ALONE WITH A MANIAC.

Mount Ida Chronicle, Volume 31, Issue 9220, 15 June 1900, Page 5

ALONE WITH A MANIAC.

We bad always been clcsely united, "nd I; he had pursued his histnric s' I, ir 1 earned money by painting Bowers, tiix jours we bad livid in tut village of Uap.., .he old yellow stone bouse that was ODe of ILe landmarks of tlio place. Rich in its tiea6ures of other centuries, it has descended from father to son, through a long line of 1 risßeigjUiitil itfell to .Louis and became our tome. It had 1 southern outlook ou the Mediterranean Sea, and although its piazzas were covertd with viuet growing in tropical luxuriance, aud great trees were scattered about its driveways, it had a sunny exposure with a warm atmosphere most ot the year. Here it was that the cbango came which has clouded all uny future, making uic the worn f weary wemau that jou see to-gay. VVe had perhaps lived selfishly ; Louis onrtd notLiug fur travel, and spent bis hours in studying the volumes from which he shoul>i reap fame in the near future. We used olten to pI»Q wbat we would do when his taltnts wez - e kcowa to the world, and ho should be appreciated at his true worth. It all seemed clear to us, fur the onlj thing intervening between his task and, its compensation was the preparatory time of. work. Louis never flighted what bo attempted, so we were sure of the end. The change came slowly, yet I perceived it with woman's intuition, which never fails. Every morning when he wakened he would draw his baud across his brow with a gesture of weariness, and as the sun came sLiuing through our chamber window he would say " I think 1 shall be better tc-day, Bertha ; my head feel? clearer than it did yesterday." Then he would slowly rise and seek his bo»ks. When 1 begged hicn not to pursue his studits with such eagerness until hi* laealtli grew better, he smiled and kissed me, saying— Never mind, sweetheart jin year my book will be published ; then we will take our much-Deeded rest We shall have ho sordid cares to mar the joy of lifa, but will spend our days in an Arcadia of bliss." Louis was always hopeful, so cbild-like in his confidence in mankind 1 But the pain in his head became h setious matter. There Were days when his thoughts were iathe wildest confusion and when I looked over his papers, as I had a habit of doing, 1 could make no sense of their meaning, though I was a Jong time realising all that was wrong. Finally I called in Doctor Hofri to relieve the strain and anxiety under which I " wts suffering. The good man looked at me. 1 Tell me," 1 said, " tbß truth about my husband, I can bear anything better than this suspense." •' Mrs. Trissrl," he replied, gravely, "he is suffering from overwork. The greatest oare is necessary ; keep bim from excitement, do not allsw study, and 1 trust he wili rogain his health." 'That was all. Then the days rolled into weeks, and the time came when Louis required constant care. My easel, with its unfinished picture, was neglected, aDd Louis abandoned his work ; but he longed lor it, and hi* constant theme was his writing. " I cannot afford to be idle in best years of life. What shall Ido when some one else has forestalled my researches aud brought the work over which I have poied before the public ? You do not know how these thoughts fret me, Bertha ; yet I am trying to be patient even when I seem most irritable."

I remember that day wLeu the b!ow fell from which 1 shall not recover. It was early in August ; a hot sun shone cloudlisa on the sea ; the villas were closed and darkened to' exclude the outside glare ; even the workers.were waiting for twilight's coolness before resuming tbiir labours. I h&d been fanning Louis, for be const sntly complained of the heat, and I noticed that his face was red almost to crimson. He did not answer rationally when I spoke to him, but kept murmuring a jargon of disconnected words. At last I looked at bim in sheer wonder and cried out—

" What ails you, Louis ? Have you lost your mind ? It trets me to hear you talk so foolishly ; come, lie (loiru a while on the sofa ; I will fan yeu and sing to you, and perhaps you will fill asleep." He looked at me a moment, then broke into a grating laugh. " Ah, you think yourself bo cuuniug, Bertha. You think I do not mistrust you and your talk with Doctor Hofri ! " Then his voice rose to a higher key, souDdiug shrilly through the room. " You think me mad, I tell you. staik mad ! And if I should be. sweetheart, do you think I'd see you suffer ? No—l have saved this " brandishing a small stilletto. "It is bharp, very Bh&rp, and when I plunge it into your heart, a brief pain only, then all's over."

