After he had seen the doctor leave, William, instead of going to Augustus, returned directly to Clarissa. He only felt secure regarding her when he could see her. All the varied scenes through which he passed seemed like a dream, and he could not rid himself of the impression he would awaken and find Clarissa gone, leaving him alone again.

He had entirely forgotten Augustus, and in his distracted state of mind the thought of the shock and surprise it must have been to the boy to have him declare himself, a comparative stranger, as his father, did not occur to him. His mind seemed incapable of comprehending or holding more than one image; he felt the deepest chagrin that he, an expert thought concentrator, had so lost control of himself as to make such a scene as he had just gone through with Clarissa to mesmerize her. He had been obliged to use upon her that which he had never used before upon any subject he had ever put to sleep:—physical force.

Why was it she resisted his power so strongly, when she had been so loving and obedient to his very thoughts but a short time before?

As he reached the couch and looked down upon her, a long, deep sigh escaped him, and the thought passed through his mind: Suppose she had not been here, but had gone out of his life again: how sad and lonely and miserable it would be. The very thought was unendurable. He quickly sank down beside her, holding her close to him, that he might have the double assurance of sight and touch, of her actual presence with him.

So engrossed was he with the thought, he was unaware of Augustus' entrance, though the wheel chair made some clatter. He had paused at the door, expecting an invitation to enter, but receiving none, he came directly to them and said:

"Mamma,—"

A tremor passed over Clarissa, so strong as to attract William's notice, while at the same time a hand touched his arm. As he felt the tremor of Clarissa's body, he tightened his hold, even as he turned his head. He was impatient of interruption and his eyes did not express the most pleasant mood as he turned toward the intruder, but when he saw who it was, his entire countenance changed; he quickly noted the pallor of the boy, and the brilliant flashing of his eyes, that told so plainly his intense agitation.

He immediately removed one arm from Clarissa, and before Augustus could divine his purpose, had lifted him from his chair and drawn him close to his heart.

"My son—my boy and Clarissa's."

Augustus, taken completely by surprise, said nothing for a time, but his eyes traveled quickly to his mother's face, which was cold and white and rigid, then his voice rang out sharp and piercing—"Mamma—mamma—speak to me—I am here—Augustus—speak to me."

There was no response. Never having seen his mother thus, as she always devoted her undivided attention to him, he did not understand her apathy and inattention to his call; he made up his mind she was dead, and this man had killed her. That thought brought such a wave of anger and fury, that for all his frailness of body, he had for the time strength to release himself from William's clasp, and throwing both arms about her neck, he tried to lift her, repeating over and over, "Mamma,—Mamma dear, look at me."

The sight of the boy's suffering brought tears to William's eyes, and he said, "Your mother is sleeping; she cannot hear you. She will waken soon, and—"

"I hate you. She is not sleeping. She is dead, and you have killed her."

"Augustus, you will be sorry for such a speech. She is sleeping; gaining strength to make us both happy. Have you no greeting for your father, who loves you so dearly? I am proud to—"

"If you were very proud, you would go home, and not stay here where you are not wanted. Mamma—Dinah—Mamma is dead, and—"

"Be quiet, Augustus. Do not shake your mother;—you will? Then I shall be compelled to use force. I didn't want to do that, but you compelled me to. Sit quiet and I will wake your mother."

Anyone having the slightest degree of doubt as to the parentage of this child would have been quickly convinced, if they could have studied their faces as William and Augustus confronted each other; Augustus' excited and distorted face was a perfect miniature likeness of his father's. Eyes flashed into eyes. For all the seriousness of the condition, William thought, "What a perfect counterpart of my own temper. He favors me much more than his mother."

He needed no proofs this was his boy, and he felt a thrill of pride. He had an intense nature that no one understood. Most persons thought him cold and distant, while in truth, he possessed an unusually affectionate temperament, but was too proud to admit to anyone how he really hungered for love. All persons could not supply this want; the whole force of his nature had centered itself upon one object. She became his wife and no other woman had ever had power to sway his thoughts and life. He was regarded as austere and cold, yet could be influenced by this woman's smile, to do anything man could do, and the pitiful, angered face which looked into his was his child,—and hers.

