LIDA CAMPBEU 
 
 O R 
 
 DRAMA OF-A - LIFE 
 
 BY- JEAN KATE- LUDLUM
 
 m 
 
 /
 
 LIDA CAMPBELL, 
 
 OR 
 
 DRAMA OF A LIFE.
 
 Works by 
 JEAN KATE LTJDLTJM. 
 
 UNDER OATH. 12mo., 337 pages. 
 Illustrated. Handsomely bound 
 in cloth, price, $1.00. Paper 
 cover, 50 cents. 
 
 UNDER A CLOXTD. 12mo., 300 
 pages. Illustrated. Handsomely 
 bound in cloth, pricr, $1.00. 
 Paper cover, 50 cents. 
 
 JOHN WINTHROP'S DEFEAT. 
 12mo., 287 pages. Illustrated. 
 Handsomely bound in cloth, price, 
 $1.00. Paper cover, 50 cents. 
 
 LIDA CAMPBELL, OR DRAMA 
 OP A LIFE. 12mo. Illustrated. 
 Handsomely bound in cloth, price, 
 $1.00. Paper cover, 50 cents.
 
 LIDA CAMPBELL, 
 
 OR 
 
 DRAMA OF A LIFE. 
 
 BY 
 
 JEAN KATE LUDLUM, 
 
 Author of "Under Oath," "Under a Cloud," "John Win- 
 throp's Defeat," etc. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY H. M. EATON. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 ROBERT BONNER'S SONS, 
 
 1892.
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1891 and 1892, 
 BY ROBEUT BONNER'S SONS. 
 
 (AH rights retened.)
 
 LIDA CAMPBELL. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A STRANGE VISITOR. 
 
 Dower'd with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn, 
 The love of love. 
 
 TENNYSON. 
 
 HE spring day was chilly. A 
 fire glowed invitingly in the 
 grate in the private office 
 of the Universal Information 
 Bureau, near Grand Central 
 Depot on Forty-second street, 
 New York city. The office was 
 evidently tenanted by women, if one should 
 judge by its lace curtains, its rugs and its stuffed 
 
 [7] 
 
 2061878
 
 8 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 chairs and its pictures. A huge sleepy-hollow 
 chair and a tiny stand draped with a silken scarf 
 and holding a work-box and a bowl of flowers 
 stood near the grate. A small woman occupied 
 the chair. A table neatly arranged for writing, 
 book-shelves filled with volumes, and a tempting 
 couch piled with soft cushions added to the 
 pleasant first impression. A screen of natural 
 wood, hand-painted, shut off the doorway, 
 draped with a portiere, leading into the outer 
 offices. 
 
 " Miss Campbell !" a girl said, peeping around 
 the screen. A pretty girl, with large blue eyes 
 and hair of reddish gold. A neat girl, too, with 
 her becoming dress and embroidered black silk 
 apron, her snowy collar and cuffs. 
 
 " Yes !" The small woman in the sleepy hollow 
 turned a bright, interested face toward the tall 
 young girl. " What is it, Miss Randall ?" 
 
 "A lady wishes particularly to see you, Miss 
 Campbell. Shall I show her in here ?" 
 
 " Who is she, Miss Randall ?" 
 
 " She is a stranger. She gave no name. ' Par-
 
 Drama of a Life, 
 
 ticular business with the proprietor,' was all 
 that she said. An elderly woman, with white 
 hair, Miss Campbell." 
 
 " Admit her, of course, Miss Randall. I was 
 specially engaged, but my time is not my own, 
 and time is money." 
 
 Miss Randall turned away, smiling. She and 
 Miss Campbell were friends as well as employer 
 and employee. When she returned, which was 
 almost immediately, she ushered in the impor- 
 tunate visitor. The new-comer was a tall woman, 
 whose snow-white hair was due to mental rather 
 than physical causes, judging from the face and 
 eyes vivid with life and fire. She moved like 
 one in a dream, entering the room noiselessly, a 
 peculiar, far-away expression in the eyes, an 
 intentness in the face that at once instinctively 
 roused one's attention. 
 
 " Good-morning, madam," said Miss Campbell, 
 rising, a smile upon her lips, as she wheeled a 
 chair nearer the fire. " Pray be seated. What 
 can I do for you this morning?" 
 
 The new-comer seated herself slowly and
 
 TO Lida Campbell, or 
 
 deliberately, still with the far-away manner, 
 without returning Miss Campbell's salutation. 
 But Miss Campbell only smiled. She met many 
 peculiar persons in her position, and learned 
 considerable of human nature. She quietly 
 reseated herself in the great chair before the fire, 
 resuming the plush table-scarf which she was 
 embroidering, upon the announcement of her 
 visitor, for Miss Campbell in her struggle with 
 life combined many kinds of work. 
 
 Presently the woman addressed her. From 
 under her half-closed lids she had been regarding 
 the piquant face, and was evidently satisfied. 
 
 " I like you," she said, without other introduc- 
 tory words, yet not abruptly. She spoke as one 
 does who has but resumed conversation after a 
 short silence. " I think that you can help me." 
 
 Miss Campbell nodded brightly. 
 
 " I am here for that to help those who need 
 my assistance," she said. " What can I do for 
 you, madam ?" 
 
 The woman did not at once reply. She 
 reclined easily in her chair with half-closed eyes
 
 Drama of a Life. 1 1 
 
 and a preoccupied face. She seemed utterly to 
 forget herself and her surroundings. Rather an 
 uncanny way she had, Lida Campbell thought. 
 
 " My name is Olive Price," said the woman, 
 after a long pause. " Perhaps you have heard of 
 me?" 
 
 Miss Campbell shook her head deprecatingly. 
 
 " There are so many people in New York," she 
 said. 
 
 The woman was quite unmoved. 
 
 " It is of no consequence," she said. " I merely 
 spoke of it as an introduction. Your lack of 
 knowledge regarding me proves that you are 
 not an enemy. All my enemies know my 
 name." 
 
 " It seems impossible for you to nave enemies," 
 said Lida, gently. She was strangely at once 
 attracted and repelled by this woman with the 
 slumbrous face and eyes as though she were 
 in the presence of a crater that might at any 
 moment leap to flaming destruction. The calm 
 face now wakened suddenly, as though indeed 
 some inward fire had been touched to life.
 
 12 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 " I have enemies yes !" she said, intensely, 
 with a passionate gesture of her hands, as she 
 leaned forward toward her companion. " That 
 is why I am come to you. I am poor. I was 
 once rich and beautiful, they said not so long 
 ago, either," she added, falling as swiftly into 
 sadness. " It is not years that kill !" 
 
 Lida shook her head. 
 
 " It is not," she said, kindly ; " but you should 
 not speak of having lost your beauty, madam." 
 
 A frown touched the broad, white brow ; the 
 black eyes were clear as steel, as they scanned 
 the sweet, young face ; a new hauteur was inher 
 manner. 
 
 " I did not come for compliments," she said, 
 coldly. " You may find them remunerative with 
 others; not with me." 
 
 " That is uttered like a true American," Lida 
 replied, laughing. " I like you all the better for 
 it, madam." 
 
 The woman did not reply; she appeared not 
 even to hear Miss Campbell ; the knit brows
 
 Drama of a Life. 13 
 
 denoted intense thought. Presently she spoke 
 with her peculiar soft abruptness. 
 
 " You know of Walker Paling, Miss Camp- 
 bell ?" 
 
 Lida laughed. 
 
 " Of course. Every one knows of our great 
 novelist, madam." 
 
 " He writes peculiar romances, does he not, 
 Miss Campbell?" 
 
 Miss Campbell shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 " Decidedly original," she replied ; " scarcely 
 probable, madam. Pardon my frankness if he is 
 yorfr friend." 
 
 The inner fire once more touched to life the 
 quiet face, and the black eyes blazed. 
 
 " He is more than a friend," she said, fiercely 
 " he was my lover, Miss Campbell, before he 
 turned from me wearied of me. I loved him 
 then. Not now ; not since he went away and 
 hid himself from me. Ah, it is not years have 
 whitened my hair and made me old in youth. 
 Do you believe in hypnotism, Miss Campbell ?"
 
 14 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 "No," Miss Campbell replied, coldly, a touch 
 of scorn upon her face. 
 
 " Then," said the woman, evenly, " I fear you 
 will find it difficult to believe what I have to say, 
 Miss Campbell. But I must say it. I came for 
 that, feeling that you would help me, and you 
 must. Since my lover went away I have been 
 very ill. As I told you, not long ago I was 
 rich ; my brother and I were sole heirs to the 
 fortune left by our parents ; to-day the beggar 
 in the street is richer than 1. During my illness 
 I was attended by Doctor Oldham. I was at a 
 hotel and had no friends save him. When I 
 recovered he sent me his bill, which amounted 
 to more than eighty dollars. I was, of course, 
 unable to pay it, and he took from me as secur- 
 ity the only valuable thing which 1 possessed a 
 manuscript upon which I had worked for 
 months. This was specially valuable because it 
 was not written as general writers do their work. 
 This was composed only during the times these 
 trances were upon me, and much of it is in 
 hieroglyphics. Hypnotism places infinite power
 
 Drama of a Life. 1 5 
 
 In me. Your great novelist this Walker 
 Paling, my old lover wrote his greatest novels 
 while under my influence ! They are more 
 mine than his, and what return have I ?" 
 
 Her voice was intensely bitter, and a short 
 silence ensued. Lida was half repelled, half 
 fascinated by her visitor's voice and manner. 
 
 " Is your manuscript a novel, madam ?" she 
 asked, presently. 
 
 " Yes," was the slow reply ; " although it 
 treats of medical topics. I studied in the medi- 
 cal college with Doctor Oldham. We were 
 classmates. That is why he was kind to me 
 during my illness." 
 
 " If you and he belong to the same profession, 
 I call it anything but kind to send you a bill for 
 services," said Miss Campbell, indignantly. " It 
 is not customary, madam, and a man with 
 Doctor Oldham's wealth and reputation does 
 not need the money." 
 
 " No," said the woman, reluctantly. " I think 
 that he did not take it solely for that, Miss 
 Campbell."
 
 1 6 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 "Then, why, if I may ask, madam ?" 
 
 " Because " the woman seemed compelled to 
 reply " I wished to publish it, and he consid- 
 ered it unwise." 
 
 " Is there anything objectionable in it, 
 madam ?" 
 
 " He thought so but he did not write it." 
 
 " Certainly not," said Miss Campbell, crisply. 
 Her first impression that her visitor was of 
 unsound mind was considerably strengthened. 
 " But what can I do for you? How can I assist 
 you, madam?" 
 
 " I would like you to recover the manuscript 
 for me, Miss Campbell. I wish to have it pub- 
 lished ; it contains remarkable things that the 
 world should know. You negotiate with pub- 
 lishers, do you not?" 
 
 " Yes ; but only for perfectly legal manu- 
 scripts, madam." 
 
 " This is perfectly legal," was the calm reply. 
 " You, not being a hypnotic, may doubt it. I 
 wish you to secure it for me and procure a type- 
 writer operator. It should be copied, should it
 
 Drama of a Life. 17 
 
 not ? But I must dictate it to the operator 
 myself. How much will it cost ? There should 
 be nearly five hundred pages when it is printed ; 
 it is very large." 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Campbell, still coldly. She 
 had little interest in this strange visitor ; she 
 must be both cautious and courteous, but she 
 need be no more. " Could you not reduce it 
 somewhat? I think I could have it copied for 
 you for one hundred dollars, judging, of course, 
 from what you say." 
 
 " That is a good deal to pay for merely copy- 
 ing; still, if you consider it wise, I will leave it 
 with you to secure the operator, if you obtain 
 the manuscript. Doctor Oldham will verify my 
 statements. I have told you the truth." 
 
 " I will do what 1 can, madam. Doctor Old- 
 ham should willingly return it to you, unless he 
 has good reason for retaining it." 
 
 " He has no reason !" the woman said, in sud- 
 den passion. " Is not my soul, my life itself, in 
 it ? Is it not mine ?" 
 
 " But if he considers that its publication is
 
 1 8 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 unwise, he would not be truly your friend to 
 yield it to you," Lida gravely replied. " You 
 must not expect too much from my going to 
 him. If you failed, how can I hope for success?" 
 
 " You can get it if you will," was the answer. 
 " If you will have an operator here to meet me, 
 I can arrange about the copying. That is, if 
 you do get the manuscript. I must have some 
 pleasant, intelligent girl for the work. I cannot 
 endure the presence of every one." 
 
 When this strange visitor was gone, Lida 
 Campbell sat silent and thoughtful for some 
 time. Her brows were wrinkled from intense 
 thought ; her eyes were remarkably bright, as 
 they looked into the fire as though there to find 
 solution for this remarkable event in her com- 
 monplace life. 
 
 " Perhaps I can help her," she said, by and by, 
 with a half-smile upon her red lips a smile 
 that made her piquant face peculiarly charming. 
 " Perhaps I can help her who knows ? But it 
 seems to me and time will show that that 
 depends altogether upon whether or not I will!"
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 DOCTOR OLDHAM'S REPLY. 
 
 Is it not meet 
 
 That they who erst the Eden fruit did eat 
 Should champ the ashes ? 
 
 THE SERAPHIM. 
 
 ALBERT OLDHAM, M. D., 
 West 34th Street, 
 New York. 
 
 was finely engraved upon the card which Miss 
 Campbell held in her hand for examination as 
 she waited the response to her ring at the hand- 
 some residence of the physician, not at all 
 daunted by the undoubted difficulties before 
 her; for Lida Campbell, in her business connec- 
 tion with the world, knew that this errand of 
 hers was most unique and liable to a discomfort- 
 
 [19]
 
 2O Lida Campbell, or 
 
 ing ending. She firmly believed in the irres- 
 ponsibility of her strange visitor of a few days 
 previous, and this undertaking might involve 
 her in unpleasant developments ; but she had 
 passed her word to do her best ior the woman, 
 and that she would do. 
 
 The physician was at that moment engaged, 
 but would see her presently ; so she passed into 
 the reception-room and waited what seemed to 
 be a long time, although in reality it was but a 
 scant ten minutes ere she was summoned into 
 the physician's office, and met a fine-looking 
 man in the prime of life, courteous, alert ; a 
 handsome room, plain but bearing the unmis- 
 takable impress of wealth. 
 
 Replying to his salutation and seating herself 
 in the chair placed for her beside the desk, Miss 
 Campbell forgot her momentary embarrassment 
 or the peculiar circumstances prompting this 
 visit, and made known her errand with her 
 usual frankness of speech. 
 
 " I call upon you this morning, Dr. Oldham,
 
 Drama of a Life. 21 
 
 not for myself. Are you acquainted with such 
 a person as Olive Price ?" 
 
 An inscrutable change touched the physician's 
 quiet face ; a strange gleam or flicker for an 
 instant marred the cool grey eyes. Miss Camp- 
 bell's eyes were alert. Nothing of this was lost 
 upon her. She approved of herself imwardly 
 as she watched him. 
 
 " I know of such a person yes. What of her, 
 madam?" 
 
 " She was a classmate of yours, I understand, 
 at college, Doctor Oldham ?" 
 
 " She was." 
 
 "She has been ill?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You attended her ?" 
 
 " I did." 
 
 So far, Miss Campbell said to herself, she was 
 doing well. Her self-approval was steadily 
 increasing. 
 
 " Dr. Oldham." 
 
 "Madam?"
 
 22 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 " Can you, as a physician, having attended 
 this woman, say that she is perfectly sane ?" 
 
 There was a slight hesitation, scarcely an 
 instant's pause, but this ako was noted by those 
 bright dark eyes of Lida Campbell. 
 
 " I consider her so, certainly." 
 
 " There has been no insanity in her family, 
 doctor? Pardon my questions, but I am placed 
 in peculiar relations with her, and must under- 
 stand the ground upon which I stand." 
 
 Doctor Oldham frowned slightly. His eyes 
 were keen in meeting the bright eyes behind 
 the film of veil over the piquant face. 
 
 " So far as I can say, there is no insanity in 
 the family, madam. There is a vein of peculiar- 
 ity in them all ; eccentricity, many would call it. 
 I consider it due to highly strung nerves and 
 intense spirituality. A touch of devil and angel 
 alternately. The mother possessed this charac- 
 teristic to a powerful degree." 
 
 " She is a disciple a believer what you will, 
 of hypnotism, doctor ; is she not?" 
 
 " Yes, madam. She is even more than that.
 
 Drama of a Life. 23 
 
 She possesses this intense vein to such an extent, 
 that she is not only a hypnotic, but she even 
 hypnotizes herself. This power in her is mar- 
 velous. I have never, seen it equaled." 
 
 A flash of profound comprehension touched 
 Miss Campbell's eyes ; a half smile stirred her 
 lips. 
 
 "Are you a spiritualist, Doctor Oldham ?" 
 
 A deep frown of annoyance wrinkled his 
 brows. He turned upon his revolving-chair to 
 push aside a heap of papers on the desk before 
 him. He had perhaps been unwise in so cham- 
 pioning this strange woman. It might injure 
 him professionally should it be known that he 
 was a disciple of such a peculiar mental factor 
 as spiritualism. 
 
 Miss Campbell repeated her question ere her 
 replied. She would not be turned from the 
 truth. 
 
 He wheeled upon his chair again facing her. 
 
 " Perhaps I am yes to a certain extent, 
 madam." 
 
 " To what extent, doctor ?"
 
 24 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 " Well," he shrugged his shoulders with a sig- 
 nificant glance toward the door, as though sug- 
 gesting that his time was too valuable to be spent 
 in this argument. " I believe if I should die now 
 my spirit would go out upon the street and be 
 met by others, and that we would be here all the 
 time, mingling with material men and women 
 passing to and fro. Perhaps it is not wise for me 
 to confess this even to you, madam, but I feel 
 constrained to do so, and trust to your discretion 
 in allowing it to go no farther." 
 
 " Certainly," Miss Campbell replied, gravely. 
 " I shall respect your feeling, doctor. But will 
 you tell me if this woman is also connected in 
 this strange way with one of our novelists? If 
 she is, you will know whom I mean. Was he 
 her lover? Did she use her power over him 
 even so far as to place in his hands the knowledge 
 and material upon which to base his strange 
 romances? She has told me that this is so. 
 Pardon me, but I find this difficult to believe." 
 
 The physician frowned. 
 
 " Nevertheless, it is true," he replied. " Have
 
 Drama of a Life. 25 
 
 1 not told you that she possesses this power mar- 
 velously ? I wonder that you did not feel her 
 influence during your conversation with her, 
 Miss Campbell." 
 
 Miss Campbell shrugged her shoulders some- 
 what scornfully. 
 
 " She could have no influence over me," she 
 said. " I am altogether too practical, doctor. 
 This is a very material world to me, in which we 
 have to earn our own living. And so this 
 famous novelist of ours is truly your friend's 
 lover ?" 
 
 " He was yes." 
 
 " And he left her in this cowardly manner, 
 leaving no trace of his whereabouts ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You accept it so calmly ?" she queried, a 
 flash in her eyes. 
 
 " Have I anything to do with her love," he 
 asked, coldly, " or her hate ?" 
 
 A flush burned in her cheeks. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," she said, gently. " After 
 all, what is that to me ? Am I not a woman, and
 
 26 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 would I wish others to seek my heart's depths? 
 But now that \ve have gone this far, will you 
 kindly tell me why you should have rendered a 
 bill for your services to this woman, if she is a 
 member of your profession, during her illness in 
 this city ? As you know, such a thing is not 
 customary, and you must have had strong 
 reasons for doing so." 
 
 The physician was growing momentarily more 
 annoyed by this interview. The frown did not 
 lighten from his face, and he struck the legs of 
 his chair sharply with one foot, as though he 
 were too mnch disturbed for control. His eyes 
 were rather fierce, while looking into the lifted 
 dark eyes of his interlocutor. 
 
 " I have my reasons, certainly," he said, coldly. 
 " You will pardon me, madam, but this is a mat- 
 ter between our two selves. I do not feel at 
 liberty to make it known to another." 
 
 Miss Campbell's color deepened with sudden 
 embarrassment. 
 
 " Pardon me" she said, sweetly and steadily. 
 "I am detaining you, doctor, but it is unavoid-
 
 Drama of a Life. 27 
 
 able. This friend of yours sent me to you with 
 full liberty to question you regarding herself. I 
 came upon an errand for her, and I must learn 
 what is possible, before I can undertake her 
 commission. I have my reasons, too." 
 
 The physician inclined his head with cold 
 courtesy, as a brilliant smile crossed her lips. 
 
 " Very well, then, madam, if it is her wish," he 
 said, " I will tell you this : I did not send her a 
 bill for services, although she doubtless consid- 
 ers it such. When she sent for me, saying that 
 she was alone in the city at a strange hotel, I 
 went to her. I have always admired her for her 
 powerful mind. When I arrived at the hotel, I 
 found her very ill and without money. The 
 hotel people were unpleasantly pressing regard- 
 ing her payment of her bill, and I settled that 
 for her. It was for this, not for professional 
 services, that the bill was sent." 
 
 " Surely," said Miss Campbell, hastily, a touch 
 of scorn upon her face, " Doctor Oldham, the 
 wealthy physician, could afford to pay even the
 
 28 Li da Campbell, or 
 
 hotel bill of a member of his profession an old 
 classmate without demanding its repayment." 
 
 Doctor Oldham smiled for the first time dur- 
 ing the interview. An amused gleam for an 
 instant flashed in his eyes. This was truly a 
 remarkable woman, who had no fear of speaking 
 her mind. 
 
 " I could," he said, " certainly, Miss Campbell 
 if I would. But, as I at first informed you, I 
 had my reasons." 
 
 Miss Campbell began to comprehend more 
 fully now. Explanation was not always neces- 
 sary with her. 
 
 " And your reasons are connected with a 
 manuscript of hers, doctor?" she asked, quickly. 
 
 He was non-committal. 
 
 " Perhaps," he said. 
 
 " I ask you," continued Miss Campbell, more 
 quietly, " because I called in reference to that 
 manuscript, doctor. Your friend wishes me to 
 arrange for having it published for her. You 
 took that in payment, or rather as security for 
 her debt, and still hold it, refusing her demand
 
 Drama of a Life. 29 
 
 (or its return. Why should you do this if, as 
 you yourself acknowledge, you do not need the 
 money ?" 
 
 " I have my reasons," he said, frigidly. 
 
 But Miss Campbell was not to be daunted. 
 
 " Do you object to its publication, Doctor 
 Oldham?" 
 
 " Not at all, rnadam, if she can find a publisher 
 willing to undertake it." 
 
 " Why should she not ?" 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders and arched his 
 brows. 
 
 " Why, indeed, madam !" 
 
 " Doctor Oldham !" Miss Campbell was rapidly 
 losing her patience. " You have read this manu- 
 script ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Is there anything objectionable in it ?" 
 
 " That depends upon what you call objection- 
 able, madam." 
 
 " Is there anything inadvisable anything 
 immoral in it, doctor?" 
 
 " I think that there is," he said.
 
 30 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 The warm flush of annoyance touched her 
 face, though still she bravely faced him. 
 
 " Your friend requested me to regain this 
 manuscript for her," she said, icily. " I asked 
 her at that time if there is anything out of the 
 way in it, and she said that there is not, although 
 you consider that there is. She told me that 
 herself. If you have no objection to its publica- 
 tion, providing she can find a publisher, why 
 should you withhold it from her?" 
 
 " Because, as I have told you, I consider it 
 advisable," he said. 
 
 "But how is she to find a publisher for it if 
 you will not give it up?" repeated Miss Camp- 
 bell, incisively. 
 
 " You or she must arrange that," he said, 
 unmoved. "I am willing that a publisher should 
 come here to see it, but I will not let it go from 
 my possession, madam." 
 
 " But you know very well," said Miss Camp- 
 bell, scornfully, " that no publisher will run 
 about the city searching for uncertain manu. 
 script, Doctor Oldham, If this manuscript is to
 
 Drama of a Life. 3 1 
 
 be read for publication, it must go to the pub- 
 lisher and his readers. The mountain will not 
 come to Mahomet to-day any more than in the 
 old story book days." 
 
 " I refuse to let it go from my possession," 
 was the response. 
 
 " But I fail to see your right to hold it," pro- 
 tested Miss Campbell, warmly, " as you say that 
 you do not hold it for debt. If she wrote the 
 manuscript and it is hers and she wishes to have 
 it published, how can you prevent it, Doctor 
 Old ham?" 
 
 He met her eyes squarely. 
 
 " If you had a friend who had accomplished a 
 piece of work that she wished to place upon the 
 market and you knew that such an attempt 
 would be followed by discomfort possibly dis- 
 grace to her, would not you, as a true friend of 
 hers, resort to almost any means to prevent such 
 inevitable consequences, Miss Campbell?" 
 
 " I comprehend. These consequences would 
 follow her attempt at publication, Doctor Old- 
 ham?"
 
 32 Licta Campbell, or 
 
 " Undoubtedly. She is a physician, She is 
 even more than a spiritualist. She is a hypnotic 
 to such a degree, that she hypnotizes herself, 
 as I have told you. Sometimes while in this 
 state she will wander about the streets for days 
 with scarcely a mouthfull to eat. She loses all 
 traces of time or of what is passing around her. 
 She is like one in a trance, yet capable of move- 
 ment and intense thought. It was during such 
 time that she composed this manuscript. She is 
 scarcely responsible for the work, but as I know 
 of her temperament and her condition as such 
 times, I consider myself responsible for her. 
 She possesses almost limitless power for harm 
 with her broad ideas of love, her intensity, spirit- 
 uality and knowledge." 
 
 " Has she made use of this broad knowledge 
 in this manuscript, doctor?" 
 
 Doctor Oldham frowned upon the persistent 
 woman beside him, and then, meeting the clear, 
 dark eyes so like a child's in depth and sweet- 
 ness, smiled slowly, as he replied : 
 
 " She has done this to some extent, Miss
 
 Drama of a Life. 33 
 
 Campbell. She has peculiar ideas regarding 
 social life and laws and many other things, and 
 wrote this manuscript from her standpoint." 
 
 " In consequence ol which you refuse to give 
 it up ?" 
 
 " I do. I should not, otherwise, consider 
 myself her friend. When I tell you that this 
 manuscript written under these intense circum- 
 stances and with her extraordinary views might 
 remember, I only say it might do more 
 harm in its way than that other manuscript 
 written years ago for a novel as this is and, 
 being found after the author's death, was 
 accepted as a revelation, and laid as the corner- 
 stone of that deadly stain of Mormonism in our 
 country you will fully agree with me, 1 am 
 sure, in my wish to withhold it from effecting 
 harm to its author or others." 
 
 Miss Campbell arose and faced the physician 
 quietly, with a shadow upon her face. He also 
 arose courteously, waiting for her to speak. 
 
 "I thank you, Doctor Oldham," she said, 
 gently, " for your kind attention this morning.
 
 34 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 I respect your wish to protect your friend. I 
 shall, of course, make known to her my failure 
 in this, and could not in any case undertake its 
 publication. But," the pretty lips were rather 
 stern and the dark eyes searching, " can you 
 honestly say that you consider such a person 
 responsible fit to be at large perfectly sane?" 
 
 No hesitation now in his ready response. 
 
 " Undoubtedly. I consider her perfectly sane, 
 madam." 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A STARTLING QUESTION. 
 
 The day appointed for the return of Miss 
 Campbell's strange visitor came and went, but 
 the woman did not appear. Miss Campbell was 
 not at all disturbed by this, because, in spite of 
 the physician's assurance, she believed the 
 woman a fit subject for an asylum. For might 
 not Doctor Oldham, notwithstanding his posi- 
 tion in his professional and social life, claim that 
 he had " reasons " for upholding his friend's
 
 Drama of a Life. 35 
 
 sanity, even though he at times considered her, 
 as he stated, " irresponsible ?" 
 
 In one sense, this would be a breach of trust 
 and a resort to unprofessional measures to pro- 
 tect a sister disciple of this uncanny faith ; still, 
 might he not argue that outside of those times 
 when these trances were upon her she was 
 perfectly sane and quite harmless ? 
 
 One, two, three weeks passed, and Miss 
 Campbell herself had almost forgotten that 
 there was such a person as Olive Price in 
 existence, when one morning, sitting at the desk 
 in the outer office during the absence of Miss 
 Randall, and while she was transacting business 
 with two ladies who desired chaperons, she 
 glanced up toward the outer door with an 
 uncomfortable sensation of uneasiness. 
 
 Ordinarily Miss Campbell's nerves were 
 steadily strung ; her health was perfect and her 
 cheerful disposition kept back the gloomy 
 broodings over life's uneven balance that mar so 
 many otherwise happy lives. But as she started 
 involuntarily, glancing up, there was good
 
 36 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 cause to unsettle even a stronger nature than 
 her own. She controlled herself instantly and 
 continued calmly speaking as though nothing 
 had occurred. 
 
 But something had occurred ! 
 
 One half of this outer door was of plate glass 
 and was draped with a sash curtain of yellow 
 silk gathered upon a slender rod. This was 
 partly drawn aside in the center, and through 
 this she recognized her strange visitor of three 
 weeks previous, peering in upon her, her pecu- 
 liar, far-away eyes holding some subtle flame, an 
 intentness upon her face as she concentrated her 
 gaze upon Miss Campbell's animated face, that 
 was startling in the extreme. 
 
 A half-wild, half-savage, marvelously power- 
 ful gaze it was, as though from the fire within 
 herself she would awaken an answering flame in 
 this other woman's soul. And strong though 
 she was, Miss Campbell felt this magnetism and 
 was for an instant terrified. 
 
 To regain her self-control, Miss Campbell 
 turned away her face. When she again glanced
 
 Drama of a Life. 37 
 
 toward the door, the woman was gone. But she 
 left behind her an awakened fear in Miss Camp- 
 bell's breast which, with all her strong common 
 sense and clear judgment, she could not at once 
 shake from her. She was deadly pale so pale 
 that her visitors questioned if she were ill. It was 
 evident to them that some powerful emotion 
 possessed her. Her lips trembled, too, when she 
 replied to their inquiries. 
 
 With a strong assertion of her will, she com- 
 manded her terror and controlled her voice, but 
 the pallor would not give place to healthful 
 color at her bidding. She was more than 
 startled ; she was intensely angry with herself 
 for this weakness. Doctor Oldham's words 
 returned to her with new meaning and power : 
 
 " I wonder that you have not felt her influence 
 during your conversation with her, Miss Camp- 
 bell." 
 
 Was she, indeed, to feel her influence ? Would 
 it be to her harm? She had too much common 
 sense, too strong a nature to yield to such subtle 
 power without a struggle ; but would it
 
 38 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 overpower even her at length ? She could not 
 believe that possible ; and yet why should she be 
 so terrified and deadly sick and weak and 
 trembling ? Those fiery, beautiful eyes seemed 
 burning into her own still, although the woman 
 herself was gone. If she were present, would it, 
 indeed.be impossible to prove her power? 
 
 Nevertheless, she would not yield without a 
 struggle ; so she crushed down this startled line 
 of thought and the fear that found place beside 
 it, and replied quietly to the kind inquiries 
 regarding her health, and presently, by her 
 power of concentration, she had utterly routed 
 the influence. 
 
 Not until these visitors were gone and she 
 was again alone, awaiting Miss Randall's return, 
 did the thought and sensation return. Then it 
 was with renewed power that set aside all will 
 to overcome it, because there was no immediate 
 object as defense ; and once more, glancing 
 instinctively toward the door, Miss Campbell 
 realized that her strange visitor was regarding 
 her frorq the doorwav.
 
 Drama of a Life. 39 
 
 This time, however, she did not go away 
 again. She pushed open the door, and entered 
 gravely and calmly, as though nothing ever had 
 or could ruffle her perfect serenity. 
 
 " I have come again, my dear," she said, in her 
 soft, languid, yet intense voice. " I said that I 
 should return, and I am come." 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Campbell, crisply, wishing 
 that Miss Randall would hasten. " Will you be 
 seated, madam ?" 
 
 The woman apparently either did not hear or 
 would not heed the coldly courteous remark. 
 She stood undisturbed before the desk, facing 
 Miss Campbell, yet scarcely glancing at her. 
 
 " From your face and from inner convictions, 
 I think that you did not succeed with my friend, 
 Miss Campbell." 
 
 " I did not," replied Miss Campbell, unaccount- 
 ably softening toward the beautiful, calm woman, 
 in spite of the growing anger in her heart at this 
 defeat of her stern determination to have no 
 further intercourse with this woman than mere 
 courtesy demanded.
 
 46 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 " He refused to give up the manuscript ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I knew that he would before you went," was 
 the cool rejoinder, a half smile on the quiet face. 
 " I wished to test you, that was all. I wished, 
 too " the smile grew instantly brilliant, like 
 light upon her face, and died as swiftly " that 
 you should learn that I had told you the truth." 
 
 "Why should I doubt that?" asked Miss 
 Campbell, in a softened voice. " How could I 
 doubt it, madam ?" 
 
 " Everything that I told you he confirmed ?" 
 
 " Everything essential yes." 
 
 " And he even went farther," continued this 
 strange woman, for an instant letting her eyes 
 rest upon Miss Campbell's dark eyes with that 
 hint of burning flame within them. " He told 
 you that we are a strange family ; that my power 
 is almost limitless ; that my mother was intensely 
 an angel and demon ; that she adored my father 
 one moment 'and hated him as fiercely the next ; 
 that she could lift his soul to heaven or cast it
 
 Drama of a Life. 41 
 
 down to hell, as her moods dictated. He told 
 you this ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Did he also tell you of my brother? I have 
 a brother, Miss Campbell, as I told you. We 
 were to have had the fortune equally, but he won 
 upon our parents, and they left me a paltry sum, 
 and he had the remainder. Did he tell you that 
 my brother fails in the family characteristic of 
 combined fire and ice ? That he sets aside his 
 sister's claim, and refuses room in his memory 
 for me, of whom he was afraid even before I 
 gave up my home and family for my lover? 
 No, he did not tell you this ! Neither did he tell 
 you " her right hand was clenched upon the 
 desk, and she leaned forward with flaming eyes 
 and colorless face neither did he tell you that 
 my brother took my father's life ! That it was 
 his hand dropped the belladonna into his medi- 
 cine while he lay ill, of which they tried to accuse 
 me ! You start, Miss Campbell. This, too, is 
 truth. I saw him drop the poison myself. I 
 knew that he desired my father's death. I
 
 42 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 watched him go to my father's room in the dead 
 of night, and I followed him. I was hidden by 
 the curtained doorway, and he does not dream 
 that I know." 
 
 A new horror touched Miss Campbell. She 
 was restless and nervous. She could not endure 
 to sit idly listening to these strange revelations. 
 
 " It you know that he poisoned your father, 
 why do you not make the truth known?" she 
 demanded, half angrily. 
 
 The fire and anger were gone from the 
 woman's face. The far-away look was once 
 more in her eyes. 
 
 " You do not understand," she said, quietly. 
 " We tell no tales in our family. He is my 
 brother ; why should I have given him up to 
 justice? My father was hard; he made my 
 mother often unhappy. If my brother chose to 
 mete justice to him, what had I to say ?" 
 
 Miss Campbell was growing more and more 
 afraid of this woman who could speak so care- 
 lessly of death. She wished that Miss Randall 
 would return. In her heart she believed that
 
 Drama of a Life. 43 
 
 she was conversing with an insane person, and 
 she did now know whether or not it was her 
 duty to notify the authorities. 
 
 Then the woman crossed the short space 
 between them and paused beside her, laying her 
 hand upon Miss Campbell's shoulder, with her 
 eyes bent steadily down upon Miss Campbell's 
 tace. Miss Campbell felt that her color was 
 fluctuating, that her heart was throbbing with 
 few alarm. She was alone. 
 
 " My dear," the visitor said, and her voice was 
 now very soft, very persuasive, and very slow 
 and her magnetic eyes forced and held the gaze 
 of the dark eyes, " I came to you because 1 felt 
 that you could help me and because I need help. 
 I knew when I came that you could help me if 
 you would." 
 
 " I shall be glad to assist you in any way that 
 I can," said Miss Campbell, with strange 
 apathy. " What is it that you wish ?" 
 
 The eyes meeting hers seemed for an instant 
 like glowing stars. It seemed to Miss Campbell 
 and she realized it in a helpless sort of fashion
 
 44 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 that this woman with her eyes was drawing 
 her very soul from her. But she could not 
 rise ; could not shake off her touch upon her 
 shoulder ; could not even command her 
 thought. 
 
 A visitor ascending the steps discomfited the 
 woman. She moved uneasily aside, and with- 
 drew her hand from Miss Campbell's shoulder. 
 The fire left her eyes. Her face was perfectly 
 impassive. 
 
 " I have much to say to you," she said, 
 quietly ; " but I cannot say it here where we are 
 liable to disturbance. I must see you alone. 
 Can you not grant me a moment in the inner 
 room as upon my first visit ?" 
 
 Miss Campbell overcame the uncomfortable 
 sensation that had fallen upon her and rose, mov- 
 ing a little away from the woman. Her face 
 was very pale but strong and stern. She feared 
 this Olive Price, this strange woman, who might, 
 for all she knew, for all the physician knew, be 
 a fit subject for an asylum. Yet she would
 
 Drama of a Life. 45 
 
 not betray her fear more than this pallor 
 betrayed it. 
 
 " Anything that 1 can do for you I shall be 
 glad to do, madam," she said, coldly ; " but I 
 cannot leave the office until my assistant returns, 
 and even then I can grant you but a very few 
 moments privately. My time is never my own 
 during the day. If you choose to wait until I 
 can see you alone, I will do so." 
 
 " Very well. Yes, I will wait," was the quiet 
 reply. " I must speak to you to-day. Added 
 time means only added pain." 
 
 She seated herself near the window, leaning 
 back and closing her eyes as though intensely 
 weary ; and, Miss Campbell, glancing at her 
 occasionally, while attending to the desires of 
 her caller, felt almost tender pity in her heart 
 for the sorrow that had sifted snow upon that 
 beautiful head and seamed the delicate fore- 
 head. 
 
 When Miss Randall returned a few minutes 
 later, Miss Campbell went with her strange vis- 
 itor into her private room, afraid yet brave,
 
 46 Lido, Campbell, or 
 
 repelled yet irresistibly drawn toward hen 
 She had the word of one of the best physicians 
 In the city that she was perfectly sane, yet in 
 her own mind she firmly believed that she was 
 not, 
 
 " Now, madam," she said, when they were 
 seated, " 1 am ready to give you my attention, 
 but I must ask you to detain me no longer than 
 is necessary," 
 
 " Yes," was the quiet reply. " I see from your 
 windows that you transact all sorts of business, 
 Miss Campbell." 
 
 " Legitimate business, yes," interrupted Miss 
 Campbell, distinctly. 
 
 " Legitimate business, of course," conceded 
 the woman, unmoved. ' "And commissions. 
 You can procure me a lawyer, can you not, if I 
 desire one?" 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Campbell, still coldly. 
 
 " I wish to make a will. I must have a lawyer 
 for it." 
 
 " Your own will ?"
 
 Drama of a Life. 47 
 
 The woman eyed her for a moment in silence, 
 and that strange flame touched her eyes. 
 
 " Not my own," she said. 
 
 Miss Campbell laughed, shrugging her 
 shoulders. 
 
 " But you cannot make another's will," she 
 said, easily. She had now no doubt of the 
 woman's insanity. " I could not find you a law- 
 yer for that, madam ! You cannot will away 
 another person's property, you know." 
 
 Those eyes were still upon her own, but she 
 had regained her spirit and was unmoved. 
 
 " No," was the quiet reply. " I know that, 
 Miss Campbell, but it could be made to look like 
 his own." 
 
 " Whose, madam ?" 
 
 " I told you I have a brother." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " That all the property went to him, save a 
 paltry sum to myself." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " There is nothing stands between the fortune 
 and me but his life! He is unmarried. When
 
 48 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 he dies the money will come to me. He is 
 young and there may be a long life for him. He 
 is indifferent to me. He is the president of a 
 stock company here, but his residence is in a 
 town in Connecticut." 
 
 " Do you, then, wish," asked Miss Campbell, 
 very quietly, very distinctly, " to have me secure 
 you a lawyer to forge your brother's will ?" 
 
 The woman nodded. A light came into her 
 face. 
 
 " I do," she said. 
 
 For a moment Miss Campbell paused. A 
 glow deepened upon her cheeks and her eyes 
 flashed. She started to speak, and paused, as 
 the woman continued, waiting for no reply : 
 
 "I have a special commission for you, Miss 
 Campbell. I was impelled to come to you, 
 assured that you would assist me in it. I have 
 told you much, reserving little. Can you find 
 me a man to fill the position of valet one who is 
 faithful and silent one who will obey without 
 questioning ? I wish such a man to be about my 
 brother constantly ; to serve him ; to obey
 
 Drama of a Life. 49 
 
 implicitly. As I told you, my brother refuses to 
 recognize me, or I would myself see that he was 
 well cared for. He is my brother, in spite of his 
 unkiridness to me." 
 
 " But, surely," Miss Campbell said, inwardly 
 trembling with excitement, but outwardly calm, 
 "your brother has servants of his own household 
 to attend him ; has he not, madam ?" 
 
 " Yes. But I wish some one to go whom I 
 know, whom I can trust. My brother might be 
 very ill who knows? he might even die, Miss 
 Campbe.ll !" 
 
 Lida Campbell arose. The flash in her eyes 
 and the glow on her cheeks were brilliant. The 
 slim fingers of one hand grasped the back of her 
 chair for support. She was drawn to her full 
 height. 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me, madam " she com- 
 manded her voice with an effort and spoke very 
 slowly " that you wish me not only to secure 
 you a lawyer who will forge you a will but also 
 a man to murder your brother?" 
 
