THE MAD WOMAN’S DELUSION.

Western Star, Issue 1292, 27 February 1897, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE MAD WOMAN’S DELUSION.

The road ran through a beautiful, half-cleared wood, and at the end, on a slight rise of ground, stood the madhouse. Of course it was not called a madhouse, or people would not have sent their mentally unhinged friends there. It bore the euphonious appellation of “Dr. Briers Home Sauitoriuin,” and was consequently well patronised. People usually dislike calling a thing by its proper name. The perfectly kept grounds were surrounded by a high iron fence, within which the harmless inmates wandered at will during certain hours of the day. On a rustic bench sat a young woman. Her eyes were closed, and as she remained in repose she was beautiful,with a Spanish type of beauty that no other nation can equal. Suddenly she started up with a wild motion of the hand toward her throat as though she were being choked. The dark eyes showed intense fright, and the whole face was convulsed. Gradually the frenzy passed away, and she sank down upon the bench again, with a weary little laugh The soft breeze rustled the leaves of the trees and murmured a gentle lullaby. Slowly the beautiful bead sank lower and lower until it was pillowed on a fleecy wrap which lay on the end of the bench, and she slept. At that exact hour it happened that a curious woman, accompanied by a friend, asked permission of one of the physicians on the staff to be shown through the place. He had the misfortune to be one of her friends, so acquiesced, but being busy at the time turned her over to the mercies of a young doctor, who, finding the curious woman and her friend rather amiable, did his utmost to entertain them.

And so it occurred that after going through the building they sauntered about the grounds and saw the Spanish beauty lying asleep, with her face as calm and sweet as that of a sleeping child. “ Oh,’ - cried the curious woman ecstatically, “ do tell us about her,” The young doctor, smoothed his budding moustache and looked about him. No on© was visible. “We don’t often tell the history of our patients,” he began hesitatingly, “but this is m rather peculiar case, and if you specially desire ” “ Oh, do tell us,” cried the curious woman with a world of persuasion in her voice; “ 1 assure you it will go no further. Is tfhe Spanish P " They moved away slightly that their voice* might not disturb the sleeper. The young doctor replied: “Oh, yes. She was born in Castile and while yet little more than a child —hardly 16, I believe —married for wealth and position a Spaniard three times her age. “ Affairs went smoothly for two years, when the husband contracted a disease which proved fatal. Now it would have been much nicer and more like what one reads in Sunday school books if he had bade his relatives an affectionate farewell as he lay on his deathbed, but instead .of doing that he called his young wife to him and said, in tones so low that no one but she could hoar, ‘ Inez, if you marry again, I shall come bank from the grave and with the icy fingers of death I shall choke you—choke you !’ His face was convulsed with passion, and shortly afterward h© died. Ha was buried with the pomps and ceremonies requited in a Spanish family of position, and for two years the widow remained in seclusion.

“ At the end of that time she came forth more beeutiful than ever and joined a patty of friends travelling in England. There she met the man who was to be her future husband—a handsome athletic young American of the Anglo-Saxon type. “Her former husband’s dying words so haunted her that' at first she repulsed the American’s suit. However, he followed her to her home in Castile, and at last, sensibly concluding that these haunting words were merely the ravings of a delirious man, she married the American.

•* They came to America to live and for a time were very happy, but after a time they—that is, she The young doctor paused and cleared hia throat. The curious woman and her friend exchanged glances. “ She began to suffer from a strange hallucination,” he went on. “At night she often awoke with a scream, believing that the icy fingers of her former husband were choking her. The matter grew worse, until she felt the fingers not only at night, but also in her waking hours. Numberless physicians were consulted, but they offered no remedy.” “ Her husband was heartbroken and tried everything in bis power to save her, but nothing availed, and she gradually grew worse, until, it A as necessary to bring her here. Do you notice the crimson roses pinned oa the front of her gown ? They seem to be the only thing she cares for. Her husband comes every week and brings a huge bunch of them. She likes the flowers, but pays no attention to him. Some day the icy fingers will close' tightly together, and that will be the end.” •* And can she not be cured ?” asked the curious woman. “Oh, no!”said the young doctor. “Quite hopeless.”