A Terrible Temptation: A Story of To-Day
obliged me with his biography. He was, to use his own words, engendered
by the sun shining on a dunghill at his father's door,' and began his
career as a flea; but his identity was, somehow, shifted to a boy of
nine years old. He has had a long spell of humanity, and awaits the
great change--which is to turn him to a bee. It will not find him
unprepared; he has long practiced humming, in anticipation. A faithful
friend, called Caffyn, used to visit him every week. Caffyn died last
year, and the poor Pythagorean was very lonely and sad; but, two months
ago, he detected his friend in the butcher's horse, and is more than
consoled, for he says, Caffyn comes six times a week now, instead of
once.'”
“Poor soul!” said Lady Bassett. “What a strange world for him to be
living in. It seems like a dream.”
“There is something stranger coming in this last letter.”
“I have at last found one madman allied to Genius. It has taken me a
fortnight to master his delusion, and to write down the vocabulary he
has invented to describe the strange monster of his imagination. All
the words I write in italics are his own.
“Mr. Williams says that a machine has been constructed for malignant
purposes, which machine is an _air-loom._ It rivals the human machine
in this, that it can operate either on mind or matter. It was invented,
and is worked, by a gang of villains superlatively skillful in
_pneumatic chemistry, physiology, nervous influence, sympathy,_ and the
_higher metaphysic,_ men far beyond the immature science of the present
era, which, indeed, is a favorite subject of their ridicule.
“The gang are seven in number, but Williams has only seen the four
highest: _Bill, the King,_ a master of the art of _magnetic
impregnation; Jack, the schoolmaster,_ the short-hand writer of the
gang; _Sir Archy,_ Chief Liar to the Association; and the
_glove-woman,_ so called from her always wearing cotton mittens. This
personage has never been known to speak to any one.
“The materials used in the air-loom by these _pneumatic adepts_ are
infinite; but principally _effluvia of certain metals, poisons,
soporific scents,_ etc.
“The principal effects are:
“1st. EVENT-WORKING.--This is done by _magnetic manipulation_ of kings,
emperors, prime ministers, and others; so that, while the world is
fearing and admiring them, they are, in reality, mere puppets played by
the workers of the air-loom.
“2d. CUTTING SOUL FROM SENSE.--This is done _by diffusing the magnetic
warp from the root of the nose under the base of the skull, till it
forms a veil; so that the sentiments of the heart can have no
communication with the operations of the intellect._
“3d. KITING.--As boys raise a kite in the air, so the air-loom can lift
an idea into the brain, where it floats and undulates for hours
together. The victim cannot get rid of an idea so insinuated.
“4th. LOBSTER-CRACKING.--An external pressure of the magnetic
atmosphere surrounding the person assailed. Williams has been so
operated on, and says he felt as if he was grasped by an enormous pair
of nut-crackers with teeth, and subjected to a piercing pressure, which
he still remembers with horror. Death sometimes results from
Lobster-cracking.
“5th. LENGTHENING THE BRAIN.--_As the cylindrical mirror lengthens the
countenance,_ so these assailants find means to _elon_gate the brain.
This distorts the ideas, and subjects the most serious are made silly
and ridiculous.
“6th. THOUGHT-MAKING.--While one of these villains sucks at the brain
of the assailed, and extracts his existing sentiments, another will
press into the vacuum ideas very different from his real thoughts. Thus
his mind is physically enslaved.”
Then Sir Charles goes on to say:
“Poor Mr. Williams seems to me an inventor wasted. I thought I would
try and reason him out of his delusion. I asked if he had ever seen
this gang and their machine.
“He said yes, they operated on him this morning. 'Then show them me,'
said I. 'Young man,' said he, satirically, 'do you think these
assassins, and their diabolical machine, would be allowed to go on, if
they could be laid hands on so easily? The gang are fertile in
disguise; the machine operates at considerable distances.'
“To drive him into a corner, I said, 'Will you give me a drawing of
it?' He seemed to hesitate, so I said, 'If you can not draw it, you
never saw it, and never will.' He assented to that, and I was vain
enough to think I had staggered him; but yesterday he produced the
inclosed sketch and explanation. After this I sadly fear he is
incurable.
“There are three sane patients in this asylum, besides myself. I will
tell you their stories when you come here, which I hope will be soon;
for the time agreed on draws near, and my patience and self-control are
sorely tried, as day after day rolls by, and sees me still in a
madhouse.”
“There, Lady Bassett,” said Mr. Rolfe. “And now for my motive in
reading these letters. Sir Charles may still have a crotchet, an
inordinate desire for an heir; but, even if he has, the writer of these
letters has nothing to fear from any jury; and, therefore, I am now
ready to act. I propose to go down to the asylum to-morrow, and get him
out as quickly as I can.”
Lady Bassett uttered an ejaculation of joy. Then she turned suddenly
pale, and her countenance fell. She said nothing.
Mr. Rolfe was surprised at this, since, at their last meeting, she was
writhing at her inaction. He began to puzzle himself. She watched him
keenly. He thought to himself, “Perhaps she dreads the excitement of
meeting--for herself.”
At last Lady Bassett asked him how long it would take to liberate Sir
Charles.
