Was he Mad? [A novel.] By Victor R

Front matter

hi Mh] Routledge's Railway Library Advertiser. [Issue NOBILITY OF LIFE "WHO BEST CAN SUFFER, BEST CAN DO." Milton. The Victoria Reign la unparalleled In the History of Great Empires for Its Purity, Goodnes;, uid Greatness ! 1 I WHAT ALONE ENABLES L'S TO DRAW A JUST MORAL FROM THE TALE OF LIFE? " Were I asked what b^st dignifies the present and consecrates the past ; what alone enables us to draw a just moral from the TALE of Life; what sheds the PUREST LIGHT UPON OUR REASON; what gives the firmest strength to our religion ; what is best fitted to SOFTEN THE HEART of man and elevate his soul— I would answer, with Lassues, it is ' EXPERIENCE.' " —Lord Lytton. queen's Head Hotel, Newcastle-upon-Tyne: J. C. ENO, LSQ. June 4, 1887. Sir,— Will you to-day allow me to present you with this Testimonial and Poem on your justly celebrated FRUIT SALT.

Being the writer for several first-class London Maga zines, and my occupation being a very sedentary one, I ame here for a few weeks in order to see what change of air would do tor me, and, at the wi-h of some per$onal friendt of mine here, I have taken juur FRUIT SALT, and the good re-alts accruing thereirom have been my reason for addressing you. I am. Sir, yours truly, A Lady. As sunshine on fair Nature's face, The Appetite it will enforce, Which dearly do we love to truce; And help the system in its course; As welcome as the (lowers in May, Perhaps you've ate or drank too That bloom around us ou their much. way ; It will restore like magic touch. As welcome as the wild bird's sont;, Depression with its fearful sway. Which greets us as we «o along; Jt drives electne-like away; « 111171 1 fUCCLa 113 .13 nc nu mini* . i •. «......- v u£-u •- ■; "-V """■>. • As welcome as the (lowers per- And if the Blood is found impure, lunie, I What effects a perfect cure?

That scents the air in sweet, sweet : Why, Kim's famous fruit Salt! ,Ju2e t r. „„„ 1.-...I* «„w ! Free from danger, free from harm, I» Kno's famous Iruit Salt! u actg iike6 80me magician's Cool and refreshing as the breeze, ■ charm ; To Headache it wives certain ease; At any time a dainty draught, Biliousness— it does ;isju:iKe. Which will dispel disease's shaft ; And cures it both in Youth and I More priceless than the richest Age ■ gold. Giddiness it will arrest. ' That ever did its wealth unsold; And give both confidence and And all throughout our native rest ■ land Thirst it will at once allay. Should always have at their com- And what tlie best in every way, mand Why, lino's famous fruit Salt! i Kno » famous fruit Salt I CUPERIOR TO ALL OTHER SALINES. ° "Dear Sir,— Having been in the habit of taking you* 'FRUIT SALT' for many years, I think it only right to tell you that 1 consider it a most invaluable medicine, and far superior to all other saline mixtures I have ever tried. lam never without a bottle of it in the house, as I And It possesses three most desirable qualities— namely, it is pleasant to the ta*de, promptly efficacious, and leaves no unpleasant after effects.

Chapter I

I HAD finished my career as a medical student, and for three years had had the advantage of practising as assistant to an eminent London physician. He had been taking his autumnal holi day, and on returning to town at the end of October, had promised me a three weeks' run. Three weeks ! No schoolboy ever craved for freedom more eagerly than I did. To breathe once more the pure bracing air of my native hills ; to scramble, rod in hand, over the rocky, and occasionally precipitous, banks of the river, where many a time I had landed trout upwards of 2lbs. weight ; to say nothing of the delight of being once more under my mother's roof, and chatting to her and my sisters over all that had happened during the years I had spent away from home, banishing as far as possible from my memory, the scenes of physical and mental suffering with which I had of late become so painfully familiar, and which Was He Mads had at times affected my nervous system more than I liked to confess, was indeed a delightful prospect.

