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i How “The Woman Thou Gavest 99 I N every woman’s life there must come some fcreat crisis some moment when all her future bangs In the balance. In the current Instalment of "The Woman Thou Gavest Me,” the wonderful analysis of modern marriage relations by Hall Caine, appearing In Hearst's Magazine, the distinguished English novelist bares the second step in the development of the great crlslB that has come In the life of his heroine, Mary O'Neil. Mary O'Neil has practically been sold in mar riage by an ambitious father to Lord Hae, a profligate nobleman. On their wedding night the two agree to be man and wife in name only. Martin Conrad, an old playmate of Mary, and now a famous Antarctic explorer, comes into her life again, and the two find they love each other. Through the machinations of Alma, an old friend of Mary, with whom Lord Rae is in fatuated, the loveless wife and Martin spend a night alone In the castle. What follows is told in part in the following excerpts reprinted by permission of HEARST'S MAGAZINE from the current Instalment of the novel. (From tlir rurrrnl Inistatmrnt of "Thr VVomnu Thou Uivnl HEARST'S >1 ACAZINK.l Me" la the Mn.i number of N EXT morning, at half-past eight, my Martin left me. We were standing together In the boudoir between the table and the fire, which was bucning briskly, for the sultry weather had gone in the night, and the Autumn air was keen, though the early sun was shining. At the last moment he was unwilling to go. and it was as much as 1 could do to persuade him. Perhaps It it one of the mysteries which God alone can read that our positions seemed to have been reversed since the day before. He was confused, agitated, and full of self- reproaches, while I felt no fear and no remorse, but only an indescribable joy, as if a new and gracious life had suddenly dawmed on me. "I don’t feel that 1 can leave England now," he said "You can and you must.” 1 answered, and then I spoke of his expedition, as a great work which it was impossible to put off, “Somebody else must do It. then," he said. “Nobody else can, or shall," I replied. "But our lives are forever joined together now and everything else must go by the board." "Nothing shall go by the board for my sake, Martin. 1 refuse and forbid it." "Then if 1 must go, you must go. too,” he said. "I mean you must go with me to London end wait ther until I return.” "That is impossible,” I answered The eyes of the world were on him now. If I did w hat he desired it would reflect dishonor on his name, and he should not suffer for my sake under any circumstances. “But think wha' may happen to you while I am away,” he said. "Nothing will happen while you are away, Ma-ttn." . "But how can you be sure of the future when God alone knows what it Is to be?” "Then God will provide for it," I said, and with the last answer he had to be satisfied. “You must take a letter from me at all events.’’ said Martin, and sitting at my desk he began to write. ! knew what he was trying to say. A shadow seemed to pass between us. My throat grew thick, and for a moment I could not speak. But then 1 heard myself say: "I^ove is stronger than death; many waters cannot quench it." xHi9 hands quivered; his whole body trembled, and 1 thought he was going to clasp me to his breast as before, but he only drew down my forehead with his hot hand and kissed it. That was all, but a blinding mist seemed to pass before my eyes, and w’hen It cleared the door of the room was open and my Martin was gone. 1 stood where he had left me and listened. I heard his strong step on the stone flags of the hall— he was going out at the porch. I heard the metallic clashing of the door of the automobile he was already in the car. 1 heard the throb of the motor and the ruck ling of the gravel of the path—he was moving away. 1 heard the dying down of the engine and the soft roll of the rubber wheels- I was alone. For some moments after that the world seemed empty and void. But the feeling passed, and when I recovered my strength I found Martin's letter in my moist left hand. Then 1 knelt before the fte,- end putting the letter into the flames I burnt i Within two hours of Martin’s departure I had regained complete possession of myself and was feeling more happy than I had ever felt before. Faced the Inevitable "I found Alma smoking a cigarette an' reading the report nioud in a mock-heroic tone to a number cf men, including my husband, whose fat body was shaking with laughter." t.V Frank ( nils Illitstration o t "The W oman Thou Gavest M e," lu the Current .Number of HEARST'S MVtiAZINIA) , The tormenting compunctions of the past months were gone. It jwas just as if I had obeyed some higher and stronger law of my being-and had become a freer and purer woman. Weeks passed; the weather changed; the golden hue of Autumn gave Diace to a chilly grayness; the sky became sad, with Wintry clouds; the land