“Not quite a week, if Richard Bassett is well advised. If he fights
desperately it may take a fortnight. In any case I don't leave the work
an hour till it is done. I can delay, and I can fight; but I never mix
the two. Come, Lady Bassett, there is something on your mind you don't
like to say. Well, what does it matter? I will pack my bag, and write
to Dr. Suaby that he may expect me soon; but I will wait till I get a
line from you to go ahead. Then I'll go down that instant and do the
work.”
This proposal was clearly agreeable to Lady Bassett, and she thanked
him.
“You need not waste words over it,” said he. “Write one word, 'ACT!'
That will be the shortest letter you ever wrote.”
The rest of the conversation is not worth recording.
Mr. Rolfe instructed a young solicitor minutely, packed his bag, and
waited.
But day after day went by, and the order never came to act.
Mr. Rolfe was surprised at this, and began to ask himself whether he
could have been deceived in this lady's affection for her husband. But
he rejected that. Then he asked himself whether it might have cooled.
He had known a very short incarceration produce that fatal effect. Both
husband and wife interested him, and he began to get irritated at the
delay.
Sir Charles's letters made him think they had already wasted time.
At last a letter came from Gloucester Place.
“Will my kind friend now ACT?
“Gratefully,
“BELLA BASSETT.”
Mr. Rolfe, upon this, cast his discontent to the winds and started for
Bellevue House.
On the evening of that day a surgeon called Boddington was drinking tea
with his wife, and they were talking rather disconsolately; for he had
left a fair business in the country, and, though a gentleman of
undoubted skill, was making his way very slowly in London.
The conversation was agreeably interrupted by a loud knock at the door.
A woman had come to say that he was wanted that moment for a lady of
title in Gloucester Place, hard by.
“I will come,” said he, with admirably affected indifference; and, as
soon as the woman was out of sight, husband and wife embraced each
other.
“Pray God it may all go well, for your sake and hers, poor lady.”
Mr. Boddington hurried to the number in Gloucester Place. The door was
opened by the charwoman.
He asked her with some doubt if that was the house.
The woman said yes, and she believed it was a surprise. The lady was
from the country, and was looking out for some servants.
This colloquy was interrupted by an intelligent maid, who asked, over
the balusters, if that was the medical man; and, on the woman's saying
it was, begged him to step upstairs at once.
He found his patient attended only by her maid, but she was all
discretion, and intelligence. She said he had only to direct her, she
would do anything for her dear mistress.
Mr. Boddington said a single zealous and intelligent woman, who could
obey orders, was as good as a number, or better.
He then went gently to the bedside, and his experience told him at once
that the patient was in labor.
He told the attendant so, and gave her his directions.
CHAPTER XXIX.
ME. ROLFE reached Bellevue House in time to make a hasty toilet, and
dine with Dr. Suaby in his private apartments.
The other guests were Sir Charles Bassett, Mr. Hyam--a meek, sorrowful
patient--an Exquisite, and Miss Wieland.
Dr. Suaby introduced him to everybody but the Exquisite.
Mr. Rolfe said Sir Charles Bassett and he were correspondents.
“So I hear. He tells you the secrets of the prison-house, eh?”
“The humors of the place, you mean.”
“Yes, he has a good eye for character. I suppose he has dissected me
along with the rest?”
“No, no; he has only dealt with the minor eccentricities. His pen
failed at you. 'You must come and _see_ the doctor,' he said. So here I
am.”
“Oh,” said the doctor, “if your wit and his are both to be leveled at
me, I had better stop your mouths. Dinner! dinner! Sir Charles, will
you take Miss Wieland? Sorry we have not another lady to keep you
company, madam.”
“Are you? Then I'm not,” said the lady smartly.
The dinner passed like any other, only Rolfe observed that Dr. Suaby
took every fair opportunity of drawing the pluckless Mr. Hyam into
conversation, and that he coldly ignored the Exquisite.
“I have seen that young man about town, I think,” said Mr. Rolfe.
“Where was it, I wonder?”
“The Argyll Rooms, or the Casino, probably.”
“Thank you, doctor. Oh, I forgot; you owed me one. He is no favorite of
yours.”
“Certainly not. And I only invited him medicinally.”
“Medicinally? That's too deep for a layman.”
“To flirt with Miss Wieland. Flirting does her good.”
“Medicine embraces a wider range than I thought.”
“No doubt. You are always talking about medicine; but you know very
little, begging your pardon.”
“That is the theory of compensation. When you know very little about a
thing you must talk a great deal about it. Well, I'm here for
instruction; thirsting for it.”
“All the better; we'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.”
“All right: but not of your favorite Acetate of Morphia; because that
is the draught that takes the reason prisoner.”
“It's no favorite of mine. Indeed, experience has taught me that all
sedatives excite; if they soothe at first, they excite next day. My
antidotes to mental excitement are packing in lukewarm water, and, best
of all, hard bodily exercise and the perspiration that follows it. To
put it shortly--prolonged bodily excitement antidotes mental
excitement.”
“I'll take a note of that. It is the wisest thing I ever heard from any
learned physician.”
“Yet many a learned physician knows it. But you are a little prejudiced
against the faculty.”
“Only in their business. They are delightful out of that. But, come
now, nobody hears us--confess, the system which prescribes drugs,
drugs, drugs at every visit and in every case, and does not give a
severe selection of esculents the first place, but only the second or
third, must be rotten at the core. Don't you despise a layman's eye.