ON THE BRINK OF A CHASM.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXIX, Issue 3305, 25 August 1911, Page 3

ON THE BRINK OF A CHASM.

(By L. T. Meade, author of “A Son of Isbmael,” etc.) A RECORD OF PLOT AND PASSION. CHAPTER XXXIII. “I AM CHANGED!” “Is this really you?” was the exclamation which burst involuntarily from her lips.

“Yes, it is 1,” replie Mrs Tarbot. “I am changed.” “You are transformed.” Mrs Tarbot gave a faint smile. “Won’t you sit down?” she said. “Thank you,” answered Barbara, b'he seated herself and threw up her veil. “It is good of you to pay me this visit,” said Tarbot’s wife. “I have come to you because your husband is out. This is not an ordinary call.” “Indeed !” Mrs Tarbot looked at Barbare -with an intense and hungry stare. “I will treat whatever you tell me as confidential,” she said.” Barbara looked full at her. Her very voice had altered, her manners were those of a refined and well educated woman. Her dress, black and of the softest silk, scarcely rustled as she moved.

Now as she returned Barbara’s gaze her eyes grew bright. The eyes themselves were of a very pale blue, painfully deficient in color by daylight, but at night the pupils were apt to dilate, and in the midst of the white face the eyes were dark sombre, and watchful. Barbara thought she had never seen a more peculiar or a stronger type of face. She was so much engaged in the amazing discovery of the changed Nurse Ives that she could not speak for a moment.

“Have 3’ou got over your astonishment?” said Mrs Tarbot at last, speaking very softly.

Barbara started and colored

“Oh, I beg your pardon,” she replied. “I hope you will forgive me. You are so transformed that I did not know you.”

“That is true, Lady Pelham,” rvas the slow reply; “I am as much altered as the circumstances of my life have changed. When you last saw me I was only a nurse. My parentage is humble, mv mother is a very humble poison indeed. She is an excellent woman and with plenty of character, but she belongs to the peasantry of our county.”

“What is vofir county?” asked Barbara. “Cornwall.” “Ah!”

“My mother lias a little cottage in Cornwall by the sea coast. She pays ten pounds a year for it. She lives not very far from. Falmouth. I remember a-time when there was extreme difficulty in meeting that ten pounds rent. Then I went away and was trained as a nurse, and ” “And you married Dr. Tarbot?”

“Yes, I married Dr.' Tarbot. lam sorry he is out. He would doubtless have answered whatever question 3-011 intend to ask better than I could.”

“I wished to see him with regard to a curious rumor which is afloat, hut I have something else to say to you.” “What is that? lam all attention.” “May I trust you ” “Absolutely.” “It is about my husband. He is not well. He is troubled by a nervous ailment. ’ ’ Mz-s Tarbot looked watchful and eager. She no longer lay back in her chair; she sat upright, her thin hands, were folded on her lap, the jewels with which her fingers were loaded shone in the ,firelight. Her eyes, filled with bold intentness, were fixed on Barbara’s white face All the remarkable and gracious beauty of the young face was toz-ture to the jealous heart of the other woman. She saw that a new development in her strange history was imminent, and roused herself, bracing every nerv6 to meet it.

“Yes,” slfe said, “a nervous ailment. This is the age for sucli maladies. We live too fast, we put too much into our lives, nerves get ovenvrought, they give way. Our grandmothers vegetated, they did not know the meaning of nerves. A young man, rich, in the prime of youth, who has just married the girl he loves ought not to suffer from nervous troubles.”

“My husband cannot get over the death of the child.” “Ah!” “He is haunted by strange fears >n connection with that death.”

“What do you mean?” “What I and I have come now to ask you to tell me frankly and fully, knowing that God is present and is listening to us, what the child really died of.” “Acute disease of the heart.”

“I wish you would tell Dick so. His mind is in a strange state of confusion. If you were to set and repeat the words you have just told me it might give him untold relief.” s

“My word alone would not do that. When Dr. Tarbot' signed the death certificate he sppke\of the cause of death as aortic disease —that means disease of the aortic valve of the hearty a disease which invariably ends suddenly. Dr. Williamson and Sir Richard Spears were of the same opinion. My word goes for nothing. Let your husband see the great specialists who examined the boy’s heart within twenty-four hours of his death.”

“I am greatly obliged to you,” said Barbara. She rose to go as she spoke. “I will tell. Dick what you say. Yes,

he must see the doctors. Their verdict will set his mind at rest.” Barbara held out her hand.

“I am glad you came- to see me,” said Mrs Tarbot, “and if in the future 1 can help you, pray command me.” “But how can you help me?” “I mean this. From what you say, your husband is suffering from nerve depression. Nothing else can account for the curious state you have half described. The doctors whom lie consults may set his mind at rest, but if after seeing them his troubles return, his complaint ough to be treated as something physical, an ailment of the body which requires cure.” “But liow can such a thing be cured- How can a. thought, a dominant thought,, be banished ?” “It can, and- —I can do it.” “You, Mrs Tarbot? You?” “Yes, I. Did I eypj' tell yon that I spent three years pf my life in Paris?” “No.” “I did. I was one of the principal assistants of the great Dr. Weismann. When he lived he was the greatest mesthe greatest hypnotist of his day. He accomplished more cures by hypnotism that I can describe to you. Now, the hypnotism of suggestion u’ould, in case of need, cure your husband.” “But I don’t believe in it, nor, I am sure, does he.” “You may come to believe in it yet. When you do, send for me, and I will help you. I will do my best for you.’’ Barbara promised, feeling as she did so a vague sense of coming trouble. Soon afterwards she took her leave and hurried home as quickly as she could. (To be Continued To-morrow.)