Blood. A tragic tale

Front matter

ONE SHILLING. ,;'ii BLOOD BY W. DELISLE HAY. Author of " The Doqm of the Great City." LONDON : SWAN SONNENSCHEIN, LOWREY & CO., PATERNOSTER SQUARE. BLOOD S tragic £ale BY W. DELISLE HAY AUTHOR OF " THE DOOM OF THE CREAT CITY," " BRIGHTER BRITAIN," &C, &C. LONDON: SWAN SONNENSCHEIN, LOWREY, & CO., PATERNOSTER SQUARE. S. Cowan ii- Co., General Printers, Perth. CONTENTS. Chap. Txax I. Reflections . .... i II. Lady Luris and Dr. Steggall ... 3 III. The Invalid 3 IV. Mr. Seth Seamore . . . . 12 V. Mr. Seamore's Views . . . . 18 VI. Dr. Steggall's Plans .... 23 VII. Byfield Lodge 2S VIII. Mesmerism ...... 33 IX. " For the Blood is the Life ! " . . 39 X. A Victim of Science . . . . 41 XI. A Miracle 46 XII. The Awakening of Luris ... 50 XIII. Very Strange ..... 56 XIV. 'Ts her Memory gone?" ... 62 XV.

"It looks like a Grave!" ... 69 XVI. " What has become of him ? " . . 74 XVII. Quite an altered character ... Contents. 4 Chap Pack XVIII. A Perplexing Study .... 85 XIX. At Brighton 91 XX. " She bewilders me ! " .... 96 XXI. " You are my crowning mercy ! " . . 100 XXII. A loving Re-union .... 106 XXIII. Lady Lyonscourt's letters . . . 1 1 r XXIV. " Should this meet the Eye ! " . . 115 XXV. Luris encounters a Stranger . . . 119 XXVI. "Come to Me" 123 XXVII. Coquetry 125 XXVIII. " My love ! My love ! " ... 129 XXIX. Found Out! 132 XXX. The Mysterious Letters . . . 139 XXXI. " Not wisely but too well " ... 148 XXXII. Seamore's Trail 151 XXXIII. The Second Hearing .... 159 XXXIV. The Testimony of Luris ... 165 XXXV. Circumstantial Proofs . . . . 176 XXXVI. A Monster Confessed . . . . 183 XXXVII. Conclusion . . . . . . BLOOD.

Chapter I. Reflections

Who can guage the power of the human will, or define the limits of its operation ? Who knoweth aught of the mysteries of its exercise through channels obscure and by means unrevealed ? Not I, surely, though it has been the deepest of my studies — though what I have seen and learnt of it has been far more momentous and baffling than anything I shall here relate. And of Life — what know the wisest ? We prate of the heart, the mind, and the reason ; of the soul, the understanding, and the animal life, and believe we are expressing distinguishable and definite ideas. Bah ! Not all the wisdom of the past, not all the research of the present, have availed to show one whit the more clearly what that subtle complex force may be which is in us, and which is us. Who am I, or you? What am I, or you? What laws controlled my entrance into conscious life, and what shall control the extinction or metamorphosis of that consciousness ?

Why and how am I separated from you in every Blood. 2 mental faculty and attribute ? What is it that is Me, apart from You ? What is Personality, Individuality, Identity call it which you will — and how is its existence begun, separated from other existences, and ended ? Again, what of the sympathies, affinities, and curious phenomena of linked intelligences, which are constantly appearing, to puzzle and baffle the insight of our keenest philosophers and our most learned scientists ? Enough of this. It is so easy to propound questions, so difficult — perhaps impossible — to answer them. Let my tale proceed, without comment, without expressed opinion of mine : a simple record of absolute truth, and of tragic and bitter fate to me.

Chapter II. Lady Luris And Dr

STEGGALL. I one day received the following letter from the Countess of Lyonscourt, the sister-in-law of my deceased wife. The subject of the letter had already been mooted in conversa tion between us, and it came therefore not unexpectedly. This was the epistle : " Lyonscourt, Nov. 3, iS — . " Dear Dr. Steggall, " We have determined to leave for Italy next week, and Lord Lyonscourt has agreed to your proposal to take our little Luris into your house for the five or six months during which we shall be away. Hampstead is sufficiently healthy, even in winter, and indeed the poor child derived no benefit from wintering abroad the last two years. We have every confidence in your judgment, in spite of those American proclivities of yours, and of course you will fall back on other opinions if you think it at all desirable.

