Martha

Chapter I. Martha's Brighter Prospects

y\J E must now take up the thread of our narrative in the lodging engaged for Martha by Dr. Wilson at Mrs. Mitchell's, the ex-matron of the hospital. The good effects produced by the stimulants swallowed at the Red House being neutralised by the fatigue occasioned by the drive in the brougham — short though it was — Martha remained for some clays hovering between life and death. At last, thanks to tbe elasticity of a naturally good constitution, aided by the skill and care of the doctor and nurse, a turn for the better took place. Slowly, very slowly, her strength returned, but without being accompanied by tbe slightest mental improvement. So utterly paralysed did her mind ap- VOL. II. B MARTHA. pear, that for some time Dr. Wilson feared she was suffering from incurable softening of the brain.

Fortunately, as it afterwards turned out, be was in error. When almost in despair on the subject, the nurse one mornbig informed him that in the course of tbe last evening his patient had spoken to her, and that she evi dently quite understood the words she uttered. This was a step in the right direction, and with out further remark the doctor hurried upstairs, and placing himself beside the bed, kindly in quired of Martha if she felt herself better. She looked at him for a moment, as though it oc casioned her some effort to collect her thoughts, and then said, in a voice so subdued he could hardly hear it, that she felt stronger ; and con cluded by asking something about a letter, which he could not fully understand. Having tried in vain to catch her meaning, he contented himself with the belief that consciousness was returning, and advised her not to trouble her self about the letter that day, but that he w7ould speak to her about it on the morrow.

He di rected that she should be kept perfectly quiet, and that no questions were to be asked of her ; but that if she volunteered any remarks, par ticular attention was to be paid to them, as he would like to be informed of their purport when he paid his visit next day. He also impressed on Mrs. Keats (the clergyman's wife) and her daughters, whose anxiety about Martha's re covery w7as very great, the necessity of his patient being kept perfectly quiet, and he par ticularly advised them not to speak to her on any subject until he gave them permission. On the morrow7, when Dr. Wilson arrived at the house, and before he entered the sick-room, he was told by Mrs. Mitchell that his patient was in much the same condition as when he had last seen her. Occasionally she had spoken, but only a few words at a time, and these without any particular meaning.

It was possible, Mrs. Mitchell continued, that he might be better able to understand her ; but, as he had strictly pro hibited ber from entering into any conversation with his patient till he should see her again, she had forborne to ask any explanations, especially as the words she uttered did not relate to an immediate want. For tbe last few hours, be yond appearing perhaps a little stronger, there B MARTHA. was no perceptible difference in her health. The doctor now entered his patient's room, but for a few moments she did not seem to be aware of his presence, although her head was turned to the side of the bed at which he stood, and her eyes were open. Gradually, however, an expression of intelligence appeared in her countenance, and presently she seemed to recog nize him. She gazed at him fixedly for some moments, aud then her lips began to move.

He bent his head towards her, and on listening at tentively he could distinguish some words, and among them that of "letter" was several times repeated. This gave him considerable satisfac tion, as be could perceive that some fixed idea was occupying her thoughts, and that she was not merely uttering random words without any meaning. " Tell me," he said to her, in a voice of great kindness, " what is it you wish ?" But all the reply he could get was a few un connected words, and among them, as before, that of " letter " occurred more than once. After two or three more trials he gave up the attempt, fearing that be might fatigue her ; aud then, repeating to Mrs. Mitchell the instructions he had given the day before, he left the house to make the round of bis patients. Although his mind was now occupied with other subjects, he could not entirely divest, him self of the idea that the poor woman must have some special reason for dwelling upon, and re peating so often, the word " letter."

Indeed, so frequently did his mind return to the subject, that be resolved, when his visits were over, to call on the Rev. Mr. Keats — who still took a deep interest iu the poor woman's case — and consult with him as to what steps ought to be taken on her behalf. He fortunately found Mr. Keats at home, and told him the object of his visit. "There can be no doubt," said Mr. Keats, " that she has been expecting to receive a letter from some one. Let us inquire at the Post office whether one has come for her. I propose that we should go at once." "With all my heart,"said the doctor : "though, even supposing there should be one, I do not see what steps we can take in the matter. 1 hardly think the postmaster wdl consider him self justified in placing it in our hands ; and, even MARTHA. if he did, we could make nothing of it, as it is not ours."