For all time he must have second place in her heart, and the pleasure of wife and child should be his study from this moment. Such thoughts produced a very different expression upon his face, and he said tenderly and affectionately,

"Clarissa—Clarissa—Awake."

Slowly her eyes opened. Her face pictured happiness and contentment as she saw William's smiling welcome; who would have believed his proud, haughty head could have bowed so humbly as it did when he saw the bright, glad gleam in her eyes? He stooped to kiss her as though she was just awakening from a natural sleep. As his arms encircled her, her own entwined themselves once more around his neck, and with a happy sigh she gave him kiss for kiss.

Augustus was, for the time, forgotten by both of them, but his eyes and ears were active; for a time, he remained silent, then a tempest of jealousy swept over him. He had ever been first in his mother's thoughts; now he was forgotten for a stranger. His spirit had not been disciplined to expect only his proper share of any one's attention, for from the earliest time in his recollection, he had been the principal object of attention in his home.

His very infirmity and physical weakness spared him criticisms of even the most wholesome nature; one and all around him had known but one object in life—to please him. He was totally unaccustomed to being overlooked in this manner, and his was not a nature to endure this state of things.

With all the might of his uncultivated and ungoverned will, he hated this man who was engrossing his mother's attention and love. He raised himself erect by the help of his hands, and rage nearly choked him as he said—"Mamma!"

Was there magic in his voice? If not, why did she draw so coldly and quickly from William's grasp?

"Mamma,—send that man away. I hate him."

"Yes, dear. Do not get nervous, Augustus. There—Mamma's little man is not angry—"

"Mamma—I hate him. Send him home. He is not my father, is he? You told me my father was everything noble—everything I loved—I hate that man—I hate him. Mamma, I will not have him for a father—I will not—"

"Hush, dear."

"I will not hush if he stays here. I will not live with him. Come, Mamma, let us go away and leave him here—I will make you a fine picture. Come, Mamma, don't look at him—he is wicked. He sent Dr. Goullard away—I hate him—hate him."

"Augustus, you will make yourself ill. Hush, dear."

"Don't kiss me all the time. Tell him to leave here. This is our home, and we don't want him. I will get ill. I will get nervous. When I get sick, you will know you are to blame for it. If you do not send him off, I will be ill. He lied. He is not my father—I will not have him for a father."

"No, dear;—there, be quiet. I will take you to Dinah."

"I will not go to Dinah unless you stay with me. Tell him to go home."

"Yes, dear; only calm yourself. There, the bell is ringing. Some one is coming, and my little man must not be seen like this. Be yourself, and you shall have anything you want. Here comes Dinah; let us see who is here. Dinah, who has called? Augustus is nervous. You had better take him, and give him some of that medicine for his nerves at once."

"I will not take it. I will not;—not unless you come too."

"Master William, it be someone to see you, and I let him in. Here he is." William and Clarissa both looked toward the door. There stood James with a parcel in his hand, his face beaming with pleasure. Clarissa quickly reached him, and gave him her outstretched hands. He tore off the covering of the package he carried, offering her a large bunch of her favorite flowers. This token of affection brought joyful tears to her eyes, and, still holding one of his hands, she led him to Augustus, saying, "This is my son, Augustus. Augustus, this is the man of whom I have so often told you, who was so good and kind to me when I was a mischievous and wilful girl. These are my favorite flowers; he always kept them for me, and you will have to hear him tell all about my girlhood. Will you not, darling? James can tell such lovely stories. He will tell you the same ones he used to tell me. I feel as though I were a girl again. Bid him welcome, Augustus."