Though, fcr the matter of that, she has had no end of advice, and all to no purpose. You know what Dr. F — and Sir C — T — said about her. They have both admitted that your system often results in wonderful cures, and say there can be no harm in trying it ; though I could see they Blood. 4 were very sceptical as to any good accruing to Luris from it If you were a stranger it might be different, but as you are Luris's uncle to all intents and purposes, and as every body knows what a pet of yours she has always been, we ought not to feel any hesitation in entrusting her to your care during the winter. Only, pray do not try any experi ments on her, and do be careful that her maid is always at hand to attend upon her. I shall bring her up myself on Wednesday by the mid-day train, so will leave what else I have to say till then.

" Your affect, sister-in-law, " Florence Lyonscourt. " P.S. — It is really pitiful to see the poor white face, with hardly ever a word except yes or no. Do try and devise something to put life into her. — F. L." I had better supplement this letter by stating briefly what my personal position was at the time I received it. I was a physician, age under forty, enjoying a somewhat unique position. I had been alone in the world since my wife's death fifteen years before, and I was endowed with a fortune sufficient to render me independent of my profession. In early life I had passed through the usual course of medical study, and had taken such diplomas and honours as made me a marked man among my professional brethren. At the time of my wife's death, however, I conceived a distaste for the routine of practice and went to America.

Lady Ltins and Dr. Steggall. 5 There I entered into a minute investigation of the various aberrant or peculiar forms of the curative art which flourish there, though here scouted and despised as empirical. Well, I amused myself and sought distraction from grief by examining into these various systems. I found, of course, much of what appeared to me to be error, ignorance, pure nonsense, or direct charlatanry. But I also found, here and there, something pointing towards undiscovered possibilities of startling interest. My keenest and closest investigations had regard to whatever might bear most nearly upon the principle of life, and particularly upon that feature of our being termed the nervous force. This is not the place to enter into any details of what I learnt and discovered, or of the conclusions to which I came.

It is sufficient to say that I returned to England prepared to adopt methods of treatment which the bulk of the profession here regard with distrust or scorn. Necessarily, I became tainted with the suspicion of empiricism. Yet a few physi cians, some of them eminent, acknowledged the extent of my attainments, placed a degree of confidence in my novel experiments, and became more and more inclined to consult me in obscure cases, when they saw the results I was able to induce. I had a limited consulting practice, enough to satisfy my interest in study ; and for the epithet of "quack," which I sometimes heard was applied to me, I did not care in the least. Luris, my niece, nominally, was the youngest of a Blood. family of four, and she absorbed all the affection I had to bestow on any living being.

Up to the age of sixteen she was the sweetest, prettiest, most charming child I ever saw, and my heart went out to her entirely. Although really no relation to the Lyonscourts, the countess received me on the footing of a brother, and the children all regarded me as their uncle. Luris and I were the best of friends. It was when Luris was in her sixteenth year that we first began to notice a change in her. From that time she grew upward with amazing rapidity, but her frame failed to fill out in a corresponding measure. She became weak, feeble, ailing; her spirits grew more and more depressed, until at last she scarcely spoke, except in whispered mono syllables ; her complexion was white as milk, and her cheeks were sunken ; her large and splendid eyes lost their lustre and gazed dreamily at vacancy.

There was the usual talk about her having "outgrown her strength;" and at last the formidable name of " consumption " made itself heard. The change was gradual, and it was long before Lord and Lady Lyonscourt became truly alive to it. They at first ridiculed my suggestions and turned a deaf ear to my advice ; for, at that time, they were pleased to regard me as an amiable visionary in matters relating to my profession. My new methods of treatment, which they could not fail to hear derided, seemed to them dangerous novelties, all the more because I had avowedly extended my knowledge in America; and they possessed a full share of prejudice against everything " Yankee." Lady Luris and Dr. Steggall. 7 At length, when the time was approaching when the Lady Luris Lyonscourt should have been presented and brought oat, her mother was forced to admit that the ceremony must be deferred on account of the child's ill health.

The advice of eminent and popular physicians was sought, and was obtained in vain. Their drugs and drenches, their recommendations to spas and watering-places and winter resorts proved alike unavailing. The only con solation they had to offer was that the patient evinced no signs of actual organic disease — no symptom of the dreaded phthisis. She manifested extreme lack of vigour, a decline of strength, and an absence of proper physical development. That was all, said these sages, and with good care and nursing we must hope she would grow out of it. My earnest and reiterated remonstrances and suggestions at length had their effect on the minds of Lady Lyonscourt and the earl. As the letter of the former has already shown, they at last consented to place Luris in my hands for a time, all other advice having failed.

