment ; mid high-born and lowly, in castle and hut, o'er sky and earth, o'er air and sea, the subtle influence of the mighty secret spread.

Churchyards might yawn in vain, and fierce ele ments in mad fury do their worst, his mysterious secret would prevail ! As he pondered on these things broken cries from time to time escaped him, till black-robed, sad-eyed night gave place to morn ing, and with the daylight came a calmness, hushing his soul and restoring tranquillity. The morning brought Wilfrid Allan, and to the Herr the difficult task of reducing to words the crown of his life-work. The familiar tap at the door was answered by the as familiar " Come in," and the master and pupil stood face to face. Herr Schneider was the first to speak. It was a commonplace question he asked — " Did you sleep well last night ? " Allan coloured slightly, but answered quickly — " No, I have passed few such nights." A long silence followed. It was broken by the scholar's asking — " And how is Nell, the old dog ?

" " Feeble, but she still trots about ; may I bring her down to see you, Mein Herr ? " " Surely ; she is always welcome." Again a pause, and then the discoverer said—" Allan, let us walk in the Square where we first met." A glow of satisfaction tinged the young man's face, and he replied — " That was indeed a night I can never forget ; my benefactor, my master ! " " Would you forget it if you could ? " asked the Herr gently. " Not while life lasts," replied the grateful youth. " And if life " but here the scholar broke off abruptly, and bade Allan accompany him without further loss of time. Not a word breathed either until Groyeau Square, with its familiar fountains and columns and big buildings, was reached. "And if life," resumed Herr Schneider, as though there had been no break, " were endless, if no ugly, monstrous, Gorgon-headed Death could interrupt it, would you still wish to remember our meeting ?

" " Dear master," said Allan, his voice choked with emotion, " if life were an eternity — but why, oh, why do you ask me these questions, why torture me with cruel stern ' ifs ' ? " " Not needlessly ; there is earnest purpose and definite plan with me, Allan." Again a pause, and Herr Schneider asked — " Have you ever known those ' who, through fear of death, were all their lifetime subject to bondage' ?" Allan shuddered, but evaded a direct answer ; his own heart told him that the subjection had been the speaker's, but how had he broken bonds ? " Death is ghastly ; it is a mockery to speak of it as ' Sleep's twin brother,' " he said. " When I was a boy," continued Herr Schneider, " amongst the old classic stories that I loved, was one that told of a mysterious sealed box, left in charge of a boy Epimetheus.

The lad had a sister, whose curiosity led her, in an ill-favoured moment, to open the box, when from it escaped the whole family of worldly troubles — evil passions, cares, sorrows, diseases, in fact ' everything that has since afflicted the souls and bodies of mankind,' but last of all a ' sunny, smiling little personage, throwing a light wherever she went. Her wings were coloured like the rainbow, and her name was as sweet as her nature — Hope.' " " It is a beautiful legend," said the young man, as his master stopped speaking. " Why were you so fond of it ? " " Perhaps because I knew I should need the brightly winged little lady. She has tinted all my troubles save one, and yet why should I make that reservation, since I owe it to her inspiration that I have achieved a victory over the enemy of mankind, and my worst foe ?

" There was a puzzled expression on Allan's face. " Let us sit down on this stone," said the scholar. His pupil complied, and the Herr asked — " Are you strong enough to hear of my discovery, the revelation vouchsafed to me ? " Wilfrid Allan slowly inclined his head. " You believe me sane ? " was the next question. " Why should I doubt it ? " queried the youth. " If doubt occurred it would be of my own sanity." "Allan, my secret is DEATHLESSNESS for the Human Race — at least, for all who deliberately will it!" A look of astonishment, horror, and finally the loss of consciousness, demonstrated the effect of the announcement upon Wilfrid Allan. Tenderly the Herr bent over the prostrate form of his young friend, exclaiming, " Ah ! poor youth, poor youth, it was early to trust him with so stupendous a secret ; he was all unprepared for the results of my long research ; the communication has stunned him."

A feeling of intense pain shot through him as he noted the look of aversion, almost repugnance, cast upon him by the young man as he returned to con sciousness, and he started visibly as the whispered words fell on his listening ear — "Would God you had died before you had made this terrible discovery." Herr Schneider rose from his seat ; he stood over his graceless protege. This, he reflected, was the reception accorded his crown of triumph, his panacea for all human woes ! This the way in which the first human being to whom he divulged them had received the glad tidings! For a moment an ungovernable fury seized him, and, forgetting all save injured pride, he abjured, with passionate utterance, " once and for ever the friendship of the most ignorant and base of men." There was a quiet dignity, not unmingled with compassion, upon the countenance of Allan.

He spoke no word to stem the torrent of Herr Schneider's wrathful speech. " Speak, trifler," cried the Herr. " Have you never heard of the husbandman who nourished a viper ? " " My master and generous benefactor," replied the young man, as he raised himself slowly ; " it would ill become one who owes you a debt he can never repay to expostulate " " Expostulation or apology would not alter my estimate of your character ; henceforth if you continue to serve me it must be as a stranger, a hired servant, unable to appreciate or sympathize with his master's interests." " So that I may serve you," answered Allan, " though only afar off."

Chapter II

Broadstairs ! The carriage doors of the London train flew open as though the shouting of that word had pressed a magic spring. In less time than the old church clock occupied in striking eleven the quiet platform was alive with passengers. Just outside the little station stood, amid the many cabs and hansoms, a private carriage. The groom waited at the ticket-gate until, saluting a tall, broad man, with whitened hair, and furrowed brow and deep-set eyes, and receiving by way of reply a grave inclination of the head, he led the way to the'carriage, where already a porter was depositing a hand-bag. Not a word passed the lips of Herr Schneider ; for a full half-hour the well-formed, powerful horses trotted on with the carriage and its freight, and then the sedate coachman reined in, the groom dismounted and rang the bell, the gates opened wide, and in less than a minute the grave scholar stood within the darkened chamber, once more to engage in conflict with his phantom foe.