 Not the quiver of an eyelash, not a change in
 
 50 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 the immovable face, only the warning fire in the 
 great magnetic eyes now steadily fixed upon 
 Miss Campbell's excited face, as the visitor 
 replied, distinctly : 
 
 " Why not? Did not my brother murder my 
 father? Is it not retribution? It will be a 
 magnificent fortune almost beyond your belief 
 and I will give you one half of it if you will 
 help me !" 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ON THE ROAD. 
 
 And East and West, without a breath, 
 Mix their dim lights, like life and death, 
 To broaden into boundless day. 
 
 TENNYSON. 
 
 The horses were impatient to be off, and the 
 young man in the light road-wagon, at the 
 entrance to the handsome island residence, held 
 them in with difficulty. A fine-looking young 
 man he was, thirty years of age, wealthy, aristo- 
 cratic, with a face somewhat too lacking in color;
 
 Drama of a Life. 51 
 
 for health, but evincing a strong, independent 
 nature. 
 
 One of the horses plunged, the other replied 
 with a snort and champing at the bit, one slender 
 hoof striking the gravel of the drive. 
 
 " Whoa !" commanded the young man, with a 
 firm hand on the lines. A pleasant voice clear 
 and incisive. " Stand still there, Caliban ; be 
 quiet, Macbeth ! There is absolutely no peace 
 when you are in harness, until you are free to 
 go. Hello ! I say, Hastings ! If you're not out 
 here in double-quick time, these beasts won't 
 stand. It will take a gladiator to hold them, in 
 one minute." 
 
 The rattling sound of boots on the polished 
 stairs and through the hall, and a young man, 
 flushed with haste but laughing, dashed out 
 across the piazza, off the steps in one leap and 
 into the gayly painted buckboard beside his 
 friend ; a light word of command to the boy 
 standing at the horses' heads, a clatter of hoofs 
 on the hard drive, and the light wagon, with its
 
 52 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 occupants, was whirling away between the low 
 beach wall and the handsomely laid-out lawn. 
 
 " I tell you, Price, old boy," protested the last 
 comer, laughingly, " these grays of yours give a 
 fellow no time to half complete his toilet! I 
 couldn't, for the life of me, tell, at this minute, 
 whether my tie is on or my boots mates or my 
 headgear a hat or a night-cap. They're jolly 
 boys to travel, but, by George, they keep one 
 on the qui vive worse than a woman !" 
 
 His companion laughed. The grays were in 
 truth going at high speed, over the curved 
 drive, around the beautiful estate, toward the 
 gate leading on to the meadow road ; the soft 
 wind struck to a stiff breeze by the rapidity of 
 their motion, the heavy fragrance from the 
 shrubs and flower-beds drifting by as though it 
 were sweeping over the blue water and across 
 the wide stretch of Sound to the ocean far 
 away. 
 
 " They're jolly boys, indeed," was the laugh- 
 ing reply. " I warn you, Hastings, before the 
 summer is half over, you will forget that there is
 
 Drama of a Life. 53 
 
 such a thing as a fastidious toilet if you ride 
 behind this team. I never order them around 
 unless I am ready on the instant. Poor Jim has 
 a wholesome terror of standing at their heads." 
 
 " 1 appreciate his sensations," said Hastings, 
 " if they happen to be anything like my own 
 when I am dressing for a spin with you ! Lacey 
 threatens to give warning every afternoon at 
 this particular hour. I do cut up pretty rough, 
 I suppose, all owing to you and your horses, Lee 
 Price !" 
 
 "Where are Morgan and the other fellows? 
 Not Curtis no need of asking for Phil Curtis ! 
 It goes without saying that he is on the beach or 
 off among the islands with his canvas and 
 brushes catching ' effects.' I think that he 
 would find it much more effective to invest his 
 capital in stocks and bonds instead of paint and 
 canvas. There's big Everett now making a 
 fortune in that line " 
 
 " Yes, there is big Everett," replied Price, 
 laughing. " Intensely big, Hastings, and in for 
 a good time as well as a fortune. Still, of the
 
 54 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 two, I prefer little Phil's tastes. Say what you 
 will, he gives us excellent pictures. Remem- 
 ber, he isn't Methuselah yet, and art to him is in 
 its infancy " 
 
 " For such an infant he is a prodigy ; eh, 
 Price ? I should have remembered your motto 
 of a good word for all or silence. Silence 
 instead of charity covers a multitude of sins 
 with you old fellow !" 
 
 An affectionate voice in spite of the laughter 
 along the words. A warm glance of regard 
 from the black eyes into the brown. Hastings 
 removed a speck of dust from his coat-sleeve 
 with scrupulous care, as though his whole 
 thought were given to that, and Lee Price 
 uttered a short word of command to the already 
 flying horses ; but each understood the other's 
 deeper feeling. 
 
 " By the way, I forgot to reply to your inquiry 
 regarding Morgan and Burnside, Tom," said 
 Lee Price, presently. They had left the road 
 over the salt meadows and were whirling along 
 the wide road toward the town, the horses per-
 
 Drama of a Life. 55 
 
 fectly matched, and with arched neck and high- 
 stepping pace, the strong hand on the lines prov- 
 ing that a master hold controlled them. " Mor- 
 gan and Burnside are out in the Sound by the 
 Old Cow rock just off Narvoo, black fishing. I 
 scarcely thought it necessary to tell you that 
 any more than to tell of Phil's whereabouts. 
 They're always fishing, you know. Went out 
 with the tide just before lunch, taking a bite 
 with them. In consequence of which, prepare 
 your appetite for a course of delicious fish, with 
 the fresh flavor of the sea upon it. In my esti- 
 mation there is no such fish to be eaten." 
 
 " Or caught," added Hastings, with a signifi- 
 cant shrug of his shoulders. " Those two 
 fellows are stuck on that sport, Price. Never 
 saw anything like them. If the world should 
 turn back in its orbit their sure panacea would 
 be black-fishing. Hello! The deuce! What's 
 the matter with you, Lee ?" 
 
 The hold upon the reins had relaxed ; the 
 hand, so firmly upon them an instant before, fell 
 powerless upon the lap-robe ; the young man's
 
 56 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 face was ashen white and his lips pressed down 
 as though to silence some cry of agony. His 
 eyes were strained and great drops of sweat 
 started upon his forehead. It was only by 
 marvelous effort that he retained his seat. 
 
 "What is it?" Tom Hastings inquired, in 
 alarm, catching up the lines in one hand and 
 throwing his other arm around his companion's 
 shoulder. " Whoa, you devils ! Whoa, I say !" 
 for the horses, recognizing instantly another 
 hand than their master's upon the lines, started 
 into a canter. 
 
 " By the lord Harry, but I'll pull your teeth 
 out if I cannot stop you any other way !" And 
 by sheer strength of muscle he brought the 
 animals back upon their haunches with an 
 uncomfortable lurch to the carriage. 
 
 " Now, then, my dear old boy, what is it ? 
 Judging from your appearance and this minute's 
 experience with the lines, I should say that the 
 horses had pulled the life out of you. Why, 
 man, you're like death. Where is the nearest
 
 Drama of a Life. 57 
 
 physician? You should have immediate atten- 
 tion " 
 
 Lee Price stopped further protestation by a 
 gesture. With a powerful attempt, he mastered 
 the spasm of suffering and forced himself to 
 smile. He reached out his hand for the lines, 
 and it was trembling violently. For a moment 
 speech was beyond him, but otherwise he 
 recovered his self-command. 
 
 " It's of no use for you to grab at the lines like 
 that," said Tom Hastings, with calm determina- 
 tion, holding them beyond his friend's reach. 
 " You shall not touch them again to-day. Come 
 now, you may as well obey me. I will have my 
 way. Pick up your feet there, you fellows go! 
 Now, my dear boy, tell me what is the matter 
 with you ? I am going to take you at once to a 
 physician ; so you may as well tell me first. 
 I'll make it easier for you when we get there. 
 Something extraordinary, let me tell you, to 
 change a man like that. By Jove ! For a 
 moment I thought you were dying." 
 
 The gravity upon his friend's face silenced his
 
 5 8 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 volubility. The horses were traveling at high 
 speed, but under control. If the master's hand 
 were not upon the lines, at least they were under 
 as powerful guidance. The wind fanning the 
 young man's face helped on his recovery. He 
 turned to his companion with a smile that 
 lighted wonderfully his white, grave face. 
 
 " Come, old man," said Tom Hastings, quietly. 
 "There's a skeleton in all of our closets and a 
 skeleton under all flesh. Tell me frankly, that 
 so I may be of service to you. Is it heart- 
 disease, this trouble ?" 
 
 " No," was the quiet answer, all sign of suffer- 
 ing gone, save that deadly pallor upon his face, 
 as young Price reached out his hand for the 
 lines. " I am all right now, Tom. It only lasts 
 a moment." 
 
 " You have had it before, then, Lee ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And it is not heart-disease?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 After a moment, Price added, slowly: 
 
 " 1 know that I can trust you, Tom."
 
 Drama of a Life. 59 
 
 " Utterly, old fellow." 
 
 " As I say, these attacks are not new ; they 
 began two months ago, in a scarcely perceptible 
 manner, but steadily growing worse and more 
 frequent. I have been to expert physicians here 
 and in the city. Not one of them can solve the 
 malady." 
 
 Silence, save for the swift thud of the horse- 
 hoofs and the whir of the wheels over the hard 
 street. They were in the town and going at a 
 more sober pace. 
 
 "Price," said Hastings, gravely and rather 
 hoarsely, " there must be some cause and some 
 remedy for this disease. How does it happen 
 that we have not noticed it before ? How have 
 you endured it ?" 
 
 " The attacks usually occur at night," replied 
 Price, quietly, "and are most violent then. 
 Only twice have they come upon me during the 
 day, and then I was fortunate enough to be 
 alone ; once in my room and once on the road. " 
 
 " With these horses ?" 
 
 "Yes; but they are perfectly safe/' he has-
 
 60 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 tened to add, seeing the concern upon his friend's 
 face. 
 
 " Perfectly safe, yes," was the scornful retort. 
 " Perfectly safe to smash you to flinders if they 
 get a chance, you mean ! I shall never again 
 feel at ease if you ride behind them alone, Lee. 
 Give me your word, like a good fellow, that you 
 will not attempt it. Come, that is easy to grant. 
 Thanks. And you have been to all the best 
 doctors, Price? Every one? And not one can 
 solve it ? By Jove ! But it's mighty strange ! 
 You were always such a healthy fellow." 
 
 By and by he added slowly, the shadow still 
 upon his face as when first his companion made 
 known the truth : 
 
 " I don't like the looks of it at all, Price. It's 
 amazingly strange. If we were characters in a 
 novel instead of real life, I should suggest the 
 possibility of some secret enemy. But that is 
 altogether out of date. Nevertheless, it is queer, 
 to say the least. Is there nothing gives you 
 relief?" 
 
 " Nothing that is, nothing unless it is coffee.
 
 Drama of a Life. 61 
 
 I had such an attack as this three days ago, just 
 before breakfast, and ordered up a cup of strong 
 coffee. It relieved me at once, or the attack 
 passed off of itself at the time ; I cannot posi- 
 tivly say as to that. What are you going 
 to do ?" 
 
 " Going to send you in there to get a cup of 
 the strongest coffee you can swallow or the chef 
 can devise," replied Hastings, emphatically, as 
 he pulled up at the Mahacamo Hotel. " They'll 
 get it for you. I would go with you, but I shall 
 have to remain w^ith these devils. Go in and 
 try it, Price. We'll see how it acts." 
 
 " Don't be absurd, my dear fellow !" said Price, 
 laughing, now quite recovered. " I am all right 
 as it is. How could you tell whether or not it 
 were the coffee when I did not have it imme- 
 diately ? Come. I regret the necessity of having 
 given you this uncomfortable turn, and promise 
 better in the future." 
 
 " No, you don't !" retorted Hastings, with 
 unusual sternness. " If you will not go in your- 
 self 1 shall order it brought out here, and thai
 
 62 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 wouldn't be specially pleasant for you in full 
 view of the town. I give you just one second 
 to choose. I'm in dead earnest, too." 
 
 Price, seeing that this was true, from one 
 glance into the set face of his companion, 
 alighted with an attempt at a joke at his own 
 expense and entered the hotel. He walked very 
 erect and steadily, a proud, well-built figure and 
 a manly face, although the pallor of a moment 
 before deepened upon it as a touch of the old 
 pain struck along his nerves as he sprang to the 
 pavement. 
 
 " I'll not be gone long," he said, turning in the 
 doorway. " Keep a steady rein and they're all 
 right, Hastings." 
 
 " All right," said Hastings, concisely. " I'm 
 not afraid for them, Lee. 
 
 " But I am afraid for you, Mr. Lee Price," he 
 added to himself, with a deepening of the 
 shadow upon his face, his eyes upon the alert 
 ears of the horses : " and when you come out of 
 there I shall escort you to the best doctor in this 
 tpwn and hear what he has to say. 1 have my
 
 Drama of a Life. 63 
 
 opinion, but I should like his also. I'm not so 
 easily turned when you are concerned, my boy. 
 There are too few fellows like you, and we'll 
 bring you through, if we can." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A DIAGNOSIS. 
 
 We are what we must 
 
 And not what we would be. I know that one hour 
 Assures not another. The will and the power 
 Are diverse. 
 
 LUCILLE. 
 
 "Now then, Tom, my dear fellow, you see 
 that there is nothing wrong with me," said Lee 
 Price, lightly, as he sprang to his seat beside his 
 friend a few moments later. " It was but a 
 momentary inconvenience, and you do not know 
 how I regret having disturbed you. The truth 
 of the matter is, I presume, that it is so trivial as 
 to make it impossible for any medical man to 
 diagnose. They wouldn't care to offend me by
 
 64 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 saying it is nothing, so they dress it up in incom- 
 prehensible Latin and murmur of its mystery. 
 Blue lights and that, you know. Come ! Where 
 will you go now ? Back in the country, to try 
 the mettle of the horses, or down around 
 Wilson's Point, or to the beach at Roton, or 
 uptown vid West avenue, to see the pretty 
 panorama of our pretty girls on the promenade ? 
 You're a connoisseur in feminine beauty, you 
 know." 
 
 Hastings frowned. 
 
 " Look here, Lee," he said, as the horses, 
 champing at their bits, started on slowly, " I 
 consider you my friend. A mighty good sort 
 of friend, too," he added, and the momentary 
 smile on his face was pleasant to see. " You 
 have half a dozen of us fellows here at your 
 bachelor quarters for whom the part of host 
 falls upon you. Now, that's all right so far as 
 it goes, but when it comes to your undertaking 
 our entertainment at a time when you are not 
 fit to do it, and then turn pig-headed about 
 caring for yourself, is just a little too much.
 
 Drama of a Life. 65 
 
 That's a long lecture on social versus healthful 
 requirements, and sounds stuffy ; but I mean it 
 so far as to declare, here and now, that I abso- 
 lutely refuse further hospitality from you, unless 
 you first agree to my wish. Just as a whim, as 
 a request of one of your guests, if you will, let 
 us get Doctor Graham's diagnosis on your case. 
 It will do no harm and may prove an amuse- 
 ment for an idle afternoon. We will tell him 
 we consider it beyond the skill of any physician, 
 and hear what he has to say to that. He's a 
 good fellow out of his profession, and we'll test 
 him in it." 
 
 Price shrugged his shoulders and looked 
 rather irritable. 
 
 " Bosh !" he said. " I beg your pardon, 
 Hastings, but no more diagnoses for me, if you 
 please. Choose your road now, like a good 
 fellow, and say no more about it. If Burnside 
 should hear us he would have us in an article at 
 once as Connecticut cranks, and we would make 
 excellent subjects for high colors on little Phil's 
 canvas."
 
 66 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 In spite of his easy, jocularity, there was a 
 shadow of constraint upon him, through which 
 Hastings felt that he had no right to break. 
 The subject was dropped for the time, and the 
 breeze whirling past them, as the horses 
 gathered speed and dashed along the shady 
 avenue, bore away all trace of discomfiture or 
 fear, and they were jovial and easy in manner, 
 acknowledging in high spirits the salutations of 
 riends and acquaintances whom they passed. 
 
 " If I were not such a good-natured fellow I 
 should certainly be jealous of you," said Tom 
 Hastings, laughing ; " you're such a favorite, 
 Price." 
 
 " Who knows," said Price, with an answering 
 careless laugh, " but that it is because Mr. 
 Thomas Hastings is with me, old fellow ? Such 
 things be, you know," 
 
 But, in spite of his apparent indifference and 
 forgetfulness, Mr, Thomas Hastings had firmly 
 made up his mind to discover, if possible, this 
 strange malady of his friend. It was not only 
 startling, but positively threatening in its very
 
 Drama of a Life. 67 
 
 incomprehensibility. A jdisease that has a cure 
 can be named. A malady without a name is a 
 mystery. He had witnessed the effect upon 
 Price. No such symptoms could exist, he said 
 to himself, without powerful cause. He would 
 do his part to discover the cause ! 
 
 He had not the assurance to again mention 
 the matter to his host. It was a delicate subject 
 at best, and he hoped that none of the other 
 fellows would learn of it. Not that they would 
 be any less thoughtful than he, but because it 
 was evidently his friend's wish to withhold the 
 knowledge. They were his guests for the 
 summer, and he would not place his own 
 trouble in the way of their pleasure. 
 
 That evening Lee Price was especially bril- 
 liant. The rooms were awake until far into the 
 morning with the members of the city club, and 
 after the exhaustive dinner with its, discourses 
 and toasts, there were cigars and wine in the 
 par^rs and on the piazzas, and rollicking songs, 
 rt'ith popular airs upon the piano, and a wild, 
 weird song to the low notes of a mandolin by
 
 68 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 the host himself. A weird song with plaintive 
 notes along the instrument that seemed to laugh 
 with the song or murmur of pain or rise to wild 
 cries like some wild thing of the woods. 
 
 A strange, fascinating performance, and met 
 by applause and an encore. Then the party 
 
 broke up, and an hour later the house was dark 
 
 
 
 and still in the shadow of the trees, with the low 
 murmur of the waves upon the beach beyond 
 the wall and glimmer of moonlight over the 
 quiet waters dotted with low, green islands 
 shadowy in the mystery of night. 
 
 " This comes of being a bachelor and follow- 
 ing one's own sweet will, boys !" said the young 
 host, as he parted from his guests for the night. 
 They were lingering in the upper hall for a few 
 last words. " It is of no use telling this to Mor- 
 gan and Burnside, and we must confess they are 
 especially blest as to their fiancees, but the rest 
 of you fellows should follow my example and 
 keep to the freedom of bachelor's hall !" 
 
 " If we all had your happy faculty of going in 
 for the best and always winning, maybe it would
 
 Drama of a Life. 69 
 
 be, Price," said Dan Mayhew, ruefully. " Some- 
 how, I'm certain to be miles away when good 
 fortune comes!" 
 
 " That's your unhappy faculty, Dan," replied 
 his host, lightly. " The wheel of fortune will 
 turn, if you wait and keep a firm grip. Life is 
 a pretty good thing in the long run, you know." 
 
 " But if it happens to be short ?" suggested 
 Ned Newton, laughing. 
 
 "Oh, come now, cut that, Newton!" protested 
 Morgan, indignantly. " Sermons don't come in 
 handy from you. Good night, fellows. I'm 
 off to sweet repose." 
 
 "All the bed and all the clothes," added 
 Curtis, gayly. " That's you, Morgan." 
 
 " You might fare worse," retorted Morgan, 
 good naturedly. " Pleasant dreams, my boys !" 
 And a door closing upon a whistled bar from 
 " Annie Rooney " broke up the conversation. 
 
 " But I don't propose to be deterred by any 
 amount of high spirits, my dear Price," Tom 
 Hastings declared to himself, emphatically. " If 
 I had not seen with my own eyes, I should be
 
 70 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 inclined to doubt your illness, but as I did see 
 it, I intend to discover a remedy, if it is pos- 
 sible." 
 
 And upon the following day he made the 
 attempt. 
 
 To all appearances he had entirely forgotten 
 the scene on the road the preceding day, neither 
 by word or glance betraying his anxiety. He 
 loitered upon the piazza with a cigar, in conver- 
 sation with Burnside and Curtis regarding fish 
 and canvas, laughing and joking, idling away 
 the hours, as though time were nothing to him 
 and he had no object but the present moment's 
 pleasure. 
 
 Not until a half-hour before Doctor Graham's 
 morning office hours ended did he mount a 
 horse from his host's stables and gallop away 
 upon his errand. But, galloping away, he lost 
 his air of indifference, and was a man with clear 
 duty before him, bound to win. 
 
 He knew more of Lee Price's life than his 
 other guests knew. He and Price were college 
 chums, confidential friends firm friends, now
 
 Drama of a Life. 71 
 
 that years had proved them. He knew of the 
 unpleasant relations existing between this man's 
 father and mother during their lifetime ; of his 
 beautiful, fierce, leopard-like sister, with her 
 unreasoning hatred for her brother and her 
 intense passion for her lover. 
 
 His friend possessed wealth almost unlimited ; 
 and he, Tom Hastings, a Wall street broker and 
 free comrade, called much less of this world's 
 goods his own, though still fairly fixed ; still he 
 never once envied this friend. There was too 
 much shadow against the sunlight, too much of 
 life's bitter dregs in this golden cup, to admit of 
 other than intense regard and intense regret for 
 the noble life so darkened. 
 
 He was recalling this as he rode along in the 
 crisp air, softening as the approach to town 
 dulled the touch of the sea in the breeze. He 
 was young, and life was a pretty desirable thing 
 to him, and believing his friend in danger from 
 some subtle disease, caused him to grow rather 
 gloomy in thought, although he was too thor- 
 ough a horseman not to appreciate and enjoy
 
 72 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 the gallop along the level road on that exquis- 
 ite morning, with a perfect horse beneath him 
 and a perfect sky above. 
 
 "A man can't do more than his best," he solilo- 
 quized, as he vaulted from the saddle at the 
 physician's gate. " And I'll do my best for you, 
 old fellow." 
 
 He was fortunate in finding the physician 
 ready to give him immediate attention, and 
 entered into the subject without delay. 
 
 " You know Lee Price pretty well, Graham ?" 
 
 " Pretty well yes," was the smiling response, 
 " if a steady friendship for ten years is knowl- 
 edge, Tom. Fine fellow, too. Worth a dozen 
 ordinary men, let me tell you." 
 
 Hastings nodded. 
 
 " I know it, Graham. That's why I come to 
 you to-day." 
 
 " I thought there could be nothing physically 
 the matter with you" continued the doctor, 
 laughing, as his companion paused, the young 
 man's fine physique admitting of this remark. 
 
 " No," acquiesced Hastings, mechanically.
 
 Drama of a Life. 73 
 
 "I came about Price, Graham. I think he has 
 called upon you in relation to my own errand. 
 He has told you that he is troubled by some 
 peculiar malady, has he not ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 A keen flash appeared in the physician's eyes. 
 He was alert and attentive. 
 
 " You have been unable to diagnose it, 
 Graham ?" 
 
 " There are peculiar symptoms," was the cau- 
 tious reply. " Has he confided in you regarding 
 it, Hastings ?" 
 
 " He was forced to do so. At attack seized 
 him while we were driving yesterday. Price 
 isn't one to push his troubles on his friends." 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Graham !" Tom Hastings leaned forward 
 as he sat beside his friend's desk and laid one 
 hand impressively upon his arm. " Price has 
 told you, I presume, how these attacks come 
 upon him ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Perhaps I may be able to tell you more than
 
 74 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 that," was the quiet reply, the eyes of each 
 meeting and a deep gravity touching both faces. 
 " The attack was instantaneous. He was, 
 apparently, in perfect health up to that moment ; 
 then he wa"s like a man stricken with death." 
 
 Silence for a space ; their eyes, meeting, were 
 very searching and expressive. 
 
 " Yes. In just what way, Hastings ?" 
 
 " He lost muscular power ; the reins fell from 
 his hands ; he was like one paralyzed. The 
 horses would have cut and run had he been 
 alone. His face was deadly pale, but with a 
 peculiar yellowish tinge upon it. You under- 
 stand ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 The eyes of each narrowed somewhat in con- 
 tracted thought, and were very keen. 
 
 " His lips were purple ; his eyes were glassy, 
 though the pupils were intensely large and dark ; 
 sweat started upon his forehead. He attempted 
 to speak, but could not. So far as 1 could judge, 
 his tongue also was paralyzed. Had I not 
 caught him he would have fallen."
 
 Drama of Life. 75 
 
 The physician nodded two or three times 
 slowly and distinctly. 
 
 " I see. You may help me to a solution of 
 this mystery, Tom. And then ?" 
 
 " The attack lasted no longer than three 
 minutes at most. In ten minutes he was appar- 
 ently thoroughly recovered." 
 
 " Why do you limit it to mere appearance, 
 Tom ?" 
 
 " Because," still leaning forward, their eyes 
 meeting, "no one could completely recover from 
 such an attack in weeks, Graham ! I know 
 enough for that." 
 
 "Yes. Well?" 
 
 " You evidently expect further particulars," 
 said Tom Hastings, involuntarily smiling. 
 
 " I do." 
 
 " You shall have them. You knew all this 
 before ?" 
 
 " No. Of course, the subject of these attacks 
 could not describe his own appearance ; he 
 could merely give his sensations. I surmised it,
 
 j6 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 however, and I know that you came to say more 
 than this." 
 
 " I did ; you're a keen one, Graham ! How 
 should you know a man's appearance by his 
 sensations?" 
 
 " That is science," was the amused reply. 
 " But what more have you to tell, Hastings ? 
 My time isn't my own, and I have a patient to 
 see in ten minutes, otherwise I should gladly 
 devote a fair share of my life to you. In ten 
 minutes he had recovered, you say ?" 
 
 " Apparently, yes. It was good fortune that I 
 was with him. Usually, he told me, he is ill in 
 the night when there is no one but his valet to 
 assist him." 
 
 " Of course, his valet would not betray him." 
 
 " Of course not. He has tried many restora- 
 tives, and only one is at all effective. He even 
 says that this may not be called that, as he has 
 not tested it until the usual length of the 
 attacks was past. This restorative is coffee. 
 Its effect upon him yesterday was remarkable. 
 He did not realize it himself. 1 was watching
 
 Drama of Life. 77 
 
 him closely, because an idea was borne in upon 
 me, and I wished to prove it. When he came 
 from the hotel after swallowing as black a cup 
 of coffee as they could concoct, the pallor was 
 gone and the dizziness with it. The only pecu- 
 liarity about his appearance was his eyes. The 
 pupils were still startlingly large." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " In my own mind, even without this proof, 
 I should still believe the coffee an efficient factor 
 against this malady of his." 
 
 " Why ?" 
 
 " From his symptoms I draw my own conclu- 
 sions, Jack Graham !" 
 
 " And they ?" 
 
 " Are the same as your own." 
 
 " And they ?" 
 
 The pause of an instant ; a flashing glance 
 between them as both arose, sternness upon each 
 face. 
 
 For, in reply, Tom Hastings uttered but one 
 word but that word to each was the true 
 solution.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A THOUGHTFUL ATTENDANT. 
 
 We are ever behind or beyond or beside 
 Our intrinsic existence. Forever at hide 
 And seek with our souls. 
 
 MEREDITH. 
 
 14 Hello, you fellows ! Here's a windfall !" 
 " Graham himself, by Jove ! What wind 
 blew you here, pray?" demanded Ned Newton, 
 bringing- his feet down from the piazza railing 
 and his chair down upon its four legs with a 
 bang, as he removed his cigar from between his 
 teeth and waved aside a cloud of smoke. " Not 
 an ill wind, surely, for we're all in pretty good 
 health particularly little Phil here, who has 
 been simply rolling in paint and canvas !" 
 " And Ned Newton, who has been discovering
 
 Drama of Life. 79 
 
 the law of gravitation by waiting for the apple 
 of fortune to fall into his hand !" retorted the 
 artist, who was sitting astride of the piazza rail- 
 ing, too indolent even to smoke. 
 
 Doctor Graham, still sitting in the saddle, 
 threw one leg across the bow and clasped his 
 hands around his knee, laughing. His horse 
 began nibbling the close-cropped grass of the 
 border, the bridle falling loosely upon his 
 neck. 
 
 "Ill wind or good, it is certainly some sort of 
 cyclone, this voluntary visit of yours, my dear 
 Jack!" exclaimed Lee Price, pausing for a 
 moment in the doorway, summoned by the 
 sound of his friend's halloo. " The very sight 
 of you would cure a fellow ! By George, Phil, 
 bring out your camera and take his photograph 
 just as he sits! No one would ever recognize 
 this indolent fellow !" 
 
 " Yes !" Newton added. " Get along with 
 you, Phil, and do the deed before a telephone 
 rings him up to practice ! And bring along the
 
 8o Lida Campbell, or 
 
 rest of the fellows. They'll come if they hear 
 that Graham is here of his own will !" 
 
 Graham laughed. It was a new sensation to 
 him to be idle, but rather a pleasant sensation, 
 after all. 
 
 " Why not set up a tent and start a show, 
 charging so much a head ?" he suggested, jocu- 
 larly. 
 
 " That's not a bad idea," said Burnside, strid- 
 ing across the piazza and reaching out from the 
 top step to shake hands with the new-comer. 
 " Jack Graham, the learned physician ! The 
 remarkable effect of indolence upon a man 
 accustomed to an active life ! ' Greatest Living 
 Wonder of the Age !' That would be devilish 
 taking, Graham !" 
 
 " And little Phil here would be another 
 'taking' subject!" supplemented Dan Mayhew, 
 from the hall, with striking effect, as the artist 
 preceded him upon the piazza with his apparatus 
 for taking their visitor's photograph. 
 
 "Hear! Hear!" exclaimed a laughing voice, 
 as Tom Hastings followed Curtis and Mayhew.
 
 Drama of Life. 81 
 
 " Hello, Graham ! What's the row? Something 
 extraordinary to see you here !" 
 
 " That is evidently the opinion of my horse, 
 Tom," said the doctor, laughing, as he shook 
 hands with the young men pressing around him. 
 
 " He'll have your border shaved clean if you 
 keep him here much longer, Price !" 
 
 44 He'll have better living than that, if you'll 
 give us a chance to send him to the stables," 
 said Price, laughing. " Come in, old fellow !" 
 
 44 We'll feed him on milk and honey," inter- 
 polated Curtis, with a graphic gesture. " Or 
 the skin and bones of black-fish which is the 
 same thing in Burnside's estimation !" 
 
 44 And we'll have little Phil paint a canvas- 
 back for him," retorted Burnside, scornfully, 
 swinging himself airily up on the piazza-railing 
 and balancing himself there by twisting his long 
 legs around the carved rods. 
 
 "Oh, come now, will you quit your everlast- 
 ing haggling of each other ?" protested Morgan, 
 appearing around the north end of the piazza 
 with two or three dogs about him. " It's
 
 82 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 nothing but a continual cutting of diamonds 
 between you two ! Give them an emetic, Doc, 
 and settle them forever !" 
 
 " You'll need an emetic yourself," replied 
 Burnside, calmly, " if you haul in any more 
 toad-fish off the Old Horse Rock, Mr. Morgan. 
 It may be great fun to feel them pull at the line, 
 but they're not specially appetizing game." 
 
 " If you fellows will keep Graham in a roar, I 
 shall give up attempting to get a decent picture 
 of him !" cried the artist, in desperation. " I've 
 spoiled two plates already, and I'll send in the 
 bill to you if I spoil a third, unless you quit!" 
 
 " We'll render it to the finance committee of 
 the Greatest Living Wonder," replied Morgan, 
 airily. " Unless you make haste with your 
 picture-taking, Phil, you'll have to fetch a plate 
 to carry the remains of the doctor into the 
 house, for he'll fall off his horse from sheer 
 
 exhaustion." 
 
 
 
 " If some of you don't smother him, I shall 
 give up!" exclaimed Curtis, angrily facing 
 about.
 
 Drama of a Life. 
 
 " What the ghost ?" queried his tormentor, 
 with great gravity, 
 
 But before the irate artist could reply, Burn- 
 side reached out his powerful arms and caught 
 the delinquent in a close embrace that suffocated 
 him into meekest submission, until the photog- 
 rapher triumphantly announced that he had 
 finished with his subject, who was at liberty to 
 " get down out of that " if he desired. 
 
 Graham swung himself easily from the saddle 
 
 and mounted the steps, while Price drew a 
 
 
 
 silver whistle from his pocket and summoned 
 Jim, the stable-boy, to lead away the horse. 
 
 " No, but, really, boys, all joking aside," said 
 the young doctor, seating himself in one of the 
 piazza lounging-chairs and sighing with extreme 
 emphasis, " I've taken a leave of absence from 
 duty funked decamped what you will for 
 one entire week. Hutchinson has taken my 
 place. I was getting desperate from continued 
 driving, so I skeedaddled. If I hadn't, I should 
 certainly have committed suicide within three 
 days."
 
 84 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 "And you confided in us first off! Good 
 boy !" said Newton, tapping him patronizingly 
 on the head with a spray of honeysuckle broken 
 from the vine beside him, as he arranged him- 
 self comfortably upon the railing beyond the 
 reach of Burnside's long arms. 
 
 " We'll defend you with our lives, and hide 
 you in the water-butt if the authorities come 
 searching for you," promptly corroborated 
 Mayhew, leaning indolently against one of the 
 pillars, tantalizingly just out of reach of Burn- 
 side, who was vainly endeavoring to choke nim 
 into silence. 
 
 " Well !" said Price, emphatically, from his 
 seat on the arm of a chair beside Graham. " It 
 is really a secondary matter how or for what 
 you came, so long as you are here, Jack. Your 
 horse has gone to the stable, and unless you 
 wish to walk back to town you will be obliged 
 to spend the week with us. What do you say ? 
 We will do our best for you, and make you for- 
 get that there were such things in the world as 
 disease and diagnosis."
 
 Drama of a Life. 85 
 
 " Accept gracefully," murmured Newton, 
 from out of a cloud of cigar smoke. " You may 
 as well, Graham." 
 
 " For when the Mogul speaks in that tone 
 there in no denying him," added Hastings, 
 laughing, although a swift glance passed 
 between him and the guest. " He means busi- 
 ness every time when he assumes that voice." 
 
 "Oh, but " began the doctor, in quick pro- 
 testation. 
 
 "There is no 'but' about it," interrupted 
 Morgan, promptly, while Burnside slid from the 
 railing and clasped his firm fingers over the 
 physician's mouth " excepting the water-butt, 
 Jack. Yield, and we'll allow you the honors 
 of war." 
 
 " Refuse " added Burnside, dramatically, 
 with a heavy dash in his voice. 
 
 " But I hope that he will not refuse," said 
 Price, with a smile. 
 
 Graham accepted. 
 
 It was a pretty good place to visit, this 
 andsome island residence on the outskirts of
 
 86 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 the town ; and a better host there could not be 
 than Lee Price ; generous, open-handed, open- 
 hearted. Even the servants of his household 
 were warm in praise of the young master all 
 but Conyers, the young master's valet. Conyers 
 was close-mouthed, and said little at the best of 
 times, so they expected no encomium from him. 
 They certainly received none. 
 
 Conyers had been with Lee Price for three 
 years, and was faithful to his duties, quiet and 
 obliging. It was as well that he should be a 
 man of few words, his master said, for many ser- 
 vants and attendants were given to too much 
 loquacity. Volubility did not always indicate 
 reliability. So long as Conyers remained faith- 
 ful there was no fear of his losing his place. 
 
 " A quiet fellow this Conyers," said Jack 
 Graham, indifferently, as he and his host strolled 
 over the grounds, a group of dogs around them, 
 the morning following the young physician's 
 entrance into the lively bachelor establishment. 
 " Where did you pick him up, Price ? There's 
 my Halleck, as gossipy as a monkey ! Utterly
 
 Drama of a Life. 87 
 
 unlike Conyers. You must have advertised for 
 a jewel to get him." 
 
 Lee laughed. One of the dogs leaped about 
 him, and he patted the broad, sleek head half- 
 mechanically. 
 
 " I advertised for a faithful man," he answered ; 
 " perhaps one should call such a jewel now-a- 
 days, Graham. Conyers suits me pretty well. 
 He isn't likely to cheer a fellow with volatile 
 spirits like Morgan or Newton or those but if 
 you wish to be quiet, you know, you will be 
 quiet, no matter what Conyers may be doing." 
 
 " And I should think, if one were ill or nervous 
 or wakeful in the night, he would be an excellent 
 person, Lee," added the doctor, with a careless 
 laugh. " I think I shall have to steal or bribe 
 him from you to place him in some of my sick- 
 rooms !" 
 
 " But I couldn't spare him, you know !" said 
 Lee, quickly. He glanced at his companion 
 half suspiciously. " He is invaluable to me 
 when I am ill in the night, Jack. You remember
 
 88 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 I told you that sometimes 1 am ill in the 
 night'* 
 
 " Yes," said Graham, calmly, as Lee paused, 
 noting the color mounting the broad forehead. 
 " Of course, I wouldn't take him from you for 
 the world, Lee. And, of course, he wouldn't go, 
 no matter how much I might try to bribe him. 
 I suppose he is perfectly willing to care for you 
 at such times?" 
 
 " Perfectly," acquiesced Price, emphatically. 
 "In fact, I don't even have to ask him, Graham. 
 He seems to know at once what to do." 
 
 " Remarkable fellow !" said the doctor, coolly, 
 tossing away the stump of his cigar and snapping 
 his fingers with a call to one of the dogs. 
 
 " Yes," said Lee, warmly ; " so he is, Jack ! 
 One does not always find so faithful an 
 attendant. Nothing gives me any relief when 
 these attacks come upon me but clear, cold 
 water or the strongest coffee, and Conyers will 
 go down to the kitchen for it at any hour of the 
 night without a murmur. I often tell him to 
 ring for one of the other servants, but he will
 
 Drania of a Life. 8c) 
 
 not do it. It is no trouble whatever, he says, 
 when I object." 
 
 " It is a wonder he didn't die young," he said, 
 with a careless laugh and shrug of his shoulders. 
 "'Whom the gods love,' you know, Lee!" 
 
 " You may run him, if you choose," said Lee, 
 stoutly, " and guy me, too, for that matter, but 
 he is a faithful fellow, Jack." 
 
 " Not the least doubt of it, my dear fellow," 
 said Jack, with quiet indifference. " Nor the 
 least doubt that the figure on the wall yonder is 
 the artist. Hello, Phil ! What is the effect this 
 morning? That catboat over east against the 
 green island would make a charming study of 
 color. Is that what you're at ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Curtis, glancing up, a slight flush 
 on his face. For he was still sensitive regarding 
 his art. " It makes a telling canvas, Graham. 
 The lights are so vivid, you see." 
 
 And melting into conversation upon art, the 
 subject of the faithful attendant died away and 
 was forgotten by one of the two disputants not 
 by the other.
 
 90 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 The week passed quickly away, bringing 
 about the day when Doctor Graham must return 
 to his duties and his patients. 
 
 The young men were crowded upon the piazza 
 to see him off, for he was a general favorite, and, 
 all talking at once, it was impossible to distin- 
 guish any special speech or speaker. 
 
 " ' All the world's a stage,' and all the men 
 and women are puppets in a drama of farewell !" 
 exclaimed Newton, suddenly turning upon Mor- 
 gan, who was using a gigantic handkerchief with 
 elaborate empressment, and slapping him 
 violently upon the back. " But cheer up ! 
 He'll appear in the next scene, old fellow ; so 
 don't howl too 'loud it spoils the effect." 
 
 " ^.y-pecially as your handkerchief is so dis- 
 gracefully dry," added Burnside, shaking his 
 own out to its full size with extreme care. 
 
 The unabashed delinquent wiped his eyes and 
 then his nose, with tender solicitude. Then, his 
 eyes falling upon the dripping handkerchief in 
 Burnside's hands, he made a sudden and most
 
 Drama of a Life. 91 
 
 unexpected dash at him, exclaiming, in excessive 
 scorn : 
 
 " At least my grief is real, Bob Burnside, 
 while yours cries of the waterbutt !" 
 
 And, in the midst of the laughter and hubbub 
 following this announcement, Doctor Graham, 
 turning upon the steps as he was descending to 
 where his horse was waiting for him, laid one 
 hand affectionately upon the broad shoulder of 
 his host, as he said, earnestly : 
 
 " As you have had none of those attacks since 
 I have been here, 1 am led to believe that you 
 are recovering from them without the aid of 
 any physician, my dear fellow !" 
 
 An awkward flush touched for an instant the 
 young man's face. Then he said, slowly, turning 
 aside from the doctor's searching eyes : 
 
 " I was ill so two nights ago, Jack, and 
 Conyers went to summon you ; bui. he could not 
 rouse you. It really doesn't matter, though, 
 for Conyers did all that was necessary, and it 
 would have been too bad to waken you from so 
 sound a sleep."
 
 92 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 " The devil it would !" exclaimed the angry 
 doctor, shortly, as his hand dropped from the 
 other's shoulder, a frown darkening his brows. 
 As I am a remarkably light sleeper, Price, it 
 must have been an equally light summons that 
 couldn't rouse me. " 
 
 And springing to the saddle, he galloped 
 away without another word or one backward 
 glance at the group upon the cool piazza. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A BRILLIANT AFFAIR. 
 
 In the floating of the fan and of the feather, 
 To reciprocate with beauty the fine weather. 
 
 THE DANCE. 
 
