STRONGER THAN DEATH.

Otago Witness, Issue 2545, 24 December 1902, Page 63

STRONGER THAN DEATH.

, ""*.'■ • ♦ (AXONYMOTTS.) 1 HON. CERTD7ICATE.

• " ' - Chatter I. The Gods would have chosen well ; ' ' Yet both are hear, and both are dear, And which the dearest I cannot tell. — Tennyson. "Are we agreed?" formally inquired the consulting* physician of the general practitioner. . . "Absolutely," replied the latter; 'it is his only chance of life.' "With your permission I will call Mrs Vanthorpe to hear your decision." In the adjoining room a man lay dying, and a woman's heart was breaking. ■ Of ashen pallor were his sharpened features, his dark hair damp with weakness anxU suffering/;,- his_ thin white hand lay nervelessly" in the woman's warm, strong clasp, and the yearning" love of her gaze fell -upbiT his- closed" eyeKds. ' , * The. doctor's be.^koiung finger- called her. She braced herself", body and spirit, as she went -to face, the verdict — life or death? Keenly she strove to read the grave face of the pHysician as, placing a "chair for fier, he* bade her sit. . "I am.. sorry to tell you [All! it vras - death, then !] that your husband's condition is most critical. " Had you called in advice earlier, much might have been done to prevent the progress of the complaint. Now, we fear, the only chance for life lies in an otjeration ; which may or r*^y not be successful. We cannot tell results with any certainty. His constitution and his temperate life are greatly in his favour ; but •his strength has .failed during the last three days from inability to take food and from suffering ;, and his pulse is very feeble. Still, there is a chance — just a chance — that the operation may be successful in removing ihe obstruction ; and if that be done, and the shock to the system be not too great, he will speedily recover. Without the operation he must die within the next two or three days, and in great pain. To give him eveiy advantage, there must be no delay. All preparations can be made within an hour. Now the decision rests with you." "I think we- should also tell Mrs Vanthorpe," said the other doctor, "that should the measures taken unfortunately prove unavailing, yet the end would be painless, as the patient would probab'.y not recover from the effects of the anaesthetic. But take time to consider, madam." And the doctors considerately withdrew to the window, talking in low tones* ' With a stupendous effort of the will, Margaret Vanthorpe struggled against the waves which threatened to overwhelm her : waves of blood surging back to her heart, waves of dread, and waves of sorrow. There yraa &o time for feeling'; she must think,

must force her brain to act upon the terrible question to be settled. Oh, that she could ask her husband what was to be done ; but then he would say, as he ever said, "Do as you think best, Margaret." There was more at issue than the doctors knew ; more than the life or death of her husband: there was the life of their unborn child. It was the Bth of June. The 10th would be the anniversary of their wedding day. Should her husband live until then, there would be due to him £100; his annuity — a whole year's maintenance. Should he die before then she would be left penniless, worse than penniless, to face the inevitable expenses of a life ended and a life to be begun. "He might linger two or three days," the doctor had said, but they would end in agony. " Ah, no ! she could not let him suffer ! Better that she should starve than that he should suffer ! He was the nearest, he was the dearest!" But came the thought : "My child, my baby, would starve too. I cannot decide ; I cannot ! God help me !" As the cry went up from her heart, there flashed back a message — words familiar from childhjood : "Let us not do evil that good may come." Yes, that was it ; she would follow the straight path, the clear next step, and leave the rest. She stood, up. " I have decided," she said steadily ; "the operation .must take place. It will save him from suffering, if it cannot save him from death." "Your decision is right," said the physician. "I should have strongly advised this course, but I wished to leave the responsibility with you. And now will you make Mr Vanthorpe acquainted with the position, while Dr Don and I make the necessary' preparations. Have courage," he added kindly." I may truly say I would not undertake the operation were it not that the balance of hope lies that way."

