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Otago Witness, Issue 2497, 22 January 1902, Page 82

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I am a doctor's wife. Everyone knows that means irregular *iealtimes, disturbed nights, forfeited holidays, and continual frustration of one's cherished plans. But the incident I am going to tell altered the whole course of our lives, and brought us, still young, ambitious, enthusiastic, to Harley street. 1 had had a long day's shopping, and sat, absorbed in a delightful book, by the draw-ing-room fire, when suddenly James, our miniature page, jerked open the door and popped his head round it. " Please, madam, there's a gentleman in the hall what says he won't come in and won't go away." T looked up impatiently. " Come right in, James. How often must I tell you that? And don't fidget! Tell the gentleman tbat your master is out." " Please, madam, I have, and he just oaid he would wait, or " "On the doormat? How absurd! Ask ihim to leave a message. Say the doctor .•will go as soon as he returns ; and take 3us name and address, James," I said iwamingly, as he disappeared. But only to pop in a few seconds later. " It's no good, madam. He says he won"t go for naught." " Very well. I will see him," I said, follow ing him ou* into the hall. A very tell man, wrapped in a fur coat, stood under the lamp. He was young, very handsome, and had brilliant bkek eyes. ' He bowed profoundly as I went towards Lim. '" I am exceedingly sorry to disturb you, madam, but I am anxious to see Dr Lumley, or —or " " I am sorry. My husband has been called out." "It is not medical skill that I require BO much as sympathy. Not for myself." he added hurriedly, as he maiked my lonk of astonishment, " but for my wife. We are strangers in this huge city. We have not a single woman-friend, and she is in need of one." " But you a^ked for Dr Lumley. You "' " I know, madam. Of course, she requires a doctor also, but another woman even more. She wants sympathy, kind v/ords ; and when my eyes fell upon you I knew that you were the one to help me." "But this is too strange!" I exclaimed, laughing nervously. "You can get nurses —splendid women some are. They would do better than I." " Hired sympathy—yes! But what I mean is the kindly compassion of an equal ■—an hour's conversation with a gentlewoman. It would save her." "But cannot she speak to you?' He shook his head. "I am only a big, awkward cieature. I can never do or say the right thing." The cry of my child upstairs arrested my attention. I raised my head and listened. The soothing voice of the nurse fell on our ears. " He was dreaming," I muimured, half aloud. The stranger's eyes held mine in an imploring gaze. ■ " Her child is dead. She has never recovered from the blow.' 1 " Dead !" I exclaimed. " And—and was be young?" "Only a baby —a cooing, pretty child. Perhaps like-the one above. And she knows no one now !" " If a woman is what you need," I said, " I will come with you ; and, as my husband has not returned, we will leave a mestage for him." "How can I thank you?" he exclaimed, in a bioken voice. " It is nothing." "Nothing? It is th.i act of an angel! I lid not mistake your noble nature when I saw you. I wish now I had come before." "Have you seen me befoie?" I asked, surprised. " Often. I knew that if I needed a woman's help I might get it here. Do you doubt my good faith? " " No," I stammered. " I will come." " The night is cold, and our drive long. ] You .mist wrap up." I ran upstairs and rang for a maid. Then I crept noiselessly into my baby's room. I bent over the sweet, s-leep-nushed face and kissed it. As I did to a sudden impulse seized me to take the child. It was mad, foolish ; but I remembered that the woman I was going to had lost her child. Alight not the sight of mine be the best tonic for her? So, to the nurse's horror, I lifted the still sleeping babe, and, ■wrapping him up warmly, left the room with him in my arms. The stranger had not moved from his position in the hall. I understood that lie nad given a message to James, who held the door open for us, his eyes huge with wonder. The stranger glanced at the downy head aesthng in the hollow of mv aim, and hesitated. . "It is all right," I murmured. "He may jelp us." •' But the coM. The " He is warm, and it may be unwise of us, but something stronger than myself prompted me to do it," I murmured. His eyes grew eoft with gieat tenderness. 'Madam, you will never iegret this! " Then he handed me into a. luxunou^ Yrougham, and closed the door. "This is princely!" I s;i:d, smiling, in learch of conversation, for the silence oppressed me. " It is my wife's," he answered, in a soft voice. * Tell me about her," I murmured, "50 that I may know what to say." "My -wife is young ar.d neivous ' broke ia the deeji* nek v'okfii "sue require* 9,

soothing hand. Her baby died four months ago ; she never ceases to mourn for it. I fear that her reason may go unless other womanly sympathy may bring her to weep. Tell me, have you ever lost a child?" I shrank back horrified. " This is my only child. He is strong and healthy. If I were to lose him I should die." " Good mothers all feel like that. But such grief does not kill entirely." " Where are we ?" I asked, as the carriage stopped. "We have arrived," he answered, as the door was opened by an elderly manservant, who eyed me in astonishment.