 Mrs. Leonard was the housekeeper at Bache- 
 lors' Beatitude, as Morgan in a fit of wit nick- 
 named the beautiful residence of Lee Price. 
 Mrs. Leonard as a housekeeper was irreproach- 
 able ; as a woman she was very stout, 
 good-natured and wonderfully kind of heart
 
 Drama of a Life. 93 
 
 She considered the young master the perfection 
 of manhood. There was nothing too good for 
 him ; nothing that she would not do to increase 
 his happiness. 
 
 She was more to him much more than his 
 own mother had been, and she had ruled over 
 his house since his parents died, his mother 
 surviving his father but two weeks. He paid 
 her a salary that placed beyond possibility her 
 ever coming to want; and in return she made 
 his home a paradise of comfort, his friends said, 
 envying him. But a paradise without houris ; 
 and under such conditions, even paradise 
 palls sometimes. 
 
 So it was decided, one charming summer 
 morning after solemn conclave, that the houris 
 should be invited. And this decision wakened a 
 stir from cellar to garret at Bachelors' Beatitude, 
 and excited much pleasurable expectation on the 
 part of the bachelors themselves. 
 
 " It must be a really brilliant affair, or I will 
 not undertake it," said Lee Price, when the pro- 
 position was being considered. " In consequence
 
 94 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 of this, we must take pains to make it a success. 
 In the first place I have one of the sweetest 
 aunts in the world, and we shall have her her, 
 of course. That will settle the proprieties, for 
 when she countenances an affair, the world 
 accepts it as proper. She will do the hostess to 
 perfection, only I warn you fellows not to fall in 
 love with her. That is my one stipulation." 
 
 "Why not?" queried Newton, with an air of 
 settled melancholy. 
 
 " Her husband might object. 
 
 " Oh ! She has a husband ?" 
 
 "Yes. And now that Mrs. Leonard will look 
 after the household affairs and my aunt, Mrs. 
 Estabrook, answers for the proprieties for of 
 course she will not refuse my request we, the 
 bachelors, may safely be left to consider the 
 affair somewhat nearer the heart naming the 
 guests." 
 
 " Fair Eleanor, of course," murmured Herbert 
 Morgan, with a side-glance of challenge toward 
 Burnside. 
 
 " Certainly," was the cool reply.. " \ should,
 
 Drama of a Life. 95 
 
 say she will be one of the guests7 Mr. Morgan ! 
 So far as I know, there is no reason why my 
 little fiancte should not be invited. The collec- 
 tion of houris would be sadly deficient were she 
 omitted." 
 
 " That is well said, Rob," laughed Price, 
 suddenly ceasing his nibbling of the pencil he 
 held. " Miss Harte's name goes down for that 
 the first in the list. And then there's Miss 
 Atherton, of course, and Miss D unbar and Kittie 
 Florence " 
 
 And so on until the list was full and, judging 
 from the invited guests, there could be no doubt 
 of a successful ending to the proposed brilliant 
 affair. 
 
 Mrs. Estabrook was the perfection of a hostess, 
 and Mrs. Leonard the ideal housekeeper. The 
 house was magnificent. Flowers and palms 
 were banked in the halls and on the staircase ; a 
 row of tall palms bordered the piazza from end 
 to end ; hydrangias, with their huge bouquets of 
 blossoms, were arranged upon the steps ; roses 
 of every description, with fragrant shrubs and
 
 96 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 hedge-blossoms, made the lawn like a tropical 
 garden. 
 
 The house was brilliant with light ; the lawn 
 soft with swinging lanterns. A group of 
 musicians, engaged from the city, were hid 
 den by palms and flowers at one end of the 
 piazza, deadening the low murmur of the waves 
 along the beach close under the wall, as the tide 
 rose. A brilliant moon was riding the heavens, 
 silvering the bay and trailing a path of molten 
 glory across the distant Sound, as though that 
 were the gateway to celestial lands leading from 
 this earthly paradise. 
 
 Carriages began arriving early, and groups of 
 charming women, in delightful toilets, set the 
 seal of perfection upon the brilliant scene. It 
 was almost altogether a town affair; not more 
 than half a dozen or so of the ladies were from 
 the city, and not so many gentlemen as that. 
 
 Young Doctor Graham was one of the 
 favorites among the group of young men from 
 the town. Young Doctor Graham, as a success- 
 ful physician and wealthy young man, was con-
 
 Drama of a Life. 97 
 
 siderably sought after tyy wise mothers with 
 charming daughters. And young Doctor Gra- 
 ham, being wise, divided his attentions between 
 many young ladies and was deliciously courte- 
 ous to the old ; but in his own heart he knew 
 that there was only one face and voice and eyes 
 bewitchingly bright that meant more than 
 friendship or courtesy to him. 
 
 But if pretty little Polly Ballard knew this 
 quite as well as he did, was it at all probable 
 that she should make it known to the world ? 
 Then, too, she treated Tom Hastings with 
 special favor that evening, and Tom Hastings 
 was utterly devoted to her, to all appearances ; 
 and in spite of gayety and music and beauty 
 in spite of that clear track of glory across the 
 waters from the quiet heavens jealousies and 
 heavy hearts and eyes brilliant with more than 
 laughter betrayed that the serpent had also 
 entered here. 
 
 " So you managed to leave your patients long 
 enough to grace this festive scene eh, Jack ?"
 
 98 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 Hastings asked of Graham, as they met in the 
 hall going out to the supper-room. 
 
 Miss Polly's white-gloved hand was lying on 
 Hastings' arm, and Miss Polly herself, to all 
 intents and purposes, quite ignored Doctor 
 Graham. 
 
 " Price set you down as one of the ' doubtfuls,' 
 Graham," he added ; " but I see that you have 
 come." 
 
 Price himself was within sight and hearing. 
 Catching this remark, he smiled upon these 
 guests. Graham acknowledged this remark 
 easily. He was apparently unconcerned as to 
 whether or not Miss Polly Ballard bestowed her 
 attention upon his friend or himself ; but Miss 
 Polly knew better. 
 
 " Yes," he said, carelessly. " One does 
 occasionally set aside business for pleasure. 
 Unusual with me, but rather pleasant when 
 Price is concerned." And passing on with his 
 companion, he and Polly drifted apart until the 
 gay evening was ending. Then fate brought 
 them together.
 
 Drama of a Life. 99 
 
 The parlors were filled with dancers. The 
 music, drifting from the band behind the palms, 
 set wings to light feet and young hearts throb- 
 bing and bright eyes flashing in the gas-light. 
 What though the world were wheeling out of 
 orbit, if one could dance one's sorrow down ! 
 
 There were groups on the piazza and the 
 lawn. Loiterers by the sea wall watching the 
 waves and murmuring soft nothings or tender 
 words of meaning. Appreciative eyes gazed 
 across the path to the distances of heaven. 
 Musical laughter twinkled on the fragrant si- 
 lence. Deeper voices drowned the cry of the 
 waves to the ears that listened and the hearts 
 that yielded to love. 
 
 Jack Graham, for the first time that evening, 
 was drawn from the rooms and the presence of 
 his host. With undeviating yet quiet persist- 
 ence the young physician kept continual watch 
 of the handsome, genial, smiling host, moving 
 among his guests the embodiment of courteous 
 manhood. 
 Jack Graham was not one to be defeated
 
 ioo Lida Campbell, or 
 
 when there was the faintest hope of success. 
 But Miss Polly had relented and was for the 
 time causing him to forget or neglect his duty. 
 For it was more duty than pleasure that brought 
 Doctor Graham to this scene of activity. 
 
 But Miss Polly was irresistible when she was 
 so charming as at that moment. She was look- 
 ing up into his eyes, murmuring half petulantly 
 that it was so delicious out upon the lawn, where 
 one need not suffocate in crowds and where the 
 moonlight was beautiful ; and Doctor Graham, 
 glancing hastily through the groups for his host 
 and seeing him in perfect apparent health and 
 
 spirits among the dancers, with beautiful 
 
 
 
 wealthy Miss Constance Conwright as his part- 
 ner, turned away, smiling, with bewitching Miss 
 Polly to join the more romantic groups and 
 promenaders upon the piazza. 
 
 The breeze was faint. Presently Miss Polly 
 and her escort were crossing the lawn toward 
 the sea wall, attracted by the beauty of the 
 scene and the softened sound of music and gay- 
 ety from within. Miss Polly held her gown
 
 Drama of a Life. 101 
 
 carefully up from the penetrating dew of the 
 close-shaven grass, and Doctor Graham made 
 sure that she was protected, by an India shawl, 
 from the breeze, after the heat of the rooms. 
 They were talking very earnestly and cared, 
 neither of them, if the eyes of the world were 
 upon them, for they were quite happy and suffi- 
 cient unto themselves. 
 
 When they reached the sea wall, Miss Polly 
 commanded silence, and her companion will- 
 ingly stood with her before the exceeding 
 beauty of the scene. The moonlight touched 
 her face and soft black hair and tender, midnight 
 eyes. 
 
 Looking across the water, following that 
 silver pathway, she forgot herself and her com- 
 panion forgot utterly her surroundings. Doc- 
 tor Graham, not being such an admirer of 
 scenic beauty, did not forget her ; he seemed 
 rather to be perfectly and altogether conscious 
 and anxious for the welfare of Miss Polly. 
 
 " Isn't it beautiful, Doctor Graham ?" queried 
 Polly, presently, in a voice of awe.
 
 IO2 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 " Yes," replied Jack, smiling, looking down 
 upon her. 
 
 " But you are not looking at it at all !" pro- 
 tested Miss Polly, petulantly, withdrawing her 
 hand from his arm and laying it upon the crum- 
 bling sea wall. " You don't appreciate beauty 
 one bit, Doctor Graham!" 
 
 " Yes, I do," said Doctor Graham, unmoved. 
 " I was looking at you, Miss Polly." 
 
 " But" began Polly, half angrily. 
 
 And then she stopped, for fate had come 
 between. 
 
 A shadow glided out from among the shadows 
 on the lawn and paused beside them a tall 
 figure gloomily black, sombre, startling. 
 
 Polly uttered a smothered cry and shrank 
 close to her companion. Doctor Graham drew 
 her hand through his arm, leaving his own over 
 it reassuringly, as he faced the strange intruder 
 upon their peace. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said a low, even voice, 
 and Graham recognized in the moonlight the 
 cold, thin face of Conyers. " The young master
 
 Drama of a Life. 103 
 
 is ill. He asked for you. Come, if you please, 
 sir." 
 
 " How unfortunate !" muttered the doctor, 
 hurrying with Miss Polly across the lawn, the 
 valet disappearing as silently and suddenly as he 
 had come. " I watch for hours, and just as I 
 congratulate myself on groundless fears and 
 relax vigilance, fortune turns upon me and the 
 evil falls ! I would have given anything, any- 
 thing to have been with him at the time! I 
 must go to him, Polly, at once." 
 
 " Of course," said Polly, with sweet gravity. 
 " Poor Mr. Price ! Go right away, Doctor 
 Graham ; don't stop for me ! I will find mamma 
 easily, or Here is Mr. Waring ! He will 
 see that I am safe." 
 
 " Certainly," said one of the gentlemen who 
 stood near the door of the hall. " With pleas- 
 ure, Miss Ballard. Poor Price ! They say that 
 he is horribly ill, Graham. Hastings put us all 
 out of the room as soon as he was attacked," 
 continued Mr. Waring to Miss Polly, as they 
 lingered upon the piazza, anxiously watching for
 
 IO4 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 news of their host, yet not wishing to intrude 
 upon him. "I never saw Hastings so cut up in 
 my life. He was near Price at the time. They 
 were eating cream with Miss Dunbar and Kittie 
 Florence, and all at once Price became deadly 
 ill like death and would actually have fallen 
 to the floor if Hastings had not caught him. 
 They have him up in his room now. I wish 
 Graham would hurry and tell us regarding him. 
 Poor fellow !" 
 
 And it was " poor fellow " indeed, for Graham 
 found him much more ill than he had expected 
 and he had expected to find him very ill. 
 Conyers was in the room when he entered, as 
 though he had never left it, as though his flight 
 into the night were but a thought of the brain 
 and not reality. Conyers, self-possessed, cool, 
 unmoved, standing beside his master, whom he 
 had assisted to the bed and was carefully and 
 deftly divesting of his evening dress. 
 
 It was all he could do and exactly what he 
 should do ; but Graham, whose glance fell upon 
 him instantly on entering, felt a swift sense of
 
 Drama of a Life. 105 
 
 distrust for him and spoke rather sharply to him 
 in giving his command. 
 
 But the immovable face did not once change 
 in expression nor his noiseless obedience falter. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 EMMA. 
 
 Faces ! O my God, 
 We call those faces? men's and women's. 
 
 AURORA LEIGH. 
 
 Lee Price lay upon the bed under the hands 
 of his valet, deadly pale ; not uttering a groan, 
 yet in silent, convulsed agony ; one hand thrown 
 out grasping the pillow, as though to stifle 
 sound. His eyes were closed, but they opened 
 in recognition as Graham bent over him, a 
 muttered imprecation on his lips for having been 
 tempted from his friend. 
 
 " Bring me a glass of water, Conyers, at once," 
 he said. " I will get him in bed while you go 
 for it. Go immediately."
 
 106 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 The latter order was superfluous, as Conyers 
 had disappeared ere it was uttered, and returned 
 so quickly that even at that time Graham 
 wondered at his expedition. 
 
 In a few moments, between them, they had the 
 young man in bed, some powerful drug admin- 
 istered, and he was in a heavy sleep, not likely 
 to be broken for many hours. Then Graham 
 sent Conyers to summon Hastings and Mrs. 
 Leonard. Both responded at once, and to each 
 he made such explanations as he considered 
 advisable. 
 
 To the housekeeper he gave instructions to 
 have the house cleared of its guests and quiet 
 enforced, adding a command that he desired the 
 cream of which Price was eating at the time of- 
 attack to be quietly placed where it would be 
 safe until he ordered it brought to him. 
 
 " Much cream is mixed with dangerous 
 matter," he said, gravely and impressively. " It 
 may possibly be that which caused hisTllness. I 
 wish to investigate it, Mrs. Leonard ; and if you 
 will see that Mrs. Estabrook receives this note,
 
 Drama of a Life. 107 
 
 she will arrange the social part of the dismissal 
 with ready tact." 
 
 He hastily wrote a few words upon a page of 
 his note-book and handed it to the housekeeper. 
 
 " Of course, I shall see to that," she said, as 
 she took the paper; " but you surely don't think, 
 you cannot think, doctor, that our poor dear 
 young master has been poisoned ! It couldn't be 
 the cream, because not one mouthful of it was 
 bought. It was made right here in the house 
 Emma attended to that and then no one else 
 was ill " 
 
 " I know that," interrupted Graham, quietly, 
 " and I desire nothing said about it in the house, 
 Mrs. Leonard. Reserve me this plate of cream, 
 and see that no one is alarmed. I think the 
 young master will be all right to-morrow. I 
 shall remain here to-night." 
 
 His eyes were upon Conyers as he uttered 
 these words, and very sharp eyes they were ; but 
 the man's pale, thin face did not betray that he 
 knew of this, or even that he heard.
 
 io8 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 When Mrs. Leonard was gone, he turned to 
 the valet with a swift movement of dismissal. 
 
 44 You may leave us now, Conyers," he said. 
 44 1 shall remain. If I need you I shall ring ; 
 and if I do ring " the man paused in the door- 
 way, unmoved, but obedient to the commanding 
 voice " if I do ring, Conyers, come to me with- 
 out delay." 
 
 44 1 will, sir," was the even reply, as the door 
 closed noiselessly upon the speaker, and the 
 two friends were alone at one end of the room, 
 within sight and sound of the man who lay in 
 unconscious sleep upon the bed. 
 
 44 Well ?" said Hastings, gravely. 
 
 " Well ?" said Graham, with equal gravity. 
 
 Their eyes met, some strange comprehension 
 flashed into each. Whatever of unpleasantness 
 had come between them, owing to Miss Polly's 
 fickleness, was now entirely superseded by 
 anxiety for their friend. Graham wheeled a 
 chair noiselessly nearer the window, where the 
 cool night air stole in soft and refreshing after
 
 Drama of a Life. 109 
 
 the night's heated rooms. Hastings followed 
 his example. 
 
 " Now, then ?" said the latter, shortly, but in 
 a satisfied tone, as though he expected every 
 mystery or difficulty to be at once explained 
 away. 
 
 " I think that you were right, Tom, to a cer- 
 tain extent," was the cool reply, after a moment 
 of silence. They could hear the indistinct 
 murmur of voices in the lower rooms and upon 
 the piazza, and the deadened roll of wheels as 
 the guests departed. " I judge only from 
 appearances now very soon I shall judge from 
 certainty." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " tf you have patience you shall discover," 
 replied the doctor, calmly. " I should like you 
 to remain here with me to-night or to-day 
 rather, as it is nearly dawn if you can, Tom. 
 The world is a topsy-turvy place. We shall 
 straighten it in spite of Shakespeare's disgust of 
 the man who would set right a disjointed world ! 
 There is power in science, my dear fellow. I
 
 no Lida Campbell, or 
 
 grow more respectful toward it every day, as I 
 learn more of its use and misuse." 
 
 There was more than surface meaning in the 
 words, but each apparently comprehended. 
 
 " Why won't you tell me of this now, Jack?" 
 asked Hastings, in some disappointment. " I 
 have guessed considerable, but I would not 
 object to knowing more." 
 
 " ' Knowledge comes/ " said the doctor, 
 coolly, leaning back in his chair and clasping his 
 hands behind his head, his eyes half quizzical 
 yet grave, meeting those of, his companion 
 " ' but wisdom lingers,' Tom. That wouldn't be 
 a half-bad motto for one to accept. When 
 Price wakens I shall question him more than I 
 have ever felt at liberty to do before. If you 
 are present you may be somewhat enlightened 
 as to the nature of drugs and chemicals and their 
 effects. It is best not to let the other fellows 
 know, however." 
 
 " So long as we can help it yes," said Hast- 
 ings, in some dissatisfaction at this meager 
 explanation granted him.
 
 Drama of a Life. i \ i 
 
 " Why do you make that reservation, Tom ?" 
 
 Tom shrugged his shoulders. Their conver- 
 sation was carried on in low tones and they sat 
 in close companionship, but now he leaned a 
 trifle nearer the physician and his voice was still 
 lower as he said, distinctly : 
 
 " Because one cannot see into the future, 
 Jack ; because the poor fellow yonder grows 
 worse at each attack, and because if there is one 
 person whom I cordially dislike and whom Price 
 trusts it is that confounded Conyers ! There is 
 something too sly about him to please me. I 
 could not endure him long in my presence." 
 
 The physician raised his brows, and a half 
 smile crossed his lips. 
 
 " I sent him away," he said, " because / prefer 
 his room to his company myself, Tom." 
 
 Silence after that upon the house and over the 
 lawn but one short hour before alive with bril- 
 liant life and light. The guests had departed 
 save those belonging to the household, and the 
 lights were out, and only the far-away low mur-
 
 H2 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 mur of the waves along the beach where the tide 
 was falling. 
 
 Through the open windows the breeze stole, 
 heavy with fragrance from the lawn and the 
 garden. The pathway of silver light upon the 
 water had shifted as the moon went slowly slid- 
 ing down beyond the western hills. 
 
 There was no sound, save these delicate night 
 sounds and the quiet breathing of the sleeper 
 save the low-toned voices of the physician and 
 his friend keeping watch, as the dawn stole up 
 the east, treading down lightly and mysteriously 
 the tender rose of dying moonlight, and broad- 
 ened and deepened to amber and lilac and royal 
 purples of sunrise and day, and wakened life 
 below. 
 
 But it was long after sunrise when Lee Price 
 opened his eyes upon the day. Just at first he 
 did not recognize Doctor Graham, who was 
 sitting by the east window, quietly reading, and 
 could not recall what had occurred. Then the 
 memory partly returned, and raising himself
 
 Drama of a Life. 113 
 
 unsteadily upon one elbow and staring hard at 
 his friend, he addressed him. 
 
 Hastings had gone down stairs for breakfast, 
 and they were alone. 
 
 " Graham !" he said. His voice was very 
 weak, and his hand trembled as he brushed the 
 hair up from his forehead in a habit peculiar to 
 him when anxious or perplexed. 
 
 "Yes?" replied Graham, immediately, but 
 with entire composure, as he laid aside his book, 
 and, rising, crossed to the bed. " What is it, my 
 dear fellow?" 
 
 "That is what I would ask you" said Price, 
 weakly. 
 
 " You may ask innumerable questions if you 
 will, Lee." 
 
 " You will answer them if you choose, I 
 suppose !" was the petulant retort. " I was ill 
 last night, Jack ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You brought me up here ?" 
 
 " Hastings had you brought here yes."
 
 ii4 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 " Where are the guests ? What did they 
 think ? What did you tell them ?" 
 
 " I presume they are lost in delightful dreams 
 of the evening spent here, my dear boy," was 
 the physician's cool reply ; " but as to what 
 they think, I cannot undertake to say. Your 
 aunt and Hastings sent them off without the 
 least scene. That aunt of yours should be a 
 politician, Lee, she can so easily manage 
 people." 
 
 " Where is she, Graham ?" 
 
 " I can't say. She came to the door once, to 
 learn of your condition ; but I told her that you 
 must not be disturbed, and she obeys implicitly. 
 You must do the same if you wish to be about 
 soon." 
 
 " That's like her," said Price. 
 
 He had fallen back among the pillows, and 
 Graham was standing beside him, holding one 
 hand, with his fingers lightly pressed upon the 
 restless pulse stirring in the wrist. Price lay 
 silently watching him for a moment. 
 
 " Were you with me then Jack ?" he asked,
 
 Drama of a Life. 1 1 5 
 
 presently. " I cannot remember. I have tried, 
 but my head feels too much of a burden as it 
 is." 
 
 " No," Graham said, quietly, an intentness 
 upon his face that his patient did not even 
 attempt to fathom. " I was on the lawn. Con- 
 yers called me. He did not find me sleeping too 
 soundly this time." 
 
 Price did not speak, but his glance quickened 
 as though with resentment at this subtle hint of 
 his valet's infidelity. Then he withdrew his 
 hand from the doctor's hold and turned his head 
 restlessly upon the pillow. 
 
 " Then you knew nothing about this attack- 
 more than about the other, Graham ?" 
 
 The doctor's eyes were narrowing and the 
 intent expression deepened upon his face. 
 
 " Perhaps I do," he said. " You and Miss 
 Dunbar and Miss Florence with Hastings were 
 eating cream. You had eaten but little of the 
 cream when it made you violently ill " 
 
 " How do you know it was the cream ?"
 
 n6 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 demanded Price, shortly. One might think that 
 he did not like this insinuation. 
 
 " I am stating the case as it appeared," was 
 the unruffled reply. " I shall state it as it is 
 truly, presently. Hastings had you removed 
 presently and sent Conyers for me. How are 
 you feeling, my dear fellow?" 
 
 " I feel as though there were forty horses 
 treading down upon my head," was the irritable 
 answer. " Really, Graham, I believe if this 
 thing continues much longer you will have a 
 lunatic upon your hands." 
 
 Graham nodded. 
 
 " I shall take good care that nothing of the 
 sort occurs, Price," he said. " And now I shall 
 ask you one or two questions that you may con- 
 sider impertinent or would consider so if you 
 were not perfectly certain that it is your old 
 friend who asks. Have you any new servants 
 in your household ?" 
 
 Price stared at him as though he believed that 
 he were the one threatened with insanity instead 
 of himself.
 
 Drama of a Life. 117 
 
 " What possible interest can you have in 
 that?" he asked, shortly. " Every one of my 
 servants is capable and faithful, if that is what 
 you mean, and all have been with me for several 
 years excepting Emma. I know that you dis- 
 like Conyers, when you have no earthly reason 
 for doing so; but if you attempt to distrust 
 Emma you will be carrying your suspicions 
 pretty far, my dear Graham." 
 
 "Now that you have relieved your feelings," 
 said the doctor, laughing, and undeterred from 
 his path of investigation " will you kindly 
 inform me what were your sensations last 
 night?" 
 
 Price moved, his head impatiently as though 
 he would prefer to be silent upon his illness and 
 its symptoms, but was compelled to reply, as 
 the physician was awaiting his answer, and he 
 knew that Jack Graham was not to be moved 
 from his path of duty. 
 
 "I felt decidedly ill," he said, flatly and 
 sharply. " Isn't that enough for you to know, 
 Graham ? No ? You are such a stony-hearted
 
 n8 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 fellow when your mind is set upon a thing ! 
 Well, then, I felt as though a beautiful Borgia 
 were thrusting me through and through with a 
 poisoned dagger to rid herself of me. I felt as 
 though Medusa were paralyzing me with her 
 gaze of stone. As though the Colossus of 
 Rhodes were falling upon my head. I felt, to 
 sum it all up in one fine point, as though every 
 earthly joy had faded and I didn't specially 
 care." 
 
 There was fine sarcasm in his voice and upon 
 his face, but Doctor Graham was not moved by 
 it. He merely nodded quietly and his eyes 
 searched the pale face with concentrated thought. 
 
 " And after all this fine drama so cleverly put, 
 you were brought up here and have only just 
 wakened to the' fact that the world still holds 
 considerable to be lived for, Lee. That will do 
 for this time. We will hear what Mrs. Leonard 
 has to say regarding the cream you so faithfully 
 defend." 
 
 Disregarding Price's protestations, the young 
 doctor crossed to the bell and summoned the
 
 Drama of a Life. 119 
 
 housekeeper. She replied immediately, but 
 there was an unusual uneasiness in her manner, 
 that this man with the keen eye detected at once. 
 
 " How is^the young master, Doctor Graham ?" 
 
 " He is better, Mrs. Leonard. 1 should like 
 you to send me the cream I ordered, immedi- 
 ately. Send it to the adjoining room, please. I 
 have use for it." 
 
 He had not a doubt that his instructions of 
 the previous night had been obeyed. He was 
 accustomed to having his orders obeyed unques- 
 tioningly. 
 
 Hastings was ascending the stairs. 
 
 A faint flush of annoyance crept to the house- 
 keeper's face. Unconsciously and nervously she 
 lifted the embroidered bag that hung at her side 
 containing the household keys, and smoothed its 
 ribbons as though so she would smooth out his 
 displeasure. 
 
 " I am so sorry, Doctor," she said, hesitatingly, 
 " but Emma forgot and threw that in with the 
 rest of the waste. She did not mean to be care- 
 less, she is usually a very good girl "
 
 I2O Lida Campbell, or 
 
 A thunder-storm of anger was brewing on the 
 doctor's brows. His eyes darkened and blazed. 
 
 " And you defend her," he said, " even though 
 you know that your master's life may depend 
 upon faithfulness to my orders !" His voice was 
 even, but deeper than usual with suppressed 
 indignation. 
 
 " She meant no harm, truly, Doctor. She is 
 young, and usually very careful " 
 
 " Who is this Emma who is such a paragon ?" 
 
 " One of the housemaids, Doctor Graham." 
 
 " Send her to me, Mrs. Leonard and Conyers 
 also." 
 
 He turned away, re-entering the room fol- 
 lowed by Hastings, and closed the door. 
 
 " I sent for you, Conyers," he said, sternly, 
 
 when the valet entered a few moments later 
 
 
 
 accompanied by a bright-faced girl. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " You saw your master taken ill last night 
 you were near him at the time ?" 
 
 " I was in the servants' hall, sir. I could see 
 that he was ill."
 
 Drama of a Life. 121 
 
 " We were watching the party from the hall, 
 sir," ventured Emma. 
 
 " Oh !" said the young doctor, with steelly sar- 
 casm in his voice, his keen eyes turned from the 
 valet to the girl. " And you saw that he was ill, 
 too, I suppose, Emma? You are Emma, I take 
 it?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " It was while he was eating cream with 
 friends ?" 
 
 The eyes were like sword points, bent upon 
 the valet rather than the girl, as though he 
 would pierce down to his soul and fathom his 
 thoughts. But the man stood silent, with down- 
 cast eyes and thin, inscrutable face. 
 
 "And you disobeyed my orders regarding 
 this cream ! Who told you to do it f 
 
 The question was sudden and startling because 
 of the questioner's voice, and the girl glanced 
 up, frightened, first at him, then at the immov- 
 able valet, then about the room, her gaze falling 
 again to the floor, as her hands pulled nervously 
 at her apron.
 
 122 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 " No one told me, sir. I I did not think. 
 I I" 
 
 11 Did you not!" was the scornful interruption, 
 silencing her startled speech. " Very well, 
 Emma. See that you obey my instructions in 
 the future. You may go both of you." 
 
 But as they turned away at his command Jack 
 Graham caught a glance that passed between 
 them. A strange glance ; it puzzled him. Was 
 it scorn or reproach or warning passing from 
 the valet's eyes to the frightened eyes of the 
 girl? 
 
 Then the door closed noiselessly upon them, 
 and he turned toward the bed.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 HASTY SUMMONS. 
 
 Leave the judgment to Him who alone knoweth the law. 
 Surely no man can be his own judge : least of all 
 His own doomsman. 
 
 MEREDITH. 
 
 Doctor Graham resolutely refused young 
 Price's request that he might rise and dress, 
 having no faith in his professed recovery. 
 
 " I will not remain in bed to be coddled like a 
 baby !" Price declared, fumingly. " I never do 
 when I have these attacks, Graham." 
 
 " Which is due to your having no one to care 
 for you, my dear fellow," was the cool retort. 
 " As your physician setting mere friendship 
 aside I command you to stay where you are 
 for twenty-four hours ; and as I intend to remain 
 
 [123]
 
 124 Li&a Campbell, or 
 
 with you, nolens volens, I rather think that you 
 will stay." 
 
 " You are so absurdly set in your ways," said 
 Price, half angrily, half laughing. " I wouldn't 
 care to live with you, Graham a fellow would 
 have no will at all!" 
 
 " Which would be all the better for his physi- 
 cian," replied Graham, calmly. " Nevertheless, 
 it is my opinion that you would recover all the 
 sooner for my presence, Lee." 
 
 Price frowned at the intimation in the quiet 
 voice ; but Graham was so cool, so unmoved, so 
 good-natured, and yet determined, that he 
 yielded to his commands after the first words of 
 opposition. 
 
 And it was only the most delicate breakfast 
 that the doctor would allow his patient, even 
 this being prepared by the housekeeper herself 
 at Graham's desire. For the doctor did not 
 once leave the room unless Hastings took his 
 place, and, although Price was irritated at this 
 close watch upon him, he knew the kindness 
 that prompted it and although it might be mis-
 
 Drama of a Life. 125 
 
 taken kindness, Lee Price was not one to under- 
 value it. 
 
 Still, as is sometimes the case, man proposes 
 that which it is impossible for him to dispose, and 
 a more powerful will than that of young Doctor 
 Graham turned the wheel of fate that day. 
 
 A summons came for Doctor Graham that 
 afternoon from one of his most influential 
 patients. 
 
 Doctor Harry Hutchinson, Jack Graham's 
 associate, had been given charge of the latter's 
 patients until he could leave Price ; but in this 
 instance, the patient being a stubborn, deter- 
 mined, rather hard elderly woman, strong in her 
 prejudices, firm in her friendships, Doctor Harry 
 Hutchinson discovered that he would not do at 
 all to fill his friend's place, and was obliged to 
 send a message to Graham to that effect, adding 
 that Mrs. Colter Harrington was seriously ill, 
 and as he could not attend her owing to her 
 refusal to see him, he, Graham, must go to her 
 at once if it were possible. 
 
 It was possible. Even Doctor Graham, biting
 
 126 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 his under lip savagely in his annoyance at this 
 new interruption to his plans, was forced to 
 acknowledge that this was quite possible. 
 
 Price had recovered with remarkable prompt- 
 ness, although still confined to his bed by Gra- 
 ham's orders ; but Hastings was in the house 
 and would willingly take his place as nurse, if 
 not physician, when the matter was explained to 
 him. 
 
 As for Lee Price, he laughed when informed 
 of the summons for his physician, declaring that 
 fate could sometimes look over a mass of absurd- 
 ities to good common sense, and so had recalled 
 to active duty this " captain in reserve." If he 
 were obliged by stress of circumstances to be 
 under surveillance, Tom was a pretty good sort 
 of fellow to be placed in charge, and he would 
 accept gracefully, if Tom could say the same. 
 
 Of course Tom was also of this opinion, and 
 the matter was settled within a few minutes, the 
 doctor's horse waiting for him at the steps, and 
 Hastings going with him down the stairs to see
 
 Drama of a Life. 127 
 
 him away, and receive any last word regarding 
 the patient's condition. 
 
 Newton was lounging upon the piazza with a 
 segar and a newspaper. He inquired of Jim, 
 the stable boy, who was holding the doctor's 
 horse at the steps, if Doctor Graham were leav- 
 ing ; to which the well-trained boy replied that 
 he did not know ; he could not tell, sir; he had 
 only been told to fetch the horse. 
 
 Newton, with his steady good nature, was not 
 to be put off even by this very clear reproof, 
 but smoked on in apparent unconsciousness of 
 such rebuff, his eyes occasionally turning from 
 the news columns to the unmoved, although not 
 stupid, face of the boy, whose hold was light 
 upon the bridle, but perfectly reliable, as had 
 been proved many times. 
 
 Newton was fond of boy-nature "boy in the 
 original," he called it and the boys soon dis- 
 covered this, and almost always reciprocated 
 with warm admiration of the good-natured, well- 
 made, quizzical man, who protested, with per- 
 fect frankness, that he was himself "just a boy
 
 [28 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 inside," in spite of " tumbling up somehow " into 
 six feet or so and a pretty good breadth of 
 shoulder. 
 
 Jim liked him. Jim had always a broad smile 
 for this particular guest of his master, and was 
 always willing to undertake any errand which 
 he might desire. 
 
 " Hello, Jim !" he exclaimed, suddenly so 
 suddenly that the boy started with surprise. 
 " When you wake up some fine morning and 
 discover that you're a man, what are you going 
 to be, professionally or non-professionally ?" 
 
 Jim grinned. His teeth were white and even 
 and his eyes bright with intelligence. 
 
 Newton laughed, tossing away his segar. 
 
 " What'll you be, Jim ? Come, out with it. 
 President, professor, peculiar or popular? 
 That's the old alphabet game. What's your 
 answer ?" 
 
 Jim shifted the bridle from one hand to the 
 other and stroked the horse's nose as it turned 
 its head and fine eyes upon the boy. 
 
 " I ain't just decided, Mr. Newton. Guess,
 
 Drama of a Life. 129 
 
 though, if master'l! let me, I'll stay with him as 
 gard'ner. I like that." 
 
 "A gardener?" exclaimed Newton, somewhat 
 taken aback. ' And you say it with such pride ! 
 The answer was to be in ' p,' you know, Jim. I 
 expected President, at least." 
 
 " But there's them as makes good gard'ners 
 and there's them as makes bad, Mr. Newton," 
 the boy eagerly protested. " I want to be a 
 good one, though. There's 'most always room 
 for a real good one, you know." 
 
 " A ' real good ' anything yes, Jim," replied 
 the young man, amused and interested by the 
 boy's refusal to be laughed out of his belief. 
 " The answer should have been in ' g ;' still it is 
 safe to predict your success anywhere from ' a ' 
 to ' z !' I'll endorse you, my lad. It's grit that 
 wins grit and perseverance." 
 
 Jim nodded decidedly. Csesar, the horse, 
 was rubbing his nose inquisitively and affection- 
 ately upon the boy's shoulder and champing his 
 bit. Caesar must be quieted. But quieting the 
 horse did not stifle thought in Jim's breast in
 
 130 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 fact, thought was pretty active in the boy's 
 breast at that moment; but as Doctor Graham 
 and Hastings appeared, no further conversation 
 passed between himself and Newton for that time. 
 
 " So, you're off, Graham ?" Newton queried, 
 as the two crossed the piazza to the steps. 
 " How is Price getting on ?" 
 
 Neither had noticed him, being engaged in 
 earnest conversation, and they started when he 
 spoke. 
 
 " He is improving rapidly," the doctor 
 replied, although the frown on his face and the 
 half-angry flash in his eyes denoted anything but 
 an improved condition of his own feelings. " In 
 fact, he is improving so well, that I leave him in 
 Hastings' hands. All right, Jim !" He sprang 
 to the saddle and paused for a moment, the 
 bridle tightened in his hands as the boy stepped 
 aside and the horse reared, eager to go. " Take 
 good care of Price, you fellows, and let me know 
 if you need me. If I hear nothing from you I 
 shall come down to-morrow to learn how he 
 is."
 
 Drama of a Life. 1 3 1 
 
 " All right," said Hastings, turning back into 
 the house to return to his friend's room. 
 
 " Good luck," said Newton, laughing. " I'd 
 like to see you, Graham, but I hope you'll not 
 be summoned for professional services." 
 
 " It would be just my luck, though," Graham 
 muttered, as he galloped away, " to miss some 
 features of Price's illness. As soon as my back 
 is turned something is certain to occur that I 
 wouldn't have missed for a fortune." 
 
 But the hours of the late summer afternoon 
 dragged lazily by at Bachelors' Beatitude, 
 drowsy with hazy sunlight, fragrant with odor- 
 ous shrubs and flowers, tender with murmuring 
 waves along the beach, where the tide was at 
 ebb and would soon turn creeping up the 
 pebbles. 
 
 Mrs. Estabrook joined Newton upon the 
 piazza as the afternoon grew late. Mrs. Esta- 
 brook was a charming woman with soft white 
 hair and large brown eyes that were not one 
 whit dimmed by the passing years. Her 
 heart was young as well as her eyes, her young
 
 132 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 friends declared ; and if this were flattery, it 
 was very pretty flattery. She brought out with 
 her an intricate scrap of embroidery, and her 
 beautiful hands moved lightly to and fro among 
 the silks, as she talked with the idle young man 
 beside her. 
 
 The house and grounds were very quiet. 
 Hastings was reading to Price, in the cool 
 shaded room above ; Mayhew had joined a 
 party of ladies with their escorts for an excur- 
 sion on horseback to the woods back of the 
 town; Curtis was lost to sight in the upper 
 room of the summer-house on the edge of the 
 lawn facing the water, oblivious to what passed 
 around him in his absorbed study of a book on 
 art; Burnside and Morgan, most adventurous of 
 them all, were fishing on the Sound. They 
 were enthusiastic followers of hook and line, 
 and went out early that afternoon in a rowboat 
 " taking themselves off," as they put it, not to 
 be in the way of their host or to claim his 
 attention. 
 
 They had excellent luck off Old Horse Rock,
 
 Drama of a Life. 133 
 
 on the border land of the bay and the Sound, 
 and were in good spirits as they pulled up 
 anchor and started for the shore. 
 
 The sun was setting ; the tide was running in 
 strongly, and to reach the house in time for 
 dinner they were obliged to pull a steady oar. 
 They were going in with the tide, but it was a 
 long distance to land, and the dinner hour was 
 near at hand. 
 
 " I had no idea it was so late," said Morgan, 
 replacing his watch and taking a firm grip on 
 the oars. "Almost half-past seven, Burnside, 
 and this stretch of water between us and the 
 house. It's ' row, brothers, row ' with a ven- 
 geance, if we would get in on time." 
 
 " ' Cheerily, O !' " added Burnside, with a 
 hearty roll of his voice along the call. " Pull 
 away ! Give her your left a bit more, Herb. 
 That's it. I wonder how Price is now." 
 
 " Yes, poor fellow," said Morgan, seriously. 
 " They can say what they choose, and hush it up 
 if they will, in accordance with Graham's wishes,
 
 134 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 but it's a mighty strange affair, Burnside all 
 of it." 
 
 Burnside nodded gravely, steering their course 
 with a steady hand and keen eye. 
 
 " That's what it is, Morgan. Price is too 
 healthy a fellow to be falling off promiscuously, 
 as he has been doing lately. I can see that it 
 puzzles Graham, too, in spite of his nonchalance. 
 Do you remember the day he rode away in a 
 huff because Conyers didn't summon him during 
 an illness of Lee's? Pull a stroke harder on 
 your right. Now then, straight ahead ! All 
 right !" 
 
 The oars dipped and lifted and flashed in the 
 soft lights, and dipped again in perfect unison ; 
 the boat was gliding through the water with 
 minor sounds of " gluck " and "glush" and 
 "gurgle" of the water at the bow, as their 
 conversation languished. 
 
 " And Hastings, too," said Morgan by and by, 
 as they were running up nearer the little wooden 
 pier beside the boat-house, where the keeper 
 stood waiting for them. " He has a streak of
 
 Drama of a Life. 135 
 
 ' freaks ' on him, as well as Graham and Price, 
 Rob. Something queer to disturb those fellows. 
 They are not easily disturbed." 
 
 "Yes," said Burnside, corroboratingly, as they 
 stepped from the boat, the boat-house keeper's 
 hand upon the prow to steady her. " But 
 Great Scott ! What's the row, Morgan ? Look 
 there !" 
 
 Along the road across the salt meadows, in 
 through the open gateway and around the cir- 
 cling drive in the shadows of twilight dashed a 
 horseman regardless of the animal he rode 
 coming, and 'gone almost as the exclamation 
 crossed the young man's lips. Gone, halted at 
 the piazza steps, the rider flinging himself from 
 the saddle and hurrying up the steps as they 
 paused upon the pier, too much astonished to 
 move. 
 
 " It's the young master," the boat-keeper said, 
 with grave respect, as he watched with them the 
 advent of this rider. " He's took worse. They 
 do say as he's a- dyin', an' they sent for the 
 doctor to come."
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 IN THE SICK-ROOM. 
 