Chapter III The Invalid

In due time Lady Lyonscourt brought up and left Luris at my house, together with a maid, and a mountain of luggage, of course. My sister-in-law obliged me to listen to an immense number of maternal counsels, and I had to promise to do and not to do a vast number of perplexing and even contradictory things, designed to meet every contingency likely to arise. I am afraid my patient honest house-keeper had to undergo the same ordeal. No doubt she went through it more placidly than I did, but I think we were equally relieved when the countess took her de parture. I fancy Luris was glad to come to me, glad to escape from fuss into the calm haven of my Hampstead retreat. But it was hard to tell, she was so quiet and passive now. Poor child ! We might well call her " little Luris," as we commonly did.

For though she was rather over than under the average height of a girl of twenty, she was so slight and attenuated as to appear quite small. Her frame was nothing but skin and bone, and the want of roundness and fulness was so marked as to be quite distressing to see. The Invalid. 9 My own view as to the cause of her malady was that it must be traced to a derangement of the over-ruling nervous energy. It is a well-known fact that, in cases where the natural development is retarded from nervous causes, we often find a curious and abnormal degree of perfection in what are technically termed the "appendages" of the body. It was so in Luris's case. 1 was struck with the marvellous symmetry and beauty of the nails upon her little attenuated fingers. Her teeth, too, were exquisite, and without a trace of unsoundness to mar their pearly white ness.

Her hair was something wonderful. It had the colour of ripe corn, with the sheen of burnished gold, and in texture was as fine and soft as floss silk ; and so luxuri ant was it that, when brushed out, it would clothe her like a mantle, falling in ample masses down to her knees. Brown lashes of extraordinary length and abundance veiled her eyes, eyes which ought to have been miracles of beauty so large they were, of a violet almost black. But, alas ! they were lustreless and vacant. Looking at the emaciated form which was yet endowed with these lovely privileges, one could not help thinking that if Luris's physique had developed as it should have done — if means might yet be found for bringing about this development— that then this poor wreck and frail fragment of girlhood might become a woman of surpassing beauty, Loving her as I did, it is little wonder if I studied her in every aspect day by day, and pondered deeply over her case Blood. 10 by night.

In fact she completely absorbed all my thoughts to the exclusion of everything else. I vowed to myself to use every endeavour to restore her, to apply every sugges tion of the most advanced and far-reaching science — no matter at what cost, if only I could reach the root of the malady, and restore her to the health and beauty which Nature had intended her to possess — which she had pos sessed so amply in her childhood. As the days and weeks of that winter flitted by I became more and more absorbed in Luris. All the faculties of my mind were bent to che task of restoring her to complete health of body and mind. To other eyes than mine, to my house-keeper, servants, and the few visitors who saw her, she appeared by degrees to be deriving great benefit from my treatment. There was less apparent emaciation, a trifle of colour in the cheeks, a slight improvement in the spirits.

These worthy folk insisted upon it she was daily recovering. But I knew better. Looking at her with the eye of science I saw that these signs indicated but a transient improve ment. I had not succeeded in touching the real cause of her malady. Recalling the memory of that time now, I am inclined to think that I allowed my yearning desire to restore Luris to mount into the regions of monomania. So intent was I upon succeeding in her cure that I cannot but think the very fixity of my thoughts caused me to disregard all con siderations but the one. Whether it was love of my art, or The Invalid,. 11 love for Luris, or both combined ; whether I was but the instrument of some Superior Power, led on and on to work out its dark inscrutable designs, I cannot say. Let those who read my awful narrative determine if they can.

Certainly, the circumstances with which I had to cope were such as to drive any physician crazy who had de termined, as I had, to overcome them. I doubted if my patient's nervous system would yield to remedial measures unless the physical conditions were very greatly improved. On the other hand, so long as the nerves continued in their present deranged state it seemed impossible to effect an alteration in other directions ; for the organs were unable to perform their several functions in any adequate degree. As time went on and Luris manifested no such decided improvement as would satisfy my mind, I became more strongly convinced that recourse must be had to some one or other of those unusual remedies which are sometimes termed "heroic." The fervency of my desire to restore my niece was increasing as the time approached for the return of her parents from abroad, and the consequent probable removal of herself from under my care.

By the end of March certain speculative ideas of mine had taken form and shape and become a fixed resolve. My purpose was determined. It remained to me to find a suitable agent — per haps I ought to write victim — by means of whom to accom plish my design.