The Prince—for so I called him in my heart—led me into a spacious hall, beautifully furnished in Oriental style. Then I remembered that I did not know his name nor his address—that I was entirely at his mercy. I went shivering up to the fire, and stooped to tne dancing flames ; Fear was beginning to lay her numb fingers on my heart. I glanced down at my child. Supposing something happened to him! Supposing they took him from me! "'May I offer you some refreshment?" said my host. I tried to smile, but felt it a hopeless failure. " No, thank you ; but I should like to see your wife at once," I replied, my courage returning little by little. The daughter of a warrior family, I prided myself on possessing more than most -women. " I will see her first," he said, walking across the hall and disappearing thiough a door. In a few minutes he returned. "Will you come?" he, murmured Rising with alacrity, I followed him into a large, brilliantly-lighted room, magnificent in decoration and full of beautiful flowers. At first I thought we were alone, but on looking round I saw, crouching in a corner, a figure that reminded me of the picture of " Evil," by the Hon. John Collier. Her long, dark hair, sweeping the ground, hung over her face, which was ghastly in its pallor, with burning, soulless eyes. A shiver ran through me. Instinctively I covered my baby's head. " She is mad! " I murmured, dry lipped, looking up into his sad face " But you may save her. You may call her wandering soul back to its restingplace." " You d d not tell me it wis like this!" I gasped, horror clutching at my throat." " Forgive me—no! She has grown worse since I left. But no harm shall come to you. She would not hurt you." But even as he spoke she had risen, and was, creeping towaids us. Hex great eyes, gleamed, her breath came quickly through he" even, white teeth ; her mouth, beautiful once as Cupid's bow, was distorttd by a hoinble grin ; her hands stretched out claw-like to grip us. "Darling! Little one!" said the husband, holding out his arms. But she paid no heed to him. Her eyes were fixed 011 mine. Malice was writ all over her. My handkerchief dropped to the ground. She darted on to it, and, mouthing horribly, sat down, panting, and tore it to shred's. Then she appeared to listen, and started singing to heiself in a sweet, low voice an old French lullaby. The tears sprang to my eyes. The dear home I had left rose before me. I pressed my child convulsively to my heart. The movement roused him. He gave a little cry. - The wretched woman raided her heed. Her eyes shone like stars, a soft smile crept into her face. "Baby!" I murmured, with a throb )f delight. Surely bhe was coming.back to leason? " Baby .'" she echoed, in a sobbing, dreamy voice. "Baby, baby —my baby!" She .stretched out her arms as though to gather something in, then hei head fell on her knees, and she closed her eyes. I uncovered my boy with trembling hands. He raised his sweet face, and looked around with lazy, wondering eyes. The blight, pink light attracted him. He held out his dimpled fistt, and cooed. The woman at our feet shivered, raised her head, and listened intently. Baby cooed again, then chuckled. She sprang to her feet with a low cry of joy, past us to a door in the wall, which revealed a cupboaid as she pu'.led it open. Feverishly she began pulling things from it, and strewing the floor with them, crooning to herself all the time. They were the garments and toys of a little child I moved nearer to her. My child, wide awake, laughed gleefully as we reached her. He tretched out his hands to her daik hair, and touched it, with a wondering look in his blue eyes. She raised her face, dry-eyed, but flushed She held out her arms appealingly. " Baby!" she cried. He cooed, and sprang forwaid. But I held him back. How could I let him go? "Baby—sweet baby!—come!" she cried again, her face full of love and yearning. With a delighted gurgle, he kicked, eager t y go ; and, feeling that doubtless his instinct was good and my reluctance selhbb, I laid him in her arms. With a cry of intense joy, she sank to the floor, pres-ing him to her breast, and kissing his cvi!« pasMon;»tely, while her slight frame shook witb sobs, and the mind-saving tears flowed fieely. An hour later she lay on * couch, with my child in her armu talking to us quietly and sensibly, her disengaged hand in her fiu.-band's. Lionel had arrived, and, afte.- congratulating our host and myself on the happy issue of our experiment, enjoined a period of complete lest for the Prince--".. With his consent. I acceded to their 'vvi'-h, and remained there with my buy. I grew I to love the beuitiful woman duuni; the few rl.ivs v-e <-p-nt Mith li^r ,>n'l. .^t h >i]>_'h I iiM'-'-ed my hu^i ml 'md mv home. t'u.iTikeil Heaven fencinlv fur having la 'de me the

The huge cheque Baby Lionel brought back in his chubby hand to the gloomy London house was the forerunner of many others. For, from that day, Lionel's name was made. The Prince's influence soon brought him an extensive and fashionable connection, though the true history of the Princess's illness never reached the ears of society.