Part 26 (1/2)
CHAPTER XXVII.
A day when the porch was rose-embowered once more and the garden-spot a riot of color and the birds singing in the trees round about, found Mr.
Graham seated at Edgar Poe's desk in the office of _Graham's Magazine_.
The door behind him opened, and he raised his head from his writing and quickly glanced over his shoulder. The look of inquiry in his blue eyes instantly kindled into one of welcome.
”Come in! Come in! Dr. Griswold,” he exclaimed. ”I am more than glad to see you! We are overwhelmed with work just now and perhaps we'll induce you to lend a hand.”
The visitor came forward with outstretched hand, stooping and bowing his huge bulk as he came in a manner that to a less artless mind than Mr.
Graham's might have suggested a touch of the obsequious. His furtive but watchful eye had already marked the fact that it was at Mr. Poe's desk--not his own--that Mr. Graham sat--which was as he had antic.i.p.ated.
”Mr. Poe laid up again?” he queried.
”Yes; he seems to be having quite an obstinate attack this time.”
The visitor sadly shook his head. ”Ah?--poor fellow, poor fellow!”
”Do you think his condition serious?” asked Mr. Graham, with anxiety.
Dr. Griswold cast a glance of the furtive eye over his shoulder and around the room; then stooped nearer Mr. Graham.
”Didn't you know?” he questioned, in a lowered tone.
”Only that the failure of his wife's health has been a sad blow to him and that after each of her attacks he has had a break-down. Is there anything more?”
Dr. Griswold stooped nearer still and brought his voice to a yet lower key.
”Whiskey”--he whispered.
Mr. Graham drew back and the candid brows went up.
”Ah--ah” he exclaimed. Then fell silent and serious.
”Did you never suspect it?” asked his companion.
”Never. I used to hear rumors when he was with Billy Burton, but I never saw any indications that they were true, and didn't believe them. How could I? Think of the work the man turns out--its quant.i.ty, its quality!
He is at once the most brilliant and the most industrious man it has been my good fortune to meet--and withal the most perfect gentleman--exquisite in his manners and habits, and the soul of honor.
Did you ever know a man addicted to drink to be so immaculately neat as he always is? Or so refined in manners and speech? Or so exact in his dealings? There is no one to whom I would more readily advance money, or with greater a.s.surance that it will be faithfully repaid in his best, most painstaking work--to the last penny!”
Dr. Griswold's face took on a look of deep concern.
”The more's the pity--the more's the pity!” said he. ”A good man gone wrong!” Then with a hesitating, somewhat diffident air.
”You say that you need help which I might, perhaps, give?”
Mr. Graham was the energetic business man once more. Dr. Griswold's visit was most opportune, he said, for while he had on hand a good deal of ”copy” for the next number of the magazine--furnished by Mr. Poe before his illness--there were one or two important reviews that must be written and Dr. Griswold would be the very man to write them, if he would.