Chapter 11. No one is so accurst of fate, No one so utterly desolate, But some heart, 'tho 1 unknown, Responds unto his own. Responds as if, with unseen wings, An angel touched its quivering strings, And whispers in its song, "Where hast thou strayed so long?' — Longfellow. Meanwhile, the sick man tossed restlessly. Just as his hand lay passive in his wife's firm clasp, so did his mind rest in the soothing influence of her presence. That withdrawn, he became feverish, and flitting thoughts tiresomely troubled his ■ mind. Fitful memories of his ? motherless childhood ; the unkindness of servants ; quarrels with his schoolfellows ; the irksomeness of 10 long years of office work ; the old worries of uncongenial business life — -all haunted him afresh. Afresh, too, came the remembrance of his father's death, and 'the unutterable loneliness which - followed .it.,' Then, again, his mind settled the vexed question of leaving 'England, of seek- ' • ing liew friends in a new country ; and the resolve to sell his father's business, -to invest the money in an annuity, to escape from the anxieties of a life of business for its own sake — the sake of making money with no loved ones to enjoy it. Again he lived through the disappointment which met him in the new country : how he found ' the same abuses in the new as in the old ; the same unscrupulous struggle for wealth ; the same love of money rather than of truth, goodness, or beauty ; the same spirit of competition rather than the spirit of brotherhood. So his dreams of the soul's disentanglement faded. Freedom, equality, brotherhood were as far away under these beautiful > southern skies as under Charles's Wain. He was drifting in an aimless objectless sort of fashion when he met Margaret. A beautiful smile illumined the sick man's j face as he recalled all the little happy details of that meeting. The coming of a new* boarcTer to the unpretentious house where he lodged — a music-teacher who went ; out each day after breakfast to give lessons at her pupils' homes. She had been , placed beside him at the long dining table, and had redeemed. its sordid untidiness by the glance of her kind grey eyes. Then came friendly talks about books: of Waif Wlnfman, with his large humanity ; of - Brpwnipir. with ■ his ' magnificent optimism'; of Thoreau, and his plans for the simpler; deeper life': when lo! the loneliness had vanished, and each had found the other — '- the beautiful, the free, Tho crown of all humanity. Of course, their marriage followed. There was no one to blame them for imprudence, or to throw hindrances in their way. They had moved into new lodgings, where they had a little private sitting room in which Margaret received her pupils by day, and where he wrote at night stories, poems, critiques, anything and everything he could to bring grist to the mill. But most of the manuscripts sent out with high hopes came back with the editor's "compliments and thanks," tempered with regrets. His style was toi serious, his matter too profound, for popular writing ; bis views too democratic to suit the T)etter-class magazines, and too sane and just to suit the proletariat class. Then at length Margaret had had to cease her teaching, and to busy herself with the fashioning of small and dainty garments. But still their bliss was unbroken, their happiness perfect, until — could it be only a week since this horrible nausea had come over him? Tlien dread doubt seized j him : was it a week? Days and nights had I been alike — long and weary, full of dis- I trauglit fancies and of real pains. He ' could not tell, could not remember what day of the week it was. Surely it must be , Wednesday to-day, the 10th — theii wedding j day! Why had not Margaret reminded him? Why did she not come? How could she leave him so long? He must ask her what day it was ; and he grew feverishly anxious, tried to call, but found his voice too feeble. • Then the door opened and Margaret j antared,

Chapter 111. And is this like love, to stand With no help in my hand, "VVhen strong as death I fain would watch above thee? My lova-kiss can deny No tear that falls beneath it; Mine oath of love can swear thee FTom no ill that comes near thee, And thou diest while I breathe it! — 3£rs Browning. "Margaret, what day of the week is it? How long have I been lying here? Is it our wedding day, Margaret?" said Stephen Vanthorpe ; and he leaned forward in his bed with hungry, eager look. Margaret turned, and stood with her back to him, while ostensibly she looked at the calendar hanging on the- wall. She was de- j bating fiercely within herself whether to tell him the "truth or to let his mistake pass without correction Only an acquiescence, and Steve's last hours would be free from mental conflict as to the future of wife and child. Surely if ever deception could be right, it was so now. No, she would not take the devious way. She would abide by the truth. "To-day is the Bth, darling," she answered steadily. "The 8th !" gasped Steve, and fell back upon his pillows, despair in his face. Margaret hurried to him, kissed his dear face tendarly, smoothed the dark hair with gentle, loving fingers. " Steve," she said, " you must not worry about that — about the money, dear. All will be well. I have something to tell you. -»The doctors say there must be aii operation, ond that your life may be saved by it. And it is» to be directly, within an hour. There is much hope for us both yet, Steve." He looked at her with tortured eyes, and questioned her. " How long can I live if I refuse to take this chance? Did they tell you that, Margaret ?" ."A day oi two, possibly three, but in great agony. Oh, my dearest love, I cannot bear to see you suffer !" " I will have no operation," said Steve firmly, "and I will live until the 10th." Then with every argument which love could muster did Margaret strive to alter his determination. At length, worn by the struggle, sad at this difference of opinion with Margaret, weary with pain and weakness, he yielded. " You must do as you think best, Margaret." And a smile came into both pairs of loving eyes as the well-worn formula passed his Mips. Their difference ended, they rested, each secure in the perfect love of the other. They waited for the parting.

