Jezebels Daughter | Page 8

Wilkie Collins
in the treatment of the patients----"
"Were the proposals of a merciful man," my aunt interposed "who
abhorred cruelty in all its forms, and who held the torturing of the poor
mad patients by whips and chains to be an outrage on humanity. I
entirely agree with him. Though I am only a woman, I will not let the
matter drop. I shall go to the Hospital on Monday morning next--and
my business with you to-day is to request that you will accompany
me."
"In what capacity am I to have the honor of accompanying you?" the
lawyer asked, in his coldest manner.
"In your professional capacity," my aunt replied. "I may have a
proposal to address to the governors; and I shall look to your
experience to express it in the proper form."
The lawyer was not satisfied yet. "Excuse me if I venture on making
another inquiry," he persisted. "Do you propose to visit the madhouse
in consequence of any wish expressed by the late Mr. Wagner?"
"Certainly not! My husband always avoided speaking to me on that
melancholy subject. As you have heard, he even left me in doubt

whether he was one of the governing body at the asylum. No reference
to any circumstance in his life which might alarm or distress me ever
passed his lips." Her voice failed her as she paid that tribute to her
husband's memory. She waited to recover herself. "But, on the night
before his death," she resumed, "when be was half waking, half
dreaming, I heard him talking to himself of something that he was
anxious to do, if the chance of recovery had been still left to him. Since
that time I have looked at his private diary; and I have found entries in
it which explain to me what I failed to understand clearly at his bedside.
I know for certain that the obstinate hostility of his colleagues had
determined him on trying the effect of patience and kindness in the
treatment of mad people, at his sole risk and expense. There is now in
Bethlehem Hospital a wretched man--a friendless outcast, found in the
streets--whom my noble husband had chosen as the first subject of his
humane experiment, and whose release from a life of torment he had
the hope of effecting through the influence of a person in authority in
the Royal Household. You know already that the memory of my
husband's plans and wishes is a sacred memory to me. I am resolved to
see that poor chained creature whom he would have rescued if he had
lived; and I will certainly complete his work of mercy, if my
conscience tells me that a woman should do it."
Hearing this bold announcement--I am almost ashamed to confess it, in
these enlightened days--we all three protested. Modest Mr. Hartrey was
almost as loud and as eloquent as the lawyer, and I was not far behind
Mr. Hartrey. It is perhaps to be pleaded as an excuse for us that some of
the highest authorities, in the early part of the present century, would
have been just as prejudiced and just as ignorant as we were. Say what
we might, however, our remonstrances produced no effect on my aunt.
We merely roused the resolute side of her character to assert itself.
"I won't detain you any longer," she said to the lawyer. "Take the rest
of the day to decide what you will do. If you decline to accompany me,
I shall go by myself. If you accept my proposal, send me a line this
evening to say so."
In that way the conference came to an end.

Early in the evening young Mr. Keller made his appearance, and was
introduced to my aunt and to me. We both took a liking to him from the
first. He was a handsome young man, with light hair and florid
complexion, and with a frank ingratiating manner--a little sad and
subdued, in consequence, no doubt, of his enforced separation from his
beloved young lady at Wurzburg. My aunt, with her customary
kindness and consideration, offered him a room next to mine, in place
of his room in Mr. Hartrey's house. "My nephew David speaks German;
and he will help to make your life among us pleasant to you." With
those words our good mistress left us together.
Fritz opened the conversation with the easy self-confidence of a
German student.
"It is one bond of union between us that you speak my language," he
began. "I am good at reading and writing English, but I speak badly.
Have we any other sympathies in common? Is it possible that you
smoke?"
Poor Mr. Wagner had taught me to smoke. I answered by offering my
new acquaintance a cigar.
"Another bond between us,"
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