THE MASTER OF SILENCE

A ROMANCE

Fiction, Fact, and Fancy Series

Edited by Arthur Stedman

By Irving Bacheller

New York Charles L. Webster & Co. 1892

THE MASTER OF SILENCE

CHAPTER I

Near the end of my fourteenth year I was apprenticed to Valentine, King& Co. , cotton importers, Liverpool, as a "pair of legs. " My fatherhad died suddenly, leaving me and his property in the possession of mystepmother and my guardian. It was in deference to their urgent advicethat I left my home in London (with little reluctance, since my lifethere had never been happy) to study the art of money-making. Onarriving at the scene of my expected triumphs I was assigned to thesomewhat humble position of errand boy. In common with other boys whoperformed a like service for the firm I was known as "a pair of legs. "Lodgings of a rather modest character had been secured for me in thewestern outskirts of the city near the banks of the Mersey. I was slowto make friends, and my evenings were spent in the perusal of some storybooks, which I had brought with me from London. One night, not longafter the beginning of my new life in Liverpool, I was lying in bedlistening to the wind and rain beating over the housetops and drivingagainst the windows, when suddenly there came a loud rap at my door. 

"Who's there?" I demanded, starting out of bed. 

As I heard no answer, I repeated my inquiry and stood a momentlistening. I could hear nothing, however, but the wind and rain. Lighting a candle and dressing myself with all haste, I opened thedoor. I could just discern the figure of a bent old man standing inthe hallway, when a gust of wind suddenly put out the candle. The doorleading to the street was open, and the old man was probably a stragglercome to importune me for shelter or for something to eat. As I relit thecandle, he entered my room and stood facing me, but he did not speak. His clothes were dripping and he was blinking at me with strange, gleaming eyes. His hair was snow-white, and as I looked into his facethe deathly pallor of it frightened me. His general appearance was morethan startling; it was uncanny. 

"What can I do for you?" I asked. 

Greatly to my surprise he made no reply, but with a look of pain andgreat anxiety sank into a chair. Then he withdrew from his pocket aletter which he extended to me. The envelope was wet and dirty. It wasdirected to Kendric Lane, Esq. , No. Old Broad street, London, England. The address was crossed and "22 Kirkland street, Liverpool, " writtenunder it in the familiar hand of my guardian. A strange proceeding!thought I. Was the letter intended for my father, who was long dead, andwho had removed from that address more than ten years ago? The old manbegan to grin and nod as I examined the superscription. I broke the sealon the envelope and found the following letter, undated, and with noindication of the place from which it was sent:

"Dear Brother--I need your help. Come to me at once if you can. Consequences of vast importance to me and to mankind depend upon yourprompt compliance. I cannot tell you where I am. The bearer will bringyou to me. Follow him and ask no questions. Moreover, be silent, likehim, regarding the subject of this letter. If you can come, procurepassage in the first steamer for New York. My messenger is provided withfunds. Your loving brother, "Revis Lane. "

I had often heard my father speak of my uncle Revis, who went to Americaalmost twenty years before I was born. Now he was my nearest livingrelative. No news of him had reached us for many years before my fatherdied. I was familiar with his handwriting and the specimen before me waseither genuine, or remarkably like it. If genuine he had evidently notheard of my father's death. 

Extraordinary as the message was, the messenger was more so. He satpeering at me with a strange, half-crazed expression on his face. 

"When did you leave my uncle?" I asked. 

He sat as if unconscious that I had spoken. 

I drew my chair to his side and repeated the words in a loud voice, buthe did not seem to hear me. Evidently the old man could neither hear norspeak. In a moment he began groping in his pockets, and presently handedme a card which contained the following words:

"If you can come, tear this card in halves and return the right half tohim. "

I examined the card carefully. The words were undoubtedly in my uncle'shandwriting. The back of the card was covered with strange characters inred ink. I tore the card as directed and handed him the right half. 

He held it up to the light and examined it carefully, then put it awayin a pocket of his waistcoat. The look of pain returned to his face, and he coughed feebly as if suffering from a severe cold. The hour beinglate I intimated by pantomime that I desired him to occupy my bed. Heunderstood me readily enough and began feebly to remove his clothing, while I prepared a sofa for myself. He was soon sound asleep, but I layawake long after the light was extinguished. He was evidently quiteill, and I determined to go for a physician at the first appearance ofdaylight. As soon as possible I would go with him to my uncle. Therewere no ties to detain me, and it was clearly my duty to do so. Perhapsmy uncle was in some great peril. If so, I might be of service to him. 

When I arose in the morning my strange lodger seemed to be sleepingquietly. His face looked pale and ghastly in the light of day. I steppedclose to his bed and, laying my hand upon his brow, was horrifiedto discover that he was dead. What was I to do? I sat down to think, trembling with fright. I must call in a policeman and tell him all Iknew about my strange visitor. No, not all; I must not tell him aboutthe letter, thought I. My uncle might not wish it to be published to theworld. I ran out upon the street and told the first officer I met howthe old man had rapped at my door during the storm; how I had given himmy bed out of pity, and how I had discovered on awaking in the morningthat he was dead. 

That day the body was taken to the morgue. The sum of L100 were found inhis pockets, a part of which gave him a decent burial. But while he hadgone to his long rest, he had sown in my mind the seed of unrest. I wentabout my work clinging to the thread of a mystery half told. Whitherwould it lead me?

Strange as that messenger had seemed, he was certainly a good man tocarry secrets. 

CHAPTER II

The multitude of legs, engaged by the pair in the service of Valentine, King & Co. , were distinguished from each other by a bit of house slang. I was known as "last legs" among my companions for some time aftermy initiation to the warehouse. At first I was inclined to resent thereduction of my individuality to such a vulgar formula, but as I becameinured to hard tasks the sharpness of this indignity wore away. 

There was one pair of legs doing service for the firm whose owner becamemy most valued friend and confidant. In his business capacity he wascalled "long legs, " but his proper name was Philbert Chaffin. He wasa tall, slim boy, with blue eyes and light hair, the son of a stagecarpenter, who was employed at one of the cheap theatres and wholived within a stone's throw of my lodgings. His language was a uniquecombination of bad grammar and provincial brogue; but every boy inthe warehouse allowed that he was a good fellow. He had spent many anevening with me, and confided to me many a secret which, owing to solemnpledges made at that time, I am not at liberty to divulge, before heinvited me to dine and spend an evening with the family. I accepted hisinvitation gratefully, and the next evening Phil took me over. It was ahearty welcome that I received at the home of the Chaffins. My enjoymentof their simple hospitality would have been perfect but for theembarrassment I felt at the many apologies with which it was offered. Mrs. Chaffin knew as 'ow the tea was not as good as I was used todrinking, but she 'oped it didn't taste "murky. " I assured her thatit did not taste murky, although a little doubtful as to the exactsignificance of the word when applied to tea. But in spite of mydeclaration she insisted that it must taste "murky" to one who wasaccustomed to better things. The ham was never too good in Liverpool, but she 'oped that it wasn't "reesty. " I solemnly declared that it wasnot "reesty. " But Mrs. Chaffin and Mr. Chaffin out of the goodness oftheir hearts continued to condole with me on the score that such hamtasted and must taste "reesty" to one not used to it. I had no soonersatisfied their misgivings concerning the ham than I was compelled totake issue with them as to the bread, regarding which they entertained alurking suspicion of staleness. During all of this discussion about theham, the tea and the bread, I was conscious that a pair of big browneyes, darkly shaded with long lashes, were staring at me across thetable. Whenever I had the courage to glance that way I observed thatthey had been looking at me intently, and were suddenly averted. Thesewondering eyes belonged to the only daughter in the family. 

"They've all been boys, " said Mrs. Chaffin, "since Hetty was born. "

I thought it strange that the H in her daughter's name was the only onethat the good woman had shown the ability to manage. 

"Hetty is the only one of the lot that takes to books, " she continued. "The head master told me she will make a good scholar, and dear a me!she does nothing but read books from mornin' till night. " While Hettyand her mother removed the dishes we drew our chairs about the fire, and Mr. Chaffin, a blunt, simple-minded man, entertained me with sageobservations regarding politics and the weather. He spoke rather loudly, and in a key which, as I learned afterward, he only employed on veryspecial occasions. Presently the youngest lad in the family, who saton his father's knee, demanded a song. The response was prompt andgenerous. The selection with which Mr. Chaffin favored us containedupward of forty stanzas, relating the unhappy story of a fair maid anda bold sailor, both of whom met a tragic death, in the last stanza, justbefore the day set for their marriage. The song being finished, Hettyand her mother drew their chairs up to the fire; Hetty sat next me, and after a severe inward struggle I summoned the courage to ask her aquestion. She answered me in the fewest words possible, but in avoice so sweet and low that I wondered then and often afterward atits contrast to the other voices I had heard in that house. She wore ahome-spun frock and a neat white pinafore, set off with a dainty ribbontied about her throat. 

"She's uncommon still when strangers is here, sir, " said Mrs. Chaffin;"but law me! she goes rompitin' about the house like as if she was crazysometimes, ticklin' her father and tryin' t' snip off his beard with thescissors. "

That night was the beginning of happier days for me. When at last Irose to go it was near midnight. I forgot my weariness as I walked to mylodgings, thinking of those simple, honest people and of their kindnessto me. 

I enjoyed high jinks at the house of the Chaffins at least once a weekduring the next year of my apprenticeship, near the close of whichI began to get ready for a visit to my stepmother in fulfilment of apromise I had made by letter. It had been, on the whole, a happy year tome. I had known many lonely hours, to be sure, but those visits to thelittle old weather-stained house, in which I found my first friendsafter leaving home, cheered me from week to week. I knew, too, thatHetty enjoyed those long evenings as much as I did, which meant more tome than I would have dared confess to her. I thought of her a good deal, but it always resulted in the wretched feeling that we were both veryyoung after all. It is not likely that I would have decided to go homefor a fortnight, but that I thought it would be pleasant to observethe effect of saying good-by to Hetty. I had no doubt that she would bequite overcome with grief and loneliness after I had gone, and, recklessyouth that I was, nothing could have made me more happy than to haveknown that she really felt grieved on my account. And yet when I calledto bid them all good-by, the evening before I started, she betrayed nosign of regret. In fact, she seemed so much happier than usual that Iworried about it for weeks, even after I had gone so far away that itseemed doubtful whether we would ever meet again. It did not occur tome that I had been less skilful than she in concealing my emotions, andthat she might be merry only because she could perceive that I was sad. Mrs. Chaffin was the only member of the family who seemed to entertainfeelings as serious as my own. She had dreamed that I would not comeback again, and we all laughed at her then, but when the swift years hadrevealed some of their secrets, we thought of this prophetic dream witha sadness deeper than any that comes to childish hearts. Hester and Philwalked with me to the gate when I left the house. The radiance of a fullmoon fell on our faces through the flying clouds. Phil, stupid fellow!had so much to say that I did not get a chance to speak to his sisterbefore she darted back to the house as if pursued. On reaching mylodgings I was surprised to find a gentleman waiting for me. 

"Don't know me, eh?" said he, shaking my hand warmly. 