" There is certainly some difficulty in that," said Mr. Keats ; " but at any rate there will be no harm in our ascertaining whether any letter has really arrived for her." When they reached the Post-office, the clerk, in reply to their question, told them that a letter had arrived addressed to Miss Thornbury, Red House, near X . It was from India, and there was some postage to pay on it, whicli the policeman on duty at the house had declined to advance. The letter would be sent there again on the morrow, and if not received, would be returned to the Dead-letter Office. He could not, he said, place it in the hands of either the doctor or Mr. Keats, as it was contrary to rule. At the same time, if any one received it at the house for Miss Thornbury, all responsibility would be taken off his shoulders.

Acting upon this very plain Lint, the doctor and Mr. Keats next proceeded to the Police Station, and saw the inspector. They requested him to send a messenger to the policeman on duty at the Red House, with orders that, w7heu the letter was presented next day, the postage was to be paid, and that it was to be forwarded to Dr. Wdson, who would take charge of it for his patient. The inspector having agreed to this arrangement, Dr. Wilson and his friend separated. Next day the worthy doctor received the let ter, but what to do with it, now that he had it, puzzled him exceedingly. He sent for Mr. Keats to advise him in the matter, and after due con sideration they came to the conclusion that they could not open it without receiving permission from the owner, as it would be an act of gross indiscretion, — and yet tbe patient was not in a condition to give any one authority to read it.

Again, the doctor was somewhat doubtful as to the effect it might produce on her if she were told that it had arrived. At present, the only sign of intelligence she showed was that ot anxiety. If the letter should contain pleasing news, the excitement might be beneficial to her, but of that he was by no means certain ; while, on the contrary, if the letter told of any misfortune or trouble, the most prejudicial effects might be apprehended. Another circumstance, MARTHA. however, rendered the knowledge of its contents exceedingly desirable. It might contain money, or at any rate advice of some to be received ; and on that point both the doctor and the clergy man were somewhat anxious. The former, in deed, said that he wmdd be most willing to render her his services gratuitously, should she require them ; but he had made himself answer able for"ner current expenses as well, and al though these were far from being great, he hard ly considered himself called upon to pay them, out of justice to his own family.

Mr. Keats perfectly agreed with him in the view he took of the matter, and they now conversed together in order to find a way out of their difficulty, but without success. At last they resolved to delay all further consideration of the subject until the next morning. Then perhaps she might be better able to understand them, and they could determine what course to adopt. On the morrow the doctor, accompanied by his friend, called to see his patient, and found her progressing slowly but favourably. She appeared somewhat more intelligent, and several times mentioned the letter. The doctor asked MARTHA'S BRIGHTER PROSPECf S. 9 her where she expected it to come from, but failed to make her understand the question. Presently he inquired whether it was from India, and at the word a ray of intelligence flashed across her face.

He now felt certain that he had in his possession the letter she was so anxious about, and he promised her — though possibly without her fully understanding him — that he would make inquiries about it. On further consideration, he concluded that it would be more prudent to abstain from showing it to ber for a few clays. In the interim she recover ed so rapidly, that he determined on trying the experiment, and taking Mr. Keats with him, he showed her the letter, and then asked if he should read it for her, to which sbe nodded as sent. The letter was from Edgar. In it he ex pressed himself deeply grieved at his mother's death, though at her advanced period of life such a misfortune might naturally have been looked for. He greatly praised Martha for the attention she had so willingly shown to her parents, and assured her, not only of his love, but also of his gratitude for the part she had MARTHA. taken in comforting their declining years.

He regretted the straitened circumstances she had been in, but assured her his position was now so well established that sbe should never again be in danger of suffering any privation. He then went into some detail about his own affairs. He told her he had married Miss Mac donald, the only daughter of his employer ; that her father (as he had before stated) w7as of very penurious habits, and had refused to give her any dowry, comforting his son-in-law for the disappointment he might possibly have felt by saying that, as he had no relative in the world besides his child, she would ultimately inherit whatever bttle property he might die possessed of. As Mr. Macdonald was, in appearance, a very hearty man at the time, the reversion to his property seemed somewhat remote ; but he (Edgar) consoled himself with the knowledge that every shillhig accumulated by bis father in-law would ultimately come into his own hands.