"I love you because you were so good to mamma. I welcome you to our home—"

"Bless your heart, honey,—that is what we always called your mother—there were never two persons who looked so much alike as you and your father. I will tell you stories that will make your pretty eyes stick out, all about your mother's naughtiness, picking my choicest flowers. I remember every one. I never expected to be so happy as I am this very minute."

"We will have a jolly time. You can wheel me out and tell me the stories. Do you like my father? Was he a good man? You said I looked like him, so you must have known him."

"Did I know your father? Was he a good man? There was never his equal. He is the grandest, noblest, wisest—"

"That will do, James; possibly you can bring your thoughts away from the past, to the seemingly insignificant present long enough to tell me what has brought you here, and how you knew where to find me."

At the sound of William's voice, which was severe, James turned at once and replied, "Forgive me, master, but you told me yourself that our Miss Clarissa was the famous Miss Earle, the singer, and everyone knows where she lives. I know no other person would make you leave home and come so far, so I reckoned I would find you where she was. When you stayed so long, and there was a telegram came for you, soon followed by another, I knew it must be something of importance, and I thought I would bring them to you. I hope you are not angry, sir."

"If you believed them to be so important, why did you not give them to me at once?"

"Here they are. I admit I was wrong—but I am so happy to see Miss Clarissa—"

"That is the most disagreeable man I ever saw. He shall not scold you. Do not mind him. You come with me; I want you to tell me all about my mother when she was little. I will show you all my pictures. I am so glad you have come. You just push my chair. Dinah will show you where to go. You will send him away, and come right along, will you not, mamma?"

"Yes, dear."

"Come: I cannot walk, but I can stand up. I can paint, and draw and sing. Those were pretty flowers you brought mamma—"

The rest was lost by the closing of a door, which shut out further sound. Clarissa had kept her eyes upon William's face, ever since Augustus left her side; there was little to be gleaned from it. His eyes had not once left the paper before him. As the door closed, he lifted them and looked straight and steadily at her. There was sufficient power there to make her shiver. Her hand went quickly to her heart, but her gaze did not falter—she looked as steadily at him as he did at her. It was an uncomfortable pause, and William was first to break it.

"I have sad news for you. Your lover, one of the numerous galaxy, is very ill. I am sent for to restore him to health. Do not looked so shocked and worried. I will not let him die, as he is my best subject, and science would receive too rude a blow if Prof. Huskins' acknowledged best subject should sicken and die, and he be powerless to prevent it. He shall live; but as I stand here talking to you, I have the power and will obliterate the memory of every other man from your mind. Pardon me for so noisy a laugh, but the thought came to me quickly: 'William Huskins, you have devoted the best years of your life to science and won the distinction of being the most powerful demonstrator of mesmeric influence living: now the sole use you find for it is to vanquish the remembrance of past lovers from a fickle woman's mind, that you may enjoy her embraces.' Ludicrous enough to make anyone laugh, isn't it?"

"You are talking enigmas. I have and have had no lovers. Your coarse suggestions are an insult to my womanhood and motherhood. I am truly sorry for any man who depends upon you for his life; he had better die—"

"Beware how you try me. You have no idea of the power I possess. Pshaw! You are doubtless tired of him, and would feel better if he were dead. I will that he shall not die. He shall live. Possibly your memory can be refreshed sufficiently to recall the fact that you requested me,—your husband,—to carry him your favorite flowers, which oppressed you at the time."

"I shall answer but one assertion you have made—"

"Mamma, come,—I want you to hear something."

"Yes, Augustus, I will be there directly. You said you were my husband; you are not."

"It would not astonish me much if you told me that I was the second man who had passed through the marriage ceremony with you."

"You are the only man who has ever entered my life. It is not necessary for you to wear that sneering and sarcastic smile. I ought to know the symptoms of your unreasonable jealousy by this time. Once it hurt me; now I defy you. I am a mother, but I was never a wife. That is the reason I said that Augustus was not your son. When I told him his father was dead, I told him the truth. His father was the man whom I idolized as men worship gods. Keep away. Do not touch me. That man was not the William Huskins the world knows. He was what I thought you were.