I Beemed to be in chaos ; the furniture was whirling about in circles, endless in movement, tireless in activity. A 8 in a dream I heard Louis saying—- " This history of mine is filling all the world to-day. 1 cannot be rid of it ; wherever Igo its facts and figures arc staring at me. VVLy do you not brush them away 'i Oh, what have I done that I should so suffer ? The buzzing in my eers grows louder—there's po end to the confusion. If I kill you it may end my trouble, and something must be done !" There was a pause ; Louis' eyes were glazed, ar.d his head rolled to and fro in a frightful way. Before 1 could control myself sufficiently to speak he continued—- " You understand, Bertha. I cannot finish my history unlil you are gone. When my head becomes clear I can write again ; but you trouble me ; cannot you see you must be sacrificed j"'

Mechanically 1 looked into his fever-flushed face. Was ho shamming all this nonsense, or bad he gone insane ? Never had his words been so wild and terrible. The k ; nife in his handwhere had he found it ? Speechless, helpless, I dropped on my knees before him, looking into those eyes from which the light of reason had fled. He burst lDto a foolish laugb, bending above me with the gleaming blad&iu his hand. 1 Ihought of flight, but it was too late ; T was at tie mercy of a maniac instead of the loving, tender husband of former days.

Without pausing tn reflect, I began singing otie of the songs he had listened to.in the days of our The knife dropped from his haud ; heswrfyed back and forth, falling heavily on the floor.

Marietta, the maid, raa for Doctor Hofri, who was taking his afternoou siesta, and the friendly physician came puffine in hot haste to my assistance.

" You have had a narrow escape, madam," he said, after listening to my story. He shook his head sorrowfully when he looked at Louis thtn picked up the kiiife and carefully hid it Irom sight, " You are a brave woman to pass through such an ordeal, but it must never happen again. Mrs. Trissel, the time has come for action. Your husband has Bhowu you by his conduct that he ia a lunatic, and a dangerous one. He must be immediately removed to an asylum." How I bore the days that followed I could never tell. The weary hours dragged their own length along ; when it was night 1 wished it were morning, when it was morning I wished it were night. I became weak and languid, and no longer eared for anytbißg. At last the doctor decided I must have a companion, and without consulting me, engaged the. services of a Sister of Charity, Sister Mercy was a plump, middle-agod woman, with gray hair falling ia waves above her

temple*, aud bright dark eyes. Her very presence wiib reviving.

"Sister Bettha," Bhe said, cheerfully," I have come to live with you until you are stronger than you seem to-day." I liked her voice ; in some «r»y it recalled that of Louis. Piteously I begged to be taken to see him, to share his confine ment and care for his wants ; but she answered :

"Be patient, my sister. You shall see bim wheH you are stronger aud can bear the strain." And so she put me off from day to day, until at last she feared to du so longer. When 1 knew I was really to see bim 1 shook ill over, for I was faint I'rom lack of nourishment and sleep. My life had buen filled with suffering since Louis went to tbe asylum. Every day the same paiu throbbed at my heait ; no sedative could sooth a woe to deepjy seated.

Sister Mercy to/d mo that 1 must eat something and drink a poition of wine before wk started on our journey. Eagerly I swallowed tbe food and drink placed before me. I tastid nothing, yet it did not matter. I was soou to see Louis, my owa lest darling ! VVe drove a long way through the white streets, grown strangely unfamiliar since 1 bad gazed on them, aud finally entered a garden filled with flowers We could hear the' rushing water ot a liny brook, a thread left undried through the.scorchiog heat of summer. Sisler Mercy smilingly placed 1117 hand in hers. " Be brave, my sister ! It will try you sorely to see your Louis under these sadly altered conditions ; but have courage and all will be wall with you." It rested me to hear hßr ; she gave me comfort and strength when I had sore need of them. I would be passive, and not mind wbat happened.

The asylum was a large white building set iu tbp midst of luxuriant shrubbery. It was surrounded on two sides with wide verandahs. Vainly I searched amoDgthupeople sitting there for my husband. Sister Mercy told me that the patients were divided into squads, and Louis, being still violent, was not permitted freedom save at stated intervals, when he was clesely watched.

VVe passed among the harmless patients, Sister Mercy and I. During this delay 1 tried to murmur a prayer for strength, my brain was reeling ; ill my good icsolutions had vanished in air. The only definite thought loft me was, " 1 shall once more see Louis. Oh, that we might not be separated again I " A.t last I stood before the grated window behind which my dear one wa« confined. It was even more dreadful than 1 had imagined. Sister Mercy supported my trembling form, for 1 was powerless to stand alone. Then I beard a veico liks, yet unlike, the one I used to know. Soou a face appeared at the window,thin to eamaciation, with great eyes staring from their hollow sockets, with hair shorn closely, aud the long, silken moustache gone from the tendor mouth that for me had spoken ouly words of kiuduesa during our happy years together.