became soggy with frequent rains; the trees showed their bare black boughs; the withered lea,ves drifted along the roads before blusterous winds that came up from the sea; the evenings grew long and the mornings dreary—but still Alma, with her mother, remained at Castle Rae. I began to be afraid of her. Something of the half-hypnotic spell which she had exercised over me when I was a child asserted itself again, but now it seemed to me to be always evil and sometimes almost demoniacal. I had a feeling that she was watching me day and night. Occasionally, when she thought I was looking dpwn, I caught the vivid gaze of her coai-black eyes -looking across at me through her long sable-colored eyelashes. Her conversation was as sweet and suave as ever, but I found myself creeping away from her and ever shrinking from her touch. More than once I remembered what Martin In his blunt way had said of her: “I hate that woman; she’s like a snake; I want to put my foot on it.” The feeling that I was alone in this great gaunt house with a woman who was waiting and watching to do me a mischief that she might step into my shoes was preying upon my health and spirits. Sometimes I had sensations of faintness and exhaustion for which I could not account Look ing into my glass in the morning I saw that my nose was becoming pinched, my cheeks thin, and my whole face not merely pale, but gray. Alma saw these changes in my appearance, and in the over-sweet tones of her succulent voice she constantly offered me her sympathy. I always declined it, protesting that I was per fectly well, but none the less I shrank within myself and became more and more unhappy. So fierce a strain could not last very long, and the climax came about three weeks after my husband left for London. I was rising from breakfast with Alma and her mother when I was suddenly seized with giddiness, and, after staggering for a moment, I fainted right away. On recovering consciousness I found myself stretched out on the floor with Alma and her mother leaning over me. Never to the last hour of my life shall I forget the look in Alma’s eyes as I opened my own. With her upper lip sucked in and her lower one slightly set forward, she was giving her mother a quick side-glance of evil triumph. I was overwhelmed with confusion. I thought I might have been speaking as I was coming to, mentioning a name, perhaps, out of that dim and sacred chamber of the uncon scious soul into which God alone should see. I noticed, too, that my bodice had been un hooked at the back so as to leave it loose over my bosom. As soon as Alma saw that my eyes were open she put her arm under my head and be gan to pour out a flood of honeyed words into my ears. "My dear, sweet darling,” she said, “you scared us to death. We must send for a doctor immediately—your own doctor, you know.” I tried to say there was no necessity, but she would not listen. “Such a seizure may be of no consequence, my love. I trust it isn’t. But, on the other hand, it may be a serious matter, and it is my duty, dearest, my duty to your husband, to dis cover the cause of it.” I knew quite well what Alma was thinking of, yet I could not say more without strength ening her suspicions, so I asked for Price, who helped me up to my room, where I sat on the edge of the bed while she gave me brandy and other restoratives. That was the beginning of the end. I needed no doctor to say what had befallen me. It was something more stupendous for me than the removal of mountains or the stopping of the everlasting coming and going of the sea. The greatest of the mysteries of womanhood, the most sacred, the most divine, the mighty mystery of a new life had come to me as it comes to other women. Yet how had it come? Like a lowering thunderstorm. The golden hour of her sex, which ought to be the sweetest and moBt joyful^ in a woman’s life—the hour when she goes with a proud and swelling heart to the one she loves, the one who loves her. and with her arms about his neck and her face hidden in his breast whispers her great new secret, and he clasps her more fondly than ever to his heart, be cause another and closer union has bound them together—that golden hour had come to me, and there was none to share it. When Are We Really Lead? A New Problem of Science New Discoveries in the Mys terious Phenomena of La tent Life and Suspended Animation That Raise Doubts as to When Vi tality Actually Is Dis- troyed in Us. T WHEN ARE WE TRULY DEAD? i HE fact that life in many animals may ha auspended by freezing and other proc esses was recently discussed in thin newspaper, and the extraordinary plan of a doctor to resuscitate the bodies of Captain Scott and his companions, frozen on their way from the South Pole, was mentioned. The distinguished Professor Harris, of the University of Birmingham, England, here enumerates many remarkable caBes of sus pended animation and shows that there is an Infinite number of steps between