 He is gone with the age which begat him. Our own 
 Is too vast and too complex for one man alone 
 To embody its purpose, and hold it shut close 
 In the palm of his hand. 
 
 OWEN MERIDITH. 
 
 Little cared Doctor Graham what was said or 
 who were watching him as he rode his horse 
 recklessly, in his haste to reach his friend. Foam 
 was on the horse's mouth as Graham threw the 
 bridle upon his neck and sprang down. Jim 
 was running from the stables to take the horse, 
 having seen the doctor approaching, but the 
 animal was breathing hard and his head was 
 lowered and there was no probability that he 
 would avail himself of this opportunity to run. 
 It is doubtful if Doctor Graham would have 
 cared, had such an event occurred, in his state 
 [136]
 
 Drama of a Life. 137 
 
 of anxiety and anger at the luckless fortune that 
 removed him from his friend's side, when most 
 he was needed. 
 
 Hastings was nowhere in sight ; but he did 
 not expect to see him, being certain that he was 
 with Price. Mayhew and Newton were loung- 
 ing restlessly in the hall. But Graham stopped 
 to question no one. As he sprang up the stair- 
 case, Mayhew called to him in an undertone to 
 send down word as soon as possible as to the 
 condition of their host. 
 
 " He's in a deuce of a state," added Newton, 
 pausing half way down the hall, his hands 
 clasped at his back, as he watched the physician 
 hurrying up the stairs. " I never heard of such 
 a thing in my life. A fellow so healthy as 
 he." 
 
 " Yes," said Mayhew ; " and such sudden 
 attacks. It's mighty curious, that's what it is, 
 Ned." 
 
 But Graham neither turned nor replied as he 
 sprang up the staircase. His face was set and 
 his lips stern, as he paused in the upper hall to
 
 138 Li da Campbell, or 
 
 regain composure. This was a desperate battle 
 which he was called upon to fight with a subtle 
 enemy, and he knew it. 
 
 Many of his cases had been trying, many 
 almost hopeless when placed in his hands ; but 
 this was utterly different. This meant life, or 
 death sudden and violent. He needed every 
 faculty clear and steady when he entered his 
 patient's room, and he commanded himself pow- 
 erfully, as he turned the handle of the door and 
 went in. 
 
 Hastings was at the bedside, of course and 
 Conyers. He was certain that Hastings would 
 be there, but had not expected to see Conyers 
 Conyers, calm, pale, noiseless and perfectly 
 unabashed by his displeasure of a few hours pre- 
 viously. Conyers as inscrutable as ever and 
 as faithful. 
 
 Mrs. Estabrook was also at the bedside, her 
 face gentle with sympathy, as one soft hand 
 brushed back the clinging dark hair from the 
 forehead upon which were set the drops of the 
 struggle between life and death. Price was
 
 Drama of a Life. 139 
 
 lying almost insensible upon the pillows, a start- 
 ling pallor upon his face. One hand was upon 
 the coverlet and the other was thrust beneath 
 his pillow, as though even in his intense suffer- 
 ing he would hide his pain from his friends. 
 
 Hastings' face lighted as Graham entered ; 
 Hastings felt the necessity of experienced care 
 in this case, and stepped aside to give place to 
 the physician. Mrs. Estabrook looked up with 
 sorrow and pleading blended upon her face and 
 "in the beautiful dark eyes. Conyers had drawn 
 the lace drapery at the windows and set a light, 
 softened, beyond the reach of the patient's eyes 
 and was now waiting for orders ; for he knew 
 that there would be such. 
 
 Graham set his medicine case upon a stand 
 and bent over the young man upon the pillows. 
 His eyes were brilliant with swift comprehen- 
 sion and shrewd wisdom. He ordered a glass 
 of water, and when Conyers brought it he pre- 
 pared a cordial, which he held to the patient's 
 lips with a steady hand, raising his head upon 
 his arm with more than professional tenderness.
 
 140 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 " Drink it, Price," he said, quietly. " Never 
 mind if you don't want to. It will bring you 
 back to life." 
 
 The young man mechanically obeyed. Mrs. 
 Estabrook turned the pillows with deft thought- 
 fulness, and Graham laid him gently back. 
 
 " He will either greatly recover in half an 
 hour," he said, with wonderful composure, 
 addressing Mrs. Estabrook, " or he will have 
 passed beyond aid. The potion I have adminis- 
 tered will put him into a sleep from which he 
 will waken better or he will never waken. At 
 this moment the balance is equal. I wish you to 
 perfectly understand the case, then I must ask 
 you to leave the room, every one but Con- 
 yers." 
 
 Hastings turned upon him a face of blank 
 astonishment. He expected this order for quiet, 
 but believed that Graham would desire his pres- 
 ence. He and Graham understood each other 
 pretty well. Both were almost convinced of the 
 cause of this strange illness ; both were deter- 
 mined to discover if this suspicion were correct.
 
 Drama of a Life. 141 
 
 And yet Graham ordered him away and 
 detained Conyers ! It was incredible, and rather 
 humiliating. 
 
 Hastings turned away with a frown, which 
 was not lost upon the quiet but observant phy- 
 sician. 
 
 " I may need you presently, Tom," he said, 
 his eyes bent upon the white face on the pillows. 
 " Be ready to come when I summon you." 
 
 And as Hastings, mollified, opened the door 
 for Mrs. Estabrook to pass out, following her, 
 Graham turned to the valet, standing obedient 
 
 \ 
 
 and respectful, somewhat apart from the bed 
 and beyond sight of his sleeping master. 
 
 A sudden change struck the physician's face. 
 His eyes were blazing, his face hard as stone, 
 his lips almost cruel in their sternness. Even 
 the hitherto immovable valet was for a moment 
 startled from his composure. But only for a 
 moment. 
 
 "Conyers!" Graham said, and his voice 
 although low was stonily stern like his face. 
 He stood facing the man in a storm of passion
 
 142 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 and indignation under a cool, still exterior, one 
 hand even resting lightly upon the stand beside 
 him. 
 
 For an instant Conyers' eyes fell before the 
 fire in Graham's ; then he met the gaze as 
 unmoved as ever. 
 
 " Conyers," repeated Graham, " when I left 
 here this afternoon your master had almost 
 entirely recovered from the last attack of illness. 
 Five hours later he is seized with another attack 
 more violent than before, and I find him lying 
 at the point of death with only a hair's breadth 
 difference between life and death." 
 
 Conyers made no answer, but he heard. His 
 eyes quivered or scintillated or changed in some 
 remarkable manner that puzzled even this alert 
 physician, on the lookout for some betraying 
 sign. That was all. Graham wondered, a 
 moment later, if his own eyes had not deceived 
 him. 
 
 " These attacks are suspicious," added the 
 physician, his eyes keenly searching the valet's 
 face. Nothing there save quiet attention the
 
 Drama of a Life. 143 
 
 waiting for some order to follow. " They do 
 not come from natural disease. I have almost 
 made certain the exact cause of this. When I 
 have done so beyond doubt " no start ; no 
 change ; absolutely nothing but the most per- 
 fectly respectful attention " some one will have 
 to answer for the cause. If he dies 
 
 " We hope that he will not die, sir," said Con- 
 yers, quietly, as the doctor paused, with intense 
 meaning in his voice. 
 
 " We hope that he will not," said Graham, 
 coldly, knowing that recovery would be one of 
 the miracles of science, " for many reasons. 
 Partly because some one would have to answer 
 for that, also." 
 
 No reply ; no movement whatever on the part 
 of the valet. 
 
 " I left Mr. Hastings in charge when I went 
 away. Who else has been here, Conyers?" 
 
 An abrupt question, receiving prompt 
 response : 
 
 " The housekeeper, sir. She brought up the 
 master's supper."
 
 144 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 " Who prepared his supper?" 
 
 " She did, sir." 
 
 " Mrs. Leonard ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Did Emma, the housemaid, assist her in this, 
 Conyers ?" 
 
 " I do not know, sir." 
 
 '" Did you ?" 
 
 " No, sir. I have nothing to do with table 
 service, sir." 
 
 No annoyance ; no ruffling of his perfect self- 
 possession ; not even resentment at this strange 
 questioning. The eyes scintillated for an instant. 
 That was all. 
 
 " Has no one else been here, Conyers?" 
 
 " No, sir. Excepting Mrs. Estabrook, sir." 
 
 " Not even Emma ?" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " What was brought up for your master's 
 supper ?" 
 
 " Oysters, sir, on toast, and a bit of broiled 
 chicken." 
 
 "Coffee?"
 
 Drama of a Life. 145 
 
 "No, sir; just a glass of wine he desired 
 afterward." 
 
 "Did he drink it?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "Who brought it?" 
 
 " Emma, sir." 
 
 44 You said that Emma had not been in the 
 room." 
 
 u She brought the wine to the door. She has 
 not been in here, sir." 
 
 " A fine distinction with no manner of differ- 
 ence," retorted Graham, in sudden irritation. 
 " Did your master have no fruit with his supper ?" 
 
 " Peaches, sir, and a few late berries." 
 
 " These were brought in with his supper by 
 Mrs. Leonard ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Did Emma pour the wine for your mas- 
 ter?" 
 
 " No, sir. Gordon did that." 
 
 " Gordgp ? He is the butler, I believe?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 Gordon was irreproachable.
 
 146 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 "Very well. That will do. I think that you 
 understand the situation perfectly and know 
 what is liable to happen under certain circum- 
 stances. You may go now, Conyers. Send Mr. 
 Hastings to me." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Conyers, respectfully, as the 
 door closed behind him without a sound and the 
 doctor was left alone with his patient. 
 
 " By George !" he muttered impatiently to 
 himself. " That fellow is enough to try the 
 patience of a saint. I never saw anything equal 
 to him. He isn't to be moved from his perfect 
 composure even by dynamite. But I rather 
 believe that he knows now what to expect. It 
 may be unwise to let him know that I am on 
 the right track, but I have given him a chance 
 to be loyal if he wishes. ' Hope he will not die,' 
 indeed! Humph! Pretty well said, my man, 
 but open to question." 
 
 He turned to the bed and leaned over the 
 sleeper, watching his respiration ^critically. 
 This sleep meant so much. The drug which he 
 administered was so powerful as to deaden even
 
 Drama of a Life. 147 
 
 Price's extreme suffering and quiet him to sleep; 
 but as its effects wore off the patient would drift 
 back to life or sink into the slumber that knows 
 no waking upon earth. A few hours at most 
 must decide. 
 
 Graham sighed unconsciously as he laid his 
 fingers lightly over the pulse of the wrist. The 
 pulse was weak, irregular, but proved that the 
 red blood of life still coursed through the veins 
 carrying food to the heart. Respiration also 
 was irregular, at times so faint breath scarcely 
 stirred the lips, at times much stronger, as 
 though the lungs and heart were struggling 
 against the enemy that would paralyze their 
 functions and bring death. 
 
 This man's life was so much to his friends, so 
 much to all who knew him or who had tested his 
 kindness of heart and generosity. No one had 
 ever been turned unsatisfied from his door. No 
 friend or stranger had come to him for help and 
 been denied. Many unconsciously owed to his 
 wealth or influence their start in life. 
 
 The servants of his household, the clerks in his
 
 148 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 city offices were warm in his praise. He made 
 no pretensions ; his name never appeared upon 
 charity lists ; but charity never asked of him in 
 vain. That which he did was known only to 
 himself and God. Even those whom he assisted 
 were ignorant to whose hand they owed much, 
 if ignorance were possible. 
 
 It was such a man as this who lay unconscious, 
 the scale of life and death equally balanced, so 
 much as a feather's weight capable of determin- 
 ing the result. It was such a man as this lay 
 there stricken with more than natural physical 
 disease. It was such a man as this was chosen 
 for one of the principal characters in the drama 
 of a life. 
 
 Not with his consent not even with his 
 knowledge, but written in the books of fate to 
 fill the part assigned him. 
 
 " It is horrible !" Graham muttered to himself, 
 still gazing down upon the white face. " Horrible ! 
 Such a fellow as Price of all men. I wish I were 
 given the power to judge and condemn one 
 person I know possibly two or more. Their
 
 Drama of a Life. 149 
 
 liberty would be of little consequence in an 
 hour, I can tell them. But we will save you, 
 Price, old fellow we will save you yet if there 
 is sufficient power in science." 
 
 "Yes," said Hastings' quiet voice beside him. 
 " //"there is sufficient power, Jack." 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 DOCTOR GRAHAM'S VISITOR. 
 
 Men usefulest i' the world are simply used. 
 
 AURORA LEIGH. 
 
 The balance stood evenly swayed, now one 
 way, now the other, and then life outweighed 
 death in that hushed room at Bachelors' Beati- 
 tude. It was almost a miracle, Doctor Graham 
 said, discussing it with the young men so anxi- 
 ously waiting the result of their host's illness. 
 
 " A wonderful illustration of the power of 
 science against science," he said, in calm satisfac- 
 tion. " When I administered the antidote " 
 
 " The antidote !" interrupted Mayhew, in
 
 150 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 surprise. " Why, I always thought that anti- 
 dotes were used only in cases of poison, Graham." 
 
 The doctor shrugged his shoulders coolly. 
 
 " Did I say antidote, Mayhew ? Well, cordial 
 will do," he said, quietly. " When I admin- 
 istered the drug that sent Price to sleep yes- 
 terday, I had scarcely a thought, scarcely a 
 fragment of hope that it would be of the least 
 benefit to him. There was never and I say it 
 in all possible humility such another case that 
 survived. The symptoms left almost no loop- 
 hole for escape from death." 
 
 " What do you consider the cause the disease 
 whatever you call it?" queried Morgan. " It 
 has puzzled me long enough. 1 shall be grate- 
 ful for the least solution to the mystery." 
 
 " There is very little mystery about it now," 
 replied Graham, with a scarcely perceptible 
 pause before the last word. " It can easily be 
 solved and summed up in less than a half-dozen 
 words convulsions and internal paralysis." 
 
 " And I take it that that generally means 
 death," said Burnside, gravely.
 
 Drama of a Life. 151 
 
 " Almost invariably," was the quiet reply. 
 " As I said, I had absolutely no hope of 
 his recovery at the time. He is not yet out of 
 danger. In fact, he is in continual danger of 
 relapse or recurrence of the symptoms, and such 
 would undoubtedly prove fatal. Rather garru- 
 lous for a physician this synopsis of mine, but 
 it will do no harm for you fellows to know. 
 Hastings is with him now. No one else, save 
 myself, is to enter his room until I secure a 
 nurse. He must have a nurse, of course." 
 
 " Then it is serious," Newton said, rather 
 blankly. Up to that moment he had perfect 
 faith in Price's magnificent physique to over- 
 come such physical evil. 
 
 " Well, rather," was the concise reply, as the 
 young doctor drew on his gloves, walking 
 through the hall to the piazza. " I am obliged 
 to go to my office, to make further arrange- 
 ments with Hutchinson, and Hastings will take 
 my place up-stairs for the time. There is no use 
 for you to attempt to see Price, for my com- 
 mand is ' No admittance,' and Hastings would
 
 152 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 fight any one of you who made the effort. Your 
 share of this unfortunate affair is to keep the house 
 as quiet as possible ; not glum, you know, but 
 rather more docile than a week ago. Good bye, 
 boys. Remember my instructions if you hope 
 for happiness with Hastings." 
 
 And with a laughing word to Jim, as he took 
 the bridle from his hand, Doctor Graham 
 mounted and rode away in the broad sunlight 
 of the morning, leaving the young men watch- 
 ing him from the piazza. 
 
 " Very pretty, so far as it goes, that explana- 
 tion," said Newton, presently, taking a cigar 
 case from his pocket and selecting from its con- 
 tents with fastidious care, as he leaned against 
 one of the shaded pillars. 
 
 " Yes," said Curtis, seating himself in one of 
 the piazza chairs. " But not a great deal of it, 
 Ned." 
 
 "There s more to it than Jack puts words in 
 it, mark my words," rejoined Burnside, medita- 
 tively. " I don't like the looks of it. To my 
 thinking it is altogether off color."
 
 Drama of a Life. 153 
 
 " Perhaps it may ripen," suggested Morgan, 
 coolly. 
 
 "Of this I am assured," Doctor Graham said 
 to himself, as he rode along without heeding the 
 exquisite late summer morning's beauty, the 
 budded golden-rod at the roadside mingling 
 with the tiny purplish daisies, and offset by the 
 fields of white daisies stretching away to mingle 
 with the tall river grasses and the blue of the 
 water. " I left Tom Hastings in the room with 
 such precautionary words as he understood. No 
 one will enter there during my absence, and no 
 meals will be served to the patient. There can 
 be no danger this time except from relapse ; but 
 1 think he will be able to pull through until my 
 return with a nurse." 
 
 When Doctor Graham reached his office he 
 found many things waiting his return papers 
 and letters and household orders, all such as his 
 associate could not attempt without him. There 
 were patients, also, in the reception room, who 
 insisted upon seeing him, on learning of his
 
 154 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 presence in the house, and for an hour he was 
 kept continually busy. 
 
 After that, he sent for Doctor Hutchinson, 
 and explained the necessity of his presence at 
 Bachelors' Beatitude. There was no doubt that 
 much of his time for the coming weeks would 
 be required by his friend, and during that time 
 he left all things in Hutchinson's hands. 
 
 After this was done, Graham felt free to 
 return to Price and to make arrangements for a 
 nurse. It was necessary that some reliable per- 
 son should be engaged ; for, although Hastings 
 and the other guest* were willing to do for their 
 host all that lay in their power, yet they knew 
 absolutely nothing about a sick-room or the care 
 of a patient. 
 
 But as Graham was sitting for a moment idly 
 beside the desk, the hall-boy opened the door 
 and announced a visitor for " Doctor Graham." 
 
 Simultaneously with these words a quiet, 
 elderly woman entered, her snow-white hair 
 softly waved about her delicate face, her eyes, 
 dark and clear, warm with life and very steady
 
 Drama of a Life. 155 
 
 eyes that one could trust, if there were need, 
 Doctor Graham assured himself as he turned to 
 her a gentle mouth, about which would lurk a 
 hint of old-time smiling. She was neatly dressed 
 in gray, and her hands, as she moved one in a 
 pretty half-gesture, in addressing the physician, 
 were remarkably well formed and small. 
 
 " This is Doctor Graham, I think, sir?" 
 
 " I am Doctor Graham ; yes, madam. Will 
 you not be seated ?" 
 
 He placed a chair for her, with a strange feel- 
 ing of pleasure in her presence, smiling as he 
 spoke. 
 
 " You do not know me," said the woman, gen- 
 tly. Her voice was delightful, softly modulated 
 and clear. " I am a stranger to you, a stranger 
 even to your pretty town. A charming town, 
 is it not? But I did not come here for mere 
 beauty of surroundings, and should explain to 
 you quickly. Your time is fully occupied, I am 
 sure. Mine generally is, too. We have that 
 ground for friendship, Doctor Graham. Now,
 
 156 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 pardon me for venturing upon your time and I 
 will make my explanation." 
 
 " I shall be pleased to hear it," said Doctor 
 Graham, courteously. He was strangely 
 attracted by this woman's beauty and voice. 
 "I trust that there will prove no doubt to the 
 grounds of our friendship, madam." 
 
 " You are kind," said his visitor, sweetly. A 
 slow, soft color was mounting in her cheeks, and 
 an added flash made the gray eyes brilliant. " I 
 trust that we may prove to be friends, Doctor 
 Graham, but only time will show. I called upon 
 you in regard to business, however, rather than 
 friendship. You are acquainted with Doctor 
 Oldham, of New York, are you not?" 
 
 " I know of him through his reputation, not 
 otherwise, madam. But his reputation is of the 
 best. He is your friend, perhaps?" There was 
 a slight hesitation in his voice. He would not 
 have her consider him inquisitive ; he wished 
 only to assist her in an explanation that might 
 be trying to her, and he was in some haste to 
 return to his patient at Bachelors' Beatitude,
 
 Drama of a Life. 157 
 
 Still, he wished to retain this woman's good will. 
 He smiled involuntarily, thinking how strange it 
 was that he should think of her in this manner 
 upon their first meeting, even before he knew 
 her name or errand. 
 
 His visitor smiled also, catching this smile 
 upon his lips. Doctor Graham's face was 
 wonderfully winning when he smiled. 
 
 " Doctor Oldham is merely an acquaintance of 
 mine," said the woman, in her musical voice, 
 " I could not quite claim him as my friend. 
 There is too much meaning in that one word to 
 be used so lightly as we are accustomed to do. 
 Doctor Oldham sent me to you with a letter of 
 introduction, Doctor Graham. I learned in a 
 peculiar way that you desire a nurse for a 
 patient now under your care. If you will read 
 this letter, Doctor Graham, and give me a trial, 
 I feel assured that you will be satisfied." 
 
 She drew a letter from her hand-bag as she 
 spoke and handed it to the physician, her eyes 
 very bright, her lips half parted as though it
 
 158 Lido, Campbell, or 
 
 were much to her whether or not he approved 
 of her offered services. 
 
 A slight frown, just the shadow of a frown 
 touched Doctor Graham's brow as he took the 
 letter extended to him. He had learned from a 
 busy and difficult life that the keeping of one's 
 own counsel, few words and scant gossip were 
 the hinges to success. He was even more 
 annoyed than he cared to show this sweet elderly 
 woman because some one had made known his 
 desire to secure a nurse for one of his patients 
 this special patient of them all ; for he was per- 
 fectly assured in his own mind that the woman 
 spoke of Lee Price. 
 
 Nevertheless, he took the letter from her with 
 a murmured apology, and opening it, glanced 
 over the contents. It was a very simple yet 
 strong recommendation of the bearer, Mrs. Car- 
 michael, to Doctor John Graham. He spoke of 
 the woman as a careful, reliable person, one 
 whom he, Doctor Graham, could feel no hesi- 
 tation in accepting as a nurse for the patient for 
 whom, he understood,, he desired such a nurse.
 
 Drama of a Life. 159 
 
 \Vhcn Doctor John Graham had read and 
 re-read this for so he could gain time to think 
 quietly upon the matter before he addressed the 
 woman he laid it aside upon his desk and 
 glanced up to the bearer. The frown had deep- 
 ened upon his brows and was now sharply lined 
 between the straight black eyebrows, even 
 shadowing the searching eyes beneath. His lips 
 betrayed their possible sternness and a fine, 
 almost imperceptible chill was in his manner, 
 although he was still the courteous gentleman 
 and careful physician. 
 
 " Doctor Oldham's reputation is such," he 
 said, quietly, his stern eyes meeting the clear 
 eyes opposite, but never forcing them to falter 
 or fall, " as to be sufficient for the introduction 
 of a nurse for any ordinary case, Mrs. Car- 
 michael ; but this is not an ordinary case." 
 
 " I know that it is not," said the woman, just 
 as quietl 
 
 Graham's eyes contracted. 
 
 "You appear to have received your intelli- 
 gence to the extreme condition of the case,
 
 160 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 madam," he said, coldly. " May I inquire from 
 whom it was received ?" 
 
 " I will tell you presently," was the soft 
 reply. There was something in her eyes, also, 
 that betrayed caution and shrewdness. " When 
 you have more confidence in me, Doctor 
 Graham. Neither you nor I can do anything 
 about this peculiar case without the most per- 
 fect confidence in each other." 
 
 Doctor Graham began to lose confidence in 
 her alarmingly. The frown was dark between 
 his darkening eyes. 
 
 " Perhaps you have been misinformed as to 
 this case, Mrs. Carmichael," he said, sternly. 
 
 A soft, slow smile stirred upon her lips ; the 
 sparkle deepened in her eyes. 
 
 " When I have made my explanation pres- 
 ently you will understand that this is not so," 
 she said, gently. 
 
 He bit his lip in annoyance. This sort of a 
 nurse was rather more than he had bargained for. 
 
 " You have had experience in nursing, of 
 course?" he said, wishing to fully comprehend
 
 Drama of a Life. 161 
 
 her motive and to test her. He was not alto- 
 gether pleased with himself or her, for he knew 
 that her gentle personality was dulling his keen- 
 ness of perception, and he must be absolutely 
 dagger-sharp in this case. " Doctor Oldham 
 would otherwise not have sent you to me at 
 this time, Mrs. Carmichael. Are you a trained 
 nurse ?" 
 
 She shook her head. She was paling and 
 flushing as though she could not endure a refusal 
 of her services. His quick eyes noted this agi- 
 tation. 
 
 " I am not a trained nurse no, doctor, but I 
 have been so successful in such cases as I have 
 undertaken that Doctor Oldham expressed him- 
 self perfectly willing to recommend me to you. 
 If you will give me your attention for a few 
 moments longer, 1 can satisfy you, I am certain, 
 as to my nerve and reliability. The time will 
 not be lost in listening, believe me." 
 
 He bowed, and his stern lips parted in a smile. 
 He believed her, too, in his inner consciousness,
 
 1 62 Li da Campbell, or 
 
 but he dared not yield his vigilance or set a 
 woman's face and voice against a man's life. 
 
 She leaned forward a trifle nearer him, her 
 clear eyes upon his, her face paling in its earnest, 
 ness, one hand lightly touching his desk. Her 
 voice when she spoke was at first low and hur- 
 ried ; but as she concluded, her utterance was 
 calm and concise. 
 
 A change passed over Doctor Graham also, as 
 she proceeded in her explanation ; and when she 
 ceased, his face rivaled hers in pallor, his eyes 
 the fire in hers. 
 
 She arose as she finished speaking, and he 
 arose with her. Silence fell upon them as 
 though speech were impossible to either. 
 Then he laid his hand upon her arm as he queried 
 in a voice that was low from his effort to com- 
 mand its excitement: 
 
 " Pardon me, Mrs. Carmichael one question 
 more : To whom do you owe your discovery of 
 my patient's condition ?" 
 
 And her eyes were steadily lifted to his, no
 
 Drama of a Life. 163 
 
 flinching in their calm, gray depths as she replied 
 sweetly and without a tremor in her voice : 
 
 " I owe this entirely to one of the servants of 
 his own household, Dr. Graham to the girl 
 whom I believe they call Emma !" 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A GENTLENURSE. 
 
 Men, upon the whole, 
 Are what they can be. 
 
 CASA GUIDI WINDOWS. 
 
 Lee Price had been quietly sleeping for half 
 an hour. It was close upon noon when he 
 wakened with a tingling sensation of hunger. 
 He was very comfortable ; rather weak, but 
 without pain, and turned his head upon the 
 pillow to address Hastings, who was sitting 
 beside the bed, reading a newspaper, when he 
 fell asleep. 
 
 But Hastings was not there was not any- 
 where in sight.
 
 164 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 Price opened his eyes wider now, looking 
 about him. He was decidedly hungry and 
 rather curious to know if he were alone, for he 
 had not been alone one moment during the past 
 two days and nights. 
 
 The room was cool and shadowy, even in the 
 mid-day glare. The blinds were half closed, the 
 shades pulled down half way, and the lace 
 drapery moved and swayed with a delightfu 
 suggestion of soft winds from across the water 
 ladened with the garden's spicy odors. 
 
 Delicious quiet reigned erery where; the 
 broken hum of voices from the piazza below 
 drifted in with that low breeze, so mingled with 
 the fragrance of shrubs and roses as to seem but 
 parts of a dream; the silence was so clear that 
 he could catch the rattle and thud of oyster rakes 
 against the side of a boat somewhere out on the 
 water. He knew that the tide was rising or at 
 flood, by that sound, and glanced toward the 
 clock upon his dressing-case, to learn the hour. 
 
 Someone stirred in the room, and his keen ear 
 caught the stir of a woman's soft garments.
 
 Drama of a Life. 165 
 
 Turning quickly toward the sound, he encoun- 
 tered the pleasant glance of a pair of soft, dark 
 eyes, and the hint of exquisite white hair softly 
 waved about the face, as a woman rose from the 
 bamboo chair by one of the windows and 
 approached the bed. There was something so 
 charming, so restful, so homelike in her mere 
 movement, that Price slowly sank back among 
 the pillows watching her, for the moment for- 
 getting to address her. 
 
 " You have had a most beneficial sleep, "- 
 what a charming voice she had, he thought, 
 listening with a restful sensation of perfect con- 
 tentment " and now I have no doubt that you 
 are hungry, Mr. Price. You need not hesitate to 
 acknowledge it, for it is what I expect of you, 
 and should be disappointed not to hear." 
 
 She smiled, and Lee smiled back at her, more 
 and more pleased with his attendant, knowing, 
 without questioning, that she was a nurse. 
 
 " I am hungry," he said, his eyes still upon 
 her sweet, quiet face, lighted with those dark 
 eyes, surrounded by the delicate, white hair, as
 
 1 66 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 she softly smoothed the rumpled pillows and 
 the covering about him. " They have been 
 starving me on some horrible stuff that they 
 call I don't know what, and I want some- 
 thing this minute that will satisfy the 
 cravings of a half-famished man. Please, 
 nurse, let it be something very nice, and a great 
 deal of it. Otherwise, I shall be tempted to eat 
 -you !" 
 
 She smiled down upon him as though she 
 thoroughly comprehended the state of his appe- 
 tite, and, crossing the room, tapped lightly upon 
 the door leading into the adjoining room. 
 
 Hastings immediately appeared in the open 
 doorway, and, after a few words with the 
 woman, he entered and took her place beside 
 the bed, while she passed out, leaving the door 
 between the rooms still ajar. 
 
 Doctor Grah'am was lying upon a couch in 
 this inner room. He had been up all the night 
 before, watching with Price, and was resting 
 during his patient's sleep, in the care of the 
 nurse. But he was a light sleeper, and heard
 
 Drama of a Life. 167 
 
 the few low words between the woman and 
 Hastings, and joined the latter at the bedside, a 
 moment later. He felt convinced that he might 
 safely leave this young man in the charge of this 
 quiet, elderly woman and resume his other 
 duties, but he wished to tell Price himself that 
 the woman was reliable, and he would do well 
 to obey her implicitly. 
 
 " Well, old fellow," he said, genially, laying 
 his hand over Price's hand upon the coverlet, to 
 catch the beat of the pulse in the wrist, " I con- 
 gratulate you upon your improved appearance. 
 And your appetite, too," he added, laughing. 
 "I know that you are hungry, because Mrs. 
 Carmichael has gone to prepare your luncheon. 
 That is the best sign there could be, and nothing 
 pleases me more." 
 
 Price smiled indolently. He felt exceedingly 
 at peace with the world as he looked up to these 
 two friends, from among his pillows. Bachel- 
 ors' Beatitude was well named, he informed 
 himself, recalling the joke that led to its desig- 
 nation.
 
 1 68 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 " And this Mrs. Carmichael, Graham ? She is 
 a nurse, I know. Where, in the name of peace 
 and quiet, did you discover her? She should 
 prove a priceless jewel to you in reference to 
 refractory patients. When I wakened I was 
 hungry enough to eat nails and cobble-stones 
 but 1 couldn't be savage with her. When I first 
 saw her I thought that she floated in through 
 the window with the winds from the garden 
 like fairies, you know." 
 
 His friends laughed. This show of his old 
 spirits proved that he was indeed improving. 
 
 " Mrs. Carmichael is your nurse, Price," 
 Graham answered, still laughing. " You will 
 find that she will take the best care of you. 
 She will, however, enforce one command of 
 mine, and you may as well begin now to obey. 
 You are not yet strong enough for much con- 
 versation , quiet and rest are what you need. 
 That, with proper care and food, will bring you 
 around all right in a couple of weeks or so." 
 
 "Yes," added Hastings; "and if you will not 
 follow orders on your own account, Price, you
 
 Drama of a Life. 169 
 
 must do so for the sake of us fellows. We are 
 forlorn and don't know what to do without you. 
 Every one of us would go away to one of the 
 hotels, but Jack thought it as well for us to 
 remain and give you an incentive for regaining 
 your health. But I can tell you that we won't 
 do it unless you hurry and get well." 
 
 " Well ! " said Price, half irritably, half laugh- 
 ing, already comprehending that the physician 
 was right as to his weakness and inability to 
 converse or make any effort. " One might think 
 me a baby with the measles or scarlet-fever, the 
 way you talk, Tom. All that I want is some- 
 thing to eat, and plenty of it, and I'll be on my 
 feet to-morrow. You fellows shall not think of 
 leaving the house unless it grows too deuced 
 dull. " 
 
 " Well ! " Doctor Graham said. " That de- 
 pends greatly upon you, Price. If you will do 
 your part, we will do ours. I haven't more time 
 now to explain my meaning, but everything 
 now depends upon yourself. Here is Mrs. 
 Carmichaei and your luncheon ; so eat and be
 
 1 70 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 happy. I have to return to my office no\v, but 
 feel perfectly satisfied to leave you in Mrs. 
 Carmichael's hands. She will take the very 
 best care of you, and you must safely trust her. I 
 have proved her abilities, I assure you. To. 
 night I will come back and stay with you. To. 
 morrow I think that you will be sufficiently 
 recovered to have one or another of the fellows 
 with you through the day ; at night Mrs. 
 Carmichael will attend you." 
 
 "And Conyers?" queried Price, a sudden 
 frown darkening his brow. 
 
 Doctor Graham was quite unmoved. He 
 paused in the doorway, smiling back at the 
 rather disagreeable young man upon the pillows 
 in his momentary state of wrath concerning his 
 valet. 
 
 " You ought not to question in relation to 
 Conyers when you have Mrs. Carmichael to 
 attend you," said the physician, coolly. " Mrs. 
 Carmichaei has my full instructions, and I place 
 entire authority in her hands. Her ' no ' means 
 no, so you need not attempt to argue it down
 
 Drama of a Life. 171 
 
 but she will not be hard with you unless you are 
 unreasonable in your demands, such as dressing 
 and going down to dinner, for instance. To- 
 morrow, if you obey well to-day, I think that we 
 will allow you to leave your bed for a while, 
 though I wish you to remain the invalid for 
 some time to come. Good-bye, my dear fellow, 
 and eat all that Mrs. Carmichael will allow." 
 And with a smiling bow that included them all, 
 lingering perhaps a trifle longest on the gentle 
 nurse, Doctor Graham closed the door behind 
 him with unmistakable satisfaction. 
 
 " Now 1 can attend to my business," he said as 
 he descended the staircase, " without endanger- 
 ing his life. I do not know exactly why I should 
 so trust that woman ; she certainly brought a 
 perfect introduction from Doctor Oldham, but 
 apart from that I feel as though all this anxiety 
 were ended in her. If a women told me this as 
 her belief I should undoubtedly diagnose it a 
 case of whim ; as it happens to be myself, as a 
 man, I must leave it to science to solve." 
 
 " Now, Mr. Hastings," said Mrs. Carmichael,
 
 172 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 when the doctor was gone, as she daintily 
 arranged the tray upon a stand at the bedside, 
 " we must order you out to .breathe this delight- 
 ful air. The piazza, even in this sunshine, is 
 perfect in the cool vine shado\us, for a cigar and 
 the news. We cannot, agree to have you ill 
 also." 
 
 " You would certainly never wish him to be 
 ill, Mrs. Carmichael," said Price, watching her 
 movements with hungry eyes, wondering when 
 she would allow him to begin on the tempting 
 dishes before him. " Even you could not endure 
 to nurse him. It there was ever a two-legged 
 bear, it is Tom Hastings when he is ill. / am 
 bad enough, but nothing compared to him, I 
 assure you." 
 
 " If he is not much worse than you," said Mrs. 
 Carmichael, quietly assisting her patient to a 
 reclining position among the pillows, just so that 
 his hand was within easy reach of the tray, " I 
 think that I could endure him nicely, Mr. Price. 
 But you have been very faithful to your friend 
 Mr. Hastings," she added, seating herself in a
 
 Drama of a Life. 173 
 
 chair at the bedside, to be near the patient 
 should he require her assistance, as though she 
 were never in a hurry, Tom thought, watching 
 her. " You should go out when you can. 
 Besides, perhaps Mr. Price's other friends are 
 waiting to learn that he is improving " 
 
 " Like a good colonel I obey the orders of my 
 superior officer," Hastings said, turning away 
 good-naturedly. Hastings generally was good- 
 natured. 
 
 " There's a good sound kernel of truth in that, 
 Tom," retorted Price, eating his luncheon with 
 evident relish, although he was still too weak to 
 make much effort without assistance. 
 
 Hastings laughed. 
 
 " Don't you think that it would be well to 
 order silence for him after that, Mrs. Car- 
 michael?" he queried, quickly closing the door 
 that there should be no reply, as he passed 
 out. 
 
 " He's one of the best fellows going," Price 
 remarked, as Hastings' soft whistle died away 
 down the stairs.
 
 174 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 Mrs. Carmichael smiled brightly, a glimmer 
 in her dark eyes. 
 
 " Mr. Hastings has certainly been very kind 
 to you," she said, quietly ; but her tone expressed 
 much more than her words. 
 
 .Everything about Mrs. Carmichael was quiet 
 and soothing. Her soft gray dress, her beauti" 
 ful white hair, her gentle face and manner, were 
 the essence of peace. Her manner of hushed 
 life suggested that peace had come only after 
 pain ; Price rather thought that this was true ; 
 but, come from whatever cause, it was delight- 
 ful to her patient. 
 
 Bachelors' Beatitude had for so long existed 
 without the softer element of womanhood, save 
 the housekeeper and maids, with an occasional 
 visit from Mrs. Estabrook, Lee's aunt, that this 
 woman's presence seemed to the young man like 
 a return to his boyhood and the care of a gentle- 
 woman with silvery hair and a pretty voice and 
 soft hands. 
 
 " Do you know" Price suddenly opened his 
 eyes after a long interval, during which he had
 
 Drama of a Life. i 75 
 
 been lying comfortably back with closed eyes 
 while Mrs. Carmichael read aloud the daily 
 news to him " do you know, Mrs. Carmichael, 
 it is almost worth being ill to have your care. I 
 feel just as though " a slight hesitation in his 
 voice " as though my mother had come back 
 to me and cared for me." 
 
 For an instant the dark eyes flashed and dark- 
 ened, the lips contracted, the paper rustled in 
 her white hands. Then the old perfect calm 
 returned, as the nurse answered : 
 
 " You are very kind, Mr. Price, and anything 
 that I can do to make you more comfortable or 
 happy, I trust you will let me know. Still I 
 must enforce quiet upon you for this afternoon. 
 Those are your doctor's orders, remember ; and 
 to be safe, one must obey orders." 
 
 " Especially of such a gentle nurse !" added 
 Price, smiling.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A CONSULTATION. 
 
 The noble viver widens as we drift, 
 
 And the deep waters more than brackish grow ; 
 
 We note the sea-birds flying to and fro, 
 
 And feel the ocean currents plainly lift 
 
 Our bark, and yet our course we would not shift ; 
 
 These are but signs by which the boatmen know 
 
 They're drawing near the port to which they go. 
 
 C. P. R. 
 
 On going down-stairs after leaving Price's 
 room, Hastings was considerably surprised to 
 find a note waiting him from Doctor Graham. 
 Some of the guests at Bachelors' Beatitude 
 said that Hastings and Graham were entirely too 
 " chummy " during this illness of their host, but 
 then, they only said this when they were in a bad 
 
 temper; and Hastings cheerfully affirmed that, 
 [176]
 
 Drama of a Life. 177 
 
 if any amount of " chumming " could cure Price, 
 he was not afraid of the accusation. 
 
 Newton and Burnside were making themselves 
 as comfortable as circumstances would permit 
 with cigars and the news, in the shade of the 
 piazza, as Hastings passed through the hall and 
 joined them. Newton flicked the trail of vine 
 just above his head with the letter he held, eyeing 
 the newcomer with mock amazement ; then he 
 handed Hastings the missive hastily written on 
 a page torn from the doctor's note-book. 
 
 " Read it quickly, Mr. Nurse," he said lazily, 
 with a twinkle in his eyes, " and then hie you 
 away to fulfill its commands." 
 
 " How is Price, Tom ?" asked Burnside, with a 
 silencing side-glance at Newton. " When are 
 the rest of his guests to be allowed to see him ? 
 I, for one, should rather like it." 
 
 "You mustn't ask questions, little boy," 
 reproved the irrepressible Newton, with a grave 
 shake of his head. " Its nursie won't allow that. 
 Its nursie keeps its little mouth shut, and won't 
 even tell whether it's Boo or Boogaboo upstairs."
 
 1 78 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 " Don't be ridiculous, Ned .!" retorted Hastings, 
 shortly. He was exceedingly annoyed by the 
 contents of the doctor's crisp note and was in 
 no joking humor. " Price is much better. 
 Graham promises him liberty to leave his bed 
 to-morrow, I believe, when all of us can go up 
 and sit with him if we want to, on a sort of 
 installment plan, one or two at a time. But 
 just at present I have to go uptown in this bak- 
 ing heat, when 1 expected to have a chance at a 
 cigar and the news." 
 
 " That comes of being the doctor's pet," said 
 Newton, in well-simulated condolence. " You 
 mustn't mind, Tom. The piper has to be paid, 
 you know." 
 
 Hastings turned impatiently away without 
 replying, with a frown upon his face. The note 
 he held was remarkably concise but imperative, 
 in which Tom Hastings was requested to be at 
 Doctor Graham's residence as soon as he could 
 make it convenient immediately, if possible 
 and was signed with the familiar heavy scrawl 
 of Jack Graham.
 
 Drama of a Life. 1 79 
 
 That it related to Price, Hastings did not 
 doubt, and therefore prepared at once to obey 
 the summons, regardless of Newton's taunts and 
 in spite of the mid day heat. He could take his 
 own time about returning, and he was too 
 intensely interested in this peculiar case to 
 delay. So he went to the stables and ordered 
 one of the horses saddled, for Price's guests had 
 perfect freedom regarding his possessions, and 
 rode away directly from the stables, not wishing 
 to be further questioned by those upon the 
 piazza. 
 