He was a tall, portly man, with a kindly face, clean shaven except fora pair of close-cropped, iron-gray side whiskers. I was sure I had seenhim before, but couldn't think of his name. 

"Earl, " said he, handing me a card on which his name and address wereprinted as follows:

 DAVID GORDON EARL, Barrister at Law, Lincoln's Inn, London. 

I remembered distinctly having accompanied my father to his office onone occasion some years before. 

"I've come up from London on purpose to see you. Just got here only afew minutes ago, " said he, laying off his overcoat. "But upon my word!"he added, surveying me from head to foot, "I didn't expect to find sucha big, strapping fellow as you are. Your surroundings are quite as I hadsupposed they would be. Cramped quarters in a miserable tumble-down backstreet! I suppose your guardian provided this place for you?"

"I believe so, " said I. 

"Did you know that your stepmother had married again?" he asked. 

"Married!" I exclaimed. "To whom?"

"To Martin Cobb. "

"To my guardian?" I asked, in astonishment. 

Not heeding my question, he continued:

"You're intending to go home to-morrow, I believe?"

"Yes, sir. "

"My boy, " said he, "I have an interest in you. I was your father'sfriend and adviser for many years. I came all this distance to tell younot to go to London. Do not ask me why, I beg you, " said he, with animpatient gesture when I attempted to speak. "It would do you no good tolearn my reason for making this request. Listen to this--it's importantto you: There's an uncle of yours in America, your nearest relative, I believe. Of course you have heard your father speak of him. A mosteccentric fellow! but a man of fine ability. He was a graduate of Oxfordand a physician of great skill and learning. Thirty-five years ago hewent to Canada and finally settled in a large town on one of the greatlakes not far from the border. It was Detroit, I believe. Your fathertold me, shortly before his death, that he had not heard from your unclefor many years. I have written to him twice within a twelvemonth, buthave received no reply. I want you to go over and look him up. If youshould find that he is dead, there's no harm done, and you can take timeto look about for a business opportunity. If you don't like it, comeback, but, if you can content yourself there for awhile, you had betterdo so. "

"But, sir, I have no money. "

"You are going for me; I shall, therefore, insist upon paying the bills. In the success of the undertaking I have, perhaps, as great an interestas you. "

"When do you wish me to start?" I asked. 

"To-night. That is to say, I would like you to leave this place at once, go with me to a hotel, and sail by the first steamer that leaves for NewYork. "

Ever since that strange and silent messenger had come to me with myuncle's letter I had been haunted by a desire to go in quest of him. Nowthat it was possible, I hesitated. What would Hester say on hearing thatI had gone to America? It would be very grand to write her from New Yorkthat I had been suddenly called abroad on important business. Would shecare? Of course she would care, and I was willing to wager a sixpencewith myself that she would cry bitterly, too, on receiving the letter. Ah, what a punishment that would be for her coldness and indifference!

Yes, I would go. I began picking up my things and packing them into mybox. 

"I conclude that you have decided to go, " he said. 

"Yes, sir. I shall be ready in a moment, " I replied. 

We were soon rattling over the pavements in a cab that had been waitingat the door. 

On arriving at the Northwestern Hotel we were informed that a steamerwould leave for New York at five in the morning. We drove at once tothe dock and having succeeded in making comfortable arrangements for mypassage Mr. Earl went aboard the steamer with me. In a retired cornerof the great cabin I confessed to him that there was a girl in Liverpoolfor whom I had a feeling of extraordinary tenderness. 

He laughed heartily and insisted that I should tell him all theparticulars. 

"You are rather young yet to entertain so serious a passion, " said he, as he held my hand for a moment before going ashore. "You will get overit as easily as you got into it. "

I sat down, unable to reply or to restrain the tears that came to myeyes as he left me alone. I went to my stateroom at once and to bed. What thoughts came to me as I lay there inviting sleep to turn theminto dreams, while the great ship waited for the tide! I tossed aboutmy berth; I prayed; I listened. At length I thought I heard my father'svoice mingled with others, and a sound of casting off--but I heard nomore. 

CHAPTER III

One morning in early October, nearly two years after I left Liverpoolthat memorable night, I found myself in the little city of Ogdensburg, N. Y. , past which the majestic St. Lawrence flows with a sleepy movementquite in harmony with the spirit of the old town on its southern shore. All this time I had been vainly beating about the Western Hemisphere inquest of my uncle. He had left Detroit many years before, but I chancedto meet a number of men there who had known him well. Although he hadenjoyed a very large practice and a wide reputation for skill, he hadmade no friends that I could find. He was a man of few words, they toldme, and was never seen about the city except in the discharge of hisprofessional duties. Various and conflicting opinions were expressedas to whither he had gone, in testing which I had visited no less thantwenty cities, making careful inquiries, especially among medical men. Occasionally I struck what seemed to be a promising clew, which onlyincreased my confusion and left me more hopelessly in the dark. I hadreported my movements to Mr. Earl as often as once a week and I receivedletters from him frequently, encouraging me to continue the search andenclosing money with which to do so. But although I had written oftento Hester Chaffin no word from her ever reached me. I was tired of thisfruitless quest among strangers, so far from the little that I helddear, and I was on the point of giving up when this paragraph fell undermy eye in a Montreal newspaper:

 A MYSTERIOUS CHARACTER. 

"One who has ever passed the city of Ogdensburg by steamer will no doubtrecall a large gambrel-roofed house standing near the water's edge, justout of the town, surrounded by towering trees and enclosed on all sidesby a wall nearly as high as the eaves of the building. The wall suggestsan asylum, a house of detention or some like place set apart for theunfortunate members of society. In reality, however, it is the residenceof a mysterious recluse of the name of Lane, who shut himself up therenearly eighteen years ago and has since been rarely seen. It was builtafter his own plans, they say, when he came to Ogdensburg with his wife, who died soon afterward. Nobody knows whence he came or anything of hispast history. He is apparently a total stranger here below, holding nointercourse with the world beyond that enclosure. His wife is said tohave been a woman of great beauty, and her death doubtless threw himinto a morbid state of mind, from which he has never rallied. Manyyears ago he is known to have bought a full-grown African lion from atraveling menagerie, and, soon after, he erected the wall, presumablyout of regard for the public safety. Passers along the street havecaught an occasional glimpse of him through the high gate, walking inthe grounds surrounding his house, with the lion at his heels apparentlyin complete subjection to its master. A dense thicket runs along thewall on all sides within the enclosure, which, according to localtradition, is alive with rattlesnakes, bred for some strange purposeknown only to himself--perhaps to make his isolation more secure. 

"He is supposed to have resigned the companionship of men for study andscientific research. He has no children, and his only servant being adeaf-mute, who is almost an idiot, there is little chance at present oflearning anything of his life. For more than two years nothing has beenseen of the mysterious master of the house. His disappearance would, wethink, be a legitimate subject of investigation by the authoritiesof the town. May he not have been eaten by the lion, or killed by therattlesnakes? Who knows?"

My heart was beating fast and my hands shook as if stricken with palsybefore I had finished the paragraph. The strange old man who had cometo me in Liverpool that night was probably the mute servant to whichthe article referred. In an hour I was on the way to Ogdensburg, quiteconfident that the issue of my wanderings was at hand. I reached thattown next morning nearly two years, as I have said, after the beginningof my journey to the New World. Not stopping to breakfast even, Istarted out to find the house, which my busy imagination had alreadypictured for itself. The first townsman I saw directed me to the place. 

"Follow the turnpike, " said he. "'Sa mild or more--straight ahead. You'll know it when y' git there. 'S' queer place an' stan's off byitself. "

The man was going my way, evidently to begin his day's work, for it wasthen early in the morning, and I walked along with him. 

"Folks say, " he continued, "them grounds is full of hejious reptyles, an' I've heerd fellers tell queer things they've seen when passin' thereat night--red lights a-flyin' about an' spooks at the winders. An' onenight, when Uncle Bill Jemson was comin' down the turnpike, they was astorm come up, an' jest as he got opposite the big iron gate they was aflash a lightnin'--an' Bill says he see the ole man, his long white haira-flyin' in th' wind, an' a lion standin' there in front a th' house. Th' flash was out'n a minit, an' Bill whipped up his hosses an' sent emclear to Mills' tavern on the dead run, " said he, laughing as if it werea good joke. 

"They don't nobody like th' place ner th' man, though I don' know why, fer no one's ever passed a word with him in these parts. There 'tis, over yender with the pines around it an' th' high wall, " said he, pointing with his finger. But my eye had already discovered thelow-built rambling house on the high banks of the river, well in thedistance, and had recognized it at once. 

Leaving my companion at the next turn in the road I walked hurriedly on, and when I had reached the big iron gate I stopped and peered throughit. A gravel roadway, now overgrown with weeds, led from the gate to thefront of the house, which stood facing me. It was built entirely ofwood and consisted of four wings (at least there were no others visible)evidently enclosing a quadrangular courtyard, the rear wings beinglower than those in front, and hidden by the latter from the view of onestanding at the gate as I was. It was only at a distance that one couldsee their roofs above the enclosure. There was but one line of windowsalong the front, but there was an oriel just under the peak of the mainbuilding, and I could see a skylight here and there upon the roofs. 

The blinds were closed and there was no sign of life about thehouse--evidently planned with hospitable intentions, but now silent andforbidding. I tried the gates. They were locked securely. A screen ofclosely woven wire rose from the pavement half way up the iron work. Evidently it would be impossible to reach the doors without scalingthis barrier, and I was not yet ready to try an expedient so desperate. Returning to my hotel I wrote a letter to the master of the house, telling him of my long-continued quest and of my hopes regarding ourpossible kinship. Day after day I anxiously awaited his reply, untila week had passed, but no word came from him. In passing the house atdifferent times, however, I observed some signs of life within it--ablind open that had been closed the day before--a faint glimmer of lighton the trees in the rear of the grounds at night, which might have comefrom the back windows. Even this slight encouragement was gratifying, but as time passed without bringing any reply to my letter I began tothink that, after all, my hopes rested on very shadowy foundations. Oneday I asked the local postmaster if a man of the name of Lane, who livednear that city, ever sent for his mail. 

"Never, " said he. "The man is crazy, I guess, and it's wasting postageto write him. He's a hermit, sir--a regular hermit, and is about thesame as dead, for nobody ever sees him. The tradesmen tell me that hisold servant comes out of an evening, once in a while, to buy provisions, but he's deaf as a post and dumb as an oyster. " The interview had atleast shown me the futility of trying to reach him by letter. 

It was clear that only one course was open to me. I must brave theunknown perils with which this strange man had encompassed the pathof the trespasser, and gain an entrance to the house. I sought theseclusion of my room at once, and thought over the result of myinvestigations. I had not written to my good friend in London since myarrival in Ogdensburg, and I concluded not to do so until I could givehim definite information. 