Chapter IV. Yet come to me in. dreams, that I may live j My very life again, .though cold in death -\ , Come back to me in dreams, that I may give Pulse for p.ulse, breath _ for breath ; Conuo back to me in dreams, . ! Speak low, lean low, j As long ago, my love, how Jong ago. J ? Christina Roseetti. i The leaden moments crawled away as Margaret sat waiting,, listening with frightful intensity to the sounds from the adjoining room ; hoping for, yet fearing, the sound of that opening door which should bring such tidings of weal or woe. Her heart was wrung with suspense as she heard the long-awaited sound. "I am glad to tell you," began the physician — but the sudden reliei was too great. She had been prepared for the worst only, and her overwrought nerves gave way. Sobbing, she sank upon the sofa, while the doctor drew from his pocket a flask, poured some restorative into a glass, and bade her drink it. Then he resumed — "I was about to tell you that the operation has proved entirely successful; but the effects of the chloroform have not yet passed away. You may not see him yet ; the nurse is dressing the wound. I must go now, but- Dr Don will remain for some time. Now, let me advise you to lie down and rest, that you may be ready to see him later." With deep thanksgiving in her heart ■ Margaret closed her eyes, and very soon was lost in the sleep of utter exhaustion. It seemed but anrinstant when a strange voice beside her said quietly, " I think you had better ■come,' ma'am. The doctor has tried everything/^but cannot' bring him back to consciouness. He is sinking fast." The old pain rolled back around her heart- as these words fell on her waking ears. With trembling limbs she rose and crept to the bedside of her husband. Already the death dews were creeping over his face; his eves were closed, his breathing imperceptible ; the hand which Marpraret seized struck cold with the chill of death. She leaned down, and put her lips to his ear. "Steve! Husband!" she cried in her agony. "Speak to me ! Look at me, Steve !" "It's no use, ma'am ; don't disturb him. He cannot hear- you ; he's passing -away," whispered the nurse. But Margaret heeded not ; wildly she cried : "Come back to me, darling! You must not g oand leave me !" and she kissed the cold lips fiercely. A tremor passed over the rigid frame : a sobbing breath issued from between the icy lips. " Coming, darling," a faint voice uttered, as it were the voice of the dead. . , . . .... On the evening of the 10th Margaret sat once more beside her husband's bed, while the nurse was preparing a cup of food for the invalid. "Marvellous; simply marvellous, I call it," said the nurse, regarding her patient j with much pride. '" I've seen a many go, but never a, one come back before. Given light back to you fiom the arms of Death he "was, ma'am, surely !" and she fussed out of the room. The loving eyes met in a smile of perfect happiness. " Darling," whispered Steve, " I simply would not die. All the time the doctor said I was going I was saying to myself: 'Live! You must live till' the 10th! You .must not let yourself die I' I heard him

say I was, dying, but I knew better. .1 triedy" oh, so" hard, to" speak" and' tell him so; but I couldn't move or speak. Then you came, dearest, and called me back to life ; and I—lI — I broke the spell, that awful, cold spell which enthralled me, and I came I back to you, my own dear, brave wife ! I So this is our wadding day, darling!"