Three weeks ! free from that wearing anxiety, that overstrained sense of responsibility and that occa sional struggle to maintain the outward composure so necessary in one of my profession to inspire confidence in others. Three weeks of healthy, vigorous, out-door life The day so longed for came at last. A cloudy autumnal morning, gusts of wind moaning down the somewhat deserted streets. I was to have an interview with Dr. Wilson at ten o'clock to report on cases left in my charge during his absence. The interview was over ; just one hour to spare before starting by the Northern Express, time to give a last look over some medical papers and books that I might take, or leave behind. A knock at my door, and Dr. Wilson entered. " Sorry, Galbraith," he said, " to suggest your giving up your holiday, but a strong young fellow like yourself does not need rest, and if you will take my advice you will not refuse a good offer."

He handed me a letter — just a few lines, no more. It ran as follows : — " Dear Wilson, " My brother George, whom you will remember, has been ill, is ordered a sea voyage, and wants me to go with him. I have been in harness over thirty years, and should gladly avail myself of this chance, besides which my brother needs care and surgical aid. Can you send me, at once, a really skilled medical man, capable of undertaking the responsibility of a somewhat extensive country practice ? The work would be too much for my present assistant. I want to be away from four to six weeks, and would make it worth while to anyone you send to fill my place. — Ever yours, "Evan Dolby." And these few lines, written by a perfect stranger were fated to exercise a powerful influence over all my future existence. For, as the pebble in a stream near its source may divert the course of a mighty river, so occasionally does some apparently trifling event change the whole current of our lives I Yes— ' Who can stem the stream of destiny, Or break the chain of strong necessity ? ': Of course, a " vigorous young fellow," like myself, could not plead enfeebled nerves, or a childish craving for sight of mother, sister, and home ; there seemed no alternative left me from the first but to go ; and when Dr. Wilson kindly added a few words of commendation on my skill, especially in certain intricate cases, adding that I was the only man, just now, whom he could confidently recommend to take his old friend's place, I felt I had practically no choice left.

The result was, that two letters were shortly after wards despatched, the one to my mother, at her cottage in Renfrewshire, the other to — Evan Dolby, Esq., Stirgeon, Myddlewycke. Was He Mads 9

Chapter II

A SMALL country town, with the principal street built on a rising hill. It was a somewhat steep ascent and terminated in a picturesque-looking inn, on the right side ; and, on the left, in an old fashioned house, beyond which was a long, red-brick wall, partly enclosing some three acres of garden orchard and grass land, belonging to Mr. Evan Dolby. A large brass plate on the door announced his name and profession. The surgery, consulting-room, and another small sitting-room, faced the street. The dining, drawing-rooms and study, as I afterwards discovered, opened into his pretty garden, and looked towards the wooded hills of Myddlewycke Park ; but the shades of night had gathered round the house before I arrived there, and nothing of its surroundings were visible. I formed, however, a very favourable impression of its interior.

The well-lined book shelves, with dark oak chimney piece and old-fashioned furniture of the doctor's study — the first room into which I was shown— the glowing fire, with bright encaustic tiles, brass fender and fire-irons, the oriental-looking curtains and sombre turkey carpet, all gave me at once an idea of comfort, and even luxury, which I had not anticipated. Whilst waiting for the appearance of the doctor himself, I came to the conclusion that a month spent in this remote country town might not be so unen durable after all. I was not, however, left long to my meditations. A door, which I had hitherto not perceived, and which communicated with the dining-room, was opened so quietly that I did not hear it, and for a moment I felt startled when I found myself suddenly addressed by a stranger : — " Mr. Galbraith, I presume ?