Late in the afternoon a slow, drizzling rain began to pour down, andwhen night fell every luminary in the heavens was obscured by thickclouds. It was a favorable time for carrying out my project, as thedarkness was intensified by a fog that had settled over the city. Bythe light of my lamp I prepared for the undertaking, in such a state ofexcitement that I was frequently startled by my own whispers, throughwhich I found myself now and then giving involuntary utterance to mythoughts. Cutting up a pair of boots which I carried in my box, I woundmy legs in leather from my ankles up above my knees, carefully drawingon a pair of thick, long stockings to hold it in place. This precautionwould give me a comfortable sense of security, even if there were nosnakes to fear. I felt sure that the lion, if he were still living, would be kept in some place of confinement. 

It was long past bedtime, and the lights were out in every shop anddwelling, when I started on my daring mission. The little lamps thatglared through the fog at the street corners could scarcely be seentwenty feet away. I was so preoccupied that I frequently lost mydirection in the mud and darkness. It seemed as if I had been travelingfor hours, when at last I felt the big wall, and saw its dim bulk risingabove me and stretching away into the night. Cautiously I groped alongits base until my hands felt the iron bars of the gate. Then I stood forsome moments leaning against them, quite out of breath. They were coldand wet, and chilled me to a shiver when I touched them. I peered towardthe house but could see nothing. I listened, but could hear nothingexcept the beating of my own heart and the mournful sound of the pineswhose loftier branches were stirring in the still air. Grasping theheavy bars I tried to climb the gate, but, as there were no projectionson which it was possible to get a foothold, I found this an exhaustingand difficult task. I climbed repeatedly several feet above the earth, only to lose my foothold and slide down again. Finally, by exerting allmy strength, I succeeded in supporting myself with the edge of my bootupon a crossbar about half way up; then, taking a small rope from mypocket I threw one end of it over the gate, holding the other in myteeth. Tying it securely by a noose I climbed hand over hand to the topand then let myself down on the other side. I was quite exhausted by theeffort (unaccustomed as I was to such burglarious enterprises) and myfingers were torn and bleeding from forcing a hold between the iron workand the wire screen. I remembered the gravel pathway, overgrown withgrass, that led from the big gate to a front door. I groped about in thedarkness until I felt the gravel under my feet. Then I moved cautiouslyalong it, until I could dimly discern the outlines of the house. Mynerves were so wrought up, while I stood there holding my breath tocatch some sound from its gloomy interior, that I was near crying outin abject terror at every step. An owl, startled from the limb of a treeover my head, flew lazily into the upper air and across the thicket, disturbing other birds that set up a chattering protest. Stealthily Icrept from window to window, but the blinds were closed fast. Finally Icame to a door that seemed to open into the main part of the building. Desperate under the strain to which my nerves had been subjected, Iknocked loudly on its upper panels. The sound echoed through thestill house and the thickly wooded grounds around it. "God help me!" Iwhispered; "will that echo never cease?" It kept repeating itself fromtree to tree, until I covered my ears to stop its weird reverberations. Then I heard a low threatening sound, deep and resonant as the lowertones of a great organ, that gradually grew louder until its volumefilled the air, and then died away, while its echoes went chasing eachother among the trees. In the silence which followed, my ear caughtanother sound the like of which I had never heard before. A dozen clocksbeing wound by quick turns on all sides of me would, I fancy, haveproduced a similar effect. It was evident to me that my knocking haddisturbed my uncle's pets, but I was not to be frightened away. Hearingno movement in the house I tried the door, and to my astonishment itswung open. A peculiar odor, such as one notices in a house that haslong stood empty, came to my nostrils, and again I heard that fatefulwhirring, but in the darkness I could discern no object. As I crossedthe threshold the sound grew louder, and to my horror the door closedsuddenly behind me. Hurriedly striking a match, I held it above my headand peered about me. Its light revealed a small apartment finished inpolished wood. Along the angle of the floor was an opening, two or threeinches high, into the side walls. And half way up the wall in front ofme I saw a face--the face of a maniac it seemed to be--pale and wan, with strange, inhuman eyes. I had scarcely glanced at it when the matchdropped from my fingers and fell slowly through the air, going out as itstruck the floor. My hands were cold, but so wet with perspiration thatthey stuck to my clothing when I felt for a candle which I had broughtwith me. 

There are moments in every man's life that move slowly, as if carryingthe weight of years upon their backs. I shall never cease to believethat the few seconds it took me to light that candle must stand for asmany years in any correct reckoning of my age. When its beams at lastillumined the room, the strange face was still there. Had I seen itbefore? It was marvellously like that other face which had haunted mydreams so long. If it was the face of a man he must be standing on theother side of the wall and looking through a panel. 

"Is Mr. Lane at home?" I asked in an unnatural tone that startled me. 

But no word of reply was spoken. 

"I am his nephew and I have important news for him. "

The face disappeared for a moment, and presently a shrunken hand, holding a white sheet of paper, was extended through the opening. Istepped forward, took the sheet and, withdrawing to the centre of theroom, sat down upon the floor and wrote the following message in boldcharacters with my pencil:

"Kendric Lane, son of Kendric Lane (deceased), late of London, England, wishes to see Dr. Lane on business of importance. "

I handed the message to the strange man behind the wall, who immediatelydisappeared with it, closing the panel. "The worst is over, " thoughtI, while I stood in that mysterious and silent chamber waiting for hisreturn. But I should not have thought so had I known what was still tobe revealed to me before the dawn of another day, and in the months thatfollowed, during which that house and its echoing groves were my home. And I sometimes ask myself, in the light of later events of which thatvisit was indirectly the cause, whether, had I been able to foreseethem, I would still have persevered in my purpose to know the secrets ofmy uncle's house?

CHAPTER IV

A long time I stood waiting for some reply to my message. My candle wasfast burning out, and I began to fear that after all I was likely toleave the house no wiser than when I had entered it. Suddenly a doorswung on its creaking hinges and a feeble old man, holding a lamp in onehand, stood grinning at me in the opening. It was the same face that Isaw before, but it seemed less ghostly and unnatural now. Stepping backhe beckoned me to enter. As soon as I had crossed the threshold the doorclosed behind me and the old man carefully bolted it. I stood in alarge room, richly furnished, of which spiders had apparently long heldpossession. Great cobwebs hung like hammocks from the ceiling, andthe dust of years had settled over all. Two human skeletons completelywrapped in cobwebs, stood facing me against the opposite wall. Followingmy silent leader, I went through a long narrow passage, at the end ofwhich was a heavy door fastened with large iron bolts. Before openingit the strange old man placed the lamp upon a table and turning aroundlooked squarely into my face. Merciful Heaven! It was the face ofanother man who was looking at me now! The deep lines had almostdisappeared and the eyes looked brighter and more intelligent. No, it was the same face, for while my eyes were eagerly scanning it thathideous grin began to deepen its wrinkles, and its owner, taking half adozen steps down the passageway, made an awkward motion with both handsas if trying to indicate that I was to follow him very closely. Then heopened the big door and I was surprised to observe that it led into theouter air. What gulf of darkness are we about to plunge into? I askedmyself, peering through the doorway; and as we stepped out I heard againthat ominous whirring. Close upon his heels I followed in a narrow path, through what seemed to be a large courtyard, overgrown with thick grass. Presently he stopped, and, taking a bunch of keys from his pocket, unlocked a door in a back wing of the house. Reaching out until his handtouched me, as if to make sure that I was there, he swung the dooropen and we stepped into a dimly lighted apartment. My mysterious guideturned up the wick of a lamp that was burning on a table in the centreof the room. It was a library, with great shelves of books reachingfrom floor to ceiling along its walls. A large galvanic battery, globes, charts and other contrivances that belong to the equipment of a scholarsurrounded the table. This table was used for writing evidently, forthere were pens lying on it and a human skull used as an inkstand, thefluid being held in the cavities of the eyes. I had seated myself ina chair and was waiting for some sign from the little old man who hadbrought me there. But where was he? Turning around I looked about me onall sides. He had left the room during my momentary preoccupation. Ihad scarcely seated myself again when a door opened and a venerableman, with snow-white hair and a smooth-shaven face that was pale andwrinkled, walked slowly toward me. I rose to my feet and advanced a stepor two. He came forward without speaking and looked steadily into myeyes. Slowly and sadly he turned his gaze upon the floor, apparently indeep thought. A sigh broke from his lips as if some memory, stirring inthe caves of thought, had driven it forth. 

The man who stood before me had deep-set gray eyes, almost concealed bylong shaggy brows not yet entirely white. His lips were thin, and drawnclosely together above a square, protruding chin. The nose was aquilineand prominent, with large, but finely cut nostrils. Altogether his wasthe most picturesque face I had ever seen. Suddenly he made an effort toclear his throat. 

"Kendric's child, " said he, in a strange, low voice. He spoke slowlyand with great difficulty, as if his organs of speech were partiallyparalyzed. I would not have been able to distinguish his words but forthe silence of that room and the unnatural keenness of my hearing. Hestill stood motionless, his eyes upon the floor. I knew that he wasthinking of my father. 

"Dead?" he asked, looking at me inquisitively. 

"He is dead, " I answered. 

"And my man--did he give you the letter?"

"Yes; he is dead also. "

"Dead? I thought he was dead, " he repeated, slowly and thoughtfully. "I, too, am dead--long dead. "

The words were separated by considerable pauses, and he faced me almoststernly as he finished speaking them. I stood staring at him, dumb withsurprise. 

"Why--how did you come here?"

He sank into a chair, exhausted with the effort it had cost him tospeak. My presence seemed to irritate and annoy him. Why, indeed, hadI come there? What should I say in reply to his question? I tried tothink. 

"Knaves! Knaves!" said my uncle, in a shrill voice, rushing toward me. In a moment he had thrown his arms about my neck and was sobbing aloud. My heart was full and I wept with him. 

"Fortunate child of God, " said he, after a moment; "you have the seedof life--immortal life. But I beg you to go. To one like you this housewill seem an uncanny place; I can only think of it as beyond the grave. "

"Let me stay, uncle, " said I. "Don't send me away. Perhaps I can helpyou or comfort you. "

"Poor soul! you shall stay if you will. I am in great trouble and needhelp, but you are a boy--I cannot ask you to give your life to me. "

He sat down before the table, breathing heavily, and beckoned me toa chair beside him. I was quite dumfounded and knew not what to say. Presently he began writing upon large sheets of paper, handing each oneto me as soon as it was covered. The manuscript read as follows:

"I am not able to talk much. To me words are a lie and an abomination. Even these I now write are misrepresenting me and deceiving you, thoughI wish them to tell the truth. They will make me out an ass or a madman. I am neither. For eighteen years I have scarcely spoken as many words. Aword or two of Sanscrit now and then has met my needs, thank God! Thereis an interior language for which speech is an imperfect medium. Throughthat interior language thought is communicated directly and truthfully. I used it long before I came here--imperfectly, to be sure, but with asmall degree of satisfaction to myself. Through it I was able to healthe sick when others failed. I knew how they felt better than they couldtell me in feeble words. In some more perfect state of evolution, beyondthe grave, perhaps, all men will have this power and it will be perfect. I can enjoy but an imperfect use of it until the mortal part of mehas been cast off. One trained to speech in childhood loses certainfaculties that can never be regained. 