"Your ardor worked upon my ignorant mind, until it created there an image of a man whose only existence was in my heart, while you, who passed for him, was in reality his exact opposite. Now you understand why I say that I am a mother but no wife, for I believe, from the depths of my soul, that marriage only exists where there is mutual love between man and woman. I meant well, but—"

"Clarissa, I am going to forget every word you have just said, and trust you in spite of all the dark appearances; remembering only what you have said of your love for me before we were married—"

"I never loved nor married you; it was only the image of a man that I had in my mind. Never for one moment in all your life, have you known what it was to love me, and we were, therefore, never married. My child is illegitimate. As this fact has come clearer to me, I have striven to the best of my ability to bring as much happiness into his life as lay in my power.

"The Bible says 'What God has joined together, let no man put asunder.' I believe that God is love. You never loved me, and I loved only the image of a man who had no real existence. Not you, William Huskins. There was no love in our union, and God never sanctioned it; it was not a real marriage."

"You do me a great injustice, Clarissa, when you say I never loved you. How can you say so, when the memory of the past is in your mind? If I lacked in loving demonstration, it was because of ignorance how to express myself. You have seen a side of my nature no one else knows to exist. Surely I proved myself a loving slave while you stayed with me. In your greatest anger, you must admit I was ever beside you, never bestowing even a passing thought upon any other woman. Your pleasure and presence made up for me the sum of life's happiness, and words can never express the black desolation of my heart since you left me."

"Love! What do you know of love! Let me tell you how you have loved me. You were affectionate, happy and kind just so long as we were alone; let me pet an animal, speak to a man or even a woman, with the most common courtesy, and that kindness was replaced by a demon of jealousy that would listen to no reason, but reviled me without—"

"Clarissa, I know I was hasty, possibly cruel; I did not mean to be so. It was my great love for you that made me jealous. I will admit it was torture for me to see you engrossed with any one, but surely there must be some excuse for me when you think it was love that made me so. I do not pretend I am blameless. I know jealousy changed me from a sane man to a mad one, but I swear to you, give me your love again, and you shall nevermore witness such scenes, for, should I feel the demon's influence coming to me again, I will go away from your presence and only return when I can bring you as much happiness as you give me, when you yield yourself to—"

"That is just it, William,—so long as I yield, so long as I amuse you and gratify your wishes, you are happy, and accept those signs as the offerings of love. Stand where you are till I finish,—your idea is that a woman's love is only expressed by a blind obedience to her husband.

"What is man, that he expects from a woman that which he will not give in return? You believe now just as you have in the past; that is,—if I loved you, I would see, think, feel and act according to your ideas of how a woman should, consigning to your guardianship and care my conscience and opinions, even as I would my body. You have no right to expect from me anything that you would not do yourself. I learned what love was when I became a mother. Do you think my love for Augustus demands his giving up all his desires and expectations? No;—my love for him is so strong I would endure with a smile and never a moan, if I knew that my suffering would purchase his happiness. I do not want him to see, feel and think as I do; I want him to have perfect freedom of choice. I do and always will find my greatest happiness in witnessing his joy."

"A mother's love is different from a husband's."

"So I have found them. Since Augustus was first placed in my arms, I have known but one thought, one desire;—that was to please him. It is for him I always sing; never for the public. I always feel he will be proud to think, in after life, his mother was a gifted and talented woman."

"Are you not a little selfish yourself, when you have left me sad and lonely all these years since you have had our boy?"