life and death. | By Profeeaor David Fraaer Harris, M. D., B. Sc. (London), of the University of Bir mingham. T O the ordinary person nothing seemi easier than to distinguish between life and death, or, to be more exact, between a living and a dead animal. Such a person at once thinks of the warm, breathing, moving or ganism, with its beating heart #hd its percep tions of the outer world, in contrast with the cold, still unconscious corpse In which the heart haB stopped forever. But there may exist theoretically, and there do exist actually, certain degrees of partial llvingness or apparent death—phases of de pressed vitality so closely resembling death as to he indistinguishable from it, at any rate by one’s unaided senses, or without tne assistance of the elaborate and delicate instruments of a modern physiological laboratory. The oorpee putrefies because, being lifeless. It cannot resist the inroads of bacteria, which it did more or less successfully while It was alive. It has no longer any affectability toward the bacteria, no longer reacts toward them by preparing antibodies for their poi- sons, bacteriolysms, and so forth, to destroy them. Affectability Is the sign of life, the first and the last, the alpha and the omega of llving ness: even the electric manifestation is but one r, suit of bioplasm possessing affectability at all; if the affectability were gone there could he no development of electric current. But the egg albumen never had affectability, and therefore never had life: it gives no elec tric current. But there Is n state known as "latent life” which is a particularly interesting one, for the organism having all the airpearance of death • an nevertheless once again manifest vital characteristics. Ever since the discovery of the dried rotif- rs by the diligent Dutch histologist Leeuwen hoek, In 1719, we have known that animal or ganisms can exist for years in a dried up state In dust or muff and "come to life again,” as It is said, on being moistened. Of course, they have never been dead, for death is the perma nent impossibility of manifesting life in that which once lived. Not only rotifers, or wheel- animalcula, can survive this extreme degree of desiccation. Both these classes of animals actually pos sess digestive and nervous systems, for they are by no means of the most primitive type; they take from twenty minutes to an hour or two to revive on being moistened. Other ani mals capable of withstanding the abstraction of water are the Auguillulldae, or paste-eels, and certain Infusoria. SeedB In a dry state for as long a time as two hundred years have pro duced seedlings -In other words, have been alive all the time. Bacteria, the lowest plant organisms, have A Frog Frozen Stiff ana /apparently Dead in a Refrigerating Jar. After a Month the to Frog Wat Removed, Reauacitated and Wai Lively at Ever. enormous powers or resisting conditions that tend to death. The late Professor MacFayden showed that the bacteria of oertRln diseases frozen at a temperature of liquid aid (about minus 360 )Fahr. were not killed, but could survive so extremely drastio a procedure as this and yet retain their specific vital patho genic characteristics. When frozen they were so brittle that they could he powdered in a mortar, yet they were nevertheless still in the state of "latent life.” Coming to the coid-blooded animals, we have many instances of suspended animation among such creaturee as snails, water-beetles, frogs and fish. The best Instances are of fish when frozen. Sir John Franklin, in his Polar expe dition of 1820, reported carp flsh frozen so Bolld that the intestines of some of them could be taken out en masse, yet on being thawed before a Are they “revived and moved about actively.” Preyer, the German physiologist, had evidence that frogs frozen solid could be revived. Fishes frozen in a block of ice have been known to revive, although some of their companions were frozen so hard they could he powdered up along with the Ice. According to the French experimenter, Raoul Pictet, frogs endured a temperature of minus 22 Fahren heit, and flsh a degree or two below' minus 5 Fahrenheit. These are all cases of ’’latent life” at low temperatures. Sir Ernest Shackleton reports that in the South Polar seas there are marine organisms frozen up in the ice for ten months in the year: they move about only during the other two. Ascending to the warm-blooded animals and to man himself, we do not find such extreme instances of suppression of vitality as in the case of lower organisms—creatures with more sluggish, and therefore less easily deranged, metabolism. All states of trance or narcolepsy—ex tremely deep, prolonged apparent sleep—such as the famous case of Colonel Townsend, re ported on carefully by Dr. Cheyne, of Dublin, belong to this category. This case is very well known to medical men, but is, perhaps, not so familiar to others that the following quotations of Dr. Oheynes