"My wife died many years ago. She left me a broken heart and a child, newly born. I had just built this house, among strangers. We intended todevote the remainder of our lives to the study of mental phenomena. Wedesired to carry on our work without interruption. We planned to liveunknown among those around us. When she died I saw in the child anopportunity. I determined to make its life a grand experiment; topreserve and cultivate its native intuitions--the germ of the power ofdirect communication. God has vouchsafed success to me. He lives--a manof exalted powers the like of which the world has never seen but once, and then in Christ, the very Son of God. But, unlike Him, my son is onlyhuman, with weaknesses that are our common lot. 

"The years are flying, and strength is failing! I must die soon and hewill live. That thought burns my brain, passing through it day by day. His life may be long extended and he cannot live alone, nor amongmen, for he would be a stranger and friendless--feared and dreaded bysuperstitious fools. He has never seen a human face outside these wallsnor heard a human voice but mine. I have told you my trouble. "

He ceased writing, but before I had finished reading the statement somestrange influence came over me. I felt restless and uncomfortable. Myhand was shaking so that I could scarcely read the words on the lastsheet of paper. Suddenly I raised my eyes and saw a young man, godlikein form and feature, standing at my side. His face wore an expression ofindescribable eloquence. As familiar as he afterward became to me, Ican never forget the first impression which that magnificent human beingmade upon my mind, as he stood there--radiating a power that I felt tothe tips of my fingers. What favored son of man was this confrontingme, born to such an inheritance of majesty and grace? I asked myself, regarding him with amazement. He had eyes dark as night, set under abroad forehead, about which wavy masses of tawny hair fell gracefully. His stately form was erect and firm as a statue. For a moment his eyeslooked into mine; then he advanced and took my hand. Tenderly he pressedit to his lips, stepping back as he did so and looking at me witha half-curious, half-amused expression. I was so startled by theunexpected appearance of this remarkable figure that I had not, untilnow, noticed that a large lion had followed him into the room and waslying quietly at his feet. I was not afraid; indeed, the king of beastsseemed but a part of the man's masterful presence. I do not think Iwould have seen the animal but that his enormous body was lying directlybefore my eyes on the floor. My uncle had been sitting with his headresting upon his hand at the table. Suddenly he rose and a strange, guttural sound--it may have been a word from some language whollyunfamiliar to me--passed his lips. The young man immediately left us, the lion following closely at his heels. We both sat in silence for somemoments after he had gone. My mind had felt strange exhilaration in hispresence, and I rubbed my eyes to make sure that I was not dreaming. When I looked at my uncle the sad expression on his face had given wayto a smile of infinite satisfaction. 

"He is pleased--thank God!" said my uncle, in a hoarse whisper, sinkinginto a chair. 

I made no answer. 

"It was my son, " he continued, with animation. "Rayel--that was the nameshe gave him. Rayel, the wonderful. He will love you as he loves me. Come, " said he, rising, "the night is nearly gone. "

Taking a lamp from the table, he beckoned me to follow him. Silentlywe proceeded through a narrow hallway and up one flight of stairs to aspacious bedroom which had seemingly been prepared for my use. A candlewas burning dimly on a large dressing-case, and by its flickering light, as soon as my uncle had gone, I looked about me and tried to thinkwith calmness on the experience I had passed through. Bolting the doorsecurely, I threw open one of the window blinds. To my surprise thefirst light of dawn was visible in the sky. My room was in the rearof the house. Between me and the high wall was a dense tangle ofunderbrush, barely visible in the dim light. Hastily undressing, I wentto bed without further delay, and was soon in deep sleep. When I awokeit was near midday. Dressing as quickly as possible, I proceeded at onceto the library, where my uncle sat waiting for me. He conducted me tothe breakfast room--a well-lighted and cheerful apartment--where heserved me with his own hands. 

"You shall stay, sir--you shall stay, " said he, laying his hand on myshoulder as he sat down beside me, with a smiling face. "Rayel lovesyou. He hopes you will stay. He thinks God sent you to us. "

"I am glad, for I wish to stay, " I said. 

"Good!" he exclaimed, in a long whisper. "You have brought the world tohim. Already he has seen it in your eyes. But it is good!"

While I ate he asked me questions touching the changes in our familysince he left England. 

I told him of my life at home after my father's death; of my hard lotin Liverpool, and of the midnight interviews with his messenger andwith Mr. Earl. He listened to me with grave and attentive interest, butstopped me before I had finished, with an impatient gesture. 

"Speak out! they meant--they meant to kill you, didn't they?"

I stared at him in amazement, while ideas that were new to me flockedinto the empyrean of thought like black birds of prey. Oh, no; I hadnever suspected that! I would never before have permitted such a hideoussuspicion to enter my mind. Was it possible that Mr. Earl had sent meaway from England in order to save my life? My hands began to tremble, and I felt my face turning red and pale under the searching eyes of myuncle. 

"My boy, " said he, "if all the murders were done that men conceive, thedevil would live alone on earth. We shall know some time--I tell you weshall know! Let us go to Rayel, " he said, rising and leading the way. 

The interview had greatly excited him, and his speech seemed even morehalting and labored than before. Many of his words were mispronouncedand separated by long pauses; but his manner was marvelously expressive, and often a peculiar turn of the eye or movement of the hand made hismeaning clear when I was in doubt about his words. 

I followed him through a long gymnasium and out upon a grassy courtyardextending along the rear of the grounds parallel with the river wallfor a hundred yards or more, and adorned with beds of flowers. It wascompletely shut off from the eye of the outside world by a thick groveand an impenetrable growth of underbrush that reached beyond the lowestbranches of the trees. Nothing but the blue sky, in which the sun wason its downward course, the house, and the walls of living green, werevisible. Out of this Eden-like spot we passed into another wing of thebuilding with large windows looking out upon it. Rayel met us at thedoor, dressed in a black robe of silk that hung gracefully from hisshoulders. Again he took my hand and kissed it, then looked into my eyeswith the same expression of curious interest upon his face that I hadnoted before. Still holding my hand, he led me across the room. Forthe first time I noticed that its walls were covered with pictures, unframed, and that an easel stood in the light of each window. Westopped before one of them. On a large canvas that was stretched acrossit I saw a likeness of myself. The eyes wore a haggard look which seemedunnatural. But there was something strangely real about it, in spite ofthat. 

"Wonderful!" said I. 

Rayel started at the sound of my voice, and glanced from one to theother with a puzzled, inquiring look. Turning to his father, he utteredsome strange monosyllable in a deep voice. Then he took my hand andwalked back and forth across the room with me, smiling in great delight. I was fascinated by one of the pictures which showed a great gleamingeye with a suggestion of lightning in its fiery depths, as if taken atthe keenest flash of fury. To intensify its fierceness a human hand wasraised in front of it so as to throw a dark shadow across the canvas. 

"It is the lion's eye, " said my uncle, who was standing near me. 

There were other paintings--many of them equally strange andwonderful--hanging on the walls, some of which contained material hecould not have derived from direct observation. It was easy to discernin his work the fragments of nature that came within the limited commandof his own eyes--the falling snow, the changing phases of the sky andof vegetation--for they were presented with a stronger and more vividtouch. Until the fading twilight blended all color into gloom I passedfrom one canvas to another along the wall in silence, oblivious of allsave the presence of Rayel, who followed close at my elbow, evidentlyenjoying my admiration of his work. When I had finished looking at thepaintings I turned for some sign to indicate his further pleasure, anddiscovered that he was gone. My uncle was standing near me. 

"It is late, " said he. 

We returned at once across the yard to my uncle's retreat among hisbooks and papers. Lighting the lamps he sat down beside me. 

"The power of speech is returning, " said he. "I can talk more easily. "

"Did I not hear you speak to your son?" I asked. 

"Yes, " he answered. "Long ago difficulties arose. Sometimes he could notcommand my thoughts, nor I his. I had known fifty years of life; he hadnot--hence an inequality. My physical organism had been neglected. Itwas an imperfect agent of the mind. Many of my faculties were lost. These circumstances stood between us like barriers. It was the beginningof each communication that troubled us, when our minds were working indifferent channels. Something was needed for a cue--a starting-point. Ten pregnant words of Sanscrit were all we needed. It was easy then. "

"I should think he would have lost the power of speech and hearing, " Iremarked. 

"No. Music saved them--abstract music. His voice is wonderful. Hishearing is quick. Rayel knows words but not speech. His mind has commandof my knowledge. He has never seen the world, but he knows about it. I tried to begin my life anew and to forget the past. But I could notwholly cleanse my mind of it. Its memories faded slowly. I have avoidedrenewing them for his sake. "

"He could, then, learn to speak?"

"With ease, and it were better if he could speak now. We will teach himsoon. "

As he ceased speaking, fatigued by the unaccustomed effort, I heard lowstrains of music echoing through the silent halls around us. A violin!The tone was deep and tremulous, gradually growing louder, filling theear with its message, and lifting the mind to lofty heights of thoughtand passion. We both sat listening for hours, and midnight came beforethe last strain died away. That music was like a strange story thatdrops its plummet deep into life's mysteries. 

"A new song!" said my uncle, turning to me with surprise on his face. "He got the subject from you. We shall see. "

Presently Rayel entered the room, bringing something in his hand--apicture--which he held up to the lamplight. A girl's face! andwonderfully like that of Hester Chaffin. I sat amazed, staring at it. But the likeness was not exact, the face was idealized--as I had seen itin my dream the night before. I raised my eyes to Rayel's face. He waslooking at me with an expression of pain and embarrassment. 

CHAPTER V

My uncle recovered the power of speech rapidly. Before I had been a weekin his house he was able to talk with comparative ease. He seemed toenjoy my companionship, and I spent most of my time in his library, conversing with him or conning the musty books that had long lainunread. To me this room was a fascinating and restful place. Somehowit reminded me of an old cemetery. The time-worn books upon its shelvesstood in solemn rows, like headstones, sacred to the memory of the menwho wrote them--their titles like inscriptions half obliterated. I didnot see Rayel for days after the midnight episode that gave me such astartling revelation of his power. 

"Do you think that Rayel knows everything that passes in one's mind--avivid dream, for instance?" I asked my uncle one day when we were alonetogether. 

Yes, except when he is himself asleep. His command of my dreams puzzledme at first. I thought I had put the past completely out of my mind. ButI could not hide it from him. Little by little he learned everything inmy history. One day I saw him at work on a picture. It startled me. The canvas showed a man lying on a surgeon's table. The knife had justsevered an artery in his thigh. There were four men working over him--Iwas one of them. Gradually the features took on a familiar expression. His face grew paler under the brush. A few touches--the scene wascomplete. The man was dead--his eyes wide open, staring at me. 

My uncle paused and looked earnestly into my face. 

"It was a bit of your professional experience, " said I. "Something hadreminded you of it. "

"The night before I dreamed about it" he answered. "My mind, releasedfrom the command of my will, betrayed me. "

"A strange power!" I exclaimed. 

