Nothing but Money! CHAPTER 32.
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Doctor Hofland had dismissed his last office patient, and was preparing to go out for his afternoon visits, when a note was placed in his hands. It came from Mrs. Guyton, and stated, that her husband having become violent, it had been found necessary to remove him to the hospital. This had been done, she said, at the suggestion of Doctor Hughes, their family physician.
Doctor Hofland read the note twice, and then, re-folding it, with a grave, abstracted air, put it in his pocket, and left his office without communicating the fact to anyone. The case being thus taken out of his hands was, of course, now beyond his reach; and the responsibility of looking after it removed. Except for the interest awakened in Lydia — he would not have been seriously affected by the event. A momentary throb of pain; a shadow of regret; a brief consideration of the case as involving a lesson in life — and it would have been, so far as he was concerned, as similar events in society. Except for Lydia, he would not have stepped aside to gain special information concerning the removal of Mr. Guyton; but, as he would have to communicate the distressing fact on his return home, he felt under obligation to see Doctor Hughes, and learn from him the particulars involved.
They were not satisfactory. Doctor Hughes was scarcely as communicative as he could have desired, concerning the condition of Mr. Guyton at the time he was taken from the house. He had given the necessary certificate; but, only when questioned closely, did he admit the fact of not being present at the time of the removal.
"You do not know, then, whether violence had to be used?" said Doctor Hofland.
"There was no violence, I think," returned Doctor Hughes.
"How was his consent to the removal gained?"
"He was passive — indifferent — I believe. In a kind of stupor," replied Doctor Hughes, with an air of cool evasion that affected Doctor Hofland unpleasantly.
"In a stupor! Had he taken a sedative?"
"Yes. O yes."
"I was not aware of that. Then you have seen him since morning?"
"I was there about two o'clock, and found him quite composed. Mrs. Guyton said that he had consented to take a small dose of morphine, the effects of which were plainly apparent. She then consulted me about his removal to the hospital, and I thought it best to place him there while he was in a condition to be taken without resistance, and so gave a certificate, to be used if required."
Beyond this, Doctor Hofland could learn nothing.
After leaving Doctor Hughes, he thought of riding over to the hospital, which stood on elevated ground at the eastern end of the city, more than a mile distant, and seeing the resident physician; but the necessity of visiting a number of patients who required attention, prevented his doing so, and he returned home at nightfall, with no particulars of Mr. Guyton's removal to communicate in answer to the eager questions which he knew would come from Lydia.
"How is father?" The words met him before his foot was fairly beyond the threshold of his door.
The Doctor shook his head — looked sober — but did not answer. In what words should he convey the sad news that must now be communicated?
"Is he worse, Doctor?" The pale, anxious face of Lydia grew ashen.
Doctor Hofland drew his arm around her, and leading her into one of the parlors, said, as he placed her on a sofa, and sat down by her side —
"Your father is better, I think, than when I saw him in the morning. A sedative was administered this afternoon, under which he fell asleep. But, it was thought best by Doctor Hughes, to have him removed to the hospital, while unconscious through its influence."
"To the hospital, Doctor! Why to the hospital?" Lydia was wholly unprepared for the announcement which had been made.
"I would not have advised its being done, though his mind has wandered for the last day or two," replied the Doctor, in as even a voice as he could assume. "Sleep, under the sedative which he has consented to take, will I trust, restore the balance of rest."
The whole sad truth now flashed on Lydia. Her father was mentally deranged, and in a hospital! Of little weight was the Doctor's last assuring sentence. She accepted the worstas true, and gave way to the most violent paroxysms of grief.
In the calm that followed, Doctor Hofland thought it best to communicate more particularly the state of her father's mind, and to prepare her for the worst, if it came. He had already learned enough about her husband, through her own admissions in regard to him, to feel seriously concerned for Lydia's future well-being and happiness. As far as he could see, the young man was little more than a social idler, who had sought to advance himself in the world by a rich marriage. At first, he thought of suggesting to send for him, in order that Lydia might remain longer in the city; but, after further consideration, it seemed not best to do so.