But I must apologize : I fear I have startled you ; the doors in this house are so like the panelled walls which enclose them that a stranger has difficulty in discovering their existence." And now, dear reader, I must crave your indulgence if here I digress a little and intrude upon you my theories on the subject of first impressions. I believe in them ! Yes, I believe firmly in that instinct which leads us at first sight to distinguish whether our fellowmen are worthy of our regard and confidence or not. Granted that it is our distinct duty to love all and to endeavour to trace some faint likeness of the Godhead in the most degraded of His creatures, still it is by instinct that even a dog will discover who are its friends and who are not. And call it instinct, or not in a man, I believe firmly in first impressions, before reason has had time to aid, or puzzle us, as the case may be, with innumerable suggestions as to what there is of good and evil in the human being whose acquaintance we are making.

The man who now stood before me was of middle height and slightly stooping frame, with refined delicate features, long dark hair and moustaches, and peculiarly light grey eyes. Very peculiar eyes they were. I felt as if they were upon me even before I heard the sound of his voice, and a creepy sensation came over me. A sort of internal shiver. My instinct whispered loudly, " Never trust that man." My reason quickly interposed with, " Do not judge him hastily ! What a refined handsome face it is, excepting the eyes — they are certainly peculiar — but your nerves just now are over-wrought ; you are becoming fanciful; you are not physically strong enough to exercise a proper control over your reasoning faculties." All these ideas flashed through my brain in a moment, as I almost involuntarily ex claimed, — " You are surely not Mr. Evan Dolby?

" " Pray be seated," he replied, suavely. " Mr. Dolby will soon be in, and begged me to offer you some re freshment if you arrived before he did. Are you going to make a long stay here ? " Then seeing I did not answer immediately he added, " Allow me to ring for something for you. You probably have not dined. Shall it, then, be dinner or tea?" " What are Mr. Dolby's hours for meals generally?" I inquired. " Oh ! most irregular. Mr. Dolby's profession is his wife and he her humble slave. He was making a long round of visits this afternoon, and had ordered supper at half-past nine." " Thanks," I replied, " that will do very well for me. It must be almost that hour now. If you will kindly ask the servant to show me to my room, I shall be ready when Mr. Dolby returns." And so I retired, wondering whether this could be the assistant spoken of in the letter, or was he a relation, or, more probably still, some patient residing in the doctor's house ?

It was not long before I heard a loud cheery voice asking for me, and on going downstairs I was met by a short, red-faced, grey-haired, genial-looking man of about sixty, with keen brown eyes beaming merrily under very shaggy grey eyebrows. A warm grasp of the hand. "Mr. Galbraith," he said, "this is better luck than I expected. Dr. Wilson has the highest opinion of you, in fact your services are so valuable to him that I never thought he would spare you ; but he has shown himself a friend in need to me, and I can never thank him heartily enough for helping me just now. But he always was a capital fellow, and the best hearted man going, a first rate man, I may say, in everything, and knows the value of an old friend like myself." Longer, louder and more frequent were the volleys that the little doctor fired off after leading me to his hospitable table, but as they related chiefly to the skill and discernment of the renowned Dr. Wilson, it is unnecessary for me to repeat them here, especially as he dwelt much on his generosity in sending me to Myddlewycke, without referring to my self sacrifice in coming !

And had not his speech been occasionally flavoured with Dr. Wilson's high opinion of myself, I should have been inclined to doubt Mr. Dolby's powers of discernment. Now, during this meal, my acquaintance having the wonderful eyes never once made his appearance. Hardly, however, had we entered into that delightful sanctum, the doctor's study, and begun to smoke our respective pipes over a bright fire, than I distinctly heard a somewhat stealthy step approaching the door leading into the lobby ; then the handle was softly turned, and my unknown friend entered the room. I looked up, encountered his keen, searching glance and then turned to the doctor, awaiting an introduction. Was it entirely imagination on my part, or was it a fact that the little doctor's ruddy cheeks turned a shade paler, and that the pleasant expression of his face suddenly changed to one of aversion and fear ?