 " Mrs. Estabrook is the only one who gives a 
 fellow credit for pure motives in this," Hastings 
 muttered, as he mounted Black Jess and rode 
 away at an easy gallop. " I'm sure I wish to 
 the deuce there were no need of secrecy or 
 ' chumming,' but so long as there is need, I 
 rather think Graham can count on me to help 
 pull Price through. He has a mighty good 
 nurse, that's certain. If she were some twenty 
 years younger, now, there might be danger of
 
 180 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 one or other of the fellows falling in love ; but 
 as it is " 
 
 He laughed, shrugging his shoulders, and 
 urged Jess to her mettle, dashing along th 6 
 wide road at an exhilarating pace, his spirits 
 mounting with the exercise. 
 
 " There's nothing will chase away the blues so 
 soon as a run like this," he said, riding in through 
 the gateway at Doctor Graham's residence. 
 " I'll put you in the stables, my pretty maid ; the 
 hitching-post outside isn't quite suited to your 
 aristocratic blood, and 1 shall feel safer to know 
 that you are in here." 
 
 Jeffreys, Graham's man, led the mare away as 
 Hastings turned toward the house in much bet- 
 ter spirits than when he rode out of the great 
 gateway at Bachelors' Beatitude not long 
 before. 
 
 "You see I was prompt, Jack," he said to 
 Graham, as he entered the office. " From your 
 note I rather considered that promptness \vas 
 the order of the day. What's up now, if I may
 
 Drama of a Life. 181 
 
 inquire? It must be confounded queer to get 
 ahead of what has already happened." 
 
 Graham met his eyes keenly, and the jesting 
 dietl from Hastings' manner. 
 
 " It is queer," he said, quietly, as they seated 
 themselves, the physician at his desk, his friend 
 in a chair facing him, one leg thrown lightly 
 over the other and his hands clasped around his 
 knees. " It is not only queer," he continued, 
 with slow emphasis, "but if I were used to 
 employing strong language, I should say that it 
 is devilish queer, Tom. Look here ! You 
 came to me when you were rather rattled about 
 this case of Price's, and now I send for you to 
 give you confidential advice and information. 
 You will be surprised. I warn you of that 
 beforehand. Now listen." 
 
 He leaned forward, facing Hastings earnestly, 
 and the latter was more impressed by his man- 
 ner than by his words. 
 
 " Up to this time, Tom, we have Ipeen working 
 to discover the cause of Price's illness the active 
 agent in these remarkable attacks. We know
 
 1 82 Li da Campbell, or 
 
 the effects pretty thoroughly, and so make our 
 own deductions and draw consequent conclu- 
 sions. We have taken the utmost care and still 
 have been thwarted in gaining proofs to justify 
 our claims. We are now, I think, on a fair road 
 to making a discovery." 
 
 " How ?" queried Hastings, with pardonable 
 curiosity, as the doctor paused. " I'm sure we 
 have worked like dogs to discover this, and to 
 me it looks as black and blank as ever." 
 
 " No doubt," said Graham, coolly. " The 
 blankness shall presently be filled. I have come 
 to the conclusion that it would be well to have a 
 consultation of physicians on Price's case; in 
 this way we shall gain the opinion of others upon 
 the malady and have powerful evidence when we 
 have use for such. By discovering the positive 
 effects, we shall come at the agent producing 
 them. When the agent is discovered, we shall 
 have the word of eminent men that such must 
 inevitably fyave been the cause of such and such 
 symptoms and effects. After the consultation we
 
 Drama of a Life. 183 
 
 will set about discovering the primary evil, the 
 root of the malady." 
 
 He paused again, and Hastings took up the 
 thread of conversation. Both men were very 
 quiet but exceedingly in earnest. 
 
 " The consultation is all very well," he said, 
 " and a good thing, but you will never be able to 
 convince Price of that. He is a mighty queer 
 fellow when he takes it into his head to be, and 
 he generally does take it into his head to be 
 when there is the least hint of publicity concern- 
 ing himself. He's as open as the day, but he's 
 shy, too, Jack. You will never bring him around 
 to any such agreement." 
 
 Jack closed his lips with quiet determination 
 as he replied, undisturbed and unconvinced: 
 
 " When he thoroughly understands the matter, 
 1 have enough confidence in him to know that 
 no shyness on his part will inconvenience us or 
 stand in the light of larger science. I shall make 
 it very clear to him. There is too much at stake 
 to delay longer than absolute necessity de- 
 mands."
 
 184 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 " Look here, Jack," Hastings said, coolly, and 
 his lips were as determined as his friend's ; 
 " there is more than this behind your words, and 
 you may as well come to the point without 
 further argument or unnecessary words. If you 
 make the case no clearer to Price than you have 
 to me, I very much doubt your success. You 
 certainly did not send for me in this broiling 
 heat in that extremely commanding note to 
 argue about the advantage and disadvantage >f 
 a consultation of physicians. I have a share of 
 common sense, though you would disallow it. 
 Come, now, tell it straight, and don't keep me in 
 suspense. I protest.." 
 
 Graham smiled in an exasperatingly superior 
 manner, a quizzical light for a moment in his 
 eyes. 
 
 "Well, then," he said, with a return to his 
 former earnestness; "there is this much about 
 it, Tom. As I have told you, I am determined 
 to have positive proof of the cause of this 
 malady. I have been working my plans as 
 promptly and clearly as I could, working as I
 
 Drama of a Life. 185 
 
 did almost altogether in the dark, save as science 
 suggested a gleam of light. But a gleam is not 
 sufficient. I must have broad light, Hastings!" 
 
 " Yes," acquiesced Hastings, in grave atten- 
 tion. 
 
 " Now, for the source from which the light 
 shall come," continued the doctor, impressively. 
 " It is perfectly clear, easily traced and compre- 
 hensive. You are acquainted with Price's life 
 as. well even better than I. You know his 
 home associations, his difficult life with his 
 parents and a sister inheriting to the utmost the 
 mother's good and evil. The mother had a 
 temper that overbalanced the softer side of her 
 nature." 
 
 " She was a very devil when she wished to 
 be," said Hastings, interrupting. 
 
 " Yes," replied the doctor, calmly. " Well, 
 the daughter inherited this insanity of temper 
 to a greater degree than her mother. Also, she 
 must have squandered her inheritance through 
 this terrible tiger nature in her love as in all 
 else. We both are acquainted with the history
 
 1 86 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 of her infatuation for this novelist. It is sad, 
 indeed, but no more than her untamed nature 
 tended to. She would listen to nothing but her 
 own heart, and her heart was black at times. 
 
 " Her brother, Lee Price, doubted that this 
 man ever attempted to win her or gave her 
 more than ordinary friendship, until she dis- 
 covered that she loved him, and set about win- 
 ning him. She possessed personal magnetism 
 to a remarkable degree, and her intense nature 
 must of necessity overwhelm any weaker nature 
 of her will. 
 
 "Well, there is no use in going over all this. 
 She ran away with him and squandered her 
 fortune and died, so far as any one could dis- 
 cover. Price certainly did his best to learn the 
 truth and bring her back to her home, but to no 
 end. Then he believed her dead. She is not 
 dead." 
 
 "The devil!" exclaimed Hastings, blankly. 
 He used the expression merely as an ejaculation, 
 not as a noun. 
 
 Graham laughed involuntarily.
 
 Drama of a Life. 187 
 
 " It is the devil in every sense," he replied. 
 ' She is a devil, and there's the devil to pay as 
 well. 1 haven't told you all." 
 
 " No," said Hastings, more quietly. " I don't 
 pretend to think that you have, Jack." 
 
 " She is alive at this moment," continued Gra- 
 ham " that is, so far as I know to the contrary. 
 Now then ! Some five months ago, she was in 
 New York city, poor, deserted by her lover or 
 deserting him no one save themselves can 
 positively affirm which, and her nature leaves it 
 open to question and in such a condition from 
 her temper, and ' personal magnetism,' and half 
 insanity of love and hate, that she claims to 
 possess this strange hypnotic power, and 
 behaved altogether like a mad woman." 
 
 " No doubt of it," Hastings corroborated. 
 
 " In this condition," continued Graham, 
 slowly, " she is not responsible for her words or 
 actions. She claims that she is, excepting so far 
 as an earthly spirit is free when guided by some 
 spirit from some other world. Now that's all 
 simple bosh, my dear Hastings. The woman is
 
 1 88 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 as thoroughly insane as any inmate of any asylum 
 in the country." 
 
 " Yes," agreed Hastings; "I always thought 
 that she would be, Jack." 
 
 " She is" said Jack, positively. " I intend to 
 prove it. I can prove it." 
 
 " But what has this to do with solving the 
 cause of Price's illness?" queried Hastings, 
 suddenly turning the conversation back to its 
 original channel. " It's all very interesting, 
 especially to you, man of science, to trace out 
 the future of certain natures, given certain 
 characteristics, but to me common-place fact is 
 much more exciting." 
 
 " This has everything to do with our case," 
 was Doctor Graham's cool reply. " This 
 woman affirms that her brother used undue 
 influence to gain her disinheritance, and that her 
 brother should also answer for the death of their 
 father in order to possess his wealth. Those 
 who do not know Price and who do not know 
 that she had and squandered her fortune, believe
 
 Drama of a Life. 189 
 
 this story. As to her accusation against Price, 
 none but a mad person would make the charge. 
 
 " Now, Tom Hastings, are your mental eyes 
 clear enough to see the meaning of all this? 
 Either I will put it plainly to you either this 
 tiger- woman intends to get her brother's wealth 
 in some desperate manner for he has made no 
 will and his fortune would revert to her at his 
 death, or and here is the hard point Price 
 himself inherited this peculiar half-taint of 
 insanity to such an extent as to use a deadly 
 drug to excess instead of merely intoxication. 
 This is what we have to prove." 
 
 " Prove, Jack ?" cried Hastings, excitedly, 
 leaning nearer his friend ; " how under the 
 canopy are you going to prove it?" 
 
 " Through a woman, Tom." 
 
 '' What woman ?" 
 
 " Mrs. Carmichael !"
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 VIGILANT. 
 
 Yet, I doubt not through the ages one increasing pur_ 
 
 pose runs, 
 And the thoughts of men are widened with the process 
 
 of the suns. 
 
 LOCKSLEY HALL. 
 
 For a full minute Tom Hastings' eyes rested 
 upon the quiet eyes of Doctor Graham. The 
 eyes of each betrayed most perfect comprehen- 
 sion of much that was left unsaid. 
 
 " Look here, Jack," Hastings said, presently ; 
 " this is a mighty crooked sort of business, any- 
 way, it seems to me." 
 
 " Yes," replied Graham, calmly. 
 
 " And it's going to take more than merely a 
 
 woman to fathom." 
 [190]
 
 Drama of a Life. 191 
 
 " You think so, Tom ?" queried Graham, 
 coolly, rather indifferently. 
 
 " I know so," retorted Tom, with supreme con- 
 viction. " Mrs. Carmichael may be an excellent 
 nurse ' 
 
 " She is," interrupted the doctor, without a 
 shadow of haste, yet with the same supreme 
 conviction. 
 
 " And, of course, nurses are important factors 
 in a sick-room," added Tom, emphatically. 
 
 " Yes," Graham again supplemented. 
 
 " But when it comes down to detective work 
 and that, you know 
 
 " Yes," said Graham, quietly, " I do know, 
 Tom ; and I also know that there is no reason 
 why such work should not safely be intrusted to 
 merely a woman, as you so scornfully suggest. 
 The instinct, the tact, quick wit whatever you 
 call it that places a woman on guard at a word 
 or expression or movement, sets her far 
 ahead of a man for fine watching work, and there 
 is no reason why we should not employ such if 
 it were needed."
 
 1 92 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 For an instant Hastings was nonplussed. His 
 face fell. 
 
 " 1 thought you said plainly enough that it is 
 to the nurse we are to look for full proofs of 
 this case, Graham," he said, in some indignation. 
 
 " Well," replied Graham, a sudden contrac- 
 tion in his eyes, a slight movement of his slim, 
 muscular hands, as of remonstrance, "and what 
 then, Tom ? I trust Mrs. Carmichael is able to 
 perform any duties required of her. What 
 these duties are, only time will show." 
 
 " And I think that it is decidedly disloyal," 
 Hastings added in a heat, " to insinuate that 
 Price uses any sort of drug of his own free will. 
 It isn't like him." 
 
 " I am also his physician, Tom," Graham 
 answered, steadily. " I must solve this problem 
 which may end disastrously. If he takes the 
 stuff at his own volition, that is one thing ; if it 
 is administered to him, that is quite another." 
 
 " Quite," agreed Hastings, sententiously. 
 
 " Consequently, it is this that we must prove, 
 Tom," said the doctor, as Hastings rose and
 
 Drama of a Life. 193 
 
 took up his hat, which he had tossed upon a 
 chair on his entrance, and stood uncertainly 
 twirling it round and round upon one hand. 
 
 " Of course, you have no doubt of succeeding, 
 Graham," he said, with a short laugh. " Hav- 
 ing such intense faith in this woman, you leave 
 the thing entirely in her hands !" 
 
 " Oh, no," said Doctor Graham, smiling, and 
 he laid one hand on his friend's shoulder, his 
 eyes upon the disquieted face, " 1 Jiave faith in 
 the nurse, Tom perfect faith ; but I expect you 
 to look out for the poor fellow, too. I leave a 
 great deal in the hands of the nurse in order not 
 to waken Price's suspicions too much ; but, of 
 course, we shall need your co-operation. I am 
 sure that we can depend upon you." 
 
 Hastings' face lightened more and more at 
 his words. When he finished, he shook his hold 
 from his shoulder, grasping his hand instead, 
 for Tom Hastings possessed a warm, generous 
 heart. 
 
 " All right, Jack," he said ; " you may count 
 upon me for anything. We'll adopt ' Vigilance '
 
 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 for our motto and wait. Something is sure to 
 come." 
 
 Graham laughed. He thoroughly understood 
 his friend. 
 
 " That's well, Tom," he replied. " We will 
 see it through, and safely through, if we can." 
 
 And these last words lingered longest in Tom 
 Hastings' memory as he left the doctor's office. 
 
 " But, after all, Graham is one of the best 
 fellows," he assured himself, as he rode out of 
 the gateway and turned the mare's head toward 
 home. " I didn't just like to ask him how he 
 found out all this, but I would give a good deal 
 to know. Some queer work in that, too of 
 course, connected with the nurse and 1 pre- 
 sume that we shall be enlightened when the 
 time arrives." 
 
 Such was undoubtedly the case, but occasion- 
 ally the time is long in arriving. Doctor Graham 
 remained with the patient that night, and Mrs. 
 Carmichael, the nurse, slept in the room adjoin- 
 ing, where she could be readily called if there 
 were need of her services.
 
 Drama of a Life. 195 
 
 The following- day the patient was allowed to 
 dress and occupy the lounging-chair at one of 
 the windows. It was astonishing how much he 
 had improved in appearances within the last 
 twenty-four hours ; but his physician refused to 
 allow exertion or removal from the room. 
 
 Two physicians one from New York, the 
 other from the town, both men who stood high 
 in their profession were called in consultation 
 with Doctor Graham regarding Lee Price's 
 strange malady. Graham used his utmost 
 persuasion to this end, for Price resolutely 
 refused at first to listen to any such absurd 
 proposition ; but Doctor Graham possessed 
 remarkable persuasive powers, and this patient 
 yielded to his wish, as his patients generally 
 did do. 
 
 Doctor Wright, the physician from the city, 
 was met by Doctor Graham in his carriage, and 
 they drove together to Bachelors' Beatitude, on 
 the morning of the second day. 
 
 Farwell, the physician from the town, met 
 them at the, house, and the matter was arranged
 
 196 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 so quietly that no one, save the nurse and Hast- 
 ings, knew for what the men had come. 
 
 " Graham has such a big practice, I suppose 
 he's going to turn a part of it over to Farwell," 
 suggested Morgan, sarcastically, as he and 
 Newton and Mayhew were discussing the 
 visitors as they strolled about the stables and 
 kennels. 
 
 Burnside was exercising in a shell on the river, 
 and Curtis was employed with his canvas. 
 
 " I should think that he would pass it on to 
 Hutchinson instead, though. It isn't just fair to 
 his associate, in my opinion," he added. 
 
 What passed beyond the closed doors of the 
 sick-room was as inscrutable to all, save those 
 assembled there, as were . the mysteries of a 
 secret chamber. 
 
 For two hours they were close shut in that 
 room. It was a difficult case to diagnose, and 
 yet to the three physicians there was but one 
 conclusion that could be proved correct only by 
 patient waiting. Price insisted upon knowing 
 their opinion, but they allowed him meager
 
 Drama of a Life. 197 
 
 information, as silence, they agreed, was best 
 until such time as it was deemed prudent or 
 well to break it. Even the instructions for the 
 nurse were of the simplest. 
 
 " Plenty of air, Mrs. Carmichael," Graham 
 said, calling her into the inner room as the other 
 physicians were talking with Price. " Let his 
 guests come in, and such other friends as you 
 think wise to admit I trust you for that but of 
 the household itself admit none not even Mrs. 
 Leonard. Mrs. Estabrook may sit with him at 
 times, but only when there are others present. 
 This will relieve you through the day, but the 
 night-watch will devolve entirely upon you. 
 Besides this, I trust to you to prepare and serve 
 his meals. Don't let him go outside the room 
 until I say for you to do so, and keep him in this 
 manner as long as is necessary. You compre- 
 hend ? Remember the importance of such 
 details as I gave you yesterday. If you need 
 me, send for me ; otherwise I shall call once 
 every day. I trust you implicitly, and I shall 
 leave much to you."
 
 198 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 Doctor Graham's smile, when he chose, was 
 most winning and pleasant to see. Just now he 
 evidently chose to win this gentle nurse's good 
 will, for his smile down into the quiet face and 
 bright eyes was wonderfully charming, and Mrs. 
 Carmichael involuntarily smiled back as she gave 
 him her assurance of faithfulness. 
 
 " Everything that is possible for a nurse or a 
 woman to do shall be done in this case, Doctor 
 Graham," she said, in her pretty voice. The 
 light from the high window struck upon her hair, 
 making of it shimmering silver bands about her 
 gentle face, lighted by the brilliant dark eyes. 
 " I fear that Mr. Hastings thinks it is little a 
 woman can do, but I shall be like the serpent and 
 dove very wise and very harmless. Already I 
 have learned something. My eyes are not yet 
 old if my hair is white." 
 
 "What have you discovered?" queried Gra- 
 ham, a light upon his face. The elderly nurse 
 was " merely a woman," perhaps, as Tom said, 
 but already she had made use of her position. 
 Already she had learned something.
 
 Drama of a Life. 199 
 
 Mrs. Carmichael smiled. Mrs. Carmichael's 
 smile, like Doctor Graham's, was delightful at 
 times. 
 
 " It is very little," she said, " truly, doctor. 
 Scarcely worthy of expression to a man who 
 desires strong- words and positive proofs. It did 
 no more even with me than to set me thinking 
 of possibilities." 
 
 " And these, Mrs. Carmichael ?" 
 
 " The possibilities of great events evolving 
 from a glance from one pair of eyes to another 
 and moving lips without speech passing them. 
 That is all, doctor. You see how little it is and 
 perhaps utterly insignificant." 
 
 She smiled once more, and was turning away, 
 but he detained her, his hand upon her arm. 
 
 " I think that it may be more than it seems, 
 Mrs. Carmichael," he said, gravely. He dis- 
 tinctly remembered such a glance which he 
 witnessed in the adjoining room. This woman's 
 perception, though merely a knowledge of the 
 trick of eyes and lips, might follow in the train 
 of his own thought. " Where and between
 
 2OO Lida Campbell, or 
 
 whom was this silent conversation, and what 
 were your suspicions?" 
 
 " You can scarcely call it suspicion," said Mrs. 
 Carmichael, quietly. " I should not call it that. 
 But this morning as I left Mr. Price's room to 
 prepare his breakfast, moving as noiselessly as 
 possible, as one should about a house, from the 
 upper staircase I saw Emma and Conyers in the 
 lower hall. They were passing through the 
 hall, Emma to the dining-room and Conyers to 
 the stairs. It is very simple and may mean 
 nothing, but the glance that passed between 
 them terrified, shy, on her part, and warning 
 upon his, her lips parting as though she would 
 speak and dared not that is all. It may mean 
 nothing. I have watched them closely, and this 
 coincides with my first impression and 1 have 
 told you. You must draw your own infer- 
 ence." 
 
 Graham's eyes were keenly bent upon hers. 
 He smiled as she paused. 
 
 " I understand," he said. " You have done
 
 'I SAW EMMA AND CONYERS IN THE LOWER HALL." See Chapter XIV.
 
 Drama of a Life. 201 
 
 well so far, Mrs. Carmichael. I trust that you 
 will have more to tell me when next I come." 
 
 Graham passed into the outer room, and, 
 with the other physicians, bade the patient good- 
 day, passed out, leaving the nurse to resume her 
 duties until after luncheon, when Mayhew and 
 Mrs. Estabrook were allowed to go up and sit 
 with their host for a couple of hours. Burnside 
 and Morgan were upon the water and Curtis 
 was painting, Newton somewhere about the 
 grounds, and Hastings in his room. 
 
 The three were quietly pleased at meeting, 
 the guests mingling regrets for his illness and 
 good wishes for his recovery, and Price, laugh- 
 ing, assuring them that he would be about in 
 " no time " under the care of his nurse. 
 
 " Of course you haven't read the latest novel, 
 Lee," Mayhew said, after a long discussion of 
 the news of the day and when Mrs. Estabrook 
 had gone down again to the piazza. He pulled 
 a paper-covered novel from one of his pockets 
 and ran over the pages, rustling them in his 
 hands.
 
 2O2 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 " I suppose the M. D.'s and the nurse wouldn't 
 allow you to excite yourself over novels or any- 
 thing ; but this is the biggest thing in the 
 romancing line that you ever heard ! Making 
 no end of a sensation, too. I began it last night 
 about eleven o'clock and sat up to finish it. 
 Simply couldn't leave it, you know ! Fascinat- 
 ing is no word for it ! It's immense ! Over- 
 drawn, no doubt, and set with blue lights and 
 red twilight and that ; purely imaginary, some 
 critics say, but it struck me as being much more 
 than that. Who is it by ? Paling, of course. 
 What other writer of ours gives us such amaz- 
 ing romances? And the title itself is enough to 
 awaken one's curiosity. Here it is, appropri- 
 ately issued in gray covers with dashes of red 
 upon it!" 
 
 Neither of them knew that the nurse in the 
 inner room upon the couch by the window was 
 watching them and listening intently. Her eyes 
 were like stars from under the soft silvery hair, 
 but her lips were set like a thin thread of red. 
 Her breath was coming and going quickly, too,
 
 Drama of a Life. 203 
 
 unlike the calm, self-contained, controlling 
 nurse. 
 
 " The title ?" Mayhew was turning back to 
 the title-page, a laugh upon his lips. " It's an 
 amazingly good title, let me tell you, and gives 
 perfectly the contents of the book. What could 
 be more suggestive of the quiet gray of life with 
 the stains of tragedy upon it as this cover 
 denotes, than ' The Drama of a Life ?' " 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A ROLL OF WHEELS. 
 
 Laws of changeless justice bind 
 
 Oppressor with oppressed ; 
 And, close as sin and suffering joined. 
 
 We march to fate abreast. 
 
 WHITTIER. 
 
 Mrs. Carmichael was remarkably affected by 
 this conversation on literature, and could not 
 compose herself to sleep, try as she would. She 
 knew that she should rest during the day, in 
 order to be fit for her night duties, but this light 
 conversation disturbed her to such an extent
 
 204 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 that she could do nothing but lie among the 
 cushions and ponder upon it. 
 
 " I shall read the book," she said to herself, 
 resolutely closing her eyes for sleep. " One 
 cannot justly judge of a book from another's 
 criticism. Besides, Mr. Mayhew's graphic des- 
 cription may be overdrawn, and I should not 
 allow it to affect me. A staid old woman like 
 myself should have outgrown excitement over a 
 novel." 
 
 But sleep would not come at her command, 
 even if the bright dark eyes would remain 
 resolutely closed under white lids, and Mrs. 
 Carmichael learned for herself what it is for a 
 patient to suffer from insomnia, in spite of strong 
 will or strong potions. 
 
 " I shall send Jim for this book to-night," she 
 said convincingly. " He will go for me. Jim 
 will do anything for a smile or a kind word. 
 Then no one in the house need know that the 
 master's nurse is given to novel-reading during 
 her hours of duty. Should I ask Mr. Mayhew 
 to lend his to me, he would, of course, tell the
 
 Drama of a Life. 205 
 
 others, and Mrs. Carmichael might be the sub- 
 ject of unpleasant surmises. I shall send Jim. 
 Any book-store in town should have such a 
 popular book." 
 
 And, with this firm conclusion, Mrs. Car- 
 michael said to herself that she would sleep, and 
 she did. 
 
 When she awoke, twilight was upon the world, 
 the murmur of voices in the outer room had 
 ceased ; and as she hurriedly rose, going to the 
 door between the rooms to see that all was well, 
 she found her patient alone and quietly sleeping. 
 Noiselessly crossing the room she pulled the 
 bell and passing outside the door, waited in the 
 hall for the answer to her summons. 
 
 Emma replied at once, as she had orders to do 
 when the bell in the master's room should ring, 
 and Mrs. Carmichael requested her to send Jim 
 up as soon as was possible. 
 
 Mrs. Carmichael's voice was at its very softest 
 and prettiest in addressing the girl, but Emma 
 kept her eyes in a fit of shyness upon the floor, 
 nervously fingering her apron. Mrs. Car-
 
 206 Lido, Campbell, or 
 
 michael's eyes, too, were very gentle but 
 exceedingly bright resting upon the girl, and a 
 peculiar smile lurked about her lips, 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," Emma said, in reply to this 
 order for Jim ; " I'll send him up right away if he 
 can come. He's pretty busy just now." 
 
 " Don't send him up until he can spare the 
 time," said Mrs, Carmichael. " I can wait." 
 
 " He'll come as soon as he can, I know, 
 ma'am," replied the girl, turning away as though 
 it were an intense relief to get away from this 
 quiet woman's presence. " The master is better 
 I hope, Mrs. Carmichael ?" 
 
 " Thank you," said Mrs. Carmichael, sweetly, 
 without giving her the desired information 
 regarding the condition of the master. " Don't 
 fail to send Jim as soon as he can come, Emma." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," said Emma, as the nurse 
 re-entered the room to wait for Jim. 
 
 The boy came after a few minutes and will- 
 ingly undertook Mrs. Carmichael's errand, and 
 as Mrs. Carmichael heard his steps upon the 
 stairs unmistakably clumsy Jim's she went
 
 Drama of a Life. 207 
 
 out to meet him as she met every one who came 
 to the room. 
 
 As he went away after receiving the written 
 order for the book and the money to pay for it, 
 1 e inquired timidly as to the master's health, 
 adding an awkward hope that he was better. 
 
 " He is just the same, Jim," Mrs. Carmichael 
 replied, gently, admitting much more to him 
 than to the girl. 
 
 As she sat at the window in the inner 
 room, from which she could command a view of 
 the immediate vicinity of the bed in the outer 
 room, and also a wide stretch of water and a 
 sweep of the drive through the trees and shrub- 
 bery, she was arguing many things to herself, 
 and endeavoring to solve a most trying and 
 complex problem. She felt that she possessed 
 the key to the correct solution, and yet, before 
 this could be of practical use, she must arrive at 
 some tangible truth that could be used in con- 
 nection with the key. 
 
 The evening was beautiful, and Mrs. Car- 
 michael found much to soothe if not to convince
 
 208 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 her in the quiet water, purple-dark under the 
 heavens, throbbing with living worlds of light, 
 and the fragrance of shrubs and roses and late 
 piazza vines stole subtly to her like the odors of 
 a dream. 
 
 " Life isn't so bad after all," she murmured, 
 smiling to herself, " even taking into account the 
 bitterness of its drama." 
 
 And, folding her hands in recovered calmness, 
 she waited for Jim's return with the novel she 
 Avould read that very night while her patient 
 slept, and the keys turned in the locks made 
 impossible any entrance into the room save by 
 that one door facing this window, and full in her 
 view, leading from the hall. This, by order of 
 the physician, was never locked. Day and night 
 it was free to any one who should wish to enter. 
 But few entered. 
 
 Mrs. Estabrook, with the guests of her 
 nephew, was upon the piazza just under his 
 window, and the low murmur of their conversa- 
 tion and stifled occasional laughter together with
 
 Drama of a Life. 209 
 
 the drift of cigar smoke floated brokenly to the 
 watcher in the silent, darkened room. 
 
 The shaded light, set behind the patient's bed, 
 and beyond his sight, left still a hint of soft 
 shadow about the room, save directly across 
 that portion of the room within range of the 
 outer door. The inner room, where the nurse 
 was sitting, was entirely in shadow. 
 
 It was close upon nine o'clock when Jim 
 returned from his errand, for he had much to 
 do upon the place before he could go, and as it 
 was a long walk from the town to the island 
 estate of Bachelors' Beatitude, Mrs. Carmichael 
 had two hours to wait for her novel ; but Mrs. 
 Carmichael was accustomed to waiting, and 
 showed no trace of impatience. 
 
 Price roused once or twice during the earlier 
 part of the night, and the nurse was with him 
 immediately; but his exhaustion was so com- 
 plete from the severity of his illness, and the 
 physician's drugs were so potent, that he slept 
 much of the time. As such sleep would be well, 
 the physician had said, the nurse was satisfied.
 
 2io Lida Campbell, or 
 
 "You are such a delightful nurse, Mrs. Car- 
 michael," Price said, upon one of these occa- 
 sions of wakefulness. " I do absolutely nothing 
 because I know that you take such good care of 
 me." 
 
 " As any one should," was the quiet reply, as 
 the nurse brushed softly back the dark hair from 
 his forehead, after smoothing and re-arranging 
 the pillows and covering about him. 
 
 Then, after a few moments of wakeful silence, 
 the young man drifted back to sleep, and the 
 nurse returned to her patient waiting for her 
 messenger. 
 
 He came at last, bringing the desired book, 
 and after thanking him for his faithfulness with 
 more than words or smiles, Mrs. Carmichael 
 arranged herself in a low, cushioned chair near 
 the light beyond the bed, yet still within range 
 of that outer unlocked door, and opened the 
 book. Her position was within view of the 
 door, and such that the outer scents and sounds 
 came to her from that wide window of her own 
 inner room.
 
 Drama of a Life. 2 1 1 
 
 The novel was intensely interesting. She was 
 assured that such would prove the case, know- 
 ing the author's power of description and plot 
 when she ordered the book. The title itself 
 recommended it to her, as Mayhew stated was 
 the case with all, and after the first few opening 
 pages, it became more than a mere novel, more 
 than delineation of imaginary character, much 
 more than even she had expected. 
 
 One hour slipped by, ticked away by the tiny 
 hands of the clock upon the mantel. Another 
 hour, second by second, accumulating to min- 
 utes, growing to the full hour, followed the first. 
 Silence was over the house, over the grounds. 
 Not a sound stirred the outer stillness, save the 
 guttural cry of some uneasy bird in the trees 
 near the windows, or the occasional break of a 
 longer wave upon the beach. No sound was in 
 the sick-room, save the quiet breathing of the 
 sleeper and the hushed rustle of paper as the 
 reader turned a page. 
 
 Mrs. Carmichael's face was a study as she 
 read the book. She was a perfect reader, for
 
 2t2 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 every character and every scene came vividly 
 before her mental vision as though it were life 
 spread before her eyes. So it was that the 
 hours slipped by without her notice, and no 
 subtly penetrating outer sound of night dis- 
 turbed her. Life itself was in the pages of her 
 book, and it was real life to her. 
 
 But by and by, as the third hour was creep- 
 ing away that .strange sense of loneliness and 
 solemnity that lives at midnight, when one is 
 the sole waking object in a house, came upon 
 her even in the midst of this sensational romance. 
 She became uneasy ; the book could not hold 
 her attention ; her thoughts would grow con- 
 fused and her perception somewhat dull. The 
 book was the height of mystery, and thrilling 
 with life and love ; but at last it palled. She 
 laid it down and glanced sharply around the 
 room. She had a most uncomfortable sensation 
 as though she was being watched by some one 
 whom she could not see. 
 
 Her patient was still sleeping quietly. He, at 
 least, had not been watching her. Save them-
 
 Drama of a Life. 213 
 
 selves, there was no one in the room. The door 
 leading to the hall was closed. There was not a 
 closet or wardrobe in the room. There was no 
 place where an unseen watcher could be, except- 
 ing upon the upper balcony outside the windows. 
 
 The curtains were drawn, and the night was 
 dark, for the new moon had passed beyond the 
 horizon hours before ; but Mrs. Carmichael laid 
 aside her novel and rose, determined to put an 
 end to this uncomfortable sensation. There was 
 but one way to do this, and that was to cross 
 the windows, directly in line with the light along 
 the floor, and investigate the dark bacony. 
 
 She did not increase the inner light, for that 
 would probably waken her patient, but she must 
 summon her nerve and go at once. The book 
 had roused every faculty to an intense degree, 
 mystery and plotted murder were blended in her 
 mind with that soft lace drapery at the long 
 windows and the midnight hidden balcony 
 beyond. This required more bravery than many 
 would believe, who had passed through no such 
 trying scene.
 
 214 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 Mrs. Carraichael was pale from suppressed 
 excitement, but she would not be daunted. If 
 anyone were watching her from the night's 
 darkness, she would soon discover. If not, she 
 could laugh at her fears and conquer any that 
 should rise during the hours that must elapse 
 before dawn scattered fancies. 
 
 She crossed directly and swiftly to the nearest 
 window and pulled aside the drapery. A breath 
 of fuller air strong with salt from the water, and 
 mingling with the dew-laden garden odors, 
 struck upon her face startingly. The inner faint 
 light fell across the balcony. Nothing was 
 there. 
 
 She passed to the other window with more 
 assurance now, half-laughing at her fancy, and, 
 tossing the curtains noiselessly aside over the 
 back of a chair, stepped boldly out. Was there 
 nothing here? 
 
 She started and caught at the window-casing 
 to steady herself. The rustle of soft garments 
 upon the balcony steps that led down the lawn. 
 
 The muffled tiptoe of light boots upon the
 
 Drama of a Life. 215 
 
 boards ! Then perfect silence, broken only by 
 the croak of a bird overhead. 
 
 Like a statue, Mrs. Carmichael stood just 
 withdrawn from the light at one side of the 
 window. Then, listening intently, she heard far 
 off toward the gateway, faint and scarcely per- 
 ceptible, the muffled roll of wheels across the 
 meadow road ! 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A NOVELIST'S VISITOR. 
 
 Walker Paling, the popular novelist, was 
 sitting at his desk. He was putting the finishing 
 touches to a manuscript, and was well pleased 
 with himself for his work. He knew as well as 
 his readers knew when he had a completed a 
 good work, and he did not hypocritically deny 
 his power and claim for it a lower standard than 
 he had set in his mind. 
 
 Walker Paling was not by any means a hand-
 
 2 1 6 Li da Campbell, or 
 
 some man. Sitting by his desk, with the broad 
 light from the window upon him, he would have 
 been a very ordinary looking-man but for his 
 clear blue eyes and peculiarly sensitive mouth 
 under a drooping iron-gray mustache. As he 
 arranged the papers and tied them up ready for 
 type-writer copying, the strong light and move- 
 ment showed that his hands were also remarka- 
 ble for their long, slender fingers and well-devel- 
 oped wrist muscles. 
 
 It was early spring, and the silence of the 
 room was disturbed by occasional street cries, 
 and the flurry of dust, as the dying winds of 
 March scurried through the city, penetrating 
 even through closed windows. The rumble of 
 passing carriages and sound of countless foot- 
 steps upon the pavement came up to him, 
 also. 
 
 His suite of rooms in the Fifth Avenue Hotel 
 proved that his popularity was not solely fame, 
 but fortune, also. Everything for comfort that 
 money could buy was about him. He was 
 undoubtedly a successful novelist.
 
 Drama of a Life. 2 1 7 
 
 When the manuscript was neatly arranged for 
 its further machine-copying, Walker Paling 
 summoned a messenger to carry it to a type- 
 writing office, and when the boy was gone, Pal- 
 ing laid aside his professional air of preoccupa 
 tion, and passed into his smoking-room for a 
 cigar and a mental revision of this work just 
 from his hand and brain. 
 
 In his crimson dressing-gown and slippers, 
 and the smoking-cap upon his head, stretched at 
 full length in his luxurious lounging-chair, with 
 his blue eyes half closed, half gleaming through 
 clouds of pale, grey smoke, he was the picture 
 of ease and contentment. But Walker Paling 
 was not contented. 
 
 He was satisfied with his work ; he knew that 
 it was good and would bring him a fair share of 
 fame and money; but by degrees his thoughts 
 wandered from this. Six months ago he 
 remembered it as though it were but yesterday 
 a woman had helped him with his last pub- 
 lished novel. She had not only helped him as 
 any woman could with careful criticism and the
 
 218 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 manual work of revision, but had gone beyond 
 such bounds and formed the plot and worked 
 out the situations and fairly imbued him with 
 her thought and plans. 
 
 He knew that that strange blending of thought 
 and plot, heat and cold, weakness and strength 
 was not one-half his own. The pages that had 
 stirred many hearts, that had wakened interest 
 and argument and conjecture regarding the 
 author, and that had placed him in undisputed 
 right to the title of the most popular of writers 
 belonged more than half to the strange, beauti- 
 ful, fiery woman who murmured the words in his 
 ear, who moved his hand by her subtle power 
 of command, who willingly devoted many nights 
 of hard labor to its perfection. 
 
 A strange woman, a marvelous woman, this 
 one, who seemed to put her very life and vitality 
 into the pages of his romances. Very beautiful 
 in form and feature ; charming in manner when 
 she wished ; a demon of passion when roused ; 
 intense in her love and hate. Gracious, compel- 
 ling admiration or repelling, as she would ; as
 
 Drama of a Life. 2 1 9 
 
 fitful in mood as the wild March winds, scurry- 
 ing through the streets below. 
 
 She had unsought, given him her love or 
 fancy or passing thought ; as he knew her better 
 he failed to decide which it might be. He did 
 not love her, had never loved her, but her 
 mental qualities commanded his admiration. 
 There had been much of mutual interest to talk 
 about and to strengthen fiiendship, upon their 
 earlier acquaintance. 
 
 Perhaps her broad ideas of life and love were 
 rather startling to the man used to the quiet 
 lives and the one train of ideas of conventional 
 life, but if so, the woman imbued him for the 
 time with her own fierce views. 
 
 In that way she daily gained more power over 
 him by this peculiar mental intensity that over- 
 balanced his, and caused his individual thought 
 to become, in some strange manner, her thought. 
 So she suggested their joint authorship of a 
 novel to go under his name alone and spurred 
 him on to the effort, the commencement and end 
 of on.e p( his most powerful and most successful
 
 22O Lida Campbell, or 
 
 works. This established beyond doubt his 
 place among- popular novelists and brought him 
 plenty of wealth. 
 
 Moreover, this strange, fierce, magnetic woman 
 gave him her heart. He had never asked it ; 
 he did not desire it, for he half feared her in her 
 spasmodic moods of tragedy ; but, as in all else, 
 her mental power was superior or stronger than 
 his, and he accepted her love. 
 
 Her wealth, inherited from her parents, both 
 of whom were dead, far exceeded his own, and 
 this she was reckless with after she went away 
 with him. She cared nothing for her home in 
 her brother's house ; she hated her brother with 
 the intense unreasoning hatred of her nature, 
 because he was nobler of character than she ; 
 she did not so much love her lover as she 
 delighted to know that his will and thought 
 yielded to her own. Power was an essential 
 element to her life. With her lover she employed 
 it successfully and well. 
 
 Then she tired of him. Her intense life, 
 made up of thought and discussion of strange
 
 Drama of a Life. 221 
 
 problems that seemed born of this very intensity 
 of thought, told upon her mind and health after 
 a time. She would sometimes go away by her- 
 self for days, and he would not know of her 
 whereabouts ; she would leave quietly when he 
 was away or asleep, and leave no trace of her 
 destination. No one questioned her at such 
 times, for every one feared as well as admired 
 her, the successful novelist's wife. 
 
 When she returned from these strange absences, 
 she would be in a condition of mental and phys- 
 ical exhaustion, that bordered closely upon 
 insanity. He was even at last forced to obtain 
 the opinion of a physician, Doctor Oldham, 
 regarding this condition. No one knew oftheir 
 peculiar relations to each other ; this savage, 
 beautiful woman was the wife of the novelist 
 and could go whither she would. His name 
 carried her anywhere, and her wealth was inde- 
 pendent of his. 
 
 Paling believed that insanity was in her blood ; 
 and felt growing fear of her hate or revenge 
 but he went at last to Doctor Oldham for a
 
 222 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 decision. Doctor Oldham had known her for 
 many years, and admired her intensely ; some 
 even whispered that he more than admired her ; 
 but if this were true, she gave him only her quiet 
 friendship. And Doctor Oldham had assured 
 him that there was nothing wrong with the 
 woman's mind save excessive intensity of thought 
 and a spirituality bordering upon the marvel- 
 ous. 
 