On the following day, having ascertained that her father was in a better condition physically, though not mentally restored, Lydia concluded to return to her husband, Doctor Hofland promising to keep her informed of every material change in her father's condition. And so she departed, going out from the place of her birth as a tearful exile — banished from her home — cast off — despised — and with scarcely the feeblest hope of return. If it had not been for the stimulus of a keenly felt indignation and bitterness towards her step-mother, the wretched girl would scarcely have borne herself up. What had she to look forward to in life? That one act had separated her completely from all former conditions and associations, and she must now fall from luxurious ease and independence, where pride and self-love had been stimulated as plants in hotbeds — down into obscurity and poverty — for that was the sphere of the husband whom she had chosen. The stern repulsion of her stepmother left no room for hope in that direction. She had clung, almost desperately, under the fear that appalled her spirit, after being denied admission to her father, to the belief that his forgiveness would be readied sooner or later; but all now was in danger of being lost. If this aberration of mind should become permanent — then what hope of reconciliation with the family remained? Scarcely a shadow!
Henry had already repulsed her in the cruelest manner; and, as for the rest, she had lived with them in perpetual strife, from the earliest times that she could remember. There was no love for her in any heart at home; and no one, therefore, to plead her cause.
For the week that followed, Doctor Hofland's engagements were more than usually pressing, and during that period he did not find opportunity for a visit to the hospital. On the ninth day after Mr. Guyton's removal there, he called on the resident physician. To his inquiry in regard to him, he received for answer, that Mr. Guyton had been taken out of the institution three days before.
"Ah; I'm glad to learn that," said Doctor Hofland. "So the derangement was only temporary?"
"He was better — but not fully restored," replied the physician. "My advice was, to let him continue here for a longer period; but his wife came, in company with Doctor Hughes, and insisted on taking him home. I think, from what I saw in his face and manner, that he did not wish to accompany them. But, he made no resistance; and as they assumed the responsibility of his removal, I, of course, could not object."
"How did he act, while here?" inquired Doctor Hofland.
"He was under the influence of morphine, when he arrived in company with his wife and Mr. Larobe."
"Mr. Larobe!" Doctor Hofland could not conceal the surprise he felt on hearing this.
"Yes, Mr. Larobe was with them. The effect of the sedative did not pass off for nearly twelve hours, and we had fears, during a portion of the time, that the dose might have beentoo large. On becoming fully awake, and conscious of his real position, Mr. Guyton was shocked; but, after the first manifestations of surprise and indignation, he submitted passively; though remaining silent and gloomy."
"Did he sleep again, without having resort to morphine?"
"Yes; but not for nearly twenty-four hours. He persistently refused to take another sedative, and we did not care to use force unless as a last resort. Happily, nature did the work in her own way. Sleep came at length, with its beneficial influences."
"Have you heard of him since he was taken away?" asked Doctor Hofland.
"No — but presume all is going on well."
"Do you think that he was decidedly better when removed?"
"Yes; I would say that he was better — though not as well as I had hoped to see him become after natural sleep was restored. I'm afraid, should anything occur to disturb him seriously, that his brain will not be strong enough to bear the excitement."
"Did he seem clearly to realize the fact of having been placed in an asylum for the insane?"
"I think so."
"How do you judge as to the effect of this on his reason?"
"I think it would have been wisest on giving him the sedative, to wait and see the condition of his mind after the effect subsided. The home surroundings and influences would have been more favorable to recovery than such as were met with here. At least this is my opinion."
"And one in which I fully agree with you," said Doctor Hofland. "Had I been consulted, as I should have been, I never would have advised the course that was taken. The case is a sad one, and I fear for the ultimate result. That intense, absorbing love of money, which seems to have been the ruling impulse of his life, often becomes a disease which you know to be as marked in its symptoms and progress as any laid down in the books, almost always terminating fatally to mind or body. Few men who thus abandon themselves to the one idea of making and hoarding money, live to what we call a good old age. The sword of their thought gets too sharp for the scabbard, and cuts its way through."
"Yes, that is the case in too large a number of instances. Mere money makers, if they survive either of the disasters you have referred to, are the feeblest and unhappiest of old men; self-tormentors, and inflictors of pain, or annoyance, on all who are so unfortunate as to be within the sphere of their influence."
"In this," remarked Doctor Hofland, "we have instructive illustration of man's folly in limiting the range of his thoughts and feelings to the little world of selfish interests — the poorest and meanest of which are involved in mere money getting, from the sordid love of money. Happiness is the end he sets in view — for that, all men sigh in present dissatisfaction and unrest — yet, how signally does the venture fail. Rich old men, who, from the beginning, set their hearts on mere possession, are almost always peevish, fretful, ill-natured, and dissatisfied with all around them. The exceptional instances are very few, and not highly creditable to human nature. If a man has nothing but money on which to sustain his spirit when he becomes old, he is poor and wretched indeed. Feebleness, or total loss of reason, comes, too often, as the mind's sad and only refuge from misery."
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