Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, August 30, 1903, Page 33

e The Doctor’s Easy Chair | (Copyright, 1903, by Wm. H. Osborne.) R. JOHN BARTHOLOMEW made m a courtly bow The tall young fellow facing him seemed just a MY bit embarrassed. It was this man lllleed that Dr. John Bartholomew addressed. “My young friend, Peters,* he remarked, ‘““for you I have In store a great surprise.” Instinctively the glance of Peters shifted to the third person who was present. This third person was a woman-a young woman. To Peters' mind, judging from her outward appearance, this girl was one of the most beautiful young women that this old world ever held. Dr. John Barth- olomew turned to this young woman and touched her upon the sleeve, Mrs. John Bartholomew,” he continued, lghtly, ‘‘this Is my young friend and my gvod friend, Mr. Holdworthy Peters, one of the limbs of the law.” Peters In his momentary embarrassment end surprise was at a Joss ju:t what to eay. He was acutely conscious that this Peautiful young woman was looking neither to the right nor to the left, but straight into his eyes. He bowed to her and blushed. Peters and the old doctor were great friends. There was something in the Broad-shouldered energy of the young fel- low that had attracted the doctor, and something in the picturesque quaintness ot the old scholar that had attracted Peters. This was the first time they had met since the old man's return from a trip abroad, and he was right when he sald that this wife of his was a surprise to Peters. Who sahe was, or where the doctor met her, Peters never knew, and knows not to this day. That she possessed refinement and intellect there could be no question. She was well mannered and well poised. But why John Bartholomew, with his peculiar temperament, had plcked her out, or why she had picked him out, was beyond all eomprehension. Peters assumed, neverthe- less, and perhaps he was more than half right, that she had been attracted by the obd fellow's wealth, which was consider- able. “Now, Hokiworthy Peters,” said the doc- tor on that first evening at the hour of parting, ‘“‘don’t you let this—this change in my condition—make any difference with you. Be sure of that.'' “No, don’'t,” eageriy repeated Mrs. John Bartholomew. “¥ou come around here,” continued the eld doctor, “just when and as often as you please, and there's always your pipe and your chair in the corner—and we'll talk about the same old things in the same old way."” His study was upon the second floor. He @id not descend with Peters to the door, but Mrs. John Bartholomew did. When they reached the floor below she held out her hand. As Peters took it he felt her warm fingers close upon his, and something thrilled him as nothing up to that time had ever done. And as he took her hand she looked into his eyes. “Mr. Peters,” sald Mrs. John Bartholo- mew, “l hope to see you often, boith for the doctor’'s sake’'—she paused for an in- stant and then went on in a much lower wolce—“and for my own,” she added. Eoldworthy Peters' head whirled as he Teft the place—he knew not why. He has- tened home and threw himself into a chair by an open window and thought about old John Bartholomew—and his strange young wife. Something, he knew not what, im- pelled him suddenly to make a light and to stand bhefore his cheval glass in the corner and see what like he was. He felt no van- ity in recognizing the fact that he was young and tall and broad-shouldered, and of a well-favored countenance. And as he @gased upon his counterfeit presentment, he realized the fact that the old doctor, his good friend, was thin and tremulous, and that he was bent a bit about the shoulders, and that he was slightly deaf, and that his eye may have been a trifle dim. But the thing that Peters saw that night, look where he would, was the vision of a woman with eyes that looked into his. He began to dread this woman. Peters went again and yet again to old Bartholomew's, and he was made doubly welcome. And as the old doctor had Inter- ested Peters, so did his young wife. She was clever In every sense of the word, and she had lively ideas upon every toplc of the day. She understood men and women. And impartially she watched the two men as they sat with their pipes before the fire. Bhe sat at a small table with some fancy work. One night Peters broke Into a laugh. “Dr. Barthalomew,” he remarked, lightly, *do you obscrve this curious cireumstance, that while but a few nights ago my chair was so close to yours that I could touch it with my foot, it has begun to