This may or may not have been, but it certainly was the case that he stopped short abruptly in the midst of a somewhat long and prosy description of his first acquaintance with Dr. Wilson, and pushing back his chair further from the fire, remained for some minutes smoking vigorously and silently as if lost in thought. Then, as if suddenly aware that he was forgetting himself, said apologetically : " By the way, Mr. Brunt, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Galbraith, a friend of a very old friend of mine." "We have already made each other's acquaintance," said Mr. Brunt, graciously, and he smiled at me as he took possession of a chair near Mr. Dolby and exactly opposite myself. " You have ? " exclaimed the doctor, somewhat testily, " and pray where did you meet ? " Again Mr. Brunt smiled, displaying a very even set of white teeth, and said, " Your housekeeper told me you were expecting a guest, and I took the liberty, in your absence, of offering him some refreshment."

Mr. Dolby growled a somewhat inaudible reply. I fancied he said, " The devil you did ; " but this may have been another flight of my rather lively imagin ation : let it not prejudice you, gentle reader, against this very worthy man, in whose house I so unex pectedly found myself spending that night of the 25th October, 1845. The conversation after this became general, but not one word did I gather from it respecting the illness of Mr. Dolby's brother, or his intended absence from home. On the contrary, I felt con vinced that the doctor had not informed his partner of his project, and thus the evening wore away, and at length we parted for the night.

Chapter III

A dark, oak staircase, with long low steps, and broad, handsome, old-fashioned bannisters, leading to a polished uncarpeted passage, at the end of which was my sleeping apartment. It, too, was a low, panelled room, with curious old mouldings, but all painted white. Somewhat gaudy red cretonne hangings — dotted over with large yellow sunflowers — a cosy sofa, Chippendale drawers and chairs, two Indian screens, a large cupboard, fitted up as a lavatory, and over the quaint wooden chimneypiece, a big, but somewhat inferior oil painting in heavy gilt frame, representing a country seat, with finely timbered park and deer. Several people playing at bowls on a smooth lawn one side of the house, on the doorstep a gentleman dressed in blue coat and white lace ruffles, leading a lady, with long yellow dress and large hat and feathers, towards two horses which were being held by grooms.

Underneath the picture was printed the following inscription : " Exact repre sentation of Myddlewycke Park and the Earl and Couutess of Myddlewycke, Oct. 25th, 1745." Curious, I thought, that to-day, October 25th, 1845, I take possession of this house for some weeks and find myself looking at these portraits for the first time. What strange changes have taken place since that picture was taken ! The Earl and Countess long since dead, and their successors, who and where are they ? And thus I moralized over the shortness of human life. Mansions destined so long to survive the perishable hands that raised and decorated them. Stately trees still standing and looking down pity ingly, or contemptuously, as the case may be, on generation after generation of poor, frail human beings so soon swept away by the inevitable hand of death.

The seed sown that has attained maturity and grandeur long after the hand that sowed it is turned to dust. Humbling, yet encouraging con sideration, that the work of a man's life may so long survive himself! The result of these reflections was that I got into bed and fell asleep, dreaming of my mother and sister and Myddlewycke Park — a curious medley of waking thoughts jumbled up in strange confusion, and how we were all playing bowls together, when my bowl stuck fast between two large stones. I pulled away the stones and opened a family vault ! The whole scene changed suddenly and became dark. I was staggering into the vault, trying with my hands to feel and count the coffins, when a dim light appeared and slowly creeping towards me out of the depths I distinctly saw — Mr. Brunt. His face was deadly pale, his light-grey eyes fixed upon me with a cold, glassy stare.

My flesh began to creep with horror. I shivered, made a desperate effort to get away, and in doing so awoke ! But was I awake, or was I still dreaming ? A dim light was in my room, a figure like Mr. Brunt's holding it, and gliding noiselessly through the open door. The door closed gently, and all became dark and silent. I sat up in bed, my heart beating and my head burning. Was I awake or asleep ? Was it all some horrid nightmare, or was I actually falling ill ? My nerves had certainly been over-strained of late, though Dr. Wilson would have smiled had I con fessed such a weakness to him. But here was the proof; I was becoming a prey to morbid fancies, and needed rest. I ought to have gone to my mother's. I got up, struck a light, and walked up and down the room — bathed my face in cold water, felt re freshed, convinced it was nothing but a bad dream, and after getting into bed, extinguished the light and fell asleep.

