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Newspaper Page Text
ing at his office when every moment
of delay meant so much!
An hour's run and he was treading
the streets of the country village in
which he lived. He saw his home; an
automobile was standing before the
door. He rushed in. The doctor
and a nurse, hastily summoned, were
in the hall. The doctor, on his way
out, was giving the nurse her in
structions, and for a full minute he
did not pay the least attention to
Cleave. When he had finished speak
ing, and the nurse had sped up the
stairs, he turned to him.
"Your wife has had a very serious
accident, Mr. Cleave," he said. "She
was thrown out of a buggy when the
horse swerved, and sustained a frac
ture of the skull. There is no im
mediate danger, I am happy to say.
She may recoyer consciousness at
any time. But we fear some brain
"You mean insanity?" asked
Cleave, miserably. He coiild bear to
think of her dead better than of that
bright spirit obscured and fettered.
The love that he had ever felt for
her rushed over him in a tide of bitter
reproach. If only he had his chance
"Well, hardly that," parried the
doctor. "I cannot say just what form
this injury is likely to take and,
really, until it happens, don't let us
trouble ourselves unnecessarily by
speculating upon it. Miss Anderson
is an excellent nurse and knows just
what it is necessary to do. I shall be
back this evening."
All through that afternoon John
to Cleave sat at his wife's bedside, star
ing into the wide-open eyes that saw
nothing. She lay to a stupor; there
was not the smallest movement; she
might have been a figure of marble.
Her beautiful hair had been clipped
short and hung like a ragged fringe
under the bandages that had been
placed about her hear. Her hand was
as cold as marble in John's feverish
"When do you expect her to re-,
cover consciousness?" asked John of
the nurse. .
"At any time," the woman answer
ed. "Today, tomorrow, or tomorrow
week. We can't tell we must just
"Or never?" he asked, and Miss
Anderson turned away without an
swering. It was not until the third afternoon
that consciousness returned. John
had watched continually at his wife's
bedBide, hardly suffering himself to'
be torn away for the hastily snatched
meals and the brief intervals of sleep.
And all the while Mary had remained
in the same position and her hand
was as icily cojd in John's.
It was about three o'clock in the
afternoon when she stirred and
spoke. A light of consciousness
came into the eyes; she turned them
upon John and knew him. She
smiled at him, and the smile was like
that which she had worn upon their
"Dearest where am I?" she
"At home," said John, thrilling at
the faint clasp of her fingers. "At
home, never to go away again."
"But why should I want to go
away from youj my husband?" said
Mary, smiling. "I feel so weak.
Have I been ill?"
"You have met with an accident,"
he answered. "But thank God you
are getting well. Now you must be
still and sleep."
She smiled up at him obediently
and for the first time the tired eye
lids fluttered down upon her eyes.
Mary slept. Her hand in John's was
moist and warm. The nurse came
in and saw the change.
"She will live, Mr. Cleave," she
"You didn't expect it, then?"
"No," said Miss Anderson.
"She spoke to you, you say?" to
quired the doctor of John that even
ing, "She knew you and spoke and
"Absolutely rational," answered