criep nearer and still nearer to Mrs. John Bar- tholomew, who sits off at the table. How do you account for that?" There was a sudden movement that made Peters turn. The doctor's wife was look- fng at him. Her lips were parted in a smile that was meant for him alone. The doctor's back was turned. The doctor laughed. Afterwards, though, he told Peters he was glad to have the ysung man take some Interest In his young wife, for her life there was prosy in lta way. “So you B0 over to the table if you like, young Peters,” he concluded, “and make the most of Mrs. John and let her make the most of you.” Peters d@id not move over to the table on that night, but gradeally as the nights went on, the conversation drifted into the channels most familiar to Mrs. John and to himself, and finally he found him- self close to the lamplight, almost at her side, reading oldfashioned sentimental poetry to herself and to her husband. It was on the night that he had been reading from “Mazeppa’™ that for the sec- ond time she accompanied him downstairs, ‘““The doctor worries me,” she told him, “he seems to fail more and more each day.” Now Pelers had not noticed this, and he said as much. But she insisted that he was failing gradually, and to Peters she related instances that had made some impression on her mind. It was a week later that Peters stepped into the doctor's study with a jaunty step and a heightened color. ‘“Doctor Bartholomew—and lady,”” he be- gan somewhat quaintly, “l want some “These surprises, Peters,” he exclaimed, “are coming thick and fast. See now. My birthday happened on the day after you were here. And what do you suppose? Come over here and tell me what you think of this." He pulled the young man, strangely excited as he was, over to the fireplace, and there in lieu of his accus- tomed worn out seat, there stood the most magnificently carved arm chatr that Peters had ever seen. It was high-backed, and projecting forward from each side and extending down each side were what might have been called blinders. They - | S “THE DOCTOR WILL: WAKE UP AGAIN AFTER AWHILE.” good advice, And what do you think it is alleabout?* The old doctor shook his head, but not 8o his young wife. She laughed what seemed, as Poters afterwards recalled fit, to be a harsh, unmusical laugh. “It's some young woman,” she answered, raising her eyebrows. “I have a chanes, I think,” continued Peters, frankly, “of winning for a wife one of the finest young ladies in the land— present company,” he added hastily, with a bow toward the old doctor's wife, ‘‘pres- ent company excepted, I have not yet asked the—the fatal question, but I have some good reason to know that this young lady is not averze to me. The question that I want to ask you two old married people is, Shali I propound the fatal ques- tion? ™ “By all means,” said the doctor in ans- wer to his guestion. “By all means,” echoed his beautiful young wife. But later at the door below, she pressed her hand wpoa the young man's arm, “I want to ask you about your—your swectheart,” she began with a trembling voice, “Is she so very beautiful?"’ And as she sald it, her eyes once more looked into his, and her warm hand touched his, It is perhaps better to be frank—to tell just what Peter felt Por in that one in- stant he forgot his sweetheart—forgot all the world. At that instant all that he rememtered, all that he thought about, was this woman who stood looking into his eyes, with her hand upon his hand, Suddenly he strode away, making some kind of adieu, he knew not what. 1In fact he remembered nothing until he found himself once more in his own room. And that night the dread of that beautiful young woman returned with two-fold force -but with it there was something more than dread. It was perhaps full two weeks more be- fore Holdworthy Peters ventured upon a further visit to the doector. The doctor had aged. MIs wife was rfght. But he extended to Peters a right royal wel- come, are often seen in pictures of old fireside chairs. ‘‘Hehold the giver,” the doctor remarked with a smi'e and a nod toward his young wife. “And I have been wailing for you, Peters,”” he went on, “all the evening, be- fore sitting in it, for it Is so very com- fortable that I go to sleep almost directly. Just try it for yourself—see what a pleas- ant place it =™ Peters started for the chair, but the doctor's wife started up. ‘“No—no!" she exclaimed hurriedly, ‘“not him—not—not anybody but yoursel. It is your chalr, and only you shall sit in it.” 