Chapter IV. Next

morning bright sunshine streamed in through an old-fashioned window, the thick mul lions of which formed shadowy crosses on the blinds. I got up, threw open the window, gazing with real pleasure on the attractive scene before me. The doctor's garden below was divided by a sunk fence from a field, in which was a large pool, and beyond the pool, Myddlewycke Park. I could just get a glimpse of grey turrets and walls between the trees some two miles off, which corresponded in style with the picture over my mantelpiece that had so strangely troubled my dreams the preceding night. Yes, there could be no doubt of it, that was Myddle wycke Park. The rich autumnal tints and great variety of foliage added much to the beauty of the scene before me, as compared with the dark, heavy-looking representa tion of the same locality, though from a different point of view, which hung over the fireplace.

And the possibility of being permitted to fish in the pool occasionally was refreshing to one who, like myself, hungered for fresh air and rest. Later on I was relieved to find that Mr. Brunt did not breakfast with the doctor, and when we found ourselves discussing that meal in the pretty, low ceiled, panelled dining-room, I ventured to remark : " Your assistant does not have his meals with you, I suppose ? " Again the same look passed over the doctor's face which I fancied I had observed the preceding even ing, and this time I felt assured it was not my fancy. I had too often observed that expression when fingering lightly some tender place in a patient's wound. " No, certainly not," said Mr. Dolby ; " he lives in lodgings a few doors off." " Really ? How very curious ! Pray don't laugh, Mr. Dolby, but I was going to accuse him of being a somnambulist, and of having taken his midnight ramble through my bedroom last night; but I suppose, after all, it was only a dream of mine."

Down dropped the doctor's knife and fork, and he gazed in unfeigned astonishment up into my face. " Bless the fellow ! " he exclaimed ; " is he going mad, too ? And yet he does not look like it. What in the name of wonder put such an idea into your head ? Mr. Brunt in your bedroom last night ? What do you mean ? " Seeing the great impression my words had made on the lively little doctor, my own unpleasant sensations melted away before his evident alarm ; the greater absorbed the less, and I really enjoyed narrating my dream circumstantially to him, dwelling especially and minutely upon the part of it which referred to Mr. Brunt. No child could have displayed more interest in a ghost story than did Mr. Dolby in my dream ; and when I had finished, he exclaimed, " A dream nothing but a dream, of course ! and yet that fellow — Brunt, I mean — he glides in and out of the house like a ghost, and " The doctor suddenly made use of a very strong expression in a loud, clear voice, which I will not repeat.

There could be no mistake about it on my part, this time ; and here let me crave your indulgence for my good friend, Mr. Dolby. He was a bachelor and not used to the softening, refining influence of the fairer sex. " Of course," he went on, " he has the run of my surgery, and, it seems, of the whole house too, at least the downstairs portion of it. I find him here, there, everywhere where I least expect to find him ; but not upstairs ; no, my dear fellow, not upstairs. Let us draw the line somewhere. It must have been a dream — nothing but a dream." And as he repeated these words, with almost more decision and vehemence than seemed necessary to reassure me, the door opened softly, and Mr, Brunt entered, smiling, " A dream, only a dream, nothing but a dream ; and pray who is the dreamer ? " He looked at me, smiling sweetly as he spoke, and I looked at him, standing there with the bright sun shine streaming through the window upon him.

There was nothing ghostly or repulsive in his face just then as it had appeared to me in my dream. A delicate colour suffused his cheeks, and the idea crossed my mind, what a pretty woman he would have made ! Before I could reply, Mr. Dolby in terposed abruptly : "Dreams are dreams, and nothing more; repre sentations made by a portion of the faculties which are not fully asleep of things which do not really happen." " True," replied Mr. Brunt, " and yet these phantasms of sleep make weak men ' eat their meat in fear, and sleep in the affliction of those terrible dreams which shake them nightly,' or, as Dryden says, that — ' When the vision vanished from his sight The dreamer wakened in a mortal fright.' But, seriously, Mr. Dolby, I trust your dreams have not disturbed your rest ? " "Oh, no," I answered, quickly ; "it was I who was troubled with bad dreams last night."