Chapter IV. Mr

SETH SEAMORE. About two years previous to this I had first made the acquaintance of Mr. Seth Seamore. He came to me as a patient, suffering from some trivial nervous complaint which readily yielded to treatment. He was a man I had no sympathy with, one I could only regard with feelings of cold dislike. And yet, for reasons I am about to explain, I cultivated this fellow's acquaintance. Indeed, I had latterly employed him, or feigned to do so, as a sort of secretary. Seth Seamore was a native of one of our Australian colonies, and was something under thirty years of age. He had come to this country to study medicine at a London hospital, and for some years he had oscillated between intervals of close hard study, and periods when he seemed to give himself up entirely to pleasure-seeking. I think that in his pleasures he was without scruples or moral principles of any sort or kind.

At anyrate, he appeared to possess an intimate acquaintance with vice in every form in which it can be found in London. Yet if he were dissipated there was no trace of it in his person. His physique was one to be envied, and he certainly enjoyed the most robust and splendid health. Mr. Seth Seamore. '■3 What attracted me in him, and caused me to simulate a sort of friendship for him, was — as perhaps may be guessed — a peculiarity in his nervous system. He possessed an organization of a type extremely rare, in the male sex, at least. It was one of those emotional, hypersensitive, extra ordinarily sympathetic natures which are usually associated with hysterical females of a particular class. He was a dreamer, subject to hypochondria, and to phenomenal aberrations of nervous force, which possessed intense interest for an ardent specialist like myself.

This was the reason I contrived to keep him within sight, that I might watch the development of his singular, almost unique constitution. Some of the speculations I indulged in with regard to Seamore are curious enough to be remembered, especially in the light of what eventually occurred. There were moments when I caught myself wondering whether there was not something feminine about this young man. I do not mean that he manifested any symptom of effeminacy, as we generally understand the term ; far from it. I simply intend to signify that he appeared to me to be occasionally very feminine in his modes of thought and in similar par ticulars. He seemed to be controlled by feminine impulses, and to conceal within himself sundry desires and aspirations which are so purely feminine that men — especially young ones — can rarely entertain the faintest degree of sympathy with them, Blood. 14 At another moment Seth Seamore appeared to me as an incomplete character.

Something seemed to have been left out in his mind, or rather, in the nervous qualities of his temperament. He was apt to be capricious and change able, and there was that about him which gave rise to the idea that some quality or faculty undefined was wanting to make his nature entire and perfect, whether for evil or for good. These notions may be mere morbid imaginings which have arisen since. But, recalling the past with all my endeavours, I still believe them to have been my true im pressions at the time. They may serve to show, at anyrate, how deep was the study I had made of this man. And let me add again, that, how strongly soever his case may have interested me, my only moral feeling towards him was one of indifference, if not indeed of actual repulsion. I did not hate him, the feeling was too cold for that ; I simply felt a sort of dull dislike of Seth Seamore.

Of course, being constantly at my house while Luris was with me, he had frequent opportunities of seeing her. I am bound to confess that, in her presence, he appeared in his best light. Indeed, I was astonished to observe how tender, sympathetic, deferential, and studiously attentive he became. I remarked this because I had often noticed his impatience and brusqueness in similar situations. The women who charmed and attracted him were of a very different sort. My poor Luris had nothing about her save Mr. Seth Seamore. 15 her malady to interest anyone, and I could not explain Seth Seamore's manner towards her except by supposing there was some nervous sympathy between them. Luris herself did not strengthen the supposition altogether, while yet she perplexed me in no small degree. I observed that she seemed to shrink from Seamore, and to draw up into herself under the influence of his presence.

One day I inquired if she disliked him, if she would rather not re ceive him. Her reply, more full than was usual with her, was much as follows : "I do not dislike him— yet he repels me, and I am un easy in his presence." " Then you had better not see him," I said. "Oh yes, please, I don't know how it is, or how to ex plain it, but he seems to give me strength in some way, even while I am shrinking from him. And I always feel livelier and better after he has gone." When I spoke to Seth Seamore touching his apparent devotion to my niece, perhaps complimenting him upon it, perhaps speaking jestingly, he laughed in his light cynical way. " Yes, Doctor ; I am a good deal drawn towards poor Lady Luris. Somehow, I seem to myself to expand in her presence. My brain sparkles, and my — heart, I suppose it is, goes out of me towards her."

" I always thought you had no heart. At anyrate, my niece is honoured," I said, sarcastically. Blood. 16 " You know very well you need not talk like that, Doctor. If Lady Luris were healthy and handsome perhaps you might have to lock your doors against me. As it is, the feeling I describe has nothing to do with affection of any sort, so far as I know. And her ladyship is not favourably impressed with me either, I think." " That is so. But I fancy from what you say that you must be in some sort of sympathetic affinity with her." "Bah! Doctor, make what capital you like out of what I've told you. But you know I put no faith in your mesmeric and spiritualistic theories." If he — if both of us could have foreseen what was to be, he had not spoken so sceptically, and I — alas ! A theory of mine was that the phenomena of animal magnetism corresponded with those of terrestrial magnetism, and obeyed similar laws.