He therefore submitted with perfect good will to the old gentleman's excuse, the more readily, too, as he knew the business was annually increasing, and the profits becoming very large. Edgar then went on to say that, contrary to all expectation, Mr. Macdonald had died suddenly. On opening his will, which had been made some years previous to his daughter's marriage, he was found to be a man of large fortune — and the whole was left to his child. Edgar could not state what was the amount of Mr. Macdonald's wealth, as it would be some time before the estate could be wound up ; but, at present, besides the business, he could per ceive that the property would realise at least a hundred thousand pounds. He had deter mined, as soon as affairs were a little further advanced — say in three months' time — to leave India with his wife, on a visit to England ; and, indeed, it was probable that he might remain there permanently.

Everything would depend upon the conduct of his nephews. If they con tinued as steady as they had hitherto been, he should never again return to India. He had entered into partnership with the gentleman with whom he had placed Edgar, his younger nephew ; and his intentions were, that if during his residence in England he found that his two nephews kept steadily to business, he should MARTHA. retire from the firm, leaving bis share in it entirely to them. With respect to the Red House, he advised Martha to leave it, if she thought proper, and place it under the charge of some respectable house agent till his return, when he intended, after making considerable alterations, to reside in it himself; and he sin cerely trusted that she would occupy it with him. For her present necessities be enclosed her a bill of exchange for two hundred pounds ; and he further informed her that he had established a credit for her with bis agent in London for a like sum, should she require it.

The reading of the letter, so far from having any ill effect on Martha, seemed on the contrary to exercise a most beneficial influence. At the same time, the doctor thought that it would be advisable not to prolong tbe conversation that day, and Mr. Keats and himself left the house, promising that he would see her on the morrow. Next day the atony had returned to such an extent that Dr. Wilson began to regret the step he had taken. He tried for some time to elicit signs of intelligence, but in vain ; and he left the house much disappointed and depressed at the change for the worse in his patient. It was some days before sbe regained tbe condition she was in before the letter was read to her. Gradually, however, Martha's fits of atony diminished, not only in frequency, but in duration, and as she improved, the doctor withdrew his objection to conversation with his patient, and Mrs. Keats with her two daughters, Fanny and Ellen, were now frequent visitors.

So far from any prejudicial results arising from their interviews with Martha, they seemed, on the contrary, to be attended with great advantage. Still the fits of somnolency occasionally returned, nor could the doctor with his utmost care and ability avert them. He now began to be fairly puzzled what course to pursue ; Martha's bodily health having increased greatly, while the fits of somnolency still from time to time showed themselves. The most cheering feature in her malady was, that each succeeding relapse was shorter than the former, w-hile her mind, in the intervals, in creased in power to such a degree that it was not easy to detect anything wrong with it. She MARTHA. spoke of her affairs, and her brother's return, with perfect lucidity, and expressed her great anxiety as to the fate of Deborah.

She had, with perfect consciousness, signed the receipt for the money sent her by Edgar, and had agreed to the proposal made by the doctor, that it should be lodged with the bankers in the town, and that she should, from time to time, draw from it such small sums as she might require. She gave or ders that advertisements should be inserted in the newspapers, offering a reward to anyone who could give her any information about Deborah ; and she further requested the inspector of police to use any means be thought advisable to gain some intelligence of tbe poor old Quakeress. She also placed the Red House in the hands of an estate-agent, determining to follow the doctor's advice not to return to it till her health was sufficiently re-established, or tdl her brother should arrive in England. A circumstance now occurred which gave Dr. Wilson an opportunity of sharing the responsi bility of Martha's case with a brother practi tioner.

He had long wished to hold a consultation with some physician of eminence w7ho w7as learned in diseases of the brain, but there was no one resident in the neighbourhood of X of sufficient experience on the subject to con fer with. The Rev. Mr. Keats had a brother, a physician, in extensive practice, residing in the neighbourhood of Torquay, who had formerly paid great attention to maladies of this description. This gentleman was now on the point of paying a visit, of a week or ten days, to his brother, whom he had not seen for some years ; and Dr. Wilson resolved to consult him on Mar tha's case. On his arrival, Dr. Wilson requested him to visit his patient with him, which Dr. Keats willingly agreed to do. They found Martha in one of her fits of somnolency, from wbicb they had great difficulty in arousing her.

When fully awake, she spoke lucidly, but it was quite evident that she did so with great effort — the desire to sleep again beingplainly apparent. At last they left her, and retired to Mrs. Mitchell's sitting-room to consult on the case. Dr. Wilson gave his professional brother a full description of Martha's malady, and the means that be had adopted to stay it, though with but partial success. " Her whole career," said Dr. Wilson, MARTHA. " is a perfect illustration of that cat-like attach ment wliich some women have to the home they have been brought up in. The poor creature would have starved outright rather than have quitted the house — in fact, she was almost in articulo mortis when I was called in to see her." " How do you account for these fits of somno lency ?" inquired Dr. Keats. "Her strong attach ment to the house would hardly have produced them."