"Incredible to you! Impossible to acquire unless the work begins atbirth, and then the possibilities are infinite, " said he, drawing hischair closer to mine. "You know what I have done. Start the new-bornmind on any highway and see how it hurries along. You can do more, working a little while over the cradle, than all the preachers underheaven, after its occupant has grown beyond your ministry. I tellyou, sir, the world is indifferent to its children. Neglected by theirparents, subject to hired tenderness or none at all; left to the care ofignorant or depraved nurses, and often taught little but selfishnessand greed of gain, the children of men are surrounded by destructiveagencies. Can we wonder that the human mind loses in infancy so muchof its native power? But so the generations of earth are growing up, bearing embittered fruit and sowing its seed to the four winds. Who cares for the mind and body of a child has the highest possiblemission--the most sacred of all trusts. He must give it all his time andstrength. He must lead its mind into green pastures; he must share itsjoys; he must know its hopes and fears; he must give it hold on linesof thought that reach into eternity, which will sooner or later flood itwith inspiration; he must see that the brain has a sufficient foundationof flesh and blood and bone; he must give it all his life until thegerms of power are developed. "

"Unfortunately, " said I, "most parents have other things to do and thinkof. "

"Parentage is a crime under such circumstances. It has peopled the worldwith fools and knaves. It delays the coming of Christ's kingdom. Thereare a few wise men, but they are held down as gravitation holds therock. There are laws of attraction in the world of mind as in that ofmatter. Good and evil are its poles. Every atom between them is held inplace by the operation of opposing forces. The general mass of mindlies within narrow zones on both sides of the equatorial line of thisimaginary world. Its attraction prevents any men from rising far aboveor descending far below it. I tell you, sir, the intellectual world hasdegrees of latitude and longitude which determine every man's location. Emancipated from the forces I have described, my son has risen to alevel beyond the attainment of men under ordinary conditions. Hypocrisyand deceit are things of which he knows nothing. I do not ascribe tohim, mind you, the possession of saintly virtues. He is a man in whomthe best potentialities of mind and body have been developed. I havecarefully avoided the danger of making him a morbid, spiritual creature. His body is quite as wonderful as his mind. "

My uncle had been pacing restlessly up and down the room as he spoke, often pausing before me and uttering his words vehemently, with quickgestures and flashing eyes. He did not, seemingly, expect an answer tohis remark, for, as he ceased speaking, he stepped before one of thewindows and stood for a moment looking out upon the courtyard. 

"See!" said he suddenly, motioning to me. 

I stepped to his side and, looking through the window, saw Rayel runningacross the lawn with the lion on his shoulders. When the beast sprangdown he seized it by the mane and tossed it about like one with thestrength of Hercules. Here was a man who exercised his rightful dominionover animated nature!

"The beast is very fond of him, " said my uncle, "and a movement of hisfinger is sufficient to control it. "

"Why did you adopt a pet so terrible?" I asked. 

"To secure isolation, " he answered. "He's an object of terror tointruders, and a source of delight to us. "

"You have snakes here, too, " I ventured. 

"Yes, and for the same reason, But they can't harm you now. Since youcame we have killed them. They have been good friends to me, but youwere a stranger, and your life would have been in danger every day. Years ago I procured a score of them from the mountains of Pennsylvaniaand put them into the thickets. They multiplied like rats, and so I wasarmed against invasion. 

"To prevent their escape I sank a screen of wire two feet below theground along the base of the walls; I also posted a warning inside mygate. Long ago I began to destroy them, and there were only a few leftwhen you came. They were good friends to me--excellent friends!" herepeated, rubbing his hands with a grim smile. "For eighteen years Ihave been able to carry on my work unmolested. No knowledge of what wastranspiring outside this little world has ever reached me. "

"How did you begin the work of teaching this interior language toRayel?" I asked. 

"By signs at first--gradually making them more simple and suggestive. The elimination of signs kept pace with the development of hisintuitions. It was slow work and hard work, but I gave all my timeto it. After he became familiar with a sign, I began to make it lesspantomimic, until finally a lift of the eyebrow, a movement of the lips, or an inclination of the head served to express my meaning. In time hecould detect the passing shades of expression in my eyes and understandthem. Look at me, " said he, laying his hand on my head and watching myeyes as the firelight shone upon them, for it was now evening. 

"Don't you know, my boy, that your eyes reflect what is passing in yourmind? Then there are countless nerves and muscles in your face whichproclaim thought. They aid my intuitions to discover what you do notspeak. You wonder--ah! you are afraid!--afraid of me. "

I started in my chair, for while he was looking into my eyes a strangegleam came into his own. He turned about suddenly and looked into thebright fire that burned on the grate before us. 

"Never fear, " he continued, nervously twirling a lock of his white hair. "Never fear, sir--I am not mad. Not yet. I have been afraid of it, butmy reason will outlast my life. Do you ever pray?"

"Every day, " I answered. 

"Then you employ the interior language. We commune directly with theHoly Spirit. You get some message from Him every day more satisfactorythan words. It's the answer of your prayers. I tell you, sir, words arean invention of the devil. Do you like Rayel?" he asked, turning upon meabruptly. 

"You need have no doubt of that, " I answered, "or of my willingness tolook after him if it should be necessary--to take him away with me andcherish him as I would a brother. "

"Good! Good!" he exclaimed smiling and rubbing his hands joyfully. "I have not long to live. When the time comes, take him out among theknaves and fools! But we must hurry: our time is short. We must preparehim for a second birth. You will find him an apt pupil--a very apt one. He already knows more of the world than I thought possible. I don'tthink you will find him troublesome--he can help you; he will teachyou wisdom; he will enlarge the issues of your life. My fortune will beample for his needs: use it as you see fit. I have one servant left, "he said, drawing his chair closer to mine and speaking scarcely abovea whisper: "I would like this to be his home when I am dead. It will bebetter, however, to place him in some public institution where he canbe well provided for. I shall leave a sufficient allowance for him. Themanner of its bestowal I leave entirely to your judgment. There were twoof them--you have seen the other. He was a faithful fellow. They werepoor fools, both of them, but uncommonly wise, " he continued. "They keptit to themselves. I found them in an asylum twenty-five years ago. Theycalled them idiots. Idiots! God help us!"

That strange light seemed to kindle in his eyes again while he wasspeaking, and it conveyed anything but a cheerful suggestion to my mind. 

"There is this difference between idiots and madmen, " he continued. "Theformer are born outside the pale of human sympathy; the latter overstepit. In either case they are not of this earth--they are embodied spiritsliving in a world of their own creation, biding the time of liberationfrom the flesh. And do you know, there are more madmen in the world thanit dreams of?"

He stopped with a tone of sharp interrogation and looked squarely intomy face. 

"There are undoubtedly many of them, " said I. 

"The lines of monomania all lead to madness, " he continued. "The deeperone plunges into the mysteries of life the nearer he approaches it. But, mark you, one man may venture further than another. For years I havelived in fear of two things--madness and death. Not on my account, but Ihad Rayel to think of. "

My uncle rose to his feet before he had ceased speaking and walkedstealthily on his tiptoes to an open door, where he stood for a momentlistening. I could hear nothing but the sound of the wind whistling inthe chimney. 

"Wait here, " he whispered presently, and then disappeared through thedoor, closing it after him. I held my watch down to the firelight andsaw it was near eleven o'clock. I felt drowsy, and had almost fallenasleep, when my uncle returned, carrying a lantern. "Rayel is asleep, "said he, in a whisper. "Won't you come with me?--it will not take long. "

"Certainly, " said I, rising, and waiting for him to lead the way. He puton his antique hat and threw a shawl over his shoulders. 

"It's a chilly night, " said he. "You'd better wear another coat. "

I drew on my overcoat at once, wondering what new experience awaitedme. Holding the lantern in front of him, he proceeded slowly and feeblyacross the rear courtyard, and unlocked a door in one of the side wingsof the house, through which we passed into a large unfurnished room. 

"I always wait till he's asleep, " said my uncle, shuffling across theroom and unlocking another door on its opposite side. "He's never beenhere--never yet, " he continued, pulling the door open. The dim light ofthe lantern shone out upon a thicket of fragrant spruce and cedar. AsI stepped down upon the ground, following in the steps of my uncle, Icould hear the murmur of the great pines towering far above our heads. Slowly we made our way through the dense undergrowth, and soon enteredan open space carpeted with pine needles and moss. It was a circularplot in the thicket, and out of its centre rose an immense pine, whoseupper branches wholly obscured the sky. My uncle hung his lantern on aknot protruding from the trunk of the tree, and slowly knelt upon theground, covering his face with his hands. Suddenly he beckoned to me, and I knelt down beside him. 

"Listen!" said he. "Do you hear voices? She comes to me here. Can yousee her--my wife? Look about you, do you not see her?"

He laid his trembling hand upon my shoulder. Again I saw that awfulgleam in his eyes. The gruesome suggestion he had made set my nervestingling, and I peered about among the shadows of that dimly lightedrecess, half expecting some vision to greet my eyes. Then there came aloud rustling of the branches high above us. The lantern light flared upand suddenly went out, leaving us in total darkness. 

"She is here!" he whispered, in excitement. "Sit still--do not speak. "

A deep silence, intensified by the sound of the night wind in the treesaround us, followed my uncle's words. The going out of the light he hadseemed to regard as a signal from the spirit world, and I sat still ashe bade me, not doubting that his acute senses had penetrated the veilwhich limited my own vision. I had seen so many revelations of hisstrange power that I now sat awestruck and afraid, waiting for some wordfrom him to end my suspense. I could see nothing in the darkness, butI could hear my uncle breathing heavily, as if trying to suppress hisemotion. Suddenly there was a stir in the bushes near us. Then I heard astep like that of a man on the thickly covered earth close by my side. I stretched out prone upon the ground, covering my face with my hands. I could hear a sound as of some one groping about in the darkness, andthen I felt the touch of a strange hand upon my shoulder. 

CHAPTER VI

I shrank from the hand that touched me and, moving quickly aside, strucka match and peered around. By its light I could discern the form of aman standing near the edge of the thicket. Rising to my feet I took downthe lantern and lighted it. There, standing before me, was the grinningmute who had admitted me to the house. My uncle, who was still kneeling, rose feebly to his feet, his eyes wet with tears. 

"Good friend!" said he, taking the lantern from me and handing it to themute. "He alway comes for me here. "

We followed the old servant in silence through the thick boughs of cedaruntil we came to the door of a low-roofed wooden building that stoodby itself in the thicket. The mute opened the door, ushering us intoa small room containing a bed and some simple furniture. A comfortablewood fire was burning in a large open stove, and we both sat down infront of it, shivering from exposure to the chilly air of the night. Myuncle handed a key to the mute, who unlocked a cupboard, taking from ita decanter of whiskey, which he set before us with glasses. 

"It will warm you, " said my uncle, pouring out the spirits: "I haveseen my wife. She always comes to me there--when the light goes out. Sheknows your heart better than I. We shall leave Rayel to your care. It isthe last time I shall come here. My work is nearly finished. "

We emptied our glasses in silence, but my mind was busy thinking onthose impressive words, "She always comes to me there--when the lightgoes out. "

It was strange--this going out of the light just at that moment. Was itnot possible, I asked myself, that the lantern, being always hung on thesame projection, was thus in the way of a current of air passing downthe trunk of the tree when a gust of wind struck its lofty branches? Ifso, the knot would naturally conduct the current into the opening atthe top of the lantern. My reflections were interrupted by my uncle, whorose, and, taking a candle, asked me to accompany him. I followed himinto a cellar filled with casks and barrels containing, as I supposed, wine and provisions for future use. Returning, we passed through alarge room, in one end of which many boxes and barrels were stored. Iafterward learned that there was a large garden and poultry yard in thislonely nook where my uncle's only servant was sequestered. 