words will he superfluous: “He could die or expire when he pleased and yet ... by an effort he could come to life Photograph of a Hindoo Fakir Being Unearthed from a Grave in Which He Had Lain for Two Weekz in a State of Suspended Animation. Germ of a Wheat Kernel, Shown in Section to Ex hibit Structure. < I-) I, t* a V e n of (he future wheat plant. (8) Sheath pro- teetliiK the «*m- hryo plant. (It) Hoot of the future plant. (T) Hoot Sheath. and too well authenti cated by European eye witnesses of unim peachable integrity, to be set aside as either in themselves untrue or due to collective de lusion. James Braid, the first investigator of hypno tism, has narrated a .case, typical of many others, in which a fakir was tied up in a sealed sack, which was placed inside a locked box, which was left for six weeks in a «ealed-up dark room in the pal ace of Runjeet Singh. Above Is an Enlarged Diagram of a Piece of Wheat Taken The man s ears and from the Wrappings of a Mummy 2,000 Years Old. Be- nostrils had . been low It Is a Greatly Enlarged Photograph of the Germ blocked up with wax. Cell of a Similar Piece of Mummy Wheat, Which Still which was still there Held Germinative Life and Sprouted. when the body was brought into the light at the end of six weeks. On the sack being opened the muscles were found quite stiff, the jaws tightly clenched, and no trace of a pulse beat was to be anywhere detected. By degrees the man revived, the muscles softened, the pulse began to be perceptible, and in a feehle voice he asked, “Do you believe me now?” The interesting inference from all these cases of "latent life" or suspended animation is that, though vitality cannot be said to have vanished, yet the organism during the time of the latency is giving none of the signs of the possession of vitality. It is not taking food, oxygen or water; it is not giving out carbon dioxide or water, or other chemical result in livingness; it is not moving; in the higher animals both the cardiac and respira tory activities are in abeyance. No state could be more like death; infinitely more like it titan sleep. Latent life, not sleep, is the true image of death. Revivability, how ever, was there; life was depressed, inhibited, masked, hut not abolished. Recently some very interesting and success-. a kam. . . n e composed himself on his hack and lay in a still posture for some time. 1 found his pulse sink gradually, till at last I could not feci any. by flic most exact and nice touch. Dr. Baynard C(Siitft not feel the least motion in the heart, nor Mr. Skrine perceive the least soil on the bright mirror he held to his mouth . . . could not discover the least symptom of life in him. We began to conclude he had carried the experiment too far; and at last we wore satisfied that he was actually dead and were just ready to leave him, . . . By nine in the morning, as we were going away, we observed some motion about the body and upon examination found his pulse and the motion of his heart gradually return ing; he began to breathe heavily and speak softly." Still more extraordinary are the narratives of the fakirs in India, who are said to allow themselves to he built up In sealed tombs for weeks without food, and to be alive at the end of that time. Reports of these cases of human suspended animation are now too numerous ful efforts have been made to revive the appar ently dead heart in an actually dead body. The following quotation is not from a book of fairy tales, but from a hignly technical work on physiology, published about a year ago: "Hearts can he revived many days after death—even the hearts of children dead of dis ease. In ten such cases only three gave nega tive results. The heart of a boy dead of pneu monia revived in all parts twenty hours after death. In the case of the heart of an ape, Her- ing recovered the heart after four and a half hours and then froze it. After twenty-eight hours thirty minutes the heart was again re suscitated.” Of course, this does not mean that these hearts began to beat again in health, but that, by prolonged massage, an apparently dead heart can revive sufficiently to give a series of spontaneous beats. Now on reflecting on these examples of lat ent life, it will be seen that we must here have cases of interference with the full mobility of the molecules of the living substance, whether that has been brought about by abstracting water or abstracting heat. The absence of food, as in hibernating animals, tends very much in the same direction—enfeeblement of the vital processes, so that the bears, dormice, hedgehogs, tortoises, frogs and many other animals which enter on a Winter sleep and eat nothing during that time, although they are not in the state of typical latent life, are not in a state of extremely depressed vitality. Some of them actually cease to breathe, but the heart beats. It is a question of degree of livingness. We must, in fact, recognize that there are