The Doctor, his Wife, and the ClockGreen, Anna Katharine
General
The Doctor, his Wife, and the Clock
Green, Anna Katharine
Detective and mystery stories; Fiction
“If I am any judge of woman, Helen Zabriskie is superior to
most of her sex. That her husband mistrusts her is evident,
but whether this is the result of the stand she has taken in
his regard, or only a manifestation of dementia, I have as
yet been unable to determine. I dread to leave them alone
together, and yet when I presume to suggest that she should be
on her guard in her interviews with him, she smiles very
placidly and tells me that nothing would give her greater joy
than to see him lift his hand against her, for that would
argue that he is not accountable for his deeds or for his
assertions.
“Yet it would be a grief to see her injured by this passionate
and unhappy man.
* * * * *
“You have said that you wanted all details I could give; so I
feel bound to say, that Dr. Zabriskie tries to be considerate
of his wife, though he often fails in the attempt. When she
offers herself as his guide, or assists him with his mail, or
performs any of the many acts of kindness by which she
continually manifests her sense of his affliction, he thanks
her with courtesy and often with kindness, yet I know she
would willingly exchange all his set phrases for one fond
embrace or impulsive smile of affection. That he is not in the
full possession of his faculties would be too much to say, and
yet upon what other hypothesis can we account for the
inconsistencies of his conduct.
* * * * *
“I have before me two visions of mental suffering. At noon I
passed the office door, and looking within, saw the figure of
Dr. Zabriskie seated in his great chair, lost in thought or
deep in those memories which make an abyss in one’s
consciousness. His hands, which were clenched, rested upon the
arms of his chair, and in one of them I detected a woman’s
glove, which I had no difficulty in recognizing as one of the
pair worn by his wife this morning. He held it as a tiger
might hold his prey or a miser his gold, but his set features
and sightless eyes betrayed that a conflict of emotions was
waging within him, among which tenderness had but little
share.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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