As he said this, there resounded a peal of boyish laughter, ringing clear and distinct. William hesitated, then resumed: "I make no pretentions to goodness, but there are a few facts I have a right to state. When you left my home, every ray of brightness faded out of my life. I doubted everybody and everything;—I was proud—too proud to want anyone's pity or sympathy, so I sought to hide my suffering beneath a mask of indifference and coldness. What I suffered, no one but myself will ever know. It has made an old man out of a young one;—it has so completely crushed my pride I am willing now to sue for a second place in your affections, when the first is filled by my son. It is impossible for me to go back to my lonely home and endure what I have. If I have been cruel, harsh and unjust to you whom I love better than my life, I ask to be forgiven, and promise that, coming to me again, you shall be the guiding influence of our home. Give me one chance to show the depth and earnestness of my love. Few men have given women the fidelity I have shown you. That ought to be a factor in my favor."

"William, I believe you have been true to me. I have heard you called a woman-hater everywhere, but why have you been? You have not seen another woman who happened to please you as I did. It was no sacrifice upon your part, as you were not strongly attracted to them. I believe I am just and honest with you when I say the feeling you held for me, and which you called love, was only a physical attraction, and that was the cause of your suffering so from jealousy. Do not interrupt me—I know that you do not believe it, but I do, and with good reason."

"I must have been a most cruel husband indeed."

"No, William, I know you have not meant to be, and I am willing to acknowledge I, too, have made many mistakes; we have both been at fault, but you might at least have come and asked me to stay in your home, when you knew my delicate condition."

"Clarissa! As there is a good Judge in the Infinite, I did not know it."

"You did know it, for I told you so myself, during that last quarrel."

"I will not dispute your words, that would be useless, but will admit much of that interview is a blank in my memory. You know, as well as I, when jealousy or rage controlled me I was not always responsible for what I might do or say. If I were to be weighed in the balance of Infinite Justice, however, I should firmly declare that, had I known your condition, I should have humbled my pride and sought your presence, shielding you from your pain and suffering so far as lay in my power."

"You are the cause of Augustus' infirmity, and every time I see him looking longingly at other boys who can run and walk and play, how do you suppose I feel?"

"How can I be blamed for that, Clarissa? Surely, I injured you in no way."

"You never struck me with your hands, but you struck my heart; pride, fears, disappointment, anguish of mind, and, yes, I may as well admit it, lonesomeness produced such an effect upon me that, for a while, I was unable to walk; my body would tremble and shake so that I could not support myself.

"When my boy,—my idol came, he was physically perfect. How proud I was of him; but when the time came all other children walk, mine could not stand alone! He was called upon to pay the penalty of our sins. My love for him increased when I knew I was the cause of his affliction; I could not help feeling bitter and angry toward you, for without your senseless and unreasonable jealousy, our boy might have been like others, only brighter, for every one admits that he is unusually talented."

"If I could take his infirmity from him, I would gladly do so, but I cannot. Every reparation man can make, however, I will make, if you will give me a chance. You have been in my home. Won't you and Augustus come there to live? I promise upon my honor to be guided by your judgment and wishes. You will not believe me till you test it, but I know my love is strong enough to bear any test. You think a mother's love is purest, but that love which a good man offers the woman he wants to make his life complete, cannot be exceeded by any sentiment possible to souls of earth.

"Show me a test of endurance you would undergo for Augustus;—I will double it for you without a murmur. Will you not give me one trial, Clarissa? Come—how you tremble! I must go and leave you—kiss me before I go. I will go ahead, for Merle is very ill and needs me. I will either come back for you, or you and Augustus may come on with James. Nancy will have everything in readiness. We will begin anew. Which will you do?"

"We will come with James, William."

"When?"

"Just as soon as we can get ready."

"I cannot realize you are really coming to me again, Clarissa;—I fear I will awake and find it is only a dream, as I have so many times before. Look me straight in the eye, and swear you will come.—I believe it now. I will not disturb James and Augustus. He was frightened and thought you were dead. Thinking I had killed you, he disliked me, but you will influence him to love me. Won't you write me while you have to stay here? I will leave a check at my apartments for all you will need. James will fetch it to you. Think of me sometimes, even though I am unworthy."

When he left Clarissa, William walked quickly from the house, and sought his own apartments, preparatory to going to Merle, who, as the telegrams stated, was seriously ill.