'The doctor acquliesced—he felt the force of the senti- ment that she had expressed. He took his seat In the massive chair. It was indeed comfortable. Peters also took his accus- tomed place. The doctor drew the big chalr around so that it faced his compan- fons, and talked for some little time. Finaily, without any wamning, he dropped off into a deep sleep. Peters rose to go. “Stay,” commanded Mrs. John Bartholo- mew, ‘“the doctor will wake up again after awhile,” Peters stay>d—he knew not why, and read to her. Suddenly he became con- scious that she was looking at him. He dared not ralse his head. Unconsciously he read on, and because he read mechan- ically he read aloud a passage he had not meant to read. It was a love passage. And when he finished it he heard a faint ery, and thls woman near him had seized his hand—the one that lay upon the table —and rained upon it kiss after kiss. She would not loose her hold. Bomething that she was whispering forced itself upon his brain. “I love you." If she sald it once she sald it a hundred times. And as she said it her eyes were looking iuto Peters’, and his, perforce, were looking into hers. He leaped to lus feet and strode to the fire- place. “I must go,” he kept repeating, “I must 80." He stepped to the dector's chair to waken him, “Dector,"” he called gently. “Doector.” He shook him. There was no response. Peters glanced at the woman. She was sitting pale and still looking not at Peters, but at the By William Hamilton Osborne figure of her husband Suddenly she sprang for the telephone—there was one there in the room—and rang the bell. Not once had she approached her husband. The old man's head was sunk upon his breast and his eyes were sightless. When she had finished with the telephone she came to Peters. “The bed,”” she sald to him, “we must lay him on the bed. He has these spells—some- times. They come on frequently. He must lie down.” They got him somehow into the next room and upon the bed. Suddenly there was a terrific jangling or the bell be- low. The physician had arrived. He as- cended and examined the old man who lay upon the bed. At the conclusion of the ex- amination he dropped the hand that he had been holding and turned to the two within the room. “Dr. John Bartholomew s dead,” he quietly announced. - . . . . . . Three months passed. Dr. John Barthol- omew had been laid away in his grave. His wife, by virtue of his will, had succeeded to all his worldly goods—and they were not a few. She still lived in the old house, but save for the attendance of Peters at the funeral he had not entered it, for there clung to him a memory that was not pleas- ant. Away from this woman and with her, Peters had a’dread of her. But agaln it is well to state all the truth, and to state it fully it is necessary to say that, In spite of Peters’ dread of her, there was still an unknown quality, an unknown quantity, that drew men toward her with a force that it was difficult to resist. For Peters had looked into her eyes, and he had felt the touch of ber hand, and he had felt the touch of her lips upon his hand, and to this day he has not forgotten that which he cannot well forget. He married—and she knew it. She wrote him a note about it. It was a mere friegdly, worldly note, such as anyone might write, But later she wrote once more—wrote to say to him that she was going to scll her house, and that she expected to go abroad. There were some few things that she wished to hand to him—mementoes of the doctor. f'eters went to her. He would later that he had stayed away. For he knew as he saw her again that in her beautfful eycs she held more power than any other woman in the world—she had more mag- netism in her touch, and he could guess only too well that there was more swoct- ness in her lips. But it was the sweetness of hell. He came out of that plac> that day staggering like a drunkard—with hin was the memory of a woman who had gone upon her knees to him, not once, but twenty times, to beg him to come with her, to leave honor and good name be- hind, and to fly, anyhow, anywhere, It i3 an awful thing to see the soul of a y man or any woman laid bare—and Peters cannot help but carry the sight of hers down to his grave. She left the place, he knew not when or how But she was not yet through with Holdworthy Peters. It was a week or so later that he ro- turned home one evening to find—what? Nothing more nor less than the mag- nificent arm chair that once had bheen a birthday present to old Bartholomew. The doctor's widow had sent it After a hard day, Peters sank iuto this chair with a sigh of rcliet. And as he r.