Here Mr. Dolby interrupted me by inquiring what brought Mr. Brunt into the room at breakfast-time. " A case," said Mr. Brunt ; " the miller's child at Shackleton has another attack of croup, and as I was just going the round of the town patients, I thought you would prefer going to Shackleton yourself." "What!" exclaimed Mr. Dolby, "an attack of croup, and wasting all this time in idle gossip ? Go and get my dog-cart at once, there is no time to lose, not a moment. It is the third attack within twelve months ! Never was such abominable carelessness ; but the child is strong, he should get over it. You must go there whilst I look after the town patients.' An almost imperceptible frown darkened Mr. Brunt's face, whilst, after one keen glance at myself, he softly withdrew. The little doctor rose from the breakfast-table went to the window, and said, irascibly: "That woman is a fool, and if she does not take more care of the child she will lose him.

Serve her right that I don't go myself, and Brunt will be just as good in that case. He is clever ; yes, very clever. It really is delightful to see how skilful he is in an urgent case, and takes it so quietly, too. But for all that he is a queer fellow, stealthy as a cat, and I don't like him. I never did, and I wish to goodness he would take himself off." " I don't think," I said, " that he much liked his job this morning " No," replied Mr. Dolby, thoughtfully ; " but what is running in his incomprehensible brain just now is more than I can fathom. Oh ! yes, I have it. He does not know who you are, or why you come here, and he wants to find out all about you. However, he may save himself that trouble, for I intend to tell him to-day. Meanwhile, I have much to say to you, and I can do it better when he is out of the way."

Half-an-hour afterwards Mr. Dolby and I went the round of his town patients. The whole population of Myddlewycke did not exceed four thousand, and it was pleasant to me to observe the cheery, yet firm, decided manner of the doctor among the sick, and the thorough confidence and esteem evinced by the latter for their kind hearted friend. I say the word " friend " emphati cally, for he talked, acted, and, I am sure, felt as a true friend towards the inhabitants of this little town where he had laboured assiduously for twenty-five years. It was quite a lesson to me to observe him, and though we had one rather animated discussion upon the respective merits of calomel and podophyllin, it was the only subject upon which our opinions mate rially differed, and he ended by assuring me that he could thoroughly trust me and could gladly con fide his patients to my care.

" I was satisfied with your appearance from the first, and I believe in first impressions. Would that I had more frequently acted upon them ! " said Mr. Dolby, with a sigh, as we strolled together after luncheon in his garden and orchard. At length we followed a straight gravel walk which crossed the field below his garden and terminated in a decidedly unpicturesque, but sheltered and prettily situated, summer-house overlooking the pool. The day was sunshiny and wonderfully warm for the end of October, and we sat down and smoked in the little thatched arbour. "Galbraith," said Mr. Dolby, "I had such a nice letter from Dr. Wilson this morning about yen. You are a good fellow to give up your holiday and come and help me ; but you will not be hard worked here unless some epidemic were to break out, or some unforeseen events were to occur."

The doctor then went into a long account of the sanitary arrangements of the place, and I was getting somewhat inattentive to my garrulous friend, when he suddenly changed the subject of his conversation, and I at once became deeply in terested. " Keep Brunt well employed," he was saying ; " you will find him a valuable assistant, and the more he has to do the better he is ; but he is a queer devil if he is not fully employed ! Ask him once a week to dine or sup with you by way of keeping him in a good humour; but, for heaven's sake, don't let him go to Myddlewycke Park ; that house and its inmates I leave entirely to you." Then came a long pause. " Who are its inmates ? " at length I asked ; " and why is Mr. Brunt to have nothing to do with them ? " " My dear fellow, who are its inmates did you say ?