" On that point I admit I am quite puzzled," was the reply ; " unless the extreme debdity arising from her protracted starvation may have had something to do with it." " That could hardly have had the effect in ber case," said Dr. Keats ; " for ber mind would have recovered its healthy tone at least as rapidly as her bodily health. You say she is much stronger than she wras when you first saw ber, and that she gains flesh daily. Now, my opinion is that she is suffering from some terrible excitement, which we have not yet heard of. The mind has probably been over-fatigued, and tbe uncon scious state she is now so frequently in is simply a dreamless sleep, which is recruiting her mind, as ordinary rest would restore her body. It is really a most extraordinary case ; and I should much like, if possible, to get at the real facts of it."

" I much suspect you will find out nothing more than what I have told you. I think I men tioned that the sorrow she displayed at the death of her mother, whom I attended in her last illness, was so great that at the moment I almost feared it wrould leave some lasting and serious impression on ber brain." " You did ; but if I understand you correctly, her mother has been dead for some time. In tense grief might at> the time have taken such a form as to have justified your conclusions : but time would have greatly mitigated that ; and even supposing it had not, I do not think it would have shown itself in its present phase. I am fully convinced there is more in her case than we have yet discovered. Do you know much of her previous history?" " Very little." " Is she naturally an intelligent woman, and well educated?

My sister-in-law and her daughters speak very highly of her, and VOL. II. c: MARTHA. seem to have taken a great fancy to her." " From what I have seen of her," said Dr. Wilson, " she seems to have been well educated, and is a very mild and amiable woman ; but be yond that I know very little of her. Her brother is a merchant in India, and is shortly expected in this country. I understand he is a man of large fortune ; but, from what I gather from her, she has no other relatives." " Her case is a very singular one, certainly," said Dr. Keats, after a moment's reflection, " and I should like to study it. As I have said be fore, I am convinced ber mind must have received some terrible shock, and that there is not one iota of insanity in her malady. Where does she intend to reside when she leaves this house ?"

" I cannot inform you, nor do I believe sbe knows herself. I have advised her not to return to her old home, and she has consented to leave it — indeed, it is now in the hands of an estate agent, who will take charge of it until her brother's return." " I intend taking my niece, Fanny, back witb me," said Dr. Keats, " and tbe girl appears to have taken a great fancy to your patient : do you think she could be persuaded to accompany her?" "I have no doubt she would willingly do so," was the reply ; " and the more readily as she is very fond of your niece. All things considered, I think this is, perhaps, the best thing that could be done in her case. Change of air and scene would be the best alteratives that could be pre scribed for her." The next clay, a great improvement was visi ble in Martha.

Dr. Wilson, as had been pre viously arranged, suggested to her on his visit that change of air and scene would be beneficial to ber, and inquired if she had any friends or relatives in the South of England, whom she could visit for some time. To this, Martha replied that she knew no one whatever. Dr. Wilson then merely remarked that it was a pity, as he believed the air of Devonshire would have a most salutary effect on her. And he then changed the conversation to another subject, leaving it for Mrs. Keats and the young ladies to broach the matter to her more explicitly. In the afternoon the ladies called on Martha. She c2 MARTHA. informed them of the doctor's visit in tbe morn ing, and of his advice to ber to try the air of the South of England, and, she continued, that she felt strongly disposed to follow his suggestion, if any one could tell her of a nice place to choose.

The cue being given, Fanny immediately remarked, " W7by do you not come to Torquay with me? I am sure my uncle would be delighted to take charge of you on the road, and advise you how to proceed on your arrival. Little as he has seen of you, I assure you you are a great favourite of his." Of course Martha demurred to the proposi tion, saying that she should not like to trouble Dr. Keats, and so on. There was no difficulty in perceiving, however, that the suggestion was a most acceptable one to ber. After a little more conversation on the subject — Martha still persevering in her objections — Fanny said to her, laughing at the time, "I will argue the matter with you no further, as I see you are too obstinate for me to manage. I will send my uncle to you presently, and try if be has more influence over you than I have."