 Of all these things Walker Paling was thinking 
 as he sat smoking in his luxurious chair, with 
 half-closed eyes. She had been absent now for 
 four weeks; visiting her friends out of the city, 
 his friends believed. He knew nothing of 
 where she was, or if she were living or dead. 
 She left him in her usual mysterious manner, 
 leaving no trace save a scented note upon his 
 dressing-case, telling him that she would never 
 return, that her love was, gone, and that she held 
 nothing but hate for him in her heart. He was 
 startled by the fierceness of this note, but he had 
 never loved her, and her absence was a positive
 
 Drama of a Life. 22$ 
 
 For four weeks she had been absent, and he 
 began to hope that she would be true to her 
 word and never return. He had done wonder- 
 ful work under her power, but he never felt that 
 <t was truly his own, or that the commendation 
 which he received upon it belonged to him. 
 Down in his soul he rather despised himself for 
 his inability to maintain his individuality, rather 
 than to be guided by this half-mad woman's 
 whim. 
 
 This just completed work was, therefore, 
 doubly satisfying to him, knowing that it was in 
 every sense his own plot and character and 
 scene word for word. He knew its perfections 
 and imperfections. He was as capable of criti- 
 cising his own work as that of another. This 
 was not so weird or intense in description as 
 those former novels with the strange woman's 
 life along the pages, but it was more fascinating 
 from its truth and life-like characters and situa- 
 tions. 
 
 He was very pleased with it. He was proud 
 of it, and anxious that it should get into the
 
 224 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 hands of a publisher as soon as possible, that the 
 public should know what he could do, although 
 no one guessed of the power behind his former 
 work. 
 
 " It is very remarkable," he argued with him- 
 self, watching with lazy eyes the twisting and 
 curling of the smoke from his cigar, " where she 
 has gone. She must have squandered the 
 greater part of her fortune during these strange 
 absences. I am half convinced, in spite of 
 Oldham or any other physician, that it is to 
 opium and a weakness of the brain that she owes 
 these spells of acute perception and half-fiendish 
 imagination. I am sure that Oldham himself 
 recommended to me the use of morphine when I 
 desire to write a really strong novel ; and it may 
 be that Olive sustains belief in its power, calling 
 it, in the peculiar beliefs of the drug, the power 
 of spiritualism and hypnotism. If this is so, her 
 absences, her abstinence from food and her half- 
 dead face and manner are accounted for. 
 
 " In that way, too, she could easily squander 
 fortunes. Her mind is marvelous ; but if she
 
 Drama of a Life. 225 
 
 yields it to the use of such a drug, she will of 
 necessity, and sooner than one with less sensitive- 
 ness, fall a victim to insanity. She must weaken 
 under its influence sooner or later. That it is 
 the intensity of spiritualism, as she and Oldham 
 declare, is all bosh. There is no more spiritual- 
 ism about her moods than there is about the 
 devil. 
 
 " It may not be loyal to acknowledge, but I 
 am infinitely relieved that she has gone. She 
 was growing too tiger-like. Murder may be all 
 very well in a novel, and any amount of ink-blood 
 is quite harmless, but there was something 
 about her before she left that suggested murder 
 ^nd bloodshed in real life. It was just a trifle 
 too ghastly for me." 
 
 His cigar was burned down to ashes, and 
 Paling arose, after a few moments of idle 
 lounging, and passed into his dressing-room. 
 There were calls, and an engagement to 
 luncheon, and a drive in the afternoon with 
 Miss Fitzgerald, the pretty young artist, and
 
 226 Li da Campbell, or 
 
 social life would claim him for the remainder of 
 the day. 
 
 His toilet was another of his fastidious 
 luxuries, and he would allow nothing to 
 disturb him or intrude upon him at that time. 
 But this morning fate intruded upon him fate, 
 in the form of a woman. 
 
 A light rap sounded on the door of his sitting- 
 room adjoining his dressing-room, and as his 
 valet answered the summons, this woman entered. 
 She entered as one who is determined upon one 
 errand and oblivious to all else. Downing, the 
 valet, would have detained her at the door, not 
 at first recognizing her, but she disconcerted him 
 with her white face and her far-seeing eyes and 
 haughty manner. 
 
 " Mr. Paling is engaged," murmured Downing, 
 endeavoring to be faithful to his duties. 
 
 " Yes," said the woman, coldly. " I think you 
 do not know me, Downing. Well, I shall go 
 to him at once. He will see me /" 
 
 Walker Paling heard her voice, and his mute 
 gesture was pathetic in its despair. He feared
 
 Drama of a Life. 227 
 
 her, yet he had not the will power to be free from 
 her influence. He knew that her influence was 
 evil, that her touch upon his work gave it a 
 lawless freedom of thought that was not just to 
 himself and a disregard of conventionality that 
 depressed him. Had it not been cowardly, he 
 could have found it in his heart to have fled from 
 her and hidden himself. 
 
 He could not in her presence do more than 
 yield to the peculiar magnetism of her face and 
 eyes and voice. He turned to the doorway now, 
 knowing that she was crossing the room toward 
 him, and the pallor upon his face proved his 
 intense excitement. 
 
 She was very beautiful pausing in the door- 
 way. Her hair was white, but not with years. 
 Her eyes were soft and far-away in expression. 
 For an instant, as they rested upon him, a gleam 
 like fire touched them and died out, leaving 
 them paler in color than before. Her face was 
 quite white, almost dead white ; but she was 
 still very beautiful. When she spoke, the sweet- 
 ness of her voice stirred him to admiration.
 
 228 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 " You may leave us, Downing," Paling said, 
 desirous that no one save himself should hear 
 what she might say. Sometimes, on her return 
 from these absences, her moods were terrible. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 HER ERRAND. 
 
 I have a soul that, like an ample shield, 
 Can take in all, and verge enough for more. 
 
 DRYDEN. 
 
 "I have returned," she said. 
 
 " Yes ;" he replied quietly, his eyes irresisti- 
 bly drawn and held by hers ; " so I see, Olive. 
 You look fatigued. Will you not be seated ?" 
 
 A shadow of scorn crossed her face as he 
 placed a chair for her. Her height was equal 
 with his, and she was a magnificent woman in 
 physique. Her face was white and wan from 
 real physical illness or mental suffering, but she 
 carried herself with so much grace and pride, 
 that weakness was not noticeable in her.
 
 Drama of a Life. 229 
 
 " I will not be seated," she said, coldly. " I 
 thought when I left you that I should never 
 come back. But I have come. I was impelled 
 to come because of a great work I have for you 
 to do. I have been very ill. I do not desire 
 your sympathy," her lifted hand silencing the 
 words upon his lips. " Do not think that I 
 come for that ! There are those who would 
 give it me should I desire ; I do not. Sympa- 
 thy is the world's coin for hypocrisy. Downing 
 has gone ? That is well. What I have to say is 
 between ourselves. I have been ill starving 
 friendless here in this very city where your 
 fame makes you great, and you would not come 
 to me." 
 
 "How could I go to you," he queried, 
 mechanically, " when I did not know where you 
 were, Olive ?" 
 
 " But you should have known !" she cried 
 vehemently, a flame in her eyes as she spread 
 out her hands with fierce pathos. " I knew 
 where you were. There is nothing about you 
 that I have not known during my absence.
 
 230 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 You know that I see what others do not and 
 cannot see, and I have watched you constantly." 
 
 He believed that she had watched him in 
 some strange manner with the cunning of 
 insanity, but he dared not question her. She 
 was a fur}'- when roused ; but as to her spiritu- 
 ality he smiled, thinking of it. 
 
 She saw the smile, and the flame deepened in 
 her eyes. Her delicate nostrils dilated with 
 ineffable scorn. 
 
 " Surely you know that I speak the truth, 
 Walker Paling," she said. " When I see and 
 know truth, why should I utter lies? Listen: 
 I have come back, as I said, that you may do a 
 great work for me a mighty work one that 
 will startle the world, and prove to those who 
 doubt that fatality works its own ends and sin 
 punishes itself. It will color your life and 
 mine ; it shall lead to the settling of old scores 
 and heal old wounds and bring us magnificent 
 fortune. You finished a novel manuscript 
 to-day. No doubt it is good, for your hand is- 
 strong with the pen. It is your own, and your
 
 Drama of a Life. 231 
 
 conceit leads you to believe it the best that you 
 have done. It is nothing compared to the 
 words I shall put in your brain. They shall 
 burn there, and burn into the hearts of your 
 readers and make you great." 
 
 Walter Paling knew that the influence of her 
 eyes was upon him. He knew from past experi- 
 ence that this work she desired him to under- 
 take would be done by his hand and under his 
 name. From her manner he believed that this 
 work would be some mad romance exceeding 
 their former work. He did not like the thought. 
 This novel just completed was his own ; no fiery 
 brain had set his pen aflame, and he was certain 
 that it would meet with favor. He had begun 
 to feel that he was free from this subtle woman's 
 power and rid of her presence ; and here she 
 stood in his doorway, wearing his name before 
 the world, weaving her^ spells once more about 
 him. 
 
 He knew this, and struggled against it in vain. 
 A sudden sensation of suffocation possessed him. 
 He turned to the window to raise the sash, but
 
 232 Li da Campbell, or 
 
 she stopped him. She crossed the space 
 between them and laid her hand upon his arm, 
 her eyes upon his. 
 
 " Be seated," she said, commandingly, as one 
 speaks to an obstinate child. 
 
 He obeyed mechanically. If seemed to him 
 that his will power had gone out to her, in spite 
 of his struggle. 
 
 " I cannot do this work for you now, Olive," 
 he said ; and his voice betrayed mingled help- 
 lessness and rebellion. " I have worked hard 
 on this other novel. I must have rest. I am 
 not like you to endure all things." 
 
 He attempted a smile, but it was a forlorn 
 failure. The contemptuous gesture of her 
 hands and the thin, curled lips were her only 
 answer for a moment. Then she said, quietly : 
 
 " No ; you are not like me, Walker Paling. 
 Were you as I am had you one-half my power 
 what marvelous work we might do ! But 
 you lack faith ; you lack the inner perception 
 the finer uplifting of thought that touches the 
 fire of heaven and your heart is cold. What
 
 Drama of a Life. 233 
 
 do I care that you have worked hard on your 
 novel? This shall be mine. It shall prove my 
 power. My brain shall electrify yours; my 
 thought inspire your pen. What lies behind the 
 romance how much of truth is in it who will 
 guess? If the background is black, with a hue 
 of red, we shall discover presently !" 
 
 " You do not understand," said Paling, 
 wearily. "There are social duties as well as 
 mental rest to fill up much of my time at pres- 
 ent. By and by, perhaps 
 
 " There is no by and by for me," she said, 
 icily. " What may not happen if we set aside 
 our manifest destiny ? I planned this work dur- 
 ing my illness ; the future lay clearly before me, 
 and I was near the border of spirit-land. It is 
 to be my life your life the life of others ! 
 What are social duties compared with the call 
 upon our souls ? What has society to do with 
 spirituality?" 
 
 " And what has spirituality to do with 
 society?" retorted Paling, in a last desperate 
 effort to shake off her power. " I tell you,
 
 234 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 Olive, that I cannot do this for you now. I will 
 not ! I will no longer endure " 
 
 She stooped suddenly over him as he leaned 
 back in his chair looking up to her, and laid one 
 cold, firm hand upon his lips. Her eyes had 
 grown black and flashing and her face colorless. 
 
 " You must endure much you must endure 
 whatever is written in heaven for you to 
 endure !" she said, sternly. " You are no better 
 than I, no better than the rest of the world, to 
 endure what lies for you in the future. I know 
 what it is. Wonderful revelations of the spirit- 
 land and of the future of those spirits still in the 
 flesh came to me since I have been ill. I could 
 tell you if I would, but I will not. It might 
 startle you to see the stain upon the curtain 
 hiding your life to come. Who knows but this 
 work of ours may rend it aside and reveal things 
 to you that I cannot reveal in words ? There is 
 a fulfillment more than the amusement of your 
 readers in the accomplishment of this work ! 
 And fortune, too magnificent fortune !" 
 
 " I cannot help it," he said, rather weakly,
 
 Drama of a Life. 235 
 
 pushing her hand aside. " I cannot do it, I tell 
 you, Olive, now. I cannot even talk longer 
 upon the subject. I have an engagement at 
 one, and must go. You will pardon me, I trust, 
 but it is unavoidable." 
 
 She lifted her head like an infuriated queen. 
 Her eyes were blazing. 
 
 " I will keep you no longer from your social 
 duties now," she said, passionately. " But 
 when you have done with them I shall come to 
 you, and you will do my work ! I shall be here 
 to-morrow morning at eleven. Make no engage- 
 ments for the day. You shall not fail me." 
 
 " But," ventured Paling, uneasily, " how 
 strange it will look for you to go away so and 
 come back to-morrow ! Either remain here or 
 let me-go to you wherever you are stopping " 
 
 Her eyes silenced him. 
 
 " What do I care for conventionality ?" she 
 said, with a movement of her slim hands as* 
 though she were pushing aside all such claims 
 upon her. " What do I care what people think ? 
 I go, as I always go, where I will. I shall return
 
 236 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 to-morrow. Be prepared for my work. My 
 work is nothing to the world until they have it 
 before them in the pages of a novel. Have I 
 suffered on the borderland of heaven, have I 
 communicated with innumerable spirits in order 
 that the right way may be clear, to be outdone 
 by the claims of society? Has my spirit actually 
 deserted my body to wander in space with other 
 bodiless spirits in searching for the perfect 
 explanation of my visions of this work and its 
 uses, to be crushed by you ? There is nothing 
 shall daunt me in this. I shall grant you breath- 
 ing space, poor, weak, earthy spirit, but to-mor- 
 row you shall yield your time ana talents to me 
 and my great work. Until then, farewell." 
 
 She turned away and left him with no further 
 word, passing out as quietly as she entered, 
 closing the door behind her with a muffled click 
 of the lock. For a moment Paling sat motion- 
 Jess and silent, staring at the door that had 
 closed upon her as though all volition had gone 
 from him and he were helpless, now that she was 
 gone.
 
 Drama of a Life. 237 
 
 There was a peculiar pallor and vacancy upon 
 his face, and he looked like a man not yet 
 wakened from a nightmare of sleep. After a 
 few moments, however, he rose unsteadily to his 
 feet and passed into the outer room. Here, on 
 a stand, was a tray with wine and glasses upon 
 it, and pouring a little of the liquor into a glass, 
 he drank it. This, reviving him, he summoned 
 Downing to attend him. 
 
 It was now too late to make the calls which 
 he had planned, but he kept his engagement for 
 luncheon, and in the afternoon drove out with 
 pretty Miss Fitzgerald. But everything palled 
 upon him. He did not for more than a few 
 minutes at a time forget that other strange 
 appointment to be kept upon the following day. 
 It grew into a horror, but he could not shake it 
 off. He tried to be gay, but his gayety was 
 forced, and he himself unnatural. 
 
 They drove in the park, he and the pretty 
 young artist, and the day was charming, if 
 rather chilly for spring, and he should have 
 utterly forgotten all things disagreeable. But
 
 238 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 he could not. He and Miss Fitzgerald with a 
 party of friends went to the theatre that evening, 
 and the play was good, but the tragical action 
 of his own life dulled the play. 
 
 His last thought that night was of the morrow 
 and the woman who had appointed a meeting 
 with him. Where she went upon leaving him 
 he could not conjecture, but that she would 
 retunn at the time stated he was certain. From 
 her face and voice and manner he knew that her 
 illness had tended to increase rather than to 
 soften her peculiarity of mind ; and if this work 
 which she had in view were really more intense 
 and dramatic than their former work together, 
 he would gladly escape connection with it ; and 
 yet he knew he frankly acknowledged to him- 
 self that he could not escape. 
 
 He knew the woman's power and his own 
 many futile attempts to resist. Her personal 
 magnetism, mesmerism, hypnotism whatever it 
 was called combined with her intense imagin- 
 ation and fine sense of the spiritual, made her a 
 dangerous woman to a man like himself.
 
 Drama of a Life. 239 
 
 Broad daylight came before he closed his eyes 
 in sleep, and still he argued and came to no con- 
 clusion, save that he must submit to fate. His 
 only alternative was flight, and he could never 
 resort to that. His will, indeed, was weak when 
 her almost superhuman power dominated, but 
 his manhood refused to yield to cowardice. 
 
 And by and by pretty Miss Fitzgerald's face 
 and level eyes and soft, womanly manner came 
 to him in dreams, and stood out strongly con- 
 trasted by this other woman's passionate voice 
 and face. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 WEAVING THE CURTAIN. 
 
 We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; 
 In feelings, not in figures on a dial. 
 We should count time by heart-throbs. 
 
 FESTUS. 
 
 Eleven muffled strokes of the hammer from 
 the handsome clock on the mantel, and Walker 
 Paling started nervously, as though the gilded
 
 240 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 hammer struck upon his brain instead of the 
 intricate inner machinery of Time's represent- 
 ative. He was sitting alone at his desk, with his 
 manuscript paper and pen and ink before him, 
 waiting the arrival of his visitor. For he knew 
 that she would come and she came. 
 
 The reverberation of the clock's hammer had 
 not died away, when a light rap on the door of 
 the sitting-room announced her arrival. He was 
 certain that it was she as he arose to admit her. 
 He had discreetly dismissed Downing for the 
 day or until summoned, knowing that it were 
 best for him to receive her alone. 
 
 She was his equal in height, and as the door 
 swung back and she entered, her eyes met his 
 levelly, and the latent fire within them startled 
 him. He stepped aside, closing the door behind 
 her and, after the simplest courteous salutation, 
 they passed together into his private room. 
 
 She seated herself at once behind his desk, 
 drawing a writing-pad and pen close to her 
 hand, utterly disregarding her bonnet and wraps 
 until he gently removed them for her, when she
 
 Drama of a Life. 241 
 
 glanced up indifferently. He knew that it 
 would be useless to expostulate with her, and 
 seated himself in grave silence. 
 
 " It is as well that you were not prepared for 
 me yesterday," she said, coldly, slowly drawing 
 off her gloves, " for a long night's vigil has 
 matured my thoughts and plans, and ripened 
 suggestion to clear detail." 
 
 "And your plot?" he asked, as coldly as 
 she had spoken, restlessly brushing aside the 
 paper before him, feeling her burning eyes upon 
 him/ "What is it, Olive? I must have the 
 outline before we begin." 
 
 She laughed shortly and rather scornfully as 
 she dipped the pen in the ink and carefully 
 cleared all blots from it against the side of the 
 cut-glass receiver. But she did not take her 
 eyes from his face. 
 
 " This story is not yours," she said, intensely ; 
 " it is mine, Walker Paling ! The great novelist 
 shall have the world's honor for it, but in his 
 heart he shall remember that it belongs truly to 
 a woman, and to a woman who is trampled
 
 242 Li da Campbell, or 
 
 under his careless feet! You shall be but ray 
 workman and build the fabric whose architect- 
 ure is mine. And when it is finished the world 
 will cry that the blood was fire and the brain 
 mad that could fashion such a plot ; but we will 
 laugh, knowing that is not true ! Were it 
 possible, I would accomplish this work without 
 the aid of any one ; but this I cannot do, for the 
 world would laugh at me and scorn my book. 
 
 " You being a young man and a novelist in 
 favor, the work will be read as any weird book 
 is read. It is not necessary to tell you the plot. 
 That will develop as we go on. All that is 
 required of you is to obey my will. It must be 
 worked out strong and well, so as to melt the 
 hearts of those who read it and win their sym- 
 pathy. // must move them to like deeds, or it is 
 useless." 
 
 Walker Paling would have given half his 
 fortune to be free from her power, but he knew 
 that he would finally yield and was helpless. 
 What was his will before the steady, flaming 
 eyes of this woman? He was deadly pale, and
 
 Drama of a Life. 243 
 
 at first his hand was weak as he took up his pen 
 and turned his face reluctantly but surely to hers. 
 
 But now that he was ready, her interest seemed 
 to die away. She sat with one arm resting upon 
 the desk, the pen held ready for immediate use, 
 but her face and eyes vacant as though life had 
 died. 
 
 Paling was familiar with this change in her 
 at times, and betrayed no emotion save extreme 
 attention to her look and voice. 
 
 " Modena's story is strange," she began by and 
 by, not changing her expression or attitude ; 
 but her listener knew that the manuscript was 
 started, and mechanically took down her words. 
 
 A strange story, indeed, and as it progressed 
 under the woman's powerful influence and 
 intellect, even this man whose work was pro- 
 nounced first among imaginative literature, felt 
 a half-vague horror upon him. Still he was 
 forced to continue ; still his knowledge set her 
 plot in strong colors, until it colored his own 
 brain, and he could scarcely distinguish whether 
 it were her work or his own.
 
 244 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 Physical fatigue seemed impossible to her. 
 She sat as easily, uttering in her softly-modulated 
 voice the words that were set down in ink under 
 her companion's fingers, so to end in printed 
 pages for the world to read, as though it were 
 but the conversation of any ordinary day. 
 
 It was not only a strange story, but the manner 
 of its composition was also remarkable. Paling 
 knew it, but he was completely under her will 
 power, and even his horror of the mad romance 
 could not deaden the fact sifting into his mind 
 that he feared her. He believed that she would 
 not hesitate to work evil to him should he 
 successfully resist her mental power. 
 
 Through the entire day they did not leave the 
 room, did not leave their positions at the desk. 
 The woman was apparently indifferent to 
 physical weariness or the demands of hunger, 
 and the man was passively responsive to her 
 words and thoughts. At times she did not utter 
 speech, and yet he continued indefatigably as 
 though he were endowed with her will and mind. 
 He had made no engagements, knowing that
 
 Drama of a Life. 245 
 
 it would be useless, and declined all invitations 
 under the plea of pressing work, in consequence 
 of which they were undisturbed throughout that 
 day. 
 
 All night they worked on and still neither 
 betrayed any sign of fatigue, save that Paling 
 was deadly pale and the woman's eyes were 
 glowing with some fierce mental fire. For three 
 days and nights these two worked on unceas- 
 ingly. No meals were served to them. No 
 one was admitted. She would allow nothing 
 to come between her madly woven romance 
 and her power over her fellow-worker. As 
 he grew physically weak from this fasting 
 and overwork, her will was marvelous upon his 
 mind. He hourly grew more and more possessed 
 with the spirit of his work, and acquired a half- 
 alive expression after that first day and night in 
 the quiet rooms with his strange companion. 
 
 Still, he never seemed to tire, never to lose 
 interest in the work that was to prove a marvel- 
 ous romance to him as real as life. 
 
 When the manuscript was completed in rough
 
 246 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 outline, and the more trying brainwork was 
 over, Paling was so thoroughly exhausted that 
 he had not the power to rise from his desk, and 
 the woman, triumphant in her success, with her 
 wonderful, almost diabolical strength assisted 
 him to a couch, from which he did not rise, save 
 to be removed to his bed. 
 
 For two weeks he was like one in delirious 
 fever, wild with visions of the brain, stricken 
 with remorse for the work which he believed 
 that he had done in place of the hero of their 
 romance, who came to him in his illness as a 
 ghost of himself and tormented him like a devil, 
 always accompanied by a silent, beautiful 
 woman, with soft, snowy hair, and eyes of flame 
 that burned into his soul the meaning that the 
 lips refused to utter. 
 
 For two weeks he remained in this dangerous 
 condition bordering upon insanity, cared for 
 untiringly by the woman and Downing, the 
 woman refusing to admit any physician. 
 
 " It is merely mental exhaustion," she said 
 evenly to the valet, who respectfully but
 
 Drama of a Life. 247 
 
 repeatedly suggested the expediency of sum- 
 moning medical aid ; and she said this in her 
 peculiar voice, with her eyes upon his face, and 
 Downing acquiesced with strange humility. 
 
 He, and he alone, knew of the hours this quiet 
 woman spent before that desk in the inner room, 
 correcting, revising and making perfect the first 
 rough draught of the manuscript whose influ- 
 ence was so evil to her companion ; and, at such 
 times, he murmured to himself, also knowing 
 the delirious ravings of his master, he would no 
 more have dared disturb her than he would 
 rouse a tiger. 
 
 But Walker Paling recovered. Slowly, 
 indeed, and for a long time only a shadow of his 
 former self ; but he recovered. Recovered to 
 realize that some powerful tragedy had entered 
 into his life and lived in his blood, ready for the 
 lifting of his hand to glow redly against that 
 curtain that hung half-parted before his future 
 life. The curtain was woven mutually by this 
 woman and himself her plan, but his fulfilling ; 
 and after near approach to death,' he had
 
 248 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 returned to life, to take this work upon himself 
 and weave the red in the warp. 
 
 Not one word of this had passed between 
 them. She had only uttered the plot of her 
 romance, but the truth under the fiction grew, 
 with the growing story, in his inner conscious- 
 ness, and he knew that she was dictating to him 
 her will, that it was he, and not the hero of her 
 romance, who should set the tragic end. And 
 still he knew that he could not successfully resist 
 her power. 
 
 His friends sent tokens of their regard for him in 
 fruit and flowers and regrets for his absence from 
 among them, but the fact of his illness was kept 
 from them, and they believed him only engaged 
 upon some pressing, important manuscript. 
 Downing was discreet and told nothing, and the 
 chambermaid who came to attend to her duties 
 was well paid for silence, and any idiosyncrasy 
 was permissible with such a litterateur as Walker 
 Paling. 
 
 To all this the woman was indifferent, so long
 
 Drama of a Life. 249 
 
 as her work progressed and the world knew no 
 more than was wise for it to learn. 
 
 " You see that I am not like you in endurance, 
 Olive," Paling said one day, as he was lying 
 among the cushions of the couch, watching her 
 as she was completing the closing chapter of the 
 novel. " I have always warned you not to 
 expect too much of me." 
 
 " I expect nothing," was the cold reply, as the 
 woman turned for a moment from her work to 
 meet his eyes, " but that of which I am certain. 
 I knew that this work would be done by you, 
 and it is done. As to endurance, you could 
 possess it would you but have the faith and con- 
 fidence in my power to grant it you. But no. 
 Like those who have never proved the wonderful 
 agency of the will and of invisible spirits, you 
 are too weak for great work. Were it not for 
 me, this work that will make you famous would 
 have never been accomplished." 
 
 " I wish that it had never been done," mur- 
 mured the novelist, under his breath. 
 
 But either her ears were peculiarly swift to hear
 
 250 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 or she guessed his thought, for her eyes grew 
 suddenly flaming, black with anger. 
 
 " And so you express your thanks," she said, 
 in a strangely suppressed voice. " Have I 
 endured days and nights of bodily pain and 
 starvation that my spirit should be free from 
 earthly thought, for you to turn upon me with 
 your discontent ? Do you think that I am doing 
 this for love ? I am doing it for a purpose. 
 Walker Paling, as you know, and it is only 
 through you that the end can be attained. But 
 it shall be ! You shall not fail me !" 
 
 A sudden wave of resistance surged upon the 
 man. He raised himself from among the pillows, 
 one hand clenched as though in that way to retain 
 firm hold of his resolution. His eyes reflected 
 the fire in her own, as he faced her. 
 
 " Listen to me, Olive," he said, sternly. " I 
 
 
 have yielded to your strangely superior will to 
 
 this time. There is an end to all things " 
 
 " Not to the spirit," she interrupted, coldly, 
 and her face and eyes seemed to contract with 
 newly summoned power. " The spirit is indom-
 
 Drama of a Life. 251 
 
 itable, Walker Paling ! Look at the work that 
 mine has done !" 
 
 " A devil's own work !" cried the man, fiercely. 
 " No woman's soul is in you, Olive ! Never 
 from this moment, though you were one hundred 
 times my wife, shall I submit to you ! Perhaps 
 you think " a sneer along the words, a fine 
 scorn of himself and his weak will in his voice 
 " that because I have been so easily persuaded 
 that I shall always be. But from to-day and 
 remember that I mean it no word or thought 
 of yours shall influence my work. Am I not a 
 man, and shall my work not be my own?" 
 
 She laughed, and the sound was strangely 
 unfamiliar. Her thin lips curled in scorn. 
 
 " You rave," she said, calmly, as she arose. 
 " My work is finished. I leave you now. When 
 you have sufficiently recovered from this poor, 
 earthy, mortal exhaustion, you shall complete 
 the work by securing its publication. Then the 
 end must come. 1 have not done this from love, 
 but hate."
 
 252 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 He paled, his eyes still fixed, fascinated, upon 
 hers. 
 
 She approached and looked down upon him 
 as he leaned among the cushions, and he fought 
 desperately to resist the power of her gaze. 
 
 " I have no fear," she said, and her voice was 
 the old peculiar, far-away, softly modulated 
 voice. " You shall still obey me, Walker Paling, 
 and finish the work that I have given you to do. 
 Until then I shall leave you, but remember that 
 I shall know always what you do !" 
 
 She turned away perfectly quiet and cold and 
 beautiful ; but the man among the cushions fell 
 helplessly back, watching her away, a half-blur 
 before his mind mingled vividly with her words 
 of warning uttered that first day of their work 
 starting through this mental blur with start- 
 ling distinctness and meaning, knowing her wish 
 for him : 
 
 " // must move them to like deeds, or it is use- 
 less r
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 WHICH SHALL CONQUER? 
 
 Yet tears to human suffering are due ; 
 
 And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown 
 
 Are mourned by man and not by man alone. 
 
 WORDSWO RTH. 
 
 " How horrible !" said Walker Paling, pacing 
 the floor of his study with his hands clasped 
 behind him and his head bent in deep thought. 
 His brows were meeting blackly and his eyes 
 were shot with red as though he were enduring 
 some extreme mental and physical suffering. 
 " How horrible ! Treat this matter as lightly as 
 I may, there remains this horrible conviction 
 
 that she was dictating to me what I should do 
 
 ir 
 and not the hero of this romance ! She uttered 
 
 not one word of it, and yet I know that it is her 
 
 [253]
 
 254 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 determination to force me to accomplish the 
 evil she has in view. She hates her brother. 
 He stands also in the way of her inheriting an 
 immense fortune. She would revenge herself 
 upon him because his nobler nature conquered 
 the devilish side of character running through 
 the family. She would have me end his life in 
 some silent manner, as the heroine does in this 
 manuscript, or she would have me shield her 
 with my life if her hand should do the deed !" 
 
 To and fro he paced more and more slowly, 
 and finally paused at his desk, where the manu- 
 script lay ready for copying, revised and edited. 
 
 He had done his best with it and worked 
 faithfully to make it perfect, to tone down the 
 crimson stain upon it and to brighten the sadder 
 pages. He gave his time for days after the 
 woman left him, impressed with the belief that 
 she still knew of his movements and still colored 
 his will with her own. He could not lay it aside 
 as he could any other such work of his own, but 
 gave his constant time and thought to its per- 
 fecting. He had worked himself pale and thin
 
 Drama of a Life. 255 
 
 but could not resist the invisible, incomprehensi- 
 ble power that forced him on. 
 
 Pausing at the desk, he lifted the manuscript 
 and ran over the pages, fluttering them, as he 
 read here and there a particularly strong line or 
 paragraph. As he did so he became absorbed 
 in it ; he could not lay it down ; it was as 
 though, as an actor in a drama, he must 
 thoroughly learn his part. He smiled bitterly 
 as this thought came to him. He felt that it was 
 true ; and, like the actor, when the drama was 
 played, he must accept his part. 
 
 " It is a horrible thing!" he said to himself, 
 still struggling to conquer the power that would 
 conquer his will. " Yet she has ruled my intel- 
 lect since first we met, and only heaven knows 
 but she always will ! I fight against it and yield 
 at last ! I am powerless to withstand such 
 strange machinations !" 
 
 Once more he ran over page after page before 
 him, this thought in his mind, and realized that 
 it was indeed a drama for his impersonation, 
 wherein the hero, for love, shielded the woman
 
 256 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 who held his heart against the law and the 
 world when she had stained her hands with her 
 brother's blood in order to wreak the vengeance 
 of heaven upon him for his lack of spirituality, 
 believing in the fancy of a mad woman, that she 
 was sent direct by heaven to perpetrate the 
 act. 
 
 Her lover suffered much, endured insults and 
 even imprisonment through his love, claiming 
 that it was his hand that ended the brother's life, 
 and would have suffered death, but at the last 
 pardon was granted both, and they went away 
 together to new scenes and new friends far from 
 the old. 
 
 Walker Paling knew that the plot was unique, 
 that many scenes were dramatic, that it was 
 written powerfully and well. The work as a 
 romance was unexceptionable ; as an inspiration 
 to like action, it was the work of a demoniacal 
 mind and brain. 
 
 He laid the manuscript down again and seated 
 himself in the softly upholstered revolving chair 
 before the desk. With one elbow upon it, he
 
 Drama of a Life. 257 
 
 rested his head upon his hand and pondered 
 over and over his course of action. Should he, 
 or should he not publish the novel ? Upon that, 
 to him, rested the weight of the whole affair. 
 If he should do this, and then the actual deed 
 follow upon it, would not the world cry out 
 upon him as a murderer, like a pack of wolves ? 
 Would it not accuse him of the deed ? Would 
 it not have clear ground for its charges ? And 
 might there not be reason to accuse him ? 
 
 How could he know what he would do under 
 the power of the woman whose mad blood 
 colored her intellect, and her will held his ? And 
 knowing that his brain fashioned the romance, 
 such a counterpart to the deed would not the 
 world point to him as the one who was guilty? 
 
 With his head upon his hand, sitting at his 
 desk, Walker Paling fought a difficult fight with 
 fate, and knew not for many days whether he 
 were victor or vanquished. And always in his 
 mind ran the woman's words, that, should the 
 book fail to spur others to like action, it would 
 have been written in vain.
 
 258 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 For several days this struggle continued, 
 though he resumed his social life, having left the 
 city with the early summer and being among 
 many friends at Newport, and that, to some 
 extent, softened the intensity of this mental suf- 
 fering. 
 
 For it was acute, actual suffering to him. He 
 was changed even to his friends, who believed 
 that this was due to overtaxed brains and gave 
 him most sincere sympathy. They seldom 
 questioned him regarding his wife, for rumor 
 set the whisper adrift that their lives were not 
 happy together, and society is discreet if not 
 over-sensitive as to inflicting wounds upon pain- 
 fully strung sensibilities. 
 
 Therefore his many friends, the many invita- 
 tions extended to him, the crowd of duties daily 
 devolving upon him, somewhat dulled the first 
 wild revolt at the fate that placed him as the 
 principal actor in a drama laid before him as a 
 romance, but impressed upon his inner convic- 
 tion as his life to be. 
 
 And so one day a new novel was issued from
 
 Drama of a Life. 259 
 
 the press in paper covers of gray and red, and 
 the world was startled by its daring plot. 
 Startled, somewhat horrified at first, perhaps, 
 then better pleased, and then the novel was an 
 accepted fact, talked about and read, and 
 criticised with alternate severity and commenda- 
 tion, but accepted as the novel of the day, and 
 not to have read it augured an inappreciative 
 taste. 
 
 So " The Drama of a Life," with streaks of red 
 across the covers, became a powerful factor in 
 many lives, and struck real life's horizon, with 
 the same red hue tingeing the curtain hung 
 before the future, that parted as days passed by. 
 The novelist's friends congratulated him upon 
 the success of his marvelous last work, predict- 
 ing for him many pleasant possibilities; but it 
 seemed to him always at such times that they 
 were urging him on to like action. If the world 
 could praise a fictitious hero for such an act, 
 should it not also praise such a hero in real life, 
 a man, at the instigation of a woman, and under 
 her strange mesmeric power, wherein her wish
 
 260 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 was his, her will his own, accomplishing a fiend- 
 ish act from revenge, spurred on by spiritual 
 forces ? 
 
 Daily he grew more and more impressed with 
 this belief, until he became at times alarmed, 
 thinking himself mad. He brooded for hours, 
 when alone, over the horrible fatality that so 
 governed his promising life. He had worked 
 hard to attain the height upon which his fame 
 rested ; and was he to be cast down in humiliation 
 through the subtle power of a half-mad woman ? 
 He was often tempted to go to Doctor Oldham, 
 lay the matter before him, and ask his advice, 
 but was always hindered from doing this from 
 the knowledge that the woman was sought by 
 Oldham before she gave him her love. He 
 could not go to her old lover and make known 
 her wish. Besides, he knew from past experi- 
 ence that the man would uphold her. 
 
 He grew gloomy and morose. A cigar and 
 solitude were his companions sometimes for 
 days together. Little by little he allowed his 
 social duties to die away. Even the pretty
 
 Drama of a Life. 261 
 
 young artist, whose friendship was more to him 
 than she knew, could not rouse him from this 
 despondency. 
 
 Kittie Fitzgerald was a charming little woman 
 and gave him the sincere admiration and sym- 
 pathy that his genius demanded of such a fine 
 nature as her own. 
 
 He admired her. Perhaps, had he met her 
 before this other woman gained influence over 
 him, she might have been more to him than 
 merely a womanly friend. If this thought 
 intruded upon him at times, he crushed it faith- 
 fully ; and as this mental struggle grew upon 
 him, all other ties dropped away, until even this 
 earnest woman faded from his thought. 
 
 All life seemed a blank save the future a 
 curtain woven with crimson in its woof. And 
 one day he went quietly away from his friends, 
 giving no hint of the cause of his departure, of 
 his destination, in the courteous yet rather stiff 
 notes of farewell which he sent to those most 
 true among these friends. 
 
 Pretty Miss Fitzgerald was one of these, and
 
 262 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 if she was more quiet than usual for a few days 
 after this, no one questioned the cause or 
 remarked upon the change. 
 
 " I never knew a writer yet who wasn't queer 
 in the head," said one of Paling's friends to a 
 group on the piazza of Mrs. Fitzgerald's cottage, 
 as they discussed the novelist's strange manner 
 of going away. " It looks as though this last 
 book has knocked him all up. His mind and 
 imagination must be at work continually. He 
 will turn to a skeleton if he continues at this 
 rate !" 
 
 " I never saw any one look as he did when he 
 finished this book !" added another of the group. 
 " By Jove \ He looked as though he had been 
 living with ghosts for a month ! He ought not 
 to work so hard. One such novel is enough for 
 a lifetime, I should think !" 
 
 " No doubt if you were to write it !" retorted 
 the first speaker. " You are not like Paling, 
 you know, Townsend. He works like a Trojan 
 to accomplish any given work. Nevertheless, it
 
 Drama of a Life. 263 
 
 must tell upon him to plot and plan such strong 
 romances as he gives us." 
 
 " Perhaps his wife assists him," suggested Miss 
 Fitzgerald softly, smiling. " There is something 
 in her face that leads one to believe her capable 
 of some great work, if she would attempt it. I 
 have seldom met her, but the first time her 
 beauty impressed itself upon me." 
 
 " With a woman's peculiar perception," said 
 the gentleman beside her. " For my part, I was 
 repelled, rather than attracted, by Paling's wife. 
 I have heard that many admire her, but as she is 
 a sort of a recluse anyway, it is difficult to say 
 positively. She goes out so seldom, one has 
 mighty little opportunity to study up on her 
 character." 
 
 " When I finished reading this novel," said Mr. 
 Townsend, more seriously than the others had 
 spoken, " it left with me a fear that would not be 
 set aside. I felt and still feel -as though there 
 were something uncanny about it, or as though 
 it were not all imaginary. No wonder that 
 Paling had a ghostly look when he finished it !"
 
 264 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 " I heard one of the most peculiar criticisms 
 upon the book last night," said one lady, moving 
 her fan lazily to and fro, as the soft breeze from 
 the water lifted the fluffy hair about her piquant 
 face. " You know that Doctor Oldham himself 
 is peculiar in some of his views. I received a 
 letter from a friend last night and in it she wrote 
 that Doctor Oldham was greatly impressed by 
 this new book, and that none of us could imagine 
 what he said regarding it!" 
 
 She laughed in a slow, pretty fashion, very 
 captivating to the man leaning behind her chair. 
 
 " Why, he said in the most matter-of-fact 
 manner that he is assured that the work was 
 done for a purpose more than merely to amuse 
 the readers, and that it is his firm belief that the 
 writer was inspired !"
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THROUGH THE DARKNESS. 
 
 This is the night 
 That either makes me or fordoes me quite. 
 
 SHAKESPEARE. 
 
 Mrs. Carmichael stood motionless for a few 
 minutes after the sound of the wheels died away 
 over the meadow road. Fear had left her, but 
 swift comprehension of what had passed came 
 in its place. The night was black with midnight, 
 and she was standing against the light from the 
 room, but she felt nothing save strange certainty 
 of who this visitor was and for what she had 
 come. 
 
 Very still the night was ; the cry of a sleepy 
 bird among the branches on the lawn sounded 
 
 startlingly distinct, and the break of waves over 
 
 [265]
 
 266 - Lida Campbell, or 
 
 the pebbly beach was a soft " slur-r " through the 
 darkness like the quiet breathing of the sea. 
 
 The air was faintly soft and mingled with the 
 garden odors drifting up to the dark balcony, 
 faintly stirring the lace drapery at the windows. 
 
 Mrs. Carmichael nodded to herself, a gleam 
 in her eyes that the darkness hid. 
 
 " A beautiful night," she murmured, calmly 
 turning back 'into the room. "Very beautiful, 
 madam and discreet." 
 
 And drawing the curtains carefully back 
 in their places, she returned to her seat beside 
 the lamp-stand, seeing that her patient was still 
 sleeping, and resumed her book as though noth- 
 ing had happened. But although outwardly 
 calm she was greatly excited. The pages of her 
 novel blurred before her, faded and grew blank 
 as her thoughts intensified. 
 