I was glad when we started back through the thicket, for the hour waslate and I felt the need of sleep. 

"He gives us our food, " said my uncle, when we were at length in thecourtyard. "We have enough of everything needful--but little meat. Itdestroys mental power. It is fools' food. "

Next day my uncle was unable to leave his bed. I determined to go tothe hotel for my baggage and to post some letters, one of which gave Mr. Earl an account of my experiences since the October night when I becamean inmate of that house. 

It was midwinter now, and the long stretches of pasturage and meadowland outside the walls were blasted and sere when the old mute, whom Ihad seen twice before, let me out of the big gate. When I returned hewas there to open the gate for me and help me with my baggage. 

I found Rayel at his father's bedside. The sick man was asleep, and Iwent at once to the library, where Rayel soon came, as was his customin the afternoon, for a lesson in talking. Both my uncle and myself hadtaken great pains to teach him this accomplishment, and his progresshad been even more rapid than we thought possible. He caught thesignificance of words with astonishing ease, but found some difficultyin producing their sound. He went about it with great patience, however, repeating the hardest words after me until he was able to pronounce themcorrectly. But although the work was often tedious we both got much funout of it. I had never heard the sound of laughter in that house. Oneday I broke its solemn spell by laughing heartily at the grotesquedistortion of my cousin's face incidental to the production of adifficult sound. He stopped suddenly and looked at me, half alarmed. This made me laugh more heartily, and he grasped my hand with theserious air of a physician feeling the pulse of his patient. Being assured there was no danger, he indulged in a little offhandcachinnation himself and was, I judged, well pleased with the trial, forhe repeated it frequently afterward, and greatly to his amusement. 

The word "woman, " and others related to it, puzzled him not a little, for he had never seen a woman, except through the medium of my own mindand that of his father. The subject interested him, and he gave muchserious thought to it, questioning me closely at some of our interviews, as if dissatisfied with the idea conveyed to him. Our discussions, however, had reached some slumbering chord in him, which, once touched, stirred his blood with its vibrations. I do not think his isolationcould have lasted much longer, for he became restless and eager to seethe world. 

Rayel was greatly depressed by his father's illness. For months afterthat night, the excitement of which had so hastened the failure of theold man's strength, the silence of the great house was rarely broken bythe sound of our voices. My uncle lay helpless in a deep sleep most ofthe time, never able to leave his bed until, revived by the freshnessof approaching summer, he had strength enough to sit in an easy-chair bythe window. Some fatal malady, the nature of which he did not discloseto me, was evidently sapping his strength. I had urged him more thanonce to let me summon a physician, but he would not permit me to doso. When summer came at last, he grew stronger, and was able to walk, supported by Rayel, to his chair in the open courtyard among theflowers. 

The lion, which had been confined in its cage most of the time since myuncle had grown so feeble as to need Rayel's constant attention sickenedand died in the warm days of early June. Rayel was sorely grieved by thedeath of his pet, and although he stood in the shadow of a far greatersorrow, he felt deeply the loss of this lifelong friend. The summerpassed slowly, one day like another, casting on us the same burden ofanxiety and silence. I spent much of the time in my uncle's library, poring over his books and trying to shake off the melancholy thoughtssuggested by my daily life. 

One day in early autumn, Rayel was sitting with me near an open windowoverlooking the courtyard, where his father was enjoying the open air. 

"He will die to-day, " said Rayel, calmly. "He told me he would dieto-day. "

"He seems the same as usual, " I said. "We cannot tell; he may live formonths yet. "

Rayel shook his head incredulously, and sat for a long time looking outof the window in silence. 

"And I will go with you then?" he asked suddenly turning toward me. 

"Yes, " I answered. 

It was the first time he had ever asked me a question, for he could readmy mind like an open book, and to him all questioning was unnecessary. 

While we were sitting there, thinking over our plans, my uncle summonedus by rapping with his cane. Rayel turned pale, and, with a whisperedejaculation, hurried out of the room and ran down the path to hisfather, followed closely by myself. My uncle was breathing heavily. 

"Count it, " said he, feebly extending his hand. Rayel counted hispulse-beats. 

"Ninety-four, and growing quicker!" he exclaimed, turning toward me witha frightened look. 

"It won't increase much, " my uncle whispered, feebly, but with acool and professional air. "It will go down soon, and then death willfollow. "

"Be calm, Rayel, " he continued, almost sternly, as his son beganweeping. "Be calm, I say! That music! do you hear it, child? Do you seewhat is passing now? Tell it. Let me hear you. "

"I cannot hear it, " said Rayel, looking earnestly into his father'sface. 

"Hallucination!" he whispered, groping about until his hand restedon the head of his son, who was kneeling beside him. "I seem to seemillions of forms around me. I seem to hear them, but I cannot seeyou--nor hear you. "

As if exhausted by the effort, his head fell back upon Rayel's shoulder, and he lay for a time, his eyes closed, struggling for breath. Thedying man's faculties would no longer obey the whip of his mighty will. Indeed, they had done him their final service, for in a few momentshe was dead. Tenderly and manfully, uttering no sound of grief, Rayellifted the lifeless body of his father, and bore it into the house. 

CHAPTER VII

In accordance with my uncle's wish, which he had made known to Rayel, weburied him the day following his death in the sunny courtyard where hehad spent the last days of his life. The funeral arrangements were madeas simple as possible, so as to exclude all except the functionarieswhose presence was absolutely necessary. A rector of the Church ofEngland read the service for the dead before the body was borne to itsgrave by the undertaker. When this brief ceremony was over, and thegreat gates were closed again upon our seclusion, Rayel said to me:

"I must talk more with you now, if you will let me. He said you wouldhelp me after he was gone. "

It seemed idle to assure him, who already knew my heart, of thehappiness it would give me to fulfill the pledge of friendship made tomy uncle. 

"Do you expect to see him again?" I asked. 

After a moment of the most serious reflection, he said:

"Oh, yes, I shall see him again--when I die, then I shall see him. Hehas gone to the Great Father, who gives life, and who takes it away. "

I found that Rayel, although entirely ignorant of the creeds and dogmasprevailing among men, was profoundly religious, and that his simplefaith was built upon the deepest foundations. He evidently gave muchthought to the relationship between man and his Creator after hefelt the sting of bereavement, but it was a subject to which he neverreferred in our conversation, unless, perchance, it drifted in upon us. 

The weeks following my uncle's death, during which I was busy withpreparation for the new life that awaited us, Rayel spent in hisstudio working over some unfinished pictures. At my urgent request, hecompleted the head whose resemblance to Hester Chaffin had so startledand amazed me the night I saw it first, and he regarded it with fonderinterest than he was wont to bestow upon the work of his brush. Ibelieve that face was the closest presentment of a human soul I shallever see until standing, as I hope to stand some time, in the presenceof the redeemed, where "that which is imperfect shall be put away. " Ihave said that the picture bore a strong resemblance to Hester Chaffin, but her face contained only a suggestion of that fine quality which wasso strongly presented in my cousin's ideal. 

My uncle's fortune, as described in his will, amounted to nearly$250, 000. The greater part of it--everything, indeed, but the houseand grounds--was in cash, represented by certificates of depositaccompanying the will, and bonds of the United States. There was aconsiderable bequest for me, whom he had named as executor of the will, which, however, I determined never to apply to my own use, except incase of Rayel's death. A handsome annuity was provided for his onlysurviving servant. The remainder was left to Rayel. 

Having arranged for the maintenance of the old mute at an asylum notfar from the city, our preparations to leave were soon complete. I waselated at the prospect of resuming my relations with the busy worldoutside that lonely habitation. My first step was to visit a lawyer forthe purpose of ascertaining the legal formalities which I must observeas executor of the will. Rayel wished to go with me, and I gladlyassented, for it seemed wise as an initiatory step in the new life thatwas awaiting him. He waved his hand to the mute, who stood looking at usthrough the big gates after we had passed out into the road, and then hewalked on beside me in silence. The sun-shot haze of a beautiful autumnday hung over the face of nature, and his eyes wandered down the longstretches of landscape, and into the depths of the distant sky, raptby the vision that was unfolding before him. The changing phases of thetown he regarded with curious interest, which often expressed itself inchildish exclamations of surprise as we made our way through the crowdedstreets. 

He was constantly calling my attention to things which, though familiarand commonplace to me, were little less than wonderful to him. 

"Look!" said he, suddenly taking hold of my arm. "There is a woman!"

He spoke in an eager, excited whisper, and shyly stepped behind me asshe passed us. 

"They won't hurt you, " said I, subduing my desire to laugh at hisremark. 

Such unfamiliar exposure to the public eye soon began to grate uponhis nerves. I did not wonder at it, for nearly every one we met tooka second look at his commanding figure, and some stared at him rudely. Remembering my own emotions when I first stood in his presence, I wasnot at all surprised that others were moved in a like manner. His werea face and form that stood out like those of some heroic statue in thethrong of common mortals. 

The proving and recording of the will was left entirely in the hands ofa reputable lawyer, who said that these formalities would not detain uslonger than a week. 

We had determined to spend the winter in New York before going toEngland. Since reaching America my time had been quite filled with workuntil my entrance upon the utter isolation of my uncle's home. It wasmy earnest desire to see something of the big metropolis on the westernAtlantic. Moreover, Mr. Earl had advised me in his letters to give Rayela chance to know more of life in his own country before bringing him toEngland. 

When at last the faithful old mute had gone to his new home, and we hadturned our backs upon the silent and deserted mansion, Rayel was movedto bitter tears. The thought of its loneliness, now that its master wasdead and we were leaving it, perhaps forever, brought sad feelings to myheart. How calmly the old pines whispered together as we walked down theroad that morning I shall not soon forget. 

We reached the American metropolis early in October, three years aftermy first arrival there from England. I rented comfortable apartments onFifth Avenue, near Madison Square. As soon as Rayel had recovered fromthe fatigue and excitement of the trip, we set about unpacking hispictures and getting them framed. Our lightest room was reserved for astudio, and the paintings were hung under Rayel's direction. 

We were scarcely settled in our new home when we received an unexpectedcall from a newspaper reporter. He had learned from an art dealer thatwe had some remarkable old paintings, and humbly begged the privilege oflooking at them. We made him welcome, of course, but I explained to himthat the collection was wholly the work of my cousin, who was not yetold himself. In answer to his questions I assured him that the paintingswould not be exhibited in the National Academy, and that my cousin'swork had never appeared in any art exhibition whatever, at which heseemed greatly surprised. Rayel was still shy of strangers, and, ashe was evidently a little annoyed at the presence of our visitor, Ishielded him from the need of taking any part in our conversation. 

