"I rose and had barely strength enough to follow her. When we reached the laboratory door Emma was already there. A light was burning at one end of the long and dismal room, and amid the weird shadows that it cast we saw our father in a loose gown he often wore when at work, standing over his table with lifted fist. It was bleeding; he had just brought it down upon a favorite collection of tubes.
"'Ah!' he cried, tottering and seizing the table to steady himself; 'you have come to see the end of my famous discovery. Here it is; look!' And his fist came down again upon a jar containing the work of months.
"The smash that followed seemed to echo in my brain. I rushed forward, but was stopped by his look.
"'Another result of your obduracy,' he cried, and sank back fainting upon the hard floor.
"I let Emma and Doris lift him. What place had I at his side?
"'Shall I go for the doctor again?' inquired Doris as she came to my room a half-hour later.
"'Does he seem worse?' I asked.
"'No; but he looks dreadfully. Ever since we got him on the lounge—he would not leave the laboratory—he has lain in one position, his eye upon those broken pieces of glass. He would not even let me wipe up the red liquid that was in them, and it drips from table to floor in a way to make your blood run cold.'
"'Can I see him,' I asked, 'without his seeing me?'
"'Yes,' said she, 'if you come very carefully; his head is towards the door.'