 She was shrewd, this gentle nurse. She was 
 there for a purpose, and she was the woman to 
 accomplish any purpose she undertook. 
 
 Perfect silence reigned through the house. 
 No one was stirring save herself, so far as she
 
 Drama of a Life. 267 
 
 knew, but she believed that she was not the only 
 wakeful one there that night. She had seen and 
 heard enough to guess much more. Not for 
 fully an hour could she concentrate her thoughts 
 for reading, but she had much self-control and a 
 strong will, and finally brought her mind in 
 unison with the novel. 
 
 Strange how the novel mingled with her 
 thoughts ! How the plot met with counterplot 
 in her mind ! But nothing more happened that 
 night. The patient slept quietly, the house was 
 perfectly still; nothing occurred to disturb the 
 silent nurse sitting beside the tiny stand with the 
 new novel before her. 
 
 When Doctor Graham called upon his patient 
 on the following day, he gave him no encourage- 
 ment, warning him to be careful, to obey orders 
 and not to over-exert himself; and although he 
 allowed him to have his guests about him 
 through the day, that Mrs. Carmichael should 
 rest, he forbade their exciting or fatiguing him, 
 adding that it was most essential for him to have 
 quiet and rest.
 
 268 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 Mrs. Carmichael was discreet as well as 
 shrewd. She decided that it might be well to 
 keep the occurrence of the previous night to her- 
 self for a time. Perfect silence upon the subject 
 might lead to possible development of the pur- 
 pose for which she was placed there. 
 
 " Mr. Price slept well all night," she said, 
 simply, when Doctor Graham questioned her, 
 before leaving the house. " Do you not think 
 that he is improved, Doctor ? " 
 
 The doctor's eyes were warning in their quiet 
 glance as he stood beside the couch where she 
 was lying, drawing on his gloves. 
 
 " It is best not to speak too soon," he replied 
 gravely. " Time may accomplish much, Mrs. 
 Carmichael." 
 
 She smiled softly up to him, her eyes very 
 bright, her white hair waved evenly about her 
 delicate face. 
 
 Doctor Graham answered the smile as though 
 she had spoken. 
 
 "Time requires patience, you think, Mrs.
 
 Drama of a Life. 269 
 
 Carmichael. That is true. Nevertheless patience 
 works much sometimes." 
 
 " Always," said the nurse, with gentle con- 
 viction. " Always, Doctor Graham. My life 
 has proved that to me ; years will prove it to 
 you." 
 
 The strange flash and brilliance of her ejes 
 struck the physician, and his eyes grew keen 
 looking down upon her. For a moment his per- 
 fect confidence in her was shaken. Her eyes 
 often puzzled him, but just now they startled 
 him with brilliant expression. He grew more 
 cautious in his speech. He began to think that 
 perhaps he had been wrong to trust her so implic- 
 itly. 
 
 " Doubtless you should know," he said, quietly. 
 " In any case care will not be misplaced, Mrs. 
 Carmichael. Has Mrs. Estabrook been with her 
 nephew to-day?" 
 
 " Only for a few moments," replied the nurse 
 with equal self-possession. " Mrs. Estabrook is 
 extremely kind, Doctor Graham." 
 
 " Certainly. I presume that she brings him
 
 270 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 fruit, does she not, or flowers occasionally, Mrs. 
 Carmichael ? It would be like Mrs. Estabrook's 
 thoughtfulness to do so," added the physician, 
 still with his keen eyes upon hers. 
 
 " One expects such attentions especially from 
 one's relatives or guests," said the nurse, smiling, 
 quite unmoved by his steady glance. " Mrs. 
 Estabrook brought up a few exquisite peaches 
 yesterday and a charming bouquet of roses this 
 morning, Doctor. But I thought it wise to with- 
 hold the fruit, and the flowers are in my room." 
 
 With a slight gesture of one hand she indicated 
 where the flowers were ; and the physician, cross- 
 ing the room to the small stand at the other 
 side near the window, bent above the exquisite 
 huge puffs of deep crimson, inhaling their fra- 
 grance. Then, with his ungloved hand, he re- 
 moved the roses from the vase, turning to the 
 nurse : 
 
 " The odor of flowers is almost too strong 
 for a sick-room especially for Price, Mrs. Car- 
 michael," he said, coolly. " And it is as well to 
 give him only such fruit as I send him. One
 
 Drama of a Life. 271 
 
 sometimes does most harm with the very best 
 intentions." 
 
 " Yes," said the nurse to herself when the 
 doctor was gone, as she tucked a corner of the 
 cushion more comfortably under her head, nod- 
 ding wisely as she did so. " And sometimes one 
 Misjudges another with the very best intention, 
 Doctor Graham." 
 
 Then she fell asleep and dreamed of many 
 things, but especially of novels and a patient 
 \vith kind, brown eyes and a pleasant voice mur- 
 muring with pathetic frankness of the care that 
 was like that of a mother. 
 
 But Mrs. Carmichael did not accept the 
 position of nurse in this important case to dream 
 dreams or spend her time over novels. She 
 laughed at herself when she wakened, to think 
 that she, with her white hair, should fashion 
 fancies fit only for the pretty hair of youth. 
 
 "This will never do," she said, gravely, 
 shaking her head at the reflection in her mirror, 
 as she carefully brushed the soft white hair 
 smooth under the dainty lace cap she wore. " I
 
 272 Li da Campbell, or 
 
 cannot have this, Mrs. Carmichael, my dear !" 
 
 And that night, as darkness deepened through 
 the rooms and the night-lamp, softly shaded, 
 was set in its place beyond the range of the bed, 
 Mrs. Carmichael remained in her room, reclining 
 upon the couch, with the one unlocked door in 
 full view. She was no longer dreaming dreams. 
 She was alert and watchful. Nothing should 
 happen that night without her knowledge. The 
 darkness of her room made that one path of light 
 across the outer room clearly outlined. The 
 least movement there would be known to her 
 from the stirring of the patient to any presence 
 other than her own. 
 
 " No novel shall claim my attention to-night /" 
 she said, firmly. 
 
 It seemed very long to the watching woman 
 before the house was quiet, before the murmur 
 of voices died from the piazza and cigar scent 
 no longer drifted to her with the fragrance from 
 the garden. Time dragged. There was nothing 
 for her to do but to sit silently in the darkness 
 and wait and think, and sometimes her thoughts
 
 Drama of a Life. 273 
 
 were far from pleasant thoughts and her face 
 grew stern could any one have seen it. 
 
 She was very quiet ; she scarcely stirred, lest 
 she be heard. Price was restless during the 
 earlier part of the night, but sank into undis- 
 turbed slumber as the hours wore on. 
 
 " He must sleep," said Mrs. Carmichael, 
 closing her lips firmly. And the quieting drink 
 she gave him silenced him at once. 
 
 "Nothing shall stand in my way to-night," 
 murmured the nurse, as she resumed her watch- 
 ful position in the inner room. " I feel assured 
 that much will occur that will decide this case 
 before morning, and I shall be prepared." 
 
 But the hours passed one by one, and 
 nothing happened. Still the nurse did not tire 
 or fail in watchfulness of that thin line of light 
 from beyond the bed to the unlocked door. 
 And by and by her faithfulness was rewarded. 
 
 The clock struck one two half after two. 
 Perfect silence ; and had it not been for the nurse's 
 certainty of the need for wakefulness, she would 
 have slept as quietly as her patient. But the
 
 274 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 soft-toned utterance of the- clock had not died 
 away along the silence, when the patient 
 watcher was rewarded. 
 
 Not a sound betrayed that there had come 
 evil in the night. Softly, unheard, scarcely to 
 be seen, that unlocked door leading from the 
 hall cautiously opened, and the thin thread of 
 lamp-light struck dimly upon the stealthy figure 
 just beyond the threshold. 
 
 A hushed sort of figure, pausing to make 
 certain that no one was within who could 
 observe him, one hand holding the door ajar, 
 the other shielding his eyes from the light, the 
 better to ascertain if all were well within. 
 
 Mrs. Carmichael, from the darkness of her 
 room, dared not move, lest some sound should 
 betray her presence and watchfulness. She 
 started, however, in uncontrolable surprise when 
 she first saw the intruder. Conyers' figure, 
 Conyers' stealthy movements, Conyers' strong, 
 slim hand upon the door! Then, looking more 
 intently still at that thread of tell-tale light 
 through the darkness, Mrs. Carmichael's eyes.
 
 Drama of a Life. 2 75 
 
 were brilliant with dawning conviction. Mo- 
 tionless she sat and waited, watching. 
 
 The silent figure crossed the threshold, draw- 
 ing the door t close after him, and moved stealth- 
 ily along that line of light to the bedside. The 
 master was sleeping deeply. Not a sound 
 proved that any one in the house was awake, 
 save this daring intruder. Being assured of 
 this, the man crossed to the stand where the . 
 water-pitcher and glasses were set on a tray, and 
 first pausing once more to make certain of no 
 prying eyes, he removed the cover from the 
 pitcher, and drawing a small vial from an inner 
 pocket of his coat, leaned forward toward the 
 lamp-light to read the inscription upon it, and 
 then poured the contents into the pitcher. 
 
 Replacing the cover, assuring himself nothing 
 was disturbed upon the tray to betray him or a 
 hint of color in the water, he turned, and, without 
 another glance toward the bed, passed out more 
 in shadow, save where the threshold crossed the 
 light.
 
 276 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 That was all. No word ; no violence ; perfect 
 silence. 
 
 Perfect silence through the house, save the 
 smothered footsteps along the corridor. Per- 
 fect silence in the room save the quiet 
 breathing of the sleeper. Perfect silence in the 
 room beyond, save the beating heart of the 
 woman leaning forward, motionless, with her 
 brilliant eyes still fixed upon the door that 
 closed so harmlessly behind the silent man. 
 
 For full ten minutes the nurse remained upon 
 the couch, scarcely daring to breathe, for fear 
 some one should be watching as well as herself, 
 and her plans be fruitless. Then, as silently as 
 possible, she arose and crossed to the outer 
 room. Instinctively she glanced keenly toward 
 the windows opening upon the balcony, but 
 nothing was there. She was certain that noth- 
 ing was there, for her nerves were so finely 
 strung at that moment that she must have felt 
 any strange presence. Everything in the room 
 was as she left it, with the exception of that 
 harmless-looking pitcher upon the silver tray.
 
 Drama of a Life. 277 
 
 Mrs. Carmichael, in her soft gray dress, with 
 her beautiful white hair drawn smoothly back 
 from her face, looked like a guarding spirit of 
 good, as she crossed to the stand and lifted the 
 pitcher, carrying it over to the light. Her eyes 
 were brilliant, in spite of her snorvy hair, and she 
 needed no spectacles to examine the contents. 
 
 Colorless, odorless, harmless to all appear- 
 ances. She poured out a little into one of the 
 glasses and held it against the light, her brilliant 
 eyes concentrating and contracting with the 
 keenness of her gaze. Still colorless, still unbe 
 traying. But Mrs. Carmichael seemed perfectly 
 satisfied. She poured the water from the glass 
 back into the pftcher, and replaced that upon 
 the tray, covering it carefully. She made no 
 sound during all this time, for the rugs were soft 
 and thick and her slippers noiseless, and the soft 
 folds of her gray cashmere fell with scarcely a 
 stir about her. 
 
 Nevertheless, Mrs. Carmichael's thoughts 
 were in a tumult, and Mrs. Carmichael's lips 
 shut sternly over a bitter cry for justice delayed.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 HARMLESS ? 
 
 I believe in you, but that's not enough ; 
 Give my conviction a clinch ! 
 
 ROBERT BROWNING. 
 
 " By George !" exclaimed Mayhew, vehe- 
 mently with an exaggerated gesture of despera- 
 tion. " If this thing goes on much longer, 
 Bloomingdale will be the place- for me ! I tell 
 you, boys, unless Jack fetches Price out of this 
 cloud of mystery in double-quick time, I shall 
 be a walking skeleton fit for his secret closet." 
 
 " How much we should regret that," mur- 
 mured Newton, wickedly. " For none of us 
 would recognize you, Dick. A sort of centaur 
 
 skeleton, now, would not be so far out of the 
 
 [278]
 
 Drama of a Life. 279 
 
 way, but a ivalking spook is quite another thing 
 for you." 
 
 " I don't know about that," interrupted Burn- 
 side, laughing. " Mr. Richard walked pretty 
 well yesterday with Miss Kitty Florence, and to 
 all appearances he had no thought of fatigue. 
 He's a sly one, that Mr. Richard Mayhew !" 
 
 " ^-pecially when he is trying to cut some 
 other fellow out with one of our charming young 
 ladies," added Tom Hastings, lazily, blowing 
 aside the faint, gray curl of cigar smoke from 
 about his face, that he might better criticise his 
 friend's appearance. 
 
 " Oh, come! Quit your fooling," said Morgan, 
 irritably. Morgan was reading the latest novel, 
 and was frowning over the pages at his garrulous 
 companions. His boots were level with the 
 piazza railing, and he looked the picture of ease. 
 " Unless a fellow buries himself in his room or 
 fairly runs away on the water, there is no peace 
 or quiet to be had for love or money. How do 
 you expect me to have the least knowledge of 
 this book in the midst of such chinning ?"
 
 2 So Lida Campbell, or 
 
 " We don't expect you to read, my dearest 
 Herb," replied Burnside, calmly, puffing at his 
 cigar in undisturbed comfort, his eyes through 
 the trailing vines upon the distant sails far away 
 upon the Sound, gleaming white in the sunlight. 
 " And there seems to be much more hate than 
 love in this mysterious illness of Price. What is 
 any novel compared to that? I have had my 
 eyes open. I am no kitten. And every day it 
 grows upon my mind that we are living idly in 
 the very midst of a romance as startling as the 
 one you are reading, Morgan." 
 
 " Paling's latest has unsettled your reason, 
 Burnside," Newton interposed, with a gleam of 
 laughter in his eyes. " But if your romance is 
 anything after the fashion of Paling's, I beg to 
 be excused. Actors generally are consulted as 
 to the part that they will accept in a drama, and 
 in yours I decline. Blue lights and slow music 
 and that don't become my complexion." 
 
 " You haven't any complexion," retorted 
 Burnside, coolly, eyeing Newton in his large.
 
 Drama of a Life. 281 
 
 calm way. " Don't lay claim to that, Neddie. 
 Even Miss Dunbar would protest " 
 
 "We will not draw Miss Dunbar into this 
 conversation," said Newton, quietly, but with a 
 flash in his eyes. " We began by speaking of 
 Price's illness, and, as usual, there is no holding 
 to one thread of thought." 
 
 " It's like the Roman Catacombs or the 
 Labyrinth," added Mayhew. " There is no get- 
 ting out of its tangle, and we are sure to meet 
 with some monster that will devour us in wrath. 
 How is Price, Hastings? Of course you have 
 seen him this morning?" 
 
 " As any of you can, if you choose," replied 
 Hastings, unruffled in temper. Things were 
 going on well in the sick-room, and Tom patted 
 himself in mental approval for his part in the 
 affair. " I don't see why you fellows are not 
 more often with Price anyway. If you were 
 shut up in a sick-room during this exasperat- 
 ingly charming weather, I rather think you 
 would be grateful for a little attention. Jack
 
 282 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 gave us full leave to sit up with him whenever 
 Mrs. Carmichael will allow." 
 
 " That is just the difficulty," Newton said, 
 laughing shortly. 
 
 " Mrs. Carmichael uses her authority with a 
 mighty high hand, I think. She refused to let 
 me see Price this very morning. She said that 
 she preferred waiting until the doctor comes. 
 Price is no worse, so far as she can say those 
 were her words but she felt that it was best 
 not to disturb him until this afternoon. What 
 do you think of that for nursely authority, if 
 you please, Mr. Hastings, and what have you to 
 say?" 
 
 Burnside whistled low and long, opening his 
 black eyes wide in astonishment. Morgan 
 shrugged his shoulders suggestively. Even 
 Hastings looked surprised. 
 
 " I went up early," he said ; " Perhaps that is 
 the reason, Ned. He was all right then. I saw 
 him myself, and he said that he slept well the 
 latter part of the night ; it was very warm dur- 
 ing the early part of the evening, you know, and
 
 Drama of a Life. 283 
 
 he was restless. I don't understand why Mrs. 
 Carmichael wouldn't let you in." 
 
 " Neither do I," said Newton, sarcastically. 
 " I thought perhaps you might, my dear boy. 
 As it is a mystery to you also, I accept it as 
 such. Madam Carmichael is variable in temper 
 it may be nurses are sometimes. It doesn't 
 specially bother me, only that I should be pleased 
 to have some explanation regarding Price." 
 
 " Which you will not have until the authorities 
 allow," said Morgan, with supreme unction. 
 " Possess your soul in patience, my dear Ned. 
 ' All things come to him who waits." ' 
 
 " And sometimes to him who demands it with- 
 out patience," added Newton, in considerable 
 heat. His temper was out of sorts because of 
 the refusal received at his friend's door, and it 
 had rankled in his mind until he was undoubt- 
 edly in a bad humor, which was not improved 
 by hearing that Hastings had been admitted 
 when he was denied. 
 
 " But you don't seem to take into considera- 
 tion that Doctor Jack Graham has given
 
 284 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 madam, the nurse, supreme authority, Ned," 
 suggested May hew, evenly. " If you are shut 
 out, so are the rest of us, excepting Mr. Hast- 
 ings, the doctor's chum and nursie's assistant. 
 You had best not mind it. /don't." 
 
 " Well, I do /" retorted Newton, unappeased, 
 although he smoked in furious silence fora few 
 moments afterward and regained an outward 
 show of calmness, though the flash in his eyes 
 showed that he was still inwardly angry. 
 
 But had he known what passed in Price's 
 room that afternoon when Doctor Graham made 
 his customary call upon his patient, his anger 
 would have been utterly forgotten in extremity 
 of wonder ; for Mrs. Carmichael believed that 
 the time had come for her to inform the physi- 
 cian what she had seen and heard during the 
 past two nights. 
 
 Graham had talked with Price, assuring him 
 
 .that he was fast recovering perfect health, 
 
 although he must request him to remain in his 
 
 room and under the care of the nurse ; and after 
 
 a half-hour's light conversation, he passed into
 
 Drama of a Life. 285 
 
 Mrs. Carmichael's room, before he left, as was 
 his habit, to learn from her if there were any 
 change or any new development. 
 
 To his surprise, he did not find her resting 
 upon the couch. Usually she remained upon 
 the couch during the day, excepting when she 
 waited upon her patient or served his meals. 
 Now she was evidently waiting the physician's 
 coming. There was a warm flush of color on 
 her cheeks and a fire in her dark eyes that made 
 her beautiful and almost young in spite of her 
 snowy hair. 
 
 Graham looked at her in unconcealed surprise 
 and lurking admiration. She saw this and 
 smiled a flashing, swift, vanishing parting of 
 the lips that made the after gravity greater by 
 contrast. She controlled her excitement, but the 
 slim hands would flutter slightly when at first 
 she spoke. 
 
 " I have waited for you, Doctor. I have done 
 my best. I think we have sufficient proof now. 
 I did not speak yesterday, and you will under-
 
 286 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 stand why when I have finished what 1 have to 
 tell you." 
 
 He bade her with quiet authority to be seated. 
 He saw that she was under extreme excitement 
 and she mechanically obeyed him. 
 
 " I felt that we could trust to your perception 
 and discretion, Mrs. Carmichael," he said, in 
 grave approval. 
 
 Their voices were low ; no one outside of the 
 room could overhear ; but they betrayed no 
 more than the usual formality of question and 
 answer between physician and nurse. 
 
 " You are very kind," said Mrs. Carmichael, 
 and her pretty voice was now softly and evenly 
 modulated. Doctor Graham did not wonder 
 that her patients trusted her so implicitly or were 
 easily managed when under her care. 
 
 " But now," added Doctor Graham, in his 
 quiet, professional voice, if I may hear what you 
 have to say, Mrs. Carmichael " 
 
 " Certainly," said Mrs. Carmichael, in as pro- 
 fessional-like a voice as his own. " Have you 
 read Mr. Paling's new novel, Doctor Graham ?"
 
 Drama of a Life. 287 
 
 The physician frowned. 
 
 " Pardon me," he said, coldly. " I fail to com- 
 prehend why you should refer to a novel in 
 explaining what has occurred here, Mrs. Car- 
 michael." 
 
 "Pardon me" she said, softly; and uncon- 
 sciously he listened attentively for every word 
 uttered in this charming voice; "but the novel is 
 so connected with what has occurred here that I 
 cannot fail to refer to it, Doctor." 
 
 " In what way?" he queried, still sternly. 
 
 Her hands moved in the pretty, suggestive 
 gesture familiar to her ; her voice was slow and 
 very distinct. 
 
 "In the way that it was written for this end, 
 Doctor Graham." ' 
 
 He started, with a swift, keen glance down 
 into her bright eyes. Then he frowned severely. 
 There must be no romancing in this serious case. 
 Fact and not fancy must fashion the proofs for 
 which they were working. 
 
 " Still," he said, sternly, " I do not understand 
 you, Mrs. Carmichael. Perhaps novels are
 
 288 Li da Campbell, or 
 
 somewhat out of my line of life, but common 
 sense assures me that only in imagination could 
 such an incident exist." 
 
 She smiled. 
 
 He smiled more icily in exasperation. 
 
 " I overheard one of your friend's guests speak- 
 ing of this novel, Doctor Graham," the nurse 
 said steadily, in explanation. "/ have been wait- 
 ing for a ne^u novel from this author / The out- 
 line, as given by Mr. Mayhew, coincided with 
 my expectations. I sent for the novel and read 
 it. I read it two nights ago, while sitting with 
 your patient. It explained many things, but at 
 the same time I was afraid, because there was so 
 little pity in it ! Wait one moment!" 
 
 He was rising impatiently, but paused at her 
 gesture. 
 
 " That night, Doctor Graham, I had a visitor 
 a midnight visitor. More properly speaking, I 
 should have said a visitor to your patient. This 
 was a woman. She did not enter. She stood 
 upon the balcony yonder and looked in at the
 
 Drama of a Life. 289 
 
 windows. I made my presence known, and she 
 went away." 
 
 " Are you sure ?" exclaimed the doctor, for 
 the first time betraying excitement. "And what 
 then? Who was she, Mrs. Carmichael ?" 
 
 "You will know," said Mrs. Carmichael, 
 quietly, " when I have finished, Doctor Graham. 
 You will know as I knew! Whoever she was, 
 she came and went in a carriage, /knew her by 
 the power of her eyes. She has marvelous men- 
 tal power, as I have reason to know. 
 
 " Last night another visitor came. Not this 
 woman not any woman. A man of this house- 
 hold. I was here watching for I expected 
 some one after the woman's presence. He came, 
 and I watched him unobserved. The Jight 
 from the lamp strikes clearly across from the 
 bed to the unlocked door. He came in that 
 way. He came for a purpose. Look here !" 
 
 She arose and he arose with her, for the moment 
 controlled by her excitement. She crossed to 
 the table at the other end of the room, and
 
 290 Li da Campbell, or 
 
 uncovered the silver water-pitcher which she 
 had removed from the patient's room. 
 
 Graham glanced at the contents and then at 
 her. He was half annoyed and half startled by 
 her manner and words, for he could not believe 
 that she told him this to show him nothing but 
 the drinking water which had been in Price's 
 room all night. Her meaning did not at once 
 enter his mind. 
 
 "You do not comprehend, Doctor," she said, 
 her voice falling almost to a whisper, for an 
 instant laying one hand upon his arm, her eyes 
 upon his as though she would impress him with 
 her truth. " You, being a physician, will be 
 able to say whether or not this is harmless, but 
 the man who entered last night poured into this 
 water the entire contents of a vial which he 
 carried. It left no color, no odor, but is it 
 harmless f" 
 
 He comprehended now. He called himself 
 inwardly an insufferable fool not to have 
 guessed her meaning at once. Had they not 
 been waiting and watching for just this thing?
 
 Drama of a Life. 291 
 
 With a swift gesture of impatience, his eyes 
 met those of the quiet nurse. 
 
 44 Bring me a small bottle," he said, in swift 
 command. l( I shall take a part of this with me, 
 Mrs. Carmichael, and discover beyond doubt 
 whether or not it is harmless. But I think, 1 ' he 
 added to himself, his eyes bent intently upon 
 the fateful pitcher as he waited for the return of 
 the nurse " I think that we shall prove it not 
 harmless, but the devil's own drug of death !" 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 ACTORS IN A DRAMA. 
 
 But, plot as I may, I can find no way 
 
 How a blow should fall, such as falls on men. 
 
 ROBERT BROWNING. 
 
 Walker Paling returned to the city sooner 
 than he expected when he started upon his sum- 
 mer's vacation. He had traveled through the 
 West for recreation, and also for subject-matter 
 for a novel. He met a few of his friends in dif-
 
 292 Li da Campbell, or 
 
 ferent cities where he stopped, and made many 
 new ones, but he was restless and dissatisfied. 
 Nothing pleased him for long. The people and 
 the scenery delightful people, beautiful scenery 
 lost their interest to him after the very first. 
 
 His nature, his character, his life itself, seemed 
 to have changed with the completion of that last 
 novel. It filled his thoughts haunted him con- 
 tinually. He could not shake it off, try as he 
 would. It was planned for a purpose. He 
 knew it. This was as true to him as was the 
 fact that the appearance of the novel had 
 increased his reputation. It was read and crit- 
 icised, and he was criticised. He knew that, 
 too. At times he believed that it was no novel ; 
 that it was real life ; that he was the hero. 
 
 At such times he felt a morbid certainty that 
 he could only dispel with a fierce struggle, that 
 he was going mad ; that his overtaxed brain 
 could endure no more, and* had given way 
 before the intensity of this blow. Physically he 
 had changed very much as well as mentallj-. 
 The easy conversational powers that made him
 
 Drama of a Life. 203 
 
 such a charming companion before were 
 replaced by a gravity that was almost depress- 
 ing. Sometimes he would even start when he 
 was addressed, as though his mind was wander- 
 ing so far that it was painful to recall it. These 
 things were noted arid criticised, as well as the 
 peculiarities of his novel. And in this way he 
 grew to shun society, and by degrees drifted 
 back to New York much sooner than he had 
 planned to do. 
 
 The greater number of his friends were among 
 the mountains or at the seashore, and the popu- 
 lar novelist lived very quietly in his suite of 
 rooms at the Fifth Avenue Hotel. But it would 
 have been much better for him to have continued 
 in his travelling, for the quiet life increased rather 
 than diminished his gloomy train of thought and 
 his excessive nervousness. He prepared notes 
 for a new manuscript, but did even this in such 
 a spasmodic, disjointed fashion as to tend to 
 intensify his already unsettled mind. 
 
 He was growing irritable in temper and diffi- 
 cult to please. Downing often assured himself
 
 294 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 that he would endure such a life no longer ; but 
 Downing was attached to his master, and the 
 threat passed harmlessly. Then, one day, as late 
 summer was almost imperceptibly merging into 
 autumn, a new shock changed the entire course 
 of Walker Paling's life. And yet, when it came 
 upon him, it seemed to him that it was for this 
 he had been waiting all summer. It fell upon 
 him suddenly, and left him stunned for a time 
 but he rose out of it a new man, stronger, nobler 
 and more self-reliant. It was terrible, but neces- 
 sary to his future happiness. 
 
 Paling was sitting at his desk, aimlessly turning 
 over the neatly cut slips upon which his notes 
 were written ; he was reading fragments of them 
 as he ran them over in his hands, adding to this 
 one or that as he thought advisable. He was 
 arguing with himself whether or not he should 
 begin upon this new manuscript at once or leave 
 it until his mind was more clear. 
 
 As the latter thought came to him he smiled 
 bitterly, thinking how hopeless it was that ever 
 his mind should clear of the shadow upon it.
 
 Drama of a Life. 295 
 
 And then it was that Downing entered, announc- 
 ing that there were callers for his master. 
 
 Paling frowned impatiently, and bade his man 
 say that he was engaged and would not be 
 disturbed. They were no friends of his, Down- 
 ing assured him no one whom he had ever seen, 
 so far as he could remember, and why should he 
 be troubled by strangers when he could scarcely 
 endure the presence of his friends under such 
 circumstances as the present? 
 
 But Downing found it rather more difficult to 
 detain the callers than such a simple duty had 
 seemed. They firmly refused to leave without 
 seeing Paling, and hearing the continued con- 
 versation at the door, Paling himself, greatly 
 annoyed, passed into his sitting-roorn that he 
 might inform these troublesome callers that he 
 could not be detained from his work. But as he 
 entered from his inner room, those at the outer 
 door would not be put off by the valet, but 
 entered very quietly and with an authority that 
 he dared not resist. The astonished and rather
 
 296 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 angry novelist paused half-way across the room, 
 eyeing the intruders. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said one of the strangers, 
 courteously, but with that peculiarly impressive 
 air of authority that made itself felt from the first. 
 " This is Mr. Paling, I believe?" 
 
 " That is my name, sir," was the cold reply. 
 " May I inquire what brought you here in my 
 private room in this strange manner ?" 
 
 The stranger bowed. He made a deprecating 
 gesture with one hand, and his gray eyes 
 darkened. 
 
 " I came to explain my errand," he said, quietly. 
 " If you will grant us a few moments' private 
 conversation with you, you shall hear what 
 brought us to you." 
 
 The angry frown deepened upon Palings 
 brow. Half scornfully he motioned, to ward the 
 inner room. 
 
 " What possible private conversation you can 
 have with me," he said, haughtily, " I cannot 
 imagine, gentlemen. But you are at liberty to 
 make your errand known."
 
 Drama of a Life. 297 
 
 " 1 shall make it known in as few words as 
 possible," said the stranger, quietly. " I have 
 met you, Mr. Paling, but doubtless you have 
 forgotten me. It was only during one evening, 
 and you meet too many people to remember one. 
 My name is Graham Doctor Graham, as you 
 will see by this card." With the same quiet, 
 courteous authority, he laid a strip of card upon 
 the desk near which he stood, for he would not 
 accept Paling's cold request for them to be 
 seated. 
 
 " My friend is Doctor Farwell, Mr. Paling. 
 We are residents of the town in Connecticut 
 where a friend of yours has an estate. I think, 
 even though you have forgotten me, you have 
 not forgotten Lee Price ?" 
 
 A slow, deep red dawned in Paling's face, 
 and for an instant his eyes wavered before 
 Doctor Graham's flashing, steady gaze. Then 
 in a tide came over him the remembrance of 
 what he had endured, how much he had suffered 
 through the sister of Lee Price, and with
 
 298 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 clenched hands and eyes burning with anger, he 
 turned upon them. 
 
 " Have I forgotten Lee Price ?" he demanded, 
 with sternly suppressed passion. " Ask me if I 
 have forgotten the brother of the devil, and I 
 shall answer : ' No !' Ask me if I have forgotten 
 the subtle poison oi a serpent that once has 
 stung me and 'No!' and ' No /' I shall still 
 reply ! The name signifies to me the culmina- 
 tion of every evil under the sun !" 
 
 The two physicians stood silent and motion- 
 less, during this outburst of passion. They had 
 anticipated possible anger upon the part of the 
 novelist, but anger toward themselves, not 
 toward the woman who had left her home for 
 him. 
 
 " I regret if I have wakened unpleasant 
 memories, Mr. Paling," said Graham, gravely, 
 " but we have a mystery to clear up, and you 
 are the one to whom to come, I believe. You 
 have recently issued a novel, under the peculiar 
 title of ' The Drama of a Life.' Of course, you 
 know that it has created a good deal of criticism.
 
 Drama of a Life. 299 
 
 I have not come to tell you this. But I under- 
 stand that it was written under strange circum- 
 stances. Also " very distinctly and slowly he 
 spoke " that it was written for a purpose. Is 
 this true, Mr. Paling ?" 
 
 For a moment the novelist's face turned deadly 
 pale, and he reached out his hand to steady 
 himself at the desk ; then, with a strong effort 
 he regained his self-control, and answered them. 
 His voice sounded strange and constrained, 
 even to himself. 
 
 " One's work always should be for a purpose, 
 Doctor Graham," he said. " In that respect, 1 
 trust that my work is not different from that of 
 others, and I fail to recognize your right to 
 interfere with either my work or myself." 
 
 Doctor Graham bowed gravely. 
 
 " 1 have asked your pardon, Mr. Paling," he 
 said. " We come under peculiar circumstances. 
 Lee Price has been ill from the effect of most 
 subtle poison administered by a member of his 
 household, who was bribed by Olive Price, the 
 woman who has so long passed as your wife
 
 300 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 " Who is my wife !" interrupted Paling, in a 
 low tone, his hands falling to his side, a painful 
 expression of pride and humiliation and sorrow 
 in his eyes. 
 
 Graham's face changed instantly. His gesture 
 of entreaty for pardon was swift and kindly. 
 
 " I regret my hasty words," he said, in a voice 
 peculiarly gentle. " I judged from rumor, Mr. 
 Paling. But what I wished to say is very 
 simple truth. We are led to believe, from this 
 hovel of yours, whose plot is so remarkably like 
 the real plot, that you planned this act, or wrote 
 it, under the influence of " slightest hesitation, 
 the faintest pause " your wife ! This latter 
 charge is made by one who has reason to know 
 her power, and we call upon you to hear what 
 you have to say in answer. It is a grave matter, 
 in which a life lay in the balance against death, 
 but we grant you the opportunity to clear your- 
 self, if you can. I trust that it will be possible 
 for you to do so." 
 
 " The evidence is unmistakable, regarding the 
 attempted poisoning," added Doctor Farwell,
 
 Drama of a Life, 301 
 
 quietly. " The proof must be as powerful, to 
 clear those who are accused of the act." 
 
 Paling drew himself up haughtily. His eyes 
 were dark with anger once more. All trace of 
 humiliation was gone. 
 
 " Why should you accuse me of such an act ?" 
 he demanded, fiercely. " Because I write of 
 
 
 
 murder and plan such deeds in fiction as any 
 novelist does, is it necessary that I should 
 attempt them in real life ? Pardon me, gentle- 
 men, but your zeal over-balances your good 
 judgment." 
 
 " Our grounds for the accusation," said Doctor 
 Graham, evenly, still instinctively respecting the 
 proud man before them, " are the knowledge that 
 you first planned this deed in your novel and 
 that the woman who has assisted you in the 
 composition pardon me again for referring to 
 your wife of much of your work is the woman 
 who desires her brother's death. The proof is 
 very clear and looks rather black for you. 
 Where is " that slight pause between the 
 words "your wife?"
 
 302 Li da Campbell, or 
 
 Paling, sensitive upon this subject very evi- 
 dently, frowned darkly and his hands again were 
 clenched. 
 
 " But I swear to you, gentlemen " he began, 
 vehemently, yet as though he was speaking 
 between his teeth. Then he paused. Speech 
 died upon his lips. His self-defense fell flat 
 before the accusing presence of the woman her- 
 self. 
 
 She entered among them, pallid and silent, her 
 eyes looking miles beyond them, utterly oblivi- 
 ous of them as she paused in the doorway, no 
 sound betraying her presence. 
 
 " Mrs. Paling !" exclaimed Jack Graham, under 
 his breath, falling back a step as he saw her. 
 
 Doctor Farwell said nothing, but quick com- 
 prehension of the scene flashed upon him. 
 
 " Olive ! Olive !" Paling muttered, in a 
 smothered voice, as though he felt that there was 
 no hope for him when she was near. His pride and 
 anger died away. The gloomy despair on his 
 face was pathetic. It moved even the physicians
 
 Drama of a Life. 303 
 
 to sympathy. They knew enough of the woman 
 to give him their pity unasked. 
 
 " 1 have heard your accusation," the woman 
 said, in her slow, soft voice, looking at no one 
 but Paling, and upon his eyes her own burned 
 intensely. " I have come, Walker Paling, to 
 prevent your perfidy. Just now you would 
 have sworn to a lie had I not known of your 
 intention and thwarted you ! Listen ! My 
 brother is poisoned ! Perhaps he is dead at this 
 moment! I hope that this is so ! There is no 
 love between us nothing but hate ! He hates 
 me as much as such a weak nature can hate ; and 
 I" she spread out her hands toward them in a 
 passionate gesture, though her eyes never 
 moved from Paling's eyes " I hate him so 
 fiercely that with my own hands I could poison 
 him strangle him be rid of him in any way so 
 that he be dead ! 
 
 " You swore to me that he should die ! You 
 wrote this novel for me that the world might 
 learn the ancient art of secret poisoning ! / 
 learned it under the tuition of a friend. I kept
 
 304 Lido, Campbell, or 
 
 the knowledge to myself until I thought the 
 world should know. There are many people 
 who would be better dead. Death is easy to 
 arrange if one is patient. I gave you my 
 knowledge of poisonous drugs that you might 
 know what to do when the time arrived. You 
 have your novel ; the plot was excellent ; but the 
 novel was nothing without the act which fol- 
 lowed. You were to be the hero of a real 
 drama as you knew ! When the act is com- 
 pleted you shall answer the accusation for you 
 are guilty!" 
 
 Paling's face was covered by his hands. That 
 old belief that had been with him so constantly 
 that the novel was but a dream, and he was the 
 actual actor in an actual drama returned upon 
 him, and he had no word to offer in self-defense 
 did not even know to a certainty whether or 
 not he were guilty as the woman said. He was 
 utterly humiliated. His hands trembled with 
 agitation. His lips could frame no word. Was 
 that proof, he asked himself, that he committed 
 this act?
 
 Drama of a Life. 305 
 
 But as she finished, Paling turned upon her in 
 concentrated desperation and humiliation. She 
 was his wife as he had affirmed to these men. 
 The truth was never spoken for she refused with 
 her tiger fierceness to be claimed as his wife, but 
 she was his wife, and he must defend her honor 
 against any slur upon it ! His eyes did not 
 flinch from hers now. 
 
 " Olive !" he said, in a voice that proved his 
 powerful self-restraint. " Olive, can you not be 
 merciful ? Have I not obeyed you up to this 
 last command? Could I commit murder even 
 for you ?" 
 
 " Yes," she said coldly, with a scornful ges- 
 ture. " If I desire it, \Valker Paling. My 
 power over you is always supreme. I came to 
 you from the border of the spirit-land ; how 
 could you successfully combat an ambassador of 
 justice from heaven ? You accomplished my 
 design, but you are no murderer. My brother 
 poisoned my father. Belladonna is powerful 
 when rightly used. This act was justice, for 
 my father often made my mother unhappy.
 
 306 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 Should my brother die would not that, too, be 
 justice ? Did I not tell you that the novel 
 would be useless did it not impel others to like 
 action?" 
 
 A smothered groan was his only answer. 
 Could he truthfully say that this was not so ? 
 Her flaming eyes were upon his ; what could he 
 answer? 
 
 But as Doctor Graham, up to this time a silent 
 listener with his companion, stepped forward to 
 lay a detaining hand upon the woman's arm, she 
 turned without a trace of haste, and crossing the 
 outer room before they could stop her, she 
 passed through the door and was gone, leaving 
 them gazing blankly at the closed door. 
 
 " We shall make no scene," said Doctor Gra- 
 ham quietly, turning upon the motionless novel- 
 ist, " but we must hold you to answer this charge, 
 Mr. Paling."
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 DEVELOPMENTS. 
 
 Knowledge and power have rights ; 
 But ignorance and weakness have rights, too. 
 
 ROBERT BROWNING. 
 
 " By the lord Harry !" 
 
 Ned Newton sank down upon an upturned 
 box just outside the entrance to the stables and 
 eyed his friends in consternation and admira- 
 tion. Burnside and Morgan and Mayhew were 
 loitering about the stable doors deep in the 
 exciting mysteries of horses and their habits. 
 
 At Newton's exclamation they turned to him 
 for an explanation. It was not usual for Mr. 
 Ned Newton to be in such a state of extreme 
 excitement. He was fanning himself with his 
 hat and panting with absurd exaggeration, nod- 
 
 [307]
 
 308 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 ding- his head now and then in emphatic approval 
 of himself and his conduct. 
 
 " And pray, what's the matter with the lord 
 Harry or the old Harry, Ned ?" queried Morgai^ 
 in some impatience at his friend's silence. " One 
 might think that you had tumbled from the skies 
 in a whirlwind, from the way you came among 
 us." 
 
 " And one might think much worse and go a 
 good deal further from the truth," retorted 
 Newton, scornfully. " I have made a discovery !" 
 
 " The deuce you have !" exclaimed Mayhew, 
 laughing. " Has it anything to do with gravi- 
 tation or the laws of attraction and force ?" 
 
 " Hush!" said Burnside, authoritatively. " Don't 
 rattle the modern Newton ! Listen and learn, 
 little boy, of the great discoverer !" 
 
 " It is well enough to joke about it now, if you 
 choose," said Newton, with an expressive ges- 
 ture ; " but it is really no joking matter, you 
 fellows. It is only a morsel of real fact that I 
 can tell you, but that was enough for me to see 
 through the whole mystery. If you care to hear
 
 Drama of a Life. 309 
 
 it, I'll tell you ; if you don't, all that you have to 
 do is to say so, and I'll let you alone." 
 
 " But we do want to hear, of course, Ned," 
 said Mayhew, gravely. " The very smallest 
 morsel that will clear up this mystery will be 
 most gratefully received by me." 
 
 " And the rest of us," added Morgan, with 
 equal gravity. 
 
