Holden with the Cords

by W. M. L. Jay

Lifting her eyes, she again caught sight of the light from the Hall, which had recently been hidden by the trees. Her lips parted in a smile; her hesitation was at an end. Clinging to the hand-rail of the bridge, and sliding her feet carefully along the great beam underneath, she safely passed the gap,—though she lost a slipper in the transit,—and then hurried to the Hall, to meet with the accident lately described.

All of the foregoing history—or at least as much of it as was known to him—Mr. Bergan recounted to his nephew, in a long conversation held in the parlor, after Carice had been soothed by her father's promise that she should be compelled to do nothing but what was right and agreeable in her own eyes, and left to the care of her mother and Rosa. Now, too, the loss of Bergan's letters to his uncle and Carice was discovered; the false or distorted statements in those of Doctor Remy to himself were brought to light and discussed; finally, Mr. Bergan was glad to listen to a succinct recital of Doctor Trubie's reasons for believing Felix Remy to be identical with Edmund Roath.

In the course of the conversation, all reserve between the uncle and nephew insensibly melted away, and the last topic was discussed upon terms of the most cordial confidence and sympathy. Bergan's high reputation in Savalla had not failed to reach his uncle's ears, and sometimes to make him doubt if all his old prejudice was well founded; and now, there was so much dignity and gentleness in his bearing, his words were so full of unselfish consideration for others, he showed himself so ready still, as heretofore, to sacrifice every merely personal feeling to Carice's welfare, that Mr. Bergan's heart, softened and humbled as it had been by adversity, was irresistibly won. He was glad to feel that he had so dispassionate a judgment, so wise a counsellor, and so kind a friend, to lean upon, in this moment of perplexity.

The talk was broken in upon by a message from Mrs. Bergan. Carice, after her manifold questions in regard to the circumstances in which she found herself had been answered or evaded, had sunk into a deep, but apparently natural sleep. Still, her mother could not but be extremely anxious about her; and she suggested that Doctor Remy, or some one else, should be immediately sent for, to provide against the contingency of her waking.

Mr. Bergan looked anxiously at his nephew. "After what you have told me," said he, "I do not feel that I can allow that man to enter Carice's room again, even when she is sleeping. Yet, be he what or whom he may, his professional skill is undeniable, and her life or reason may turn on those waking moments. What is to be done?"

"Do you know where he is to be found?" asked Bergan.

"No. He merely told me that he had a critical case on hand, which would keep him out all night, and perhaps we should not see him before noon to-day. I suppose he can be heard of at his office."

Bergan reflected for a moment. "By this time," said he, "Doctor Gerrish must be on his way to the Hall. From what I have known and heard of him, I believe him to be both a promising physician and an honorable man. Send Bruno to intercept him, on the plea that the dead can wait for his services better than the living. Then tell him, in strict confidence, enough of Carice's condition to make him understand the case; but you need say nothing of Doctor Remy, except that he is not at hand, and you feared to wait. Finally, ask, as a special favor, that he will not mention his visit to Doctor Remy, lest the latter be annoyed. He will think you weak and overscrupulous, but he will promise."

This advice was acted upon. Doctor Gerrish, after listening to Mr. Bergan's statement and examining Carice as she lay asleep, decided that the recent wound, which was in the neighborhood of the former one, had, in some mysterious way, relieved the inflammation, or counteracted the injury, caused by that—in short, had done precisely what Doctor Remy proposed to do by means of an operation. He furthermore believed that Nature was making her final effort at restoration through the deep sleep which held Carice in bonds so gentle and so firm; and he gave strict orders that nothing should be suffered to break it. It would doubtless last some hours, perhaps the whole day; or if she woke, it would be merely to swallow a little nourishment, which should be given her, and then to fall asleep again.

Bergan had waited to hear this decision, and he now requested Doctor Gerrish to ride on to the Hall, where he would join him almost immediately, by the shorter way of the foot-bridge. His uncle detained him longer than he expected, however, for a final consultation about several important matters; and he was conscious that Doctor Gerrish must have been kept waiting for a considerable time, when he finally quitted the house. Hurrying to the foot-bridge, he saw two rough-looking men crossing it from the direction of the Hall. At sight of him, they interchanged a few words, and then came to meet him.