He was dreßsed in the coarse cloth worn by the most desperate cases confined in the asylum. There was no ray of intelligence in the dark eyes its they glance aimlessly abuut. The (jaunt white fingers seemed to be handling something, and soon two butteus. joined by a bent pin, fell at our feet. He began to talk. " Do you know French ? " ho inquired in wavering accent 8. Then followed a swift torrent of words iu that language. " Oh, you know it not !" be plaintively continued. The wandering eyes caught sight of the buttons held in Sister Mercy's hand. " That is the sun around which our earth revolves ; do you see ? Everything is whirling ; we keep going, going, going. We grow tired—were you ever in the Bastile ?" . Louis' feet shuffled away from us to the other side of bis cell ; soon he was back again. •• Can you tell these incidents as they occurred V I wish you would bring me a map. I mutt find Spain to-tuorrow." How the endless jumble of faots and figures tossed about in that heated brain ! It made me ree! to hear him talk, yet 1 seemed rooted to the spot, longing to take the weary head upon my bosom and let it there find rest. Would this trouble never end ? Sister Mercy stood quietly supporting me uutil she thought 1 could bear uo more ; then she said—- " You have been here long eaough for today ; it is time to go." All my heart sparng to my lips, and I wildly cried " Loui*, don't you know me ? I'm your own wife, Bertba ! Talk to me one moment—just a word to comfort me when I am gone." No answering intelligence shone in the wandering eyes that used to follow me so lovingly about my work ; my Louis was more hopelessly lost to me than it his body lay beneath a coffin lid.

For many days I lay sick and feverish. Hofri suggested my removal from Caprera, but 1 clung to my home with a sense of helpless locgng ; I wished to be near Louis ; I oould not bear strange faces or strange surrounding*, bo I refused to go away.

Sister Mercy became the healing presence that saved me from myself. She urged me to resume my painting, saying I might be better if my time were occupied.

" Beside," she told me in her quiet way, " you must pay something for your husband's care ; you do not wish him to ba among the pauper insane, and your small ir-come should be savei to ma.t emergencies," I began to work, feverishly at first, then with my old-time method, and derived a sort of comfort from my labours. I did not again visit him ; I oould not. Surely God would have meroy on us both and restore him to reason. Unlil bh&t timß c&me I could only work and wait.

The weary days crept ou. Sister Mercy was my untiring conßoler, and under her oars I gradually regained health and a measure ot courage. But there were times when my burden seemed heavier then ever before.

I awoke one morning with the sensation of hiving dreamed pleasantly. Louis and I had been walking hand in band on the sands of our seashore. His face held the glowing light of early days, when care and study had not overshadowed it. He looked at me and smiled in the way that used to bring such joy to my heart". Could it be'l was only dreaming—that I must wake into the lontly day, removed frc m him I held most dear ? Hid Louis died 1 might have grown reconciled to my loss ; but that gibbering creature without sense or reason—why was it placed between me aud the soul I worshipped V I rose languidly and took up my usu»l routine. The day was filled wilh an intolerable heat ; we had closed every aperture to keep out the sun, and I went slime into the library faciog the sea. I placed Louis's books about me, and sat sketching a flower. All at once something seemed to draw my eyes away from my task. Involuntarily I looked toward the blind-slats, through which a pair of fierce eyes were peering. They were those of Louis, my husband. My heart stood Btill How had he eßo&ped ? I tried to think what I must do. The crisis was imminent, for I felt that the man meant murder.

" You failed me once he was saying, " but I have you safe this time 1 Ha ! ha 1 You locked me up—you did not wish me to write history. You thought you had seen the last of Louis. Choose quickly ! will you come out with me, or shall I shiver into fragments thiH little window that stands between us P "

Moved by an impulse I could not resist, I glided to the window. My unhappy husband was dear to me even now, ia his wrath. Thoughts poured through my brain like seething streams of fire. What mtub I do t

Sister Mercy and Marietta were in another part of the house. Even if 1 cried for assistance, uould they not be helpless is the grasp oE this maniac ? I shut my dizzy eyes ns the glass shivered, and Louis stood beside me. He had no weapon this time, but the long cruel Augers with which he grasped aud choked me. I tried to scream, but ILe sound gurgled in my throat ; all turned chaos, scenes half forgotten roso.beforo mu as my husband fluog me to the floor, still keeping his grasp upon my throat.

It was long ere I came buck to lire. Where was the Louis ol' ray moroiug dream r 1 Then shudderiug memories brought bsck the scene of tlio aftiruouu—theshiverii gglass, the clutch of a maniac's hand, acd again I swooned. Luler, Sister Mercy Uld me how sho found Louis bending oyer mo iu mad fury. Qiiekly sbe had given the blow that released ice from bis muiderous hand, onco more giving the sluggish blood a obsnce to circulate in my er>ld bodv.

IVIy hair is white to-dp.y, although 1 am not an old woman us tbo »oild counts yeais. Sister Mercy still coiijfoits me with her presence, and seems not lo noti'ce my vugaiie-s.

Louis is at rest now. The morning I dreamed of bim young aud lair tvaa his last ou earth.The cruel madne?s wrought its or.n destruction. Ho has " iallbii ou sleep," aud t plant flowers instead of painting thun.