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Page 22
Alexandrine glided along, as radiant as a humming-bird, her cheeks
flushed, her black eyes sparkling, her voice sweet as a siren's.
"Sentimentalizing, I declare!" she exclaimed, gayly; "and singing that
dreadful song, too! Ugh! it gives me the cold shudders to listen to it!
How can you sing it, Margie, dear?"
"Miss Harrison sang it at my request, Miss Lee," said Trevlyn, gravely,
"it is an old favorite of mine. Shall I not listen to you now?"
Alexandrine took the seat Margie had vacated, and glanced up at the two
faces so near her.
"Why, Margie!" she said, "a moment ago I thought you were a rose, and now
you are a lily! What is the matter?"
"Nothing, thank you," returned Margie, coldly. "I am weary, and will go
home soon, I think."
Trevlyn looked at her with tender anxiety, evidently forgetful that he
had requested Miss Lee to play.
"You are wearied," he said. "Shall I call your carriage?"
"If you please, yes. Miss Lee I am sure will excuse me."
"I shall be obliged to, I suppose."
Trevlyn put Margie's shawl around her, and led her to the carriage. After
he had assisted her in, he touched lightly the hand he had just released,
and said "Good-night," his very accent a blessing.
In February Mr. Trevlyn received a severe shock. His aged wife had been
an inmate of an insane asylum almost ever since the death of her son
Hubert; and Mr. Trevlyn, though he had loved her with his whole soul,
had never seen her face in all those weary years.
Suddenly, without any premonitory symptoms, her reason returned to her,
and save that she was unmindful of the time that had elapsed during her
insanity, she was the same Caroline Trevlyn of old.
They told her cautiously of her husband's old age, for the unfortunate
woman could not realize that nearly twenty years had passed since the
loss of her mind. The first desire she expressed was to see "John," and
Mr. Trevlyn was sent for.
He came, and went into the presence of the wife from whom he had been so
long divided, alone. No one knew what passed between them. The interview
was a lengthy one, and Mr. Trevlyn came forth from it, animated by a
new-born hope. The wife of his youth was to be restored to him!
He made arrangements to take her home, but alas! they were never destined
to be carried into effect. The secret fears of the physician were
realized even sooner than he had expected. The approach of dissolution
had dissolved the clouds so long hanging over the mind of Caroline
Trevlyn. She lived only two days after the coming of her husband, and
died in his arms, happy in the belief that she was going to her son.
Mr. Trevlyn returned home, a changed being. All his asperity of temper
was gone; he was as gentle as a child. Whole days he would sit in the
chair where his wife used to sit in the happy days of her young wifehood,
speaking to no one, smiling sometimes to himself, as though he heard
some inner whisperings which pleased him.
One day he roused himself seemingly, and sent for Mr. Speedwell, his
attorney, and Dr. Drake, his family physician. With these gentlemen he
was closeted the entire forenoon; and from that time forward, his hold on
the world and its things seemed to relax.
One morning, when Margie went to take his gruel up to him--a duty she
always performed herself--she found him sitting in his arm-chair, wide
awake, but incapable of speech or motion.
The physician, hastily summoned, confirmed her worst fears. Mr. Trevlyn
had been smitten with paralysis. He was in no immediate danger, perhaps;
he might live for years, but was liable to drop away at any moment. It
was simply a question of time.
Toward the close of the second day after his attack, the power of speech
returned to Mr. Trevlyn.
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