The next morning an article appeared in one of the leading dailies, which subjected us to a glare of publicity not at all to our taste. 

It went on to say that Signor Lanion, a young Spanish artist, hadjust arrived in New York and had taken apartments at No. FifthAvenue. "Lanion" was the name which had appeared on our bill forpicture-framing, the clerk who had waited on us having taken it downincorrectly. "Unfortunately, " the article continued, "Signor Laniondoes not speak English, and for that reason the reporter was unable tointerview him. "

The paper described Rayel's personal charms at much length, and claimedthe credit of having discovered a genius who, although still a youth, had done work worthy of an acknowledged master. 

We had deep respect for the influence of that newspaper before anotherweek ended. Art managers, tailors, advertising agents, auctioneersand numerous men and women prompted by no motive but idle curiosity, besieged us until we bolted our doors in dismay against all comers. Themail, too, brought us missives of varying import from persons whohad read the article, one of which was a polite letter from FrancisPaddington, a Wall Street broker, whose name I had heard frequentlyduring my American travels. 

"It was not stated, " said he, referring to the newspaper article, "whether or not any of Signor Lanion's paintings are for sale. Ifthey are, I would be glad to look at them with a view to making somepurchases for my art collection. "

The letter suggested an idea worth considering. Rayel worked rapidly andhad already painted more pictures than we could hang to advantage in anybut the most liberal quarters. He was at a loss to understand just whatwas meant by selling the pictures, but he was willing to sell them ifthey were not to be destroyed--at least some of them. Accordingly Iwrote Mr. Paddington, appointing an hour when we would be glad to seehim or his representative at our rooms. The gentleman himself did usthe honor to call. After looking at the paintings, he expressed hiswillingness to buy the entire collection. I told him, however, that wewould not part with more than ten canvases, and he seemed glad tobuy even that number at a price which was so far in excess of ourexpectations that I was loath to accept it. Our beloved "Woman"--thatwas the title we had given Rayel's strangely derived conception--wasamong the paintings included in the sale to Mr. Paddington. Rayelthought he could reproduce it, and for days after it was gone he madeineffectual efforts to paint another woman after the ideal of ourhearts. But, alas! try as he would, that face never came back to hiscanvas. Many beautiful faces were conjured by his masterful touch, butthey were other faces, and none of them satisfied us. The failure madeRayel unhappy, and tears came to his eyes when the "Woman" was referredto, as if he were mourning the loss of a dear friend. 

Our patron had conceived a great liking for us, and we were soon invitedto visit his house "and meet a few of his friends at dinner. " It wouldgive us an opportunity to see the "Woman"--perhaps to buy her backagain--and we were strongly inclined to take advantage of it. Ourpatron's residence was one of the largest and most elegant on FifthAvenue. It was a matter of common fame that his entertainments were thecause of more envy and heartburning in the fashionable sisterhood thanany other events of the season. I had some doubt about the propriety oftaking Rayel to such a place, unaccustomed as he was to the refinementsand conventionalities of fashionable life. However, he had set his heartupon going--he was so eager to see his beloved picture--and I did notoppose his wish. In writing our acceptance of the invitation Icorrected Mr. Paddington's error regarding our name, and explained therechristening we had received in the public prints. 

CHAPTER VIII

On the day of our appointment for dinner at Mr. Paddington's thenewspapers were filled with accounts of a sensational bank robbery, which had occurred in Wall Street the night before. Between midnight andone o'clock in the morning, thieves had entered the Metropolitan Bank, overpowered the watchman, broken into the vaults and stolen half amillion dollars in currency without leaving any clew behind them of theslightest value to the police. The subject interested Rayel intensely, and at our breakfast that morning we talked of little else. 

"When they have found the thieves what will they do with them?" heasked. 

"Send them to prison, " I answered, "where thieves are kept apart fromthe rest of humanity. "

"And yet these thieves were not in prison. They could not have robbedthe bank if they had been in prison. "

"True, but there are a good many thieves in the world who are notsuspected. They look like honest men and are highly successful inconcealing their dishonesty. "

"I should think, " he said thoughtfully, "that one would know a thief byhis face. "

"Remember, " said I, "that all men are not like you. Most of them areeasily deceived. "

"Why, then, Kendric!" he exclaimed joyfully, "I can do some good withthis power of mine. "

This conversation may seem commonplace enough, but it stands in closerelation to important events which will shortly claim our attention. Thesubject which it introduces was not soon abandoned. We talked about iton our way to the Paddingtons' that evening, where we were cordiallyreceived by our host, and introduced to a large company of ladies andgentlemen. 

Rayel's wonderful skill with the brush had evidently been the subjectof some discussion among Mr. Paddington's guests. It was referred tofrequently, and somewhat to the embarrassment of my cousin, in theexchange of greetings that followed our introduction. 

Greatly to the relief of my fears Rayel seemed quite at ease. Heacknowledged the compliments paid him with gravity and self-possession, but with few words. All eyes were raised to his face, as he stood headand shoulders above a group of ladies and gentlemen who had gatheredabout him. Never had his presence seemed so magnetic and impressivesince the first time I saw him in his father's house. Now, as then, anew inspiration was stirring his blood and charging every nerve with thewonderful magnetism of perfected manhood. 

The last person presented to us was a young lady of unusual beauty, whom I noticed for some moments standing across the room in earnestconversation with our host. Presently he made his way toward us with thelady on his arm. 

"My daughter, Mr. Lane, whom I shall ask you to escort to dinner, " saidhe, addressing Rayel. After I had been introduced to the young lady shetook Rayel's arm, and the company proceeded to the dining-hall. My seatat the table was almost directly opposite Rayel. His grave and dignifieddemeanor was made doubly conspicuous by the coquettish airs and readytongue of the young lady who sat beside him. Under a steady fire ofcompliments and questions and artful glances I saw that he began to growuneasy. 

"That was a beautiful portrait you painted!" exclaimed Miss Paddington, looking sentimental. 

"Thank you, " said he; "my cousin also admires it, but I must own that itdoes not quite suit me. "

"Perhaps you are an admirer of the lady it represents, " said she, peering shyly into his eyes. "The Count de Montalle has fallen in lovewith her and has borrowed the portrait from my father. "

"Ze picture--ah! monsieur, it is beautiful, " said the Count, who satnear them. "But ze lady--she sat for me long ago and I had ze honormyself to paint her portrait. "

He was a thin, wiry Frenchman, with small, black eyes, a foreheadsloping to a bald crown, an aquiline nose and a pointed chin, adornedwith an imperial. The face was almost mephistophelian in effect. He hadpainted her portrait! Was the man an impostor? I asked myself. 

"The Count is an artist himself, you know, " said Miss Paddington. 

"Yes--an artist?" asked Rayel in a half-incredulous tone. Then he lookedinquiringly at the gentleman referred to, as if doubtful of his ownunderstanding of the words he had repeated. 

"Yes, " said the Count with emphasis. "For twenty years I have devotemyself to ze art. "

"To what art, sir?" asked Rayel, in a tone suggesting doubt. 

I was now thoroughly frightened at the serious turn of the dialogue. Wasthis "Count" a pretender and one of the many bogus noblemen of whom Ihad read? Rayel was sounding him, that was quite evident. I saw now themistake I had made in bringing my cousin to such a place. 

"Quel impudence!" exclaimed the insulted nobleman, under his breath. 

"Forgive me, sir, " quickly answered Rayel, "I did not know it was wrongto ask you. "

"I wish you would paint my portrait, Mr. Lane, " said the young lady, whodid not seem to appreciate the gravity of the situation. 

"That would be easy enough, " he answered. 

"Would it? Ah, but I fear you would find me too plain a subject. I amnot beautiful, you know, but if I wore my best clothes you might think Iwould do. "

For some time Miss Paddington continued to spin out threads of smalltalk, while Rayel sat listening. The dinner was nearly over when theclimax came which I had already begun to fear. 

"It is strange, " said Rayel thoughtfully. "You speak what is nottrue, Miss Paddington. You said that the Prince of Wales gave you thebeautiful opal, but tell me--was it not your father who gave it you?"

He waited a moment for her answer. 

"Oh, I understand now, " he continued. "People do not always speak thetruth--do they?"

The young lady turned red with embarrassment, while an unnatural smileplayed upon her lips. 

"But--but what is the use of talking then?" he asked. No one seemeddisposed to answer. 

"It is strange, " he continued, with childlike naivete, turning to theyoung lady sitting at his left, "you have been laughing as if you werevery happy, but you have felt more like weeping. This must be a very sadworld!" He ceased speaking as if some suspicion of the pain his wordswere causing had suddenly come to him. 

The whole company turned its eyes upon the two. The young lady's facebecame suddenly pale and almost horror-stricken. Rayel's words werespoken in such a gentle and sympathetic manner that every one wasmystified. 

"Have you read about the great robbery that occurred last night?" askedMr. Paddington, with the evident purpose of diverting attention fromthe young lady. "The vaults of the Metropolitan Bank on Wall Street wereblown open with dynamite, and half a million dollars were stolen. Notrace of the thieves has been discovered. "

"Too bad!" exclaimed half a dozen of the guests seeking to enhanceinterest in the subject. 

"Zey were very bold about it, " said the Count, as he lighted a piece ofsugar soaked in cognac and held it over his coffee. 

Just at that moment a singular thing happened. The lights grew dim andsuddenly went out, as if the gas had been turned off. The burning cognaccast a white flickering light upon the face of the man who had justspoken. 

"You say there is no trace of the thieves, " said Rayel. "That isstrange, for one of them is in this room sitting at your table. "

Only one face was visible, and all eyes were turned upon it, for now theeffect of that pale light keeping it in view was indescribably weird. The eyes were suddenly turned in the direction of Rayel, and a devilishglare came in them for an instant, when the face suddenly seemed toshrink back into darkness. The ladies and some of their more gallantescorts rushed precipitately from the room. The servants hurried inwith candles, but light was no sooner restored than the guests whostill remained at table rose, as if by general consent, and left thedining-hall. Miss Paddington and Rayel were the last to leave the table. When they had passed out into the drawing-room her father came and tookher arm, bowing coldly to my cousin. It was evident that our presencewas no longer desired in the house of the Paddingtons. And no wonder!

"Let us go, " I said, proceeding to the coat room. The Count met us onthe way. 

"You are a liar--a jackass!" he hissed into Rayel's ear. 

Hastily drawing on our coats we stepped out into the chilly night airand walked leisurely down the deserted avenue. Neither of us spoke forsome moments. Presently Rayel asked:

"What is a jackass?"

He stopped and took my hand as if expecting an answer of great moment. 

"A man who always tells the truth in this world--he is a jackass, " Ireplied. 

I was a little irritated by the trying experiences we had been through. Perhaps that is why my answer savored so strongly of cynicism. 