I conceived the idea that Seth and Luris were in a position towards each other like the opposite poles of a magnet ; one negative, the other positive ; one repelling, the other attracting; one emanating, the other absorbing. Together they completed the circle or arc, each possessing opposite qualities, yet the one de pendent on the other, and inactive or imperfect without the other. It was but an idea, a mere piece of idle speculation, perhaps. Yet it served to strengthen my resolve to carry out a design I had formed, the details of which I now began seriously to contemplate and plan. My hypothesis, Mr. Seth Seamore. 17 or fancy, if it had any foundation in fact, pointed him out to me as being the very agent I should select for the purpose I had in view. B

Chapter V. Mr

SEAMORE'S VIEWS. " Seamore ! " I said to him one day, " you have often told me you held to no form of religion, but that instead of it you believed in science, and particularly those branches which direct the art of healing, as being more worthy of our con centrated and earnest regard." " That is so, Doctor. Religion seems to me nothing more than a mixture of delusion, cant, ignorance, and knavery." " Some have said the same thing of medicine." " Ha ! ha ! Well, we who are devoted to it can afford to laugh at the mockers, eh ! Doctor ! " " You speak of devotion. Now tell me ; is your devotion to medicine comparable to that of most Christians, or any other religionists, to their creed ? " " It depends in what devotion consists. Christian devotion of the day appears to be chiefly a system of wheedling or bullying others into believing the same tenets as yourself — or inducing them to support with hard cash this gospel-shop against that joss-house."

He was a scoffer and an atheist I knew. " That is but a flippant way of meeting my question," I said. " I was thinking cf the deeper piety which you would Mr. Seamore's Views. 19 term fanaticism. Have you anything to offer that can take its place ? " " Of course. Is it not obvious? The truest and holiest saint is not the poor fool who suffers himself to be tortured or burnt to death because he believes, or does not believe, that a priest can change a piece of bread into a bit of God. The true hero, martyr, saint, is the physician who dies fight ing death, fighting for humanity, in the wards of a hospital, the slums of a city, or amidst a pestilence." " Perhaps I am not far from agreeing with you, Seamore. But now you have displayed your enthusiasm let me put it to the test. You remember the young surgeon who died the other day of diphtheria, having tried to save a child by suck ing the obstruction from its throat.

Would you be prepared to emulate such a aeed as that ? " He smiled a little as he answered " Doctor ! Doctor ! What are you driving at ? I am net a Quixote. Such a thing as that was simply the insanity of foolhardiness, in my opinion." " I see. Your enthusiasm is only vapouring, after all, then." " Not so, sir. I would meet any of the risks that a physician can be legitimately called upon to encounter. But certainly I would take every precaution that could be taken. For my life is worth more to me than a thousand others." After a pause I re>umed the conversation. " Let us take an illustiation of a case where devotion is Blood. 20 required, but not heroism. Have you ever seen transfusion of blood performed ? " " Three times, Doctor. Twice in obstetric cases ; once in a case of cancer in the stomach."

" Very well. Would you be willing to offer some of your own blood in a similar instance? " He hesitated and then said : "I believe not." " Why not, if you are a devoted enthusiast ? ' The cynical smile came on his face. " First, because I have a prejudice against losing any of my blood." " Bah ! Five or six ounces is nothing. A single hearty meal would suffice to restore it." " Maybe, but still I have the prejudice. Secondly, I have small faith in the efficacy of the operation. In two of the cases I saw it was totally ineffective. The third would pro bably have recovered without it." " Suppose I could tell you of wonderful cures brought about by means of transfusion ? " " That would not affect my personal disposition in the matter, Doctor." " Suppose it were the case of someone in whom you took a strong interest, whom you loved, let us say ?

" " But I love no one, certainly no one better than myself." This was true. The man had many acquaintances, but I think was incapable of real friendship. I have reported this Mr. Seamore s Views. 21 conversation to small purpose if some glimpse of the selfish ness of his character has not been thereby indicated. " You are candid," I said. " Let us again suppose that money were freely offered ? " " I am not in need, Doctor. The sum would have to be enormous before it would overcome my prejudice. Plenty of other subjects could be had cheaper." I was nettled, for I had been leading him on with a purpose in view. Now I changed my rather sardonic manner for one of cold displeasure. " It is a matter for your own judgment to decide, of course. The thing is trifling, in my opinion. I had intended, on account of my niece, to — " " Phew !