degrees of life or of livingness in each cell, tissue, organ and organism. Some tissues are intensely alive, some are already dead, for in stance enamel of tooth and horn of nail. We can construct a scale passing through all de grees of corporate livingness, from the tremen dous physical and mental power of a Glad stone, a Kelvin or a Helmholtz, down to the stupidity of a country yokel, or the hopeless sufferer from acute melancholia. In melan cholia all the tissues are demonstrably less alive than in the normal person; less oxygen is taken in, less urea and carbon dioxide aro excreted, and less heat is evolved. Melan/ ’ cholla is not merely a question of the dull brain; glands, muscles, heart, skin7 intestine, all are dull, and relatively lifeless. There is, in other words, for any given tissus no hard and fast line between the fullest vital lty at one end of the scale and eternal death at the other. As one nears the death-point ws pass through the stage or state of "latent life." While the extremes are quite distinct, the In termediate stages are indistinguishable from one another. Just as in the case of the visible spectrum; no one can fail to distinguish the red from the violet, yet there is an infinite number of gradations of color between red and green, and between green’and violet. Assuming, in the meantime, that we can get no better conception of the modus operandi of living matter than by conceiving of it as due to molecules—no doubt of great complexity—en dowed with chemical affinity, and therefore obeying certain chemical laws, we seem to have to admit that, within limits, life is more Intense as the temperature rises and less intense as th« temperature falls. This behavior is exactly that of substances capable of chemical lnteraot tlon, so that, viewed from the purely physlcoj chemical standpoint, life Is the ontcome <4 chemical activities. Latent life is the temporary immobilization of molecules of living matter without the de« structlon of these atomic affinities which ar4 the chemical basis of life, whereas death Is suc9 permanent molecular immobilization that con tala atomlo affinities are abolished. The write* has suggested that living matter in latent Ufa suggested allied states of extreme physiological insusceptibility to stimulation should be de* scribed as exhibiting the “functional inertia of protoplasm.” In intensely living matter the molecular whirl is most intense. In latent life the weights of the protoplasmld clock have been seized by a mysterious hand; in death they have descended to the utmost length of the cord. The vital clock in the one case has only been arrested; in the other It has run down and cannot be wound up again. There is a good deal of difference in a descent between a stoppage and the end reached; or to take another analogy, in life the “sands of time” are running out rapidly; in latent life the stream has been stopped; in death the sand is all in the lower globe. Molecular mobility is, then, in technical lan guage, the necessary physical condition for vi tality, and any agencies or reagents which di minish that mobility tend to render life latent and therefore to extinguish it. On this partial molecular immobilization de pends the efficacy of a large number of our drugs and the action of many poisons. To abol ish consciousness we administer chloroform, a substance which, by uniting with certain of the chemically active radicles constituting the liv ing matter, immobilizes the whole molecular correlative in the disappearance of conscious- comnlex. This immobilization of the molecules of the cells of the cerebral cortex has its psychical correlative in the disappearance of conscious ness. But the chloroform really tends to immo bilize heart cells and cells of the breathing centres as well, and what the surgeon wants is the former—cerebral immobilization, or anaes thesia—without the latter (death). The cyanides (Prussic acid) for some reason not yet fully understood, act as such deadly poisons because with great rapidity they im mobilize the cells of the respiratory centre. Thus, the solution of our problem, What is latent life? seems capable of being stated In the terms of the already known. The organ ism in latent life is not dead, for it is capable of living again; it is, however, very far from being fully alive, for it is manifesting none of the attributes of livingness. Without a chemical theory of living matter “suspended animation” would be inexplicable; and while one would freely admit that a chemi cal conception of vitality is only a partial one, a good yorking hypothesis, yet at the same time we gain a fuller insight into what life Is and what death is not, than if we attempted to enunciate either condition in terms outside of physics or chemistry altogether. In a sense very different from what the author of the lines meant it, yet in a sense profoundly true— “ ’Tis not the whole of life to live, Nor all of death to die.”