 "Well!" Newton threw one leg over the 
 other knee and clasped his hands around it in 
 his favorite attitude when interested or excited. 
 " We all have seen Price's strange illness. 
 Maybe we have had our suspicions of the cause, 
 but none of us, unless it was Hastings, positively 
 knew if there was anything wrong about that 
 matter. Graham has acted rather scarce about 
 it and kept a close mouth, but it is my opinion 
 that the^ whole thing is a sort off-stage drama, 
 with Price as hero, Graham and Tom as the 
 friends, and Conyers as the villain. I've had my 
 eyes open from the beginning, and I think that 
 it is, all though, a rather funny business." 
 
 " I suppose that you mean poisoning by the
 
 310 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 wicked uncle, or some such nursery rhyme," 
 Morgan interposed, sarcastically. " Don't stray 
 into the drama and we may believe you, 
 Newton." 
 
 " You can believe me or not, as you choose," 
 said Newton, with sturdy conviction. "If you 
 haven't imagined some such thing yourself, 
 Morgan, it's simply because you are too 
 stupid !" 
 
 Morgan flushed and started forward, but 
 Burnside reached out one long arm easily and 
 detained him, drawing down his black brows 
 heavily. 
 
 " Go on, Ned," he said, calmly. " Don't be 
 wrathy, Herb. Children and fools will some- 
 times tell the truth !" 
 
 "And you can shut up your ears, if you don't 
 want to hear," said Newton, cooll)\ " But 
 there's this about Price : I came through the 
 upper hall just now, and as I passed his door I 
 heard pretty considerable talking inside. Con- 
 yers was there, I know, and Tom and Jack 
 though / didn't see Graham come and a
 
 Drama of a Life. 3 i i 
 
 woman's voice the nurse, 1 suppose ! It was 
 decidedly unusual, but I didn't consider it my 
 business to inquire into it, so I came down- 
 stairs. 
 
 " As I came along around the back of the 
 house, as a short cut out here, I found that there 
 was a good deal of excitement in the servants' 
 hall also ! Of course, this was too much for my 
 curiosity, so I stopped to inquire the cause." 
 
 He paused to recover breath after this rapid 
 utterance, but Burnside interrogated impa- 
 tiently : 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Well !" Newton arose, shaking himself with 
 exasperating nonchalance. " Children and fools 
 do sometimes know enough to keep their knowl- 
 edge to themselves, Rob! As to what followed 
 my inquiries, you fellows will have to discover 
 for yourselves. It is worth your while to inves- 
 tigate the matter, but, as for me, I am really too 
 much latigued with the weight of the truth to 
 tell you more. How is Black Jess getting on,
 
 312 Li da Campbell, or 
 
 Jim ? Have her groomed and saddled for me, 
 please, at two this afternoon. That's my lad !" 
 
 And dexterously removing a silver quarter 
 from his pocket to the boy's hand, Newton 
 turned back, whistling, toward the house, leav- 
 ing his friends in a state of indignation at his 
 indifference. 
 
 " I don't believe that his ' discovery ' amounts 
 to that !" said Morgan, contemptuously snapping 
 his fingers. 
 
 " It is just one of his funny jokes," added May- 
 hew, with a good-natured laugh, after a moment 
 of anger. " This mystery regarding Price 
 bothers Ned constantly, and he is obliged to 
 amuse himself manufacturing solutions, or he 
 would become insane. It is a harmless amuse- 
 ment." 
 
 " Harmless to him, perhaps," growled Burn- 
 side, " but decidedly dangerous to the temper of 
 the others, let me tell you, Mr. Mayhew. It 
 won't pay to try it on me many times." 
 
 But Mayhew was not to be moved from his 
 good nature, and only dipped his hands deep
 
 Drama of a Life. 3 1 3 
 
 into his pockets and strolled towards the boat- 
 house, softly whistling a bar from the latest 
 popular song. 
 
 " That's just like Mayhew," said Morgan, 
 crossly. " I suppose Miss Kitty Florence has 
 something to do with his good spirits, for he has 
 been untiring in his attentions to her lately." 
 
 " If she is the cause," said Burnside, philosoph- 
 ically, " doubtless he is of the opinion that Miss 
 Harte has used you meanly, Herb, considering 
 your temper." 
 
 " Which is no worse than you own," retorted 
 Morgan, industriously chewing a wisp of hay, as 
 he leaned against the stable entrance and eyed 
 his companion with a challenging look. 
 
 " That's so," replied Burnside, readily, with a 
 shrug of his shoulders, also recovering his good 
 humor. It's not worth quarreling about, Herb." 
 
 " No," said Herb, sullenly ; " I suppose not, 
 Burnside. But I won't stand much of that from 
 him." 
 
 And peace was restored among themselves, if 
 not in the master's room.
 
 3 1 4 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 The windows of this room were open to the 
 early autumn winds, that crept in so softly it 
 seemed impossible to believe that summer had 
 slipped by, the late garden-flowers making the 
 air still delicate with perfume. There was the 
 faintest tinge of richer color on the myriad 
 leaves rustling outside, and the piazza vines 
 swung pathetically from the pillars to and fro, 
 very softly after a heavy rain. 
 
 Peace outside, but tumult in the hearts of 
 those within the large, cool room. 
 
 The young master was sitting in the reclining- 
 chair near one of the long windows, looking re- 
 markably well for an invalid, and Doctor 
 Graham stood beside him, with one hand on the 
 back of his chair the other unconsciously used 
 to emphasize his words. Tom Hastings, with 
 his back against the door, was listening excitedly 
 - to what Graham was saying. Mrs. Leonard, the 
 housekeeper, was standing a little back with Mrs. 
 Carmichael, the nurse. Mrs. Estabrook had 
 returned to her home on being assured by the 
 physician that her nephew would recover.
 
 Drama of a Life. 3 1 5 
 
 " And this is what you have been doing you 
 and Mrs. Carmichael," said Price, slowly, his 
 eyes flashing upon his friend ; " and Tom ! I 
 owe you my life you three ! How can 1 ever 
 repay it ? " 
 
 " By taking better care of it in the future, my 
 dear boy," replied Graham, laughing. " But it 
 is to Mrs. Carmichael much more than to Tom 
 or me that you owe your life. She came to me 
 with a most important disclosure when I was 
 almost despairing of ever truly benefiting you. 
 But before I explain this part of the plot, I 
 should like to call in one or two of your servants, 
 Price. You have not yet been fully enlightened." 
 
 A shadow touched the young man's face lifted 
 to his friend. His eyes darkened and flashed. 
 He raised one hand as though in protest, and 
 then, commanding his momentary emotion, he 
 said, quietly : 
 
 " Call in any one whom you desire, Jack. I 
 am in your debt so deeply that this is little 
 indeed to grant. Still, I hope," deeper gravity in 
 his voice, " I do sincerely hope that you have dis-
 
 316 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 covered nothing against Conyers. He has been a 
 faithful fellow, Graham. I know that you do not 
 like him ; that you distrusted him. You showed 
 that plainly from the first. I trust that you have 
 learned of your injustice." 
 
 Graham frowned. He closed his lips sternly 
 as he turned towards the bell-cord. But when 
 he turned back to his friend, his [face was very 
 gentle. 
 
 " So far as lies in my power, Lee," he said, 
 " no injustice shall be done to any one. In such 
 a matter as this, one is sometimes forced by cir- 
 cumstances to suspect even one's own people." 
 
 " Yes," said Price, in a low voice, his face for 
 an instant turned aside. " I know that, Jack. 
 But I know that you do not like Conyers, and I 
 have found him always faithful. He is a man of 
 few words, but I feel assured that many times I 
 should have yielded to the influence of this drug 
 but for him. He was ready day or night to 
 attend me." 
 
 " Yes," replied Doctor Graham, concisely. 
 " I have no doubt of that, Price, nor of the kind-
 
 Drama of a Life. 3 1 7 
 
 ness that prompts you to intercede for him. At 
 present, however, I must use my own judgment 
 and knowledge." 
 
 Price bowed. 
 
 " I should not complain of that," he said, 
 quietly. " Do as you think best, Jack. I am 
 sure that will be well." 
 
 Emma came in answer to Doctor Graham's 
 ring, and was sent to summon Conyers and also 
 to return herself with him. The girl was evi- 
 dently startled by this summons, but turned at 
 once to obey the order, glancing once in a half- 
 frightened way toward the quiet nurse, whose 
 eyes were upon her with peculiar keenness. 
 
 Doctor Graham, now constantly on the alert; 
 saw this glance, but did not betray his knowl- 
 edge. Presently he would unmask the actors 
 in this drama, and he could wait until the 
 moment arrived to ring down the curtain and 
 end the play. He smiled grimly, thinkingof this ; 
 and as Mrs. Carmichael's bright eyes turned 
 from the girl, they caught this hard smile, and 
 her eyes fell to the gentler face of his friend,
 
 318 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 very pale but strong and true, among the cush- 
 ions of his chair ; and the quiet light returned to 
 her face and eyes. She could wait. 
 
 " I summoned you, Conyers," Doctor Graham 
 said, sternly, as the valet entered the room in 
 his usual silent, respectful, unembarrassed fash- 
 ion ; " and you, also, Emma," as the girl paused 
 hesitatingly just inside the door. " Unless your 
 conscience accuses you, you need not fear. 
 Your master is almost recovered." 
 
 Conyers bowed respectfully, his eyes for a 
 moment meeting his master's smiling eyes. 
 Emma stood irresolutely fingering her apron, 
 her eyes bent down. 
 
 " You know that your master has been ill 
 dangerously ill poisoned?" 
 
 Emma lifted her eyes for an instant to Con- 
 yers' face. Conyers was immovably, respect- 
 fully attentive. 
 
 "Now," Graham took one step forward, his 
 flashing eyes upon the two before him, raising his 
 hand authoritatively, " tell me at once all that 
 you know regarding this, Conyers !"
 
 Drama of a Life. 3 1 9 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " What have you to say?" 
 
 Conyers paused. His usual readiness was 
 gone. He, in turn, glanced down at the discom- 
 fitted girl near him. Then he straightened him- 
 self, and met the doctor's eyes calmly. 
 
 " 1 have nothing to say, sir," he replied. 
 
 Doctor Graham's brows lowered over the 
 flashing eyes. 
 
 " You were with your master, night and day, 
 attending him during these strange attacks, and 
 still have nothing to say. Very well, Conyers ! 
 I shall answer for you presently !" 
 
 The valet's eyes were as steady as his own and 
 there was no change in his quietly respectful 
 face. 
 
 "And now," Graham turned swiftly upon the 
 girl, so swiftly that she shrank back from him, 
 "surely you have something to say, Emma! 
 Keep nothing from us. We must know all /" 
 
 Once more his eyes sought the eyes of the 
 valet, but Conyers might have been forever a 
 stranger to her for all sign he gave of her pres-
 
 320 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 ence, or of her present revelation ; and with a 
 half shy dignity attractive in the girl, Emma 
 answered the physician. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 UNMASKING. 
 
 Where is the thread now ? Off again ! 
 
 The old trick! Only I discern 
 Infinite passion and the pain 
 Of finite hearts that yearn. 
 
 ROBERT BROWNING. 
 
 " Perhaps you are blaming me for Mr. Price's 
 illness !" said the girl, her eyes as level as the 
 flashing eyes of Doctor Graham upon her. " I 
 am sorry if you or he believe that; but I can 
 clear myself if you do." 
 
 Conyers, in a swift glance, once more became 
 aware of her presence ; but she gave no sign of 
 her knowledge of this. 
 
 " I may have been in the master's service but a 
 short time compared with the length of the ser-
 
 Drama of a Life. 321 
 
 vice of his other servants, but I have been faith- 
 ful in spite of any suspicion, as Mrs. Leonard can 
 tell you." She glanced toward the housekeeper, 
 but waited for no corroboration of her words. 
 I was commissioned to be faithful, and I have 
 kept my promise to do my best. I knew that 
 the master was often ill in the night, and that 
 Conyers was with him. I think that he has been 
 true as well as I. Anyway, 1 have watched him 
 constantly, and nothing has gone wrong, I 
 know." 
 
 The vaiet once more glanced down upon her, 
 surprised at the earnestness of her voice. 
 
 " Very well," said Doctor Graham, quietly : 
 " I am glad that you can speak so positively, 
 Emma. Please go on." 
 
 The girl courtesied ; she forgot to finger her 
 apron in her eagerness to prove her truth. 
 Mrs. Carmichael's eyes were upon her, and she 
 knew it ; but was not at all disconcerted. Even 
 Mrs. Leonard looked astonished at her assur- 
 ance. 
 
 " I know that you suspected Conyers and me
 
 322 Lido, Campbell, or 
 
 of harming Mr. Price. You said as much and 
 looked it. Conyers suspected me. And yet 1 
 could not explain, for I had promised to be 
 silent until given leave to speak.** 
 
 " You talk in riddles," said Doctor Graham, 
 coldly. "This is no child's play, Emma. Be 
 kind enough to hurry your explanation." 
 
 The girl showed no sign of irritation or dis- 
 comfiture at his sternness. 
 
 " I learned that there was danger threatening 
 Mr. Price," she said, in her pretty, shy manner. 
 " He is too kind to every one, sir, to be harmed. 
 I was sent to see that nothing should prove 
 fatal to him. The cream that was poisoned a 
 few weeks ago I threw away as soon as I dis- 
 covered that it made Mr. Price ill, even though 
 Mrs. Leonard told me to save it for you 
 because I had my own suspicions and feared 
 that it would be used still for harm. You will 
 understand presently, Doctor Graham. At the 
 time you were angry, believing that I disobeyed 
 you from a wish to harm him. You called 
 Conyers and me up here. I knew that you
 
 Drama of a Life. 323 
 
 and Conyers believed that 1 was actuated by 
 an evil motive. Mrs. Carmichael was the only 
 one who knew better." 
 
 " I am glad that you and Mrs. Carmichael 
 understand each other so well, Emma," said 
 Price, kindly, with a smile that lightened the 
 girl's face and that was not lost upon Mrs. 
 Carmichael. 
 
 A peculiar smile crossed the girl's lips. 
 
 " She sent me here," she said, quietly, with a 
 glance toward the nurse, answered by a flashing 
 glance from the gray eyes meeting hers ; " and 
 she can better tell you the rest than 1." 
 
 " Of whom are you speaking ?" demanded 
 Graham, sternly. 
 
 " Mrs. Carmichael," answered Emma, in a low 
 tone. 
 
 Price turned toward her as the doctor said, in 
 half-displeased surprise : 
 
 " I thought that I understood and could trust 
 Mrs. Carmichael, but it seems that one of your 
 servants is better informed than I, Price. What 
 has Mrs. Carmichael to answer to this charge ?"
 
 324 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 The gentle, white-haired nurse stepped for- 
 ward in a sweetly dignified manner, as though 
 she would force back any rash speech and utter 
 only quiet words. Mrs. Leonard was listening 
 to this strange scene in extreme surprise. 
 
 "When I called upon Doctor Graham," said 
 Mrs. Carmichael, addressing Price more than 
 the physician, " I possessed such personal 
 proofs of the attempt upon your life, that I con- 
 sidered it a criminal offense not to do what I 
 could to protect you from harm. I hesitated 
 about making it known to the proper authorities 
 because the knowledge came to me under pecul- 
 iar circumstances, and my statement might not 
 be believed, besides the unpleasant notoriety 
 that would undoubtedly follow such a revela- 
 tion. Doctor Graham knows this part of the 
 matter. The rest of the story is that, after some 
 time of indecision, 1 went to a detective bureau 
 and made known enough of the plot against Mr. 
 Price's life to secure the services of a woman 
 detective to enter service here. This was 
 gained without trouble
 
 Drama of a Life. 325 
 
 11 And this is the woman?" interrupted Doctor 
 Graham, in a tone of chagrin at his own blunder, 
 indicating the girl Emma with a motion of his 
 hand. 
 
 Mrs. Carmichael bowed. 
 
 " This is the woman," she said, softly. 
 " Through her I was kept constantly informed 
 of what passed here, but knowing more of the 
 circumstances relating to the case than I wished 
 to make known, and, learning that Mr. Price was 
 failing, I offered my own services to Doctor 
 Graham, going to him with a letter of introduc- 
 tion from Doctor Oldham, of New York, who 
 was a friend as well as the physician of the 
 person plotting the murder. This letter was 
 gained only after much delay and argument, but 
 that it was gained, my presence signifies. 
 Doctor Oldham as well as I knew more of this 
 matter than he cared to make known. 
 
 " My plan of coming personally was approved 
 by Miss Rockwood Miss Rockwood, formerly 
 the girl 'Emma' and I found that it was well 
 that I chose this character of nurse, for only in
 
 326 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 this way was I enabled to be continually in the 
 sick-room. I have accomplished the errand for 
 which I came. The person who planned this 
 scheme is known to us all, but I shall not name 
 her. It is a woman yes. Her accomplice in 
 the plotting we have also discovered, as well as 
 the cowardly inmate of this house who was 
 bribed and frightened into administering the 
 poison." 
 
 Conyers instinctively felt that the eyes of all 
 were upon him, but his eyes did not falter from 
 meeting squarely those of his master. 
 
 "And now," added Mrs. Carmichael, in her 
 sweet, quiet voice, with a pretty gesture of 
 appeal toward Mr. Price, " in order to finish this 
 scene, may I summon one of your servants, Mr. 
 Price ? For there is one more actor." 
 
 Price smiled. Lee Price's smile was good to 
 see. 
 
 " Anything that Mrs. Carmichael desires is at 
 her disposal always," he said, gently. " You are 
 at liberty to summon whom you will of my house- 
 hold, Mrs, Carmichael, J will agree to anything
 
 Drama of a Life. 327 
 
 to restore the old even tenor of our life and 
 remove suspicion from all but him who is 
 guilty." 
 
 Mrs. Carmichael smiled upon this kindly 
 spirited man, but the slight gesture of her hands 
 was still more effective in its betrayal that justice 
 and not revenge demanded the unmasking of him, 
 who was guilty. She was a woman and pitiful, 
 but the innocent should not suffer. 
 
 " I have positive proof of what I assert, Mr. 
 Price; otherwise I should not dare to make the 
 accusation." 
 
 " We have no doubt of it," said Price, posi- 
 tively ; " even though you came here in an 
 assumed character, Mrs. Carmichael." 
 
 Graham bowed. Graham felt decidedly non- 
 plussed, for so far his keen perception amounted 
 to nothing, and he prided himself upon his per- 
 ception. Hastings, with his back against the 
 door, to prevent the possible escape of one they 
 should wish to detain, only stared, dumbfounded, 
 at this strangest scene of all. " Emma," or Miss 
 Rockwood, now in her true character, was stand-
 
 328 Li da Campbell, or 
 
 ing back near Mrs. Leonard, but Conyers 
 remained standing respectfully before his 
 master. 
 
 Once more Mrs. Carmichael smiled. 
 
 " The person whom I shall presently sum- 
 mon," she said, " you do not in the least suspect, 
 and it is necessary, to prevent suspicion in the 
 mind of the person summoned, for all, save Mr. 
 Price, the doctor and myself, to leave the room. 
 The others can wait in the inner room and hear 
 without being seen." 
 
 " By Jove !'' murmured Tom Hastings to 
 himself, still staring, amazed at the woman's 
 calmness, as he turned with the others from the 
 room. 
 
 Then Mrs. Carmichael and Miss Rockwood, 
 in her old character of a housemaid, summoned 
 the servant whom Mrs. Carmichael named to 
 her, and presently the two returned. 
 
 " Good heavens Gordon !" exclaimed Price, 
 in grieved surprise. " Gordon!" 
 
 " Gordon !" said Graham, now fully aware of 
 the extent of his own blunder.
 
 Drama of a Life. 329 
 
 " Gordon !" said Mrs. Carmichael, but in a 
 different tone than that used by the others. Hers 
 was sternly authoritative, not sad, and her eyes 
 blazed into the butler's astonished eyes. " I 
 summoned you, "she continued, swiftly, yet very 
 distinctly, " to answer a charge against you. 
 Gordon, your master has been very ill from the 
 effect of poison. You administered this poison !" 
 
 The man, aghast, utterly crushed by the 
 revelation, too completely taken by surprise 
 even to defend or attempt to defend himself, 
 grew pallid with fear, and spread out his hands 
 slim hands they were, and very much resem- 
 bling Conyers' and retreated a couple of feet, 
 his horrified eyes upon the woman who stood so 
 passionately facing him. 
 
 " Gordon !" repeated Price, in a low tone, as 
 though the knowledge of this man's guilt 
 wourided him more than it did the man himself. 
 " Is it possible that it is you who are guilty of 
 this? You, whom we have trusted ? You, 
 whom we believed so faithful that one word
 
 33O Lida Campbell, or 
 
 against you would have been indignantly 
 denied ?" 
 
 " You !" said Doctor Graham, in a voice of 
 concentrated scorn and anger that this unmask- 
 ing of villainy was due only to this woman, and 
 merely to a woman the woman opposite him, 
 with her flashing eyes and flushed cheeks and 
 excited hands. " You, a serpent in your 
 master's household, betraying his trust !" 
 
 " But I call heaven to witness " stammered 
 Gordon, still trembling and pallid, but endeavor- 
 ing to regain his self-control during these few 
 minutes granted him, though his eyes could not 
 meet his master's and shrank from the true eyes 
 of the woman. 
 
 " Hush !" said Mrs. Carmichael, imperiously. 
 "Don't perjure yourself by one word, Gordon ! 
 / know your guilt and you and God ! The 
 heaven you call upon would crush you with the 
 truth ! /saw you enter here last night, at mid- 
 night. You poured into the master's drinking 
 water enough of one of the deadliest of drugs to 
 kill him instantly, should he have drank it. But
 
 Drama of a Life. 331 
 
 he did not drink of it. /saw you, and removed 
 the pitcher from the room, and a part of the 
 contents is now in Doctor Graham's possession. 
 He, too, is your accuser." 
 
 " Yes, and her accuser !" said Graham, bitterly. 
 " We know the woman who set you to this, Gor- 
 don. This is her plot, but you were to work it 
 for her." 
 
 " For her !" murmured Price, in a suffocated 
 voice, his eyes pathetic in their appeal. " Whom 
 do you mean, Graham ?" 
 
 Graham bit his lip and frowned, unable to 
 meet the look, for he knew that his friend was 
 suffering from the crushing truth. 
 
 " Why do you speak of her?" interposed Mrs. 
 Carmichael, gently. " Is it not enough that no 
 real harm is done ? This man can answer all 
 that is necessary." 
 
 Price's impatient gesture silenced her. Gordon 
 was utterly humiliated, but even he felt his heart 
 stir with pity at this man's wounded pride. 
 
 " I must hear the truth," he said, sternly. 
 " Who is the woman, Jack ?"
 
 332 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 Graham flushed confusedly. He had not 
 intended to speak so openly of the woman 
 behind this plot not yet. 
 
 " The woman ?" he repeated, aimlessly. " You 
 know her, Lee. She is your sister !" 
 
 Price rose unsteadily to his feet, and his white 
 face, in its sudden surge of pity and humiliation 
 and suffering, moved them all. There were tears 
 in Mrs. Carmichael's eyes, though she was 
 unconscious of it in her sympathy for his sorrow. 
 
 " It is what I feared !" he said ; and his voice 
 was hoarse, though perfectly steady, and his 
 brown eyes searched their faces successively for 
 any trace of doubt of this accusation. " But you 
 must not believe that this was done intention- 
 ally not as any of us might do it not even as 
 Gordon entered into it for he is responsible and 
 she is not ! She has always been peculiar my 
 sister Olive " what sorrowful regret was in his 
 voice " and her strangely active mind and 
 intensely fine sensibilities were dangerous in her, 
 and her equally remarkable physical strength was 
 but food for her highly strung nerves, as that
 
 Drama of a Life. 333 
 
 was never properly developed or given enough 
 exercise for health. In consequence of this her 
 mental power far exceeds her physical strength, 
 and as a natural outcome, as her physician 
 warned her many times, her mental power, having 
 almost exhausted her physical strength, feeds 
 upon itself. Her mind is diseased. I have known 
 this for five years, but have kept the knowledge 
 to myself, believing that she was dead and 
 beyond harming any one. I tell .you now only 
 because it is just to you and every one, even 
 herself; and I must find her at once, if she is 
 living ! 
 
 " Do not tell me more of this now ! I could 
 not endure it ! Do not even tell me of Gordon ! 
 Let him go. I refuse to appear against him, for 
 he has been faithful, and I know better than any 
 of you the terrible power my sister possesses 
 over weaker wills! There was one time when 
 she influenced me to a degree that terrified me, 
 but that helps me now to understand how this 
 man was turned from me I 
 
 "And now, Jack, old fellow, send every one
 
 334 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 away, please, and leave me with Conyers ! He 
 was faithful, in spite of any suspicion others held 
 toward him I You said very little, but I knew ! 
 And I also knew how much Conyers had done to 
 bring me back to life he and Mrs. Carmichael. 
 
 And with a faint smile, that he tried to make 
 very brave, his eyes turned for an instant from 
 the immovable face and scintillating eyes of his 
 valet to the quiet face of the nurse. Price sank 
 back in his chair and turned his face from them 
 to the peaceful outer world, oblivious for a long 
 time to all that passed around him, even to the 
 eager attempt of Gordon to exonerate himself 
 in his kindly master's eyes.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 MERELY A WOMAN. 
 
 When a soul has seen 
 
 By the means of Evil that good is best, 
 And, through earth and its noise, what is heaven's 
 
 serene, 
 
 When our faith in the same has stood the test ; "* 
 Why, the child-grown man, you burn the rod, 
 The uses of labor are surely done. 
 
 ROBERT BROWNING. 
 
 Twilight was over the quiet autumn woods, 
 where the soft stir of vividly colored leaves was 
 like the far echo of the waves lifting and falling 
 along the beach under the sea-wall at Bachelors' 
 Beatitude. Twilight and peace were soft upon 
 the water and lawn ; a late sail on the horizon 
 was purpling with the purpling night. Deep 
 shadow lay along the piazza under the rustling 
 vines, save the bright-red glow of cigars, where 
 Price was sitting with his friends and guests. 
 
 [3351
 
 336 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 Walker Paling also was there at Price's earnest 
 request. It was the evening following the dis- 
 closure of the plot and plotters. 
 
 " Well, by George !" said Ned Newton, after 
 a long silence. " It seems to me that some lives 
 lun along pretty smoothly and others, somehow, 
 get all tangled up with jarring wheels of fortune 
 and fate ! I never saw such a fellow as you, 
 Price, with your good fortune and bad." 
 
 " It's the way the world runs," said Morgan, 
 aughing quietly ; "but it's not half bad, Neddie !" 
 
 " And you couldn't have a good telling light 
 without shadows, you know," suggested Curtis, 
 in his soft voice, always fearful of ridicule. 
 " The two, carefully used, make the best 
 canvases." 
 
 "You are an artist?" queried Paling, courte- 
 ously. He had never before met this young fel- 
 low with the soft voice and good-natured face, 
 but he honored him as being one of Lee Price's 
 friends Lee Price, the man who forgot and for- 
 gave so much ! For still he scarcely knew 
 whether he required great forgiveness or great
 
 Drama of a Life. 337 
 
 pity. " I have a friend who is a promising 
 young 1 artist, Mr. Curtis. You would be pleased 
 to meet her, I am sure." 
 
 ' I should be pleased to meet any of your 
 friends," said Curtis, with considerable enthusi- 
 asm, for art was everything to " little Phil," as 
 his friends called him. " But I am really not 
 much of an artist, Mr. Paling. I doit for amuse- 
 ment more than from any exalted hopes of fame." 
 
 " Yes ?" said Paling, still kindly courteous, 
 though his thoughts were far from these friends 
 or the present scene. " My friend works hard 
 and studies hard because she has strong hopes, 
 Mr. Curtis. Do you not think that hope always 
 brightens and heightens life's possibilities ?" 
 
 "Always," Price affirmed, gently. "Hope 
 and determination, Mr. Paling. The two are 
 sure to succeed." 
 
 " Determination is only another word for 
 patience," said Doctor Graham, leaning forward 
 to carefully remove the ashes from his cigar 
 against, the piazza railing ; and patience never 
 tires."
 
 338 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 " No," said Paling, in a low voice, knowing of 
 what his friend was thinking. And then they 
 fell into silence, thinking that that was best. 
 
 " To think," said Mayhew, presently, in an 
 undertone to Hastings, as they sat a little 
 removed from their host, " that this plot went 
 on under our very noses. It is no more aston- 
 ishing, I suppose, than that Gordon should turn 
 out the villain instead of Conyers, but it is rather 
 alarming to me. Can one trust one's nearest 
 friends ? Now, I shouldn't have been surprised 
 at anything Conyers took it into his head to do, 
 lor I never did like him, but for Gordon, the 
 faithful, the irreproachable " 
 
 " And to think," said Hastings, as his friend 
 paused, " that in spite of Graham's keenness, the 
 real villain should have been discovered by this 
 woman, this Mrs. Carmichael. It must be 
 mighty bitter for him to remember ! It would 
 be for me, at least. To be outdone by any one 
 is gall enough, but when it comes to merely a 
 woman " 
 
 " Even pretty Miss Polly, I suppose," retorted
 
 Drama of a Life. 339 
 
 Mayhew, laughing, knowing very well that this 
 same pretty Miss Polly had jilted Mr. Tom Hast- 
 ings for young Doctor Graham. " Don't carry 
 this prejudice too far, Tom ; you will get the 
 worst of it if you do." 
 
 " I fail to see what Miss Ballard has to do with 
 this," said Hastings, haughtily. "/ thought 
 that we were speaking of Mrs. Carmichael, May- 
 hew ?" 
 
 " So we were," said Mayhew, good-naturedly. 
 And ' Emma,' another of the new-style detec- 
 tives, Tom ! I shall be afraid to trust my own 
 mother, next." 
 
 " Humph !" ejaculated Hastings, contemptu- 
 ously Hastings was very bitter because he had 
 had so little to do with this unmasking of plot. 
 " Don't carry it to extremes, Mayhew. I was 
 speaking of facts, and not conjecture. There's 
 this Olive Price or Paling's wife, as I just learn 
 she is, a raging lunatic, cheating people with the 
 idea that she was such a spiritual being as to 
 soar among dead spirits and learn their will
 
 340 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 whenever she would, and now accused of having 
 hypnotized poor Gordon ! Fine woman, she !" 
 
 " But she is altogether different from Mrs. 
 Carmichael, Tom," said Mayhew, reprovingly. 
 " Mrs. Carmichael saved Price's life and we 
 should not forget it. He doesn't !" 
 
 " No," said Tom, reflectively. " That wouldn't 
 be like Price, Mayhew. He never forgets a 
 kindness, if he does forget an injury. Why, he 
 offered her the position of companion to his aunt, 
 Mrs. Estabrook she desires a companion, he 
 said with a salary that would make you open 
 your eyes. He learned, you know, that she is 
 too independent to be dependent. She has plenty 
 of rich relations, I understand, but is too proud 
 to take their charity. Give her credit for that, of 
 course you will say. Well, she hasn't yet accepted 
 the position, and I don't know that she will, but 
 the offer was like Price. Mrs. Estabrook took a 
 fancy to her during her stay here, and made the 
 suggestion to her nephew." 
 
 " I wonder often that he has never married 
 never even fallen in love," said Mayhew, after a
 
 Drama of a Life. 341 
 
 moment, gazing intently at the glowing end of 
 his cigar, held lightly between his finger and 
 thumb. " He's such a noble fellow, any woman 
 might feel proud of his love." 
 
 " I should," said Hastings, with a short laugh, 
 " If I were a woman, Dick which, thank heaven, 
 I am not." 
 
 " Hold on, Tom !" said Mayhew, leaning for- 
 ward and laying his hand heavily on the arm of 
 his friend's chair, speaking in a low but impres- 
 sive voice. " It's treason for you to utter such a 
 sentiment as that in the presence of Lee Price. 
 He honors women, as any man should, and I 
 refuse to hear another word even from you." 
 
 Hastings rose, shrugging his shoulders, tossing 
 the end of his cigar out upon the lawn. 
 
 " There's no use in our quarreling over this, 
 Dick," he said, carelessly. " You know my 
 opinion of women. " They're lovely creatures, 
 and 1 wouldn't want the world to be without 
 them ; but when there's anything special like 
 this to be done, I think that it generally takes 
 more than merely a woman to accomplish it."
 
 342 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 " Because you have never proved a woman's 
 power," said a quiet voice beside them. A slow, 
 softly modulated voice, but not Mrs. Car- 
 michael's, as they at first believed. 
 
 Lights had been set in the parlors, and a soft 
 radiance sifted out between the lace drapery 
 upon the piazza. In this half-revealing light 
 stood the woman. She had come upon the 
 piazza from the side-steps, and passed Hastings 
 and Mayhew with only these quiet words, paus- 
 ing just withdrawn from Lee Price and those 
 grouped about him. A magnificently physiqued 
 woman, with a commanding manner, and snow- 
 white hair lying softly against her pallid face, 
 lighted by the flaming midnight eyes. 
 
 Paling recognized her instantly, and rose like 
 one who had received a blow as though to 
 defend his host. His face matched her own in 
 pallor and his eyes flashed into hers. Silence 
 fell upon the others, for instinctively they knew 
 who this woman was. 
 
 " And so you have followed me even here, 
 Olive !" said Paling, in a gentle voice, reaching
 
 Drama of a Life. 343 
 
 out his hand to her. He could be very tender 
 with her, knowing the evil that had fallen upon 
 her. 
 
 She spread out her hands as though to push 
 him from her memory, lifting her proud head 
 haughtily. 
 
 " I have followed you here yes," she said, 
 and there was a quiver of fury in her voice ; 
 " but not because I love you, Walker Paling. 
 No! I hate you ! I hate you and despise you ! 
 Coward ! You dared not keep your promise to 
 me ! You dared not live up to the preaching of 
 your novel your novel arid mine ! You feared 
 to be your own hero my hero a world's great 
 avenger ! I have come to tell you how I scorn 
 you ! I still refuse to be called your wife ! Fool 
 that I was to take that oath upon me ! 
 
 " And I have come to tell you " she turned 
 swiftly upon Price, who had also risen in 
 repressed excitement, and was leaning toward 
 her they all were instinctively drawing closer 
 around her " I have come to tell you how I 
 hate you how I have always hated you how
 
 344 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 faithfully I tried to inflict upon you the ven- 
 geance of heaven for your weakness, your 
 cowardice, your lack of spirituality ! How 
 I hate you !" 
 
 She brought her hands up, clasped, before his 
 face, leaning toward him as he leaned toward 
 her, their eyes irresistibly drawn to each other. 
 Then, with a vacant laugh, she was turning 
 away, when Price detained her. 
 
 " Olive !" he said. 
 
 She turned upon him in concentrated fury, as 
 though she would tear him limb from limb like 
 a wild tigress, and he'r hands were clenched now 
 at her side. But as she would have spoken, her 
 physical strength gave way before this mad tide 
 of passion, and throwing up her arms, she fell 
 upon the floor at their feet, in convulsions. 
 
 From these this woman never recovered. 
 She died that night in the guest-chamber at 
 Bachelors' Beatitude with the murmur of the 
 beach waves drifting in with the breeze, her hus- 
 band and brother beside her in tenderest pity, 
 utterly forgetting the sorrow that they had
 
 Drama of a Life. 345 
 
 endured because of her ; Doctor Graham doing 
 all in his power to relieve her, and the minister, 
 hastily summoned, offering such consolation as 
 he could to a mind diseased. She fell asleep 
 and died quietly, the change from life to death 
 scarcely perceptible save to the physician's eyes, 
 and for her and for them the tumult and passion 
 of drama were at end. 
 
 " How beautiful she is !" said Mrs. Carmichael, 
 softly, as she stood beside the coffin, with Mrs- 
 Leonard, looking upon all that was left of Olive 
 Price. "No matter what one's life has been, 
 there is a sweetness of peace upon all dead 
 faces, Mrs. Leonard !" 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Leonard, sorrowfully. 
 " Poor lamb ! Poor lamb ! But what was her 
 suffering, Mrs. Carmichael ever compared 
 with his? There's no man living like young 
 Mr. Price, Mrs. Carmichael not one!" 
 
 " And few women like this !" said Mrs. Car 
 michael, very sweetly, as she turned away.
 
 346 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 And after the drama a new scene across the 
 theatre of life. A pleasant scene, with soft lights 
 and new actors with happier hearts and stronger 
 courage to meet the whirls of fortune's wheels. 
 
 The inner office at The Universal Information 
 Bureau on Forty-second Street in New York 
 city. The same pretty occupant of the huge 
 chair, before the slow burning grate fire, on the 
 late autumn day. Nothing apparently changed, 
 unless it were a more tender light in the bright 
 gray eyes and an added gravity upon the red 
 lips of little Lida Campbell, the independent 
 proprietor of the offices. 
 
 Miss Randall was once more peeping around 
 the handsome screen at the occupant of the 
 chair, in addressing her in her bright girlish 
 fashion. 
 
 " A lady and gentleman who desire to see you 
 privately, Miss Campbell. Shall I bring them 
 in?" 
 
 " Certainly,** said Miss Campbell, smiling. " I 
 am still on the lookout for my fortune, Miss
 
 Drama of a Life. 347 
 
 Randall, and every new visitor may bring it to 
 me, you know." 
 
 But it was remarkable what beautiful color 
 suddenly surged into Miss Campbell's cheeks, 
 and how shy her pretty dark eyes grew before 
 the astonished brown eyes of the gentleman just 
 entering the room. 
 
 " This is Miss Campbell ?" queried the gentle- 
 man, hesitatingly. " It can scarcely be, madam. 
 I have met Miss Campbell, and pardon me ; 
 but she was older than you and quite dif- 
 ferent !" 
 
 A mischievous smile deepened upon the pretty 
 lips ; the gray eyes, under their shy white lids, 
 sparkled with laughter. 
 
 " But I am Miss Campbell Lida Campbell, 
 Mr. Price," she answered, softly. " You and 
 Mrs. Estabrook find it difficult to believe ; but if 
 you will kindly be seated I will explain to you." 
 
 "But we thought " began Mr. Price, bewil- 
 deredly. 
 
 " That Miss Campbell was a nice old nurse." 
 
 A very pretty voice Miss Campbell had, ancj
 
 348 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 occasionally she emphasized her words with ges- 
 tures of her hands, and the story she told was 
 intensely interesting if very sad, shadowing as it 
 did more lives than one. She told them of her 
 strange visitor and her errand and her fear for 
 his safety, and the plan she decided upon to save 
 him, and her own quiet life. 
 
 " I knew if the world found out my part in the 
 affair, people would be constantly running here 
 to see it is the way of the world, you know 
 and I could not have endured that ; so I masquer- 
 aded a little, and didn't think it so very unwoman- 
 ly under the circumstances, do you, Mrs. Esta- 
 brook? At first I hesitated, but I knew that 
 something must be done. When this new novel 
 of Mr. Paling's came out I was sorry, for I be- 
 lieved that he wrote it under her influence and 
 I never saw her power equaled in my life and 
 still I did not believe him guilty of willful wrong. 
 When they Doctor Graham and his friend, you 
 remember brought him to your house, after 
 charging him with complicity in the attempted 
 crime, I was sorry still, but I could not speak
 
 Drama of a Life. 349 
 
 until the right time should come. And then 
 the right time came !" 
 
 " And we owe it to you not to Mrs. Car- 
 michael," said Lee Price, with quiet laughter in 
 his eyes and a deeper kindness around his' 
 mouth. 
 
 " And, although I was remarkably attracted 
 to Mrs. Carmichael, I prefer you as you are," 
 said Mrs. Estabrook, sweetly, with her hand 
 upon the woman's shoulder as they stood 
 together at the door. " And I shall not be satis, 
 fied until I have you in my home." 
 
 If Mrs. Estabrook considered Miss Campbell's 
 conduct unwomanly, it is remarkable that she 
 treated her more as her daughter than as merely 
 an inmate of her household. If Mr. Lee Price, 
 with his fine appreciation of womanhood, con- 
 sidered her unwomanly, it is strange that he 
 became so interested in his aunt's companion. 
 If Price's friends had any disparaging remarks 
 to make regarding this pretty woman, they 
 uttered them beyond his hearing or hers ! 
 
 And so
 
 350 Lida Campbell, or 
 
 If Doctor Graham could marry wicked little 
 Polly Ballard, with every prospect of happiness, 
 was it impossible for Mr. Lee Price to marry 
 little Lida Campbell with the like prospect, to 
 leave the business on Forty-second Street to the 
 little assistant, Miss Randall ? 
 
 " If people will talk " said little Miss Camp- 
 bell, one day just before her wedding. 
 
 " Why, they can only say good of you," her 
 lover finished, laughingly, his brown eyes upon 
 hers. 
 
 " Even if Mr. Hastings does call me " 
 
 " Being ' merely a woman ' is above a man at 
 his best !" retorted Price with a lover's belief 
 in the lady of his heart. " And anyway Tom's 
 going to marry Kittie Florence so he may as 
 well quit talking in this strain he and the rest 
 of the fellows!" 
 
 " But I am glad," said Miss Lida by and by 
 very reflectively, with a charming shyness about 
 her eyes, " that Mr. Paling is to marry that pretty 
 Miss Fitzgerald, the artist ! She is so sweet, 
 Lee, dear! Women can do things if they try."
 
 Drama of a Life. 351 
 
 " As you have proved !" said Price with an 
 eloquent after silence. 
 
 And so the parting curtain behind the drama 
 of a life was drawn aside to brightness and not 
 the blackness of a soiled conscience or the haunt- 
 ing ghost of crime ! 
 
 ****** 
 
 But Doctor Oldham held firmly to his convic- 
 tion of his friend's sanity. 
 
 THE END.
 
 Ill III Illl III: 
 
 A 000 032 398 o