The opium habit and its cure, and what others say of his cures / by B.M. Woolley.

  • Woolley, B. M. (Basil M.), 1834-
Date:
[1879?]
Catalogue details

Licence: Public Domain Mark

Credit: The opium habit and its cure, and what others say of his cures / by B.M. Woolley. Source: Wellcome Collection.

Provider: This material has been provided by the National Library of Medicine (U.S.), through the Medical Heritage Library. The original may be consulted at the National Library of Medicine (U.S.)

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    yet after a pause, it does not seem hard to die on such a night. I did not half like her look and words. I said quickly, It seems harder to die on such a night, because earth is so lovely and peaceful. But if you are not in sympathy with its loveliness and peace—if there is that within you which is an alien to peace and harmony forever—a fire that consumes. How intense was the whisper in which these last words were uttered! Then she looked down in the water below us. It is deep here. She said low: The water must be ten feet deep at least. A pause—then looking up suddenly, she said: '' I dropped my glove as we walked along. It is somewhere on the platform near the beach, I think. Will you look for it for me? I will wait here; I like to look at the water. I answered certainly, and walked away—a few steps only. I stopped and stood watching her; while thinking me gone, she leant over the water, absorbed in what was passing in her mind. I heard her murmur: I have fought ahard right —a long tight; it is useless. I am tired. It shall end. I stepped back softly. I saw her shudder, her limbs and shoulders move as if the muscles contracted as for a spring. I threw my arm around her be- fore she could make the leap. It was not a moment too soon; the whole weight of her body fell against my arm. That weight and the impetus of the spring made me stagger and lose my balance. I made a desperate effort to regain it, still holding her fast, but in vain. I fell with her—not into the water, but into the boat that, fastened to the pier, floated below us. It bounded up and down violently for a moment, and voices from the shore cried: Halloo! what's the matter? I could not have spoken had my life depended on it; but to my amazement, her voice rang out clearly : We have jumped into the boat and are going to take a moonlight row; that's all. I took my cue from her. I undid the fastening of the boat, took up the oars and pushed away from the pier. She sang a merry boat song as we floated off'. Then she was silent. At last, holding out her hand, she said: Thanks: you did what you thought was best. It was lucky I was near. I was afraid if you looked into the water so steadily you would grow giddy and fall. She looked at me keenly. Was she de- ceived into supposing that I thought her act an accident only? It might have been, for she presently began to talk of indifferent things—talk so quietly, so in- telligently that I was almost ready to be- lieve that I had been mistaken. Cold looks met her on her return to the beach. The moonlight ride on the bay was evidently regarded as another of those imprudent things that Miss Birne had the reputation of doing. Another girl might have done this and more with- out provoking adverse criticism, but Helen Birne was set apart as strange; the finger of suspicion had been pointed at her, therefore she was a legitimate prey for scandal. CHAPTER II. The next day Miss Birne left Silver Beach. I was so haunted by the thought of her and of the mystery that surrounded her that the place became no longer restful and improving to me, and I went back to Stentoh, and found there aletter that made a change in my life. It was an invitation from several leading citizens of Blooms- bury—a considerable county town about fifty miles away—for me to come and fill the place of Dr. Bilsby, the chief phy- sician of the town, who had died. Blooms- bury was larger and richer than Stenton. I woitld have a better paying practice and more intelligent and appreciative pa- trons, and then, as I glanced at the names signed to the letter of invitation. I saw that Judge James Birne headed the list. This decided me. I might yet solve the enigma. I would go to Bloomsbury. I went, established myself in pleasant rooms and made a number of acquain- tances, amonp them Judge Birne and his wife—a handsome woman, but shallow and vain, while the gentleman was pomp- ous and polished with a great show of politeness and affability, but his blue eye was cold and bard as an icicle, and there was a look on his face when in repose that I did not like. I made their acquaintance at a social party, and a day or two afterwards was called in p ofessionally to see the Judge, who had a touch of vertigo, but was sit- ting up sipping sherry in his library, while the madame sat near him, netting soft Berlin wools with her plump ringed lingers. I saw nothing of Miss Birne until after I hod left the house. It was dusk. I had mounted my horse and rode round the paling to the rear of the house, as I had a patient living in that direction. The Judge's mansion, I forgot to say, was about a mile from town, with an oak wood in the rear of the broad shrubbery and tree-planted yard thatenclosed it. Among a cluster of cedar trees, I saw a small white out-house in which I felt sure that Helen lived; and as I rode opposite to it, I suddenly saw Helen herself leaning over the paling talking to a boy on the