Later in the day, Dr. Keats called on Martha, and, as Fanny had predicted, he easily won her over. Be fore he left her, it was agreed that she should not only go with him and Fanny to Torquay, but that he would also write to his wife by that night's post, to make arrangements to receive her into bis own house. Next day, Martha left Mrs. Mitchell's house for the first time since she had gone to lodge there. Her bodily strength being now quite equal to tbe exertion, Mrs. Keats accompanied her to different shops to make purchases, for her wardrobe was at a very low ebb — in fact, everything she then wore had been lent to her by the Keats' family. She afterwards spent the even ing with them, and then returned home, suffering a little from the fatigue she had undergone. The time was now fast approaching for Dr. Keats to return home ; and Martha had every thing ready for the journey.

She hailed with pleasure the idea of quitting X , as, her story being now well known in tbe town, she was occasionally much annoyed by tbe remarks she heard made upon her as she passed ; not that they were uncomplimentary, but she naturally had au objection to being made an object MARTHA. of curiosity with strangers. Before leaving X , she visited the inspector of police, and stimulated him to increased exertion, by doub ling the amount of reward she had offered, to obtain some information of Deborah, of whom nothing had as yet been beard. The day arrived for them to leave X , and Martha (after taking farew-ell of her kind friends, and remunerating Dr. Wilson for his medical attendance, so far as money could do it) started on her journey to Torquay, in company with Dr. Keats and Fanny.

Chapter II

martha's phantom family. T)EYOND a considerable amount of anxiety to -*^ tbe doctor, little occurred in the journey to Torquay worth mentioning. The woather was fine, and for some time Martha seemed greatly interested in all she saw, and tbe time passed pleasantly enough for all parties. The first forty miles, however, which had to be performed in a carriage before reaching the great railway station at Y , had somewhat fatigued her, and when in the train the symptoms of depression which were generally the forerunners of her fits of atony became apparent ; but, thanks to the efforts of the doctor and Fanny Keats to keep up the conversation, these vanished, and she supported the remainder of the journey much better than might have been expected. Wben MARTHA. they reached their destination, however, so strongly marked on her countenance and frame were the effects of the fatigue she bad under gone during the day, that the doctor insisted on her immediately retiring to her room, sorely to the regret of Mrs. Keats and the children, who had been awaiting her arrival with much im patience.

Martha's condition the next morning clearly proved that the doctor had done wisely in in sisting on her early retirement the evening be fore. In fact, her state of somnolency when Fanny Keats entered Martha's bed-room the following morning appeared to be as profound as when she was at the house of Mrs. Mitchell the morning after she had been removed to it by tbe doctor. Fanny, after in vain attempting to arouse her, grew greatly alarmed, and rushed downstairs to call the assistance of the doctor. He was from home, however, at the time, but his wife accompanied Fanny to Martha's room, where, on discovering the state of her guest, sbe became scarcely less alarmed than her niece. She immediately despatched messengers to find the doctor, who shortly afterwards returned to the house, and proceeded to his patient's room.

After feeling her pulse, and finding it tolerably full, be calmed the fears of his wife and niece by assuring them that profound as the somnolency appeared, their friend would shortly recover from it, and very possibly, even in the evening of that day she would be able to join their family circle. Before leaving X he had fully satisfied himself that her fits of atony or somnolency were simply profound mental fatigue after violent excitement. He judged that her present condition had been caused partially by fatigue, but more so by tbe variety of scenes they had passed on their road, which had wearied her brain, and she was then suffering in consequence, but he was fully con vinced she would in a few hours recover from the effect. Tbe doctor was perfectly correct in bis con clusion, for in a few hours Martha awoke as from a heavy, dreamless sleep.

Indeed, so rapid was her recovery, that she was able to join the family at the dinner-table, and even proposed accompanying them in a walk by tbe sea-shore in the evening. This, however, the doctor MARTHA. would not allow, and Martha remained with the family at home. Mrs. Keats appeared to take great interest in her guest, who, on her part, seemed equally pleased with her hostess and her family. In fact, the good impression produced on all sides was so deep, that before the family separated for the night, it was agreed that Martha should remain with them during her stay in Torquay. Things now went on smoothly enough for some time, Martha each day becoming a greater favourite with the family. She had conceived a great friendship for Mrs. Keats, and interested herself much in the children. Some of the younger ones were educated at home by their mother, and Martha, possibly bearing in mind the time w7hen she was herself instructress to poor Charity's children, assisted Mrs. Keats in her scholastic duties, thereby greatly increasing the esteem the worthy lady had entertained for ber.