Upon the bed lay the wasted form of little Earl Holderness. His golden curls were thrown back in disorder upon the pillow, and his transparent hands lay motionless on either side. As the scholar stepped quietly forward, the dying child turned his head and looked at him questioningly. " My child," said the Herr, " I have come to do you good, to restore you to your little playfellows, and to those who love you well." " I'm tired, too tired for play," whispered the boy, " but I thank you all the same." There were other figures in the room, and the scholar knew that eager eyes were bent upon him. The ticking clock, the hard breathing of the suffering child, and his own beating heart seemed like voices urging him to act. He was conscious that a beautiful woman was looking pleadingly into his eyes, and he heard an impassioned prayer in familiar words — " If you can help us you will, will you not ?

" Again a silence and a moan of pain as the breath ing became harder. The sweat stood upon the face of the child, there was no time to lose. Touching the mother gently on her shoulder he beckoned her to a far corner of the room, and asked her a portentous question — " Would you that I bestow deathlessness upon your little one ? " "So shall my life and his life be yours to com mand," was the answer. "Do you deliberately will it so?" asked Herr Schneider. c "Were my will ten times focussed I could no more intensely will this wondrous gift for my boy than I do now," replied the young Earl's mother eagerly. " Then command your servants to see that I am left alone with Lord Holderness for the space of one hour ; at the expiration of that time let whom you will present himself." "Swear to me," answered the mother, as she choked back her sobs, and trembled before the man who held the mysterious keys of life and death, "that when I return my child will be alive and conscious."

" I swear nothing ; if you dare not trust me I can withdraw." Again the moan, and this time a gentle whisper — " Mamma, I am dying ; but you will not be long ; we shall meet again." " Oh ! Herr Schneider, be merciful as you hope for mercy ; see, there's my boy, my only child, restore him to his mother, and all his wealth is at your service." " Madam ! " exclaimed the Herr, " my secret, the wondrous revelation vouchsafed to me, is priceless. Leave the room, and observe the conditions laid upon you." One hour ! with its sixty times sixty ticks, each minute weighted with momentous issues, as the winged moments brought death nearer or bore death farther away ! The Countess knelt, less in prayer than in anguish, the anguish of suspense. The relations and friends who filled the spacious drawing-rooms talked together in low whispers, speculating as to the German doctor, his probable failure or success.

To none had the mother repeated the Herr's question. Had she done so she knew that he would have been proclaimed mad. To her, the mere chance of prolonging the boy's life was to be welcomed, snatched at, paid for. For what were life worth to her, a widow, without her only son ? She would dare all ridicule, all opprobrium, to save him, to keep him always by her side, always with her. The hereditary estates of little Earl Holderness were situated in three counties. His income was large even for an English earl, and his name was universally beloved. The tenants on his Kentish lands were proud of their young master, and loved him for his own as well as his father's sake. They were never tired of telling him stories illustrative of that father's goodness and generosity. And now that child lay dying!

A throb of sympathy shook the neighbourhood where the anguished mother watched beside her son. " I'd sooner ha'e cut off my right hand than ha'e lost him," said old Bill Marks the postman to Tom Phipps the milkman. • " Ah ! and I'd give Booch, my best cow, to hear he was better." The report spread like wildfire that a " German Professor" had been summoned by the Countess to her son's bedside. An eager crowd besieged the castle gates for news, and for an hour, two hours, three hours, all was suspense. Then a deep suppressed cheer, and many a heartfelt "Thank God," broke from the people as the Countess appeared, and announced — " My son lives — the crisis is passed." As Herr Schneider descended the old oak staircase, and heard the outpoured thanks of the Countess, and saw the wonder and worship depicted upon the faces of the servants, he felt as though he were a prophet, a man exalted by virtue of his mysterious endowments and gifts above the rest of the people.

As he stepped into the carriage a telegram was placed in his hand. It was from the garret, sent by Allan, and ran thus : — " M. M. dying, at 3 Quebec Street, London, E. — Will you see her ? " Herr Schneider's hand trembled as he deposited the telegram-form in his Gladstone bag, but it was with set brow and inflexible mouth that he took his seat in the London train. The Herr wrote as the train sped on, and had his pencil been a diamond his fellow-passengers could not have gazed at it with a more pronounced fascination. London Bridge terminus and its bounding life were all before the Professor, but he heeded nought. With his case of instruments in his hand, and the stinging thought that his enemy might elude him burning in his brain, he walked as though he wore winged shoes. Over the bridge that spanned the dark-flowing river, whereon a thousand gruesome and distorted shapes found reflection, and then once more behind a fast-trotting horse, racing the " pale horse " and his phantom rider.

" Double fare for double speed," he cried, and the cabman lashed his nag until, terrified, she galloped. It was seldom that Quebec Street saw a private cab. The prisoner's van often passed on its way to the police-court, and the parish hearse on its way to the church, and was succeeded by the hospital cab and the asylum-bound cab, and once in a while some members of the Board of Works would drive down, two in a hansom, and stare about vacantly, finally settling their gaze upon certain hovels farmed out by the Jews of the locality to the " Christians " of the locality at high rates, — five, ten times their worth, — and having stared and made several notes of several lengths, they would withdraw, firmer believers than ever in sanitary reform and hygienic measures for the people. This stare and the voluminous-notes made down East, generally followed hard on an epidemic in some West-End slums.