CHAPTER IX

Painful as had been our introduction to polite society, the reactionwhich followed it was scarcely less so. Next day we stayed indoors untilevening, when we ventured out for a walk with fear and trembling lestthe newspapers had already increased our fame and our mortification. Thetwilight of a cloudless autumn day was closing in upon the city, and thekeen, bracing winds which sweep over the American metropolis from thesea brought the color to our faces. We walked down Broadway, now quitedeserted, in silence, and as we were passing Wallack's Theatre Rayelstopped suddenly, and stood for a moment looking into the brightlylighted foyer. Stepping in, he beckoned me to follow. I immediately sawwhat had attracted his eye, for on an easel just inside the entrance wasthe portrait of our woman. On a placard below the picture was the name"Edna Bronson. " Our surprise was mingled with sad regret at seeing itplaying a false part to serve the ends of an unscrupulous manager. 

"Perhaps she is here! suddenly exclaimed Rayel. 

"That is very unlikely, " I answered, "but we shall see. "

I bought tickets for the evening's performance and we hastened home, strangely elated, to dress for the play. 

Our seats were in one of the lower proscenium boxes and quite clearlyexposed to the gaze of the thousands who filled the theatre in windingrows, ascending and receding to the roof high above us. The garishdecorations, the gay throng bedizened with jewels sparkling in the lightand the hundreds of fair faces and bright eyes that were turned towardus presented a spectacle entirely new to Rayel. Shortly the curtain roseand the play began. Its first scene was a counterfeit of real stage lifein an English theatre. An important performance is impending and at thelast moment both the leading lady and her understudy are suddenly takenill. The management is in a quandary. In the midst of its confusion thestage carpenter suggests that he has a daughter who can play the part. When this functionary came upon the scene my interest in the play beganto wax stronger. Hester Chaffin's father had been a stage carpenter, andthis turn in the scene startled me not a little after having found ourpicture in the foyer. 

The carpenter's suggestion is at first treated with ridicule. He insiststhat she has learned the part from witnessing the rehearsals, and urgesthe managers to give her a trial. The performance must begin in fourhours or be postponed. It is found that the costumes prepared for thepart will fit the young lady. They consent to try her, the company ishastily summoned together for rehearsal, and the curtain falls on thefirst act. The audience waited impatiently for it to rise again and showwhat fortune might have in store for the carpenter's daughter, but ofall that audience I was probably the most impatient. 

"There is the Count, " whispered Rayel, directing my attention to theopposite box. The diabolical little Frenchman was there, sureenough, sitting next to the rail, and sweeping the audience with hisopera-glasses. 

Soon the curtain was rung up and the rehearsal began which was to testthe powers of the venturesome young lady. Suddenly she appears at therear of the stage dressed for her part in Elizabethan costume. Sheis greeted with loud applause, and she stands a moment, waiting forsilence. The lights have been turned down and I cannot see her facedistinctly. Before the last ripple of applause is quieted, she advancesdown the centre of the stage and begins to speak her lines. That voice!What is there in it that thrills me so strangely? When she ceasesspeaking she is standing almost within reach of my hand. Suddenly hereyes meet mine and I see Hester Chaffin standing there on the stageand looking into my face. She recognizes me, for she seems confused andproceeds with evident embarrassment. 

I turned to Rayel--he, too, was deeply moved by this great surprise. 

"Our woman has come to life, " said he, in tremulous whispers. "I knew wewould see her sometime. "

How she had changed! She was little more than a child when I saw herlast: now she was almost a woman, but not more beautiful than when Ibade her good-by in the moonlight at her father's gate--long, long ago, it seemed to me now. Was the scene I had witnessed a passage in herown life since I had left Liverpool? At the close of the act an ushercarried my card to her. Presently I was summoned to one of the corridorswhere a lady was waiting for me. 

"Is this Kendric Lane?" she asked, extending her hand. 

"It is, " I responded. 

"I have heard of you often. Miss Bronson is an old acquaintance ofyours, whom you knew as Hester Chaffin. Would you like to see her?"

"I wish to see her to-night, if possible, " said I. 

"May I ask you, then, to go to this address and wait for us until theperformance is over? Hand this card to the night clerk of the hotel andhe will show you to our rooms. "

Scribbling a few words upon the card, she gave it to me, and hurriedbehind the scenes. 

Rayel and I immediately left the theatre and walked to our apartments. The play would soon be over and we had no time to lose. On the wayhome I noticed that he frequently turned about and peered through thedarkness as if expecting some one to join us. He said nothing, however, and as I was so preoccupied by my own thoughts, I did not ask for whomhe was looking. 

"Shall I not go with you?" he asked, when we had reached home. 

"You had better wait up for me; I shall not be gone long, " I answered. 

"I can walk back again when we get there, or perhaps I can wait for youin the hotel?" said he. 

He was not yet accustomed to life in a great city, and it did not seemwise, either, to permit him to walk home alone, or to wait for me in thehotel among strangers. He did not seem quite content to stay, however, and there was a troubled expression on his face, which was new to it, and which I could not put out of my mind after I had left the house. Thehotel to which I had been directed was on Union Square. It was not farfrom our apartments, and I intended to walk there, but I had notgone half a block before the street was lit up with a vivid flash oflightning, followed by deafening thunder, and the wind blew damp in myface. I hurried toward Third Avenue, intending to mount one of the horsecars going down-town, but suddenly a fierce gust of wind swept over me, sowing great drops of rain along the pavement. I looked about for a cab. The street was deserted and so dark that I could see nothing exceptthe gloomy rows of brown stone that stood on either side. While I waslooking backward another flash of lightning illumined the street. Whatman was that coming in the distance? Was it Rayel? No, that was scarcelypossible. I had only caught a momentary glimpse of him in the quickflash. He was tall and erect like Rayel, and I thought the hat was his. But my imagination must have tricked me after all, for nothing showedclearly. I walked back a few steps and listened. I could hear nofootsteps, but then he might have followed me, and I ought to be sure. So I called, "Rayel! Rayel!" twice, and waited for an answer, butcould hear none. I had not time to go back to our rooms, as Hester wasundoubtedly waiting for me now, and Rayel was certainly not the manI had seen, or he would have answered me. So I hurried along withoutgiving any further thought to my fears. But where was Third Avenue? Itscharacter was not then so sharply defined as in these days of elevatedrail-roads--perhaps I had passed it. I had already walked a longdistance, and I had not yet recognized that thoroughfare. I could hearfootsteps behind me and I determined to wait a moment and inquire myway. 

"I am going there--walk along with me, " said the man whom I questioned. Just then we passed under a street lamp. I observed that he wore a largecoat and muffler and that he was walking under an umbrella. Another man, also under an umbrella, fell in with us at the next corner. As we walkedalong in silence I heard some person coming at a run down the streetquite a distance behind us. I was listening to this sound when Ireceived a terrific blow on the back of the head. I fell forward, oneside of my face striking heavily upon the pavement. Strangely enough, Iseemed unable to make any outcry, but I had not lost consciousness, for, as I lay with my face resting on the wet stones, I could feel the raindrops falling on it. I could hear those quick footsteps coming nearer. Yes, I could hear Rayel's voice shouting in a loud and angry tone, but, try as I would, I could not utter a sound. As I listened, the two menclutched me with strong hands and dragged me through an open door, which quickly closed behind them. It was no sooner shut than Rayel threwhimself against it with terrific force. I could hear the door groan andshake under the strain. Once--twice, I was struck with cruel force uponthe head--then a loud roaring in my ears drowned everything. 

I can remember well the first return of consciousness. It was like theslow breaking of dawn in the sky. I could hear voices singing:

Hark! hark! my soul! angelic voices swelling O'er earth's green fieldsand ocean's wave-beat shore. 

I could just distinguish those words. Where was I? Strange thoughtsbegan trooping through my mind. Then a great wave of emotion swept overme. I could hear a low moaning sound that came from my own throat. I could feel the hot tears rolling down my cheeks. A gentle hand wasbrushing them away and some one was speaking to me. I was lying on asoft bed. A sweet-faced woman was bending over me, whom I had never seenbefore. 

"Where am I?"

"In the hospital, " she answered. 

"The singing--who is singing?" I asked. 

"It is the chapel choir, " she answered; "the services are nearly overnow. It is Sunday. "

"Is Rayel here?"

"Your friend? yes, he has been with you every day. "

"How long?"

"Almost a month. "

I tried to ask other questions, but a drowsy feeling overcame me and Ifell asleep. 

When I awoke again Rayel was sitting beside me. As I opened my eyes heleaned over and kissed my hands. 

"They thought you were dead once, " he said; "but I knew you were notdead--I knew you were not dead. " I lay for a moment trying to collectmy thoughts. My head was in tight bandages and something was binding mychest. 

"Where is Hester?" I asked. Rayel did not answer. He was not there, butsomebody was holding one of my hands. It was a lady kneeling beside me, her face leaning forward upon the bed. Who could it be? I closed my eyesand listened to the rustling of withered leaves outside the window, and the low humming of insects in the autumn sun. These were propheticsounds, and they opened the gates of thought and memory. A new life wascoming now. What was it to be? Again I felt myself drifting into sleep. I tried to keep my eyes open and resist the drowsiness that overcame me, but in vain. When I awoke Rayel had returned. 

"You have slept a long time, " said he. 

"When I fell asleep a lady was here. "

"Yes, it was our 'Woman, '" he replied--"the lady you love. She has comeevery day to see you. "

"Where is she now?"

"She had to go away, but she will soon come back again. "

"Who brought me here?"

"I broke down the door--I found you there. You could not see me norspeak to me, but I knew you were not dead. The men were gone. I carriedyou out into the street. A policeman met me, and I told him what hadhappened. Then the ambulance came and we put you into it, and you werebrought here. For a long time you lay like my father after he was dead. Your face was white--like snow. They had stabbed you in the side--theywould have killed you if I had not broken the door. "

"Who struck me?" I asked. 

"I knew, " he said, his eyes flashing, "I knew the devil was in theirheads--that is why I wished to go with you. They followed us thatnight. "

"Who?" I asked, eagerly. 

"The Count de Montalle and another man. "

My cousin's answer amazed me. 

"Have you made known your suspicions?" I asked. 

"No. I have been waiting to talk with you first. "

"Do not speak of it yet to any one, " I said. "Let us awaitdevelopments. "

I foresaw that Rayel would only get a reputation for insanity if pressedto the point of explaining his suspicions. It seemed quite likely, also, that any futile discussion of the subject would defeat justice. 

That day brought me a letter from Hester, whom I had been looking forwith much impatience since I had begun to feel more like myself. Shewould shortly have fulfilled all her professional engagements, andwould then return at once to New York. "I wonder, " she added, somewhatcoquettishly, "if you will be glad to see me. " On this point there wasno doubt in my mind, and although my strength increased rapidly, thedays passed with tedious slowness after that. 

I was sitting by the window one morning, looking out upon the movingthrong in the opposite street, when the door of my room was suddenlyopened. I supposed that one of the physicians had come to see me, and Iwaited for him to speak. 

"Kendric!"

It was Rayel who spoke my name, but somehow his voice did not seem quitenatural, and I turned to greet him. 

"This is our 'Woman, '" said he, advancing toward me with Hester upon hisarm. 

I rose feebly to my feet, confused by the sudden announcement, and tookher extended hand. We looked into each other's eyes for a moment withoutspeaking. My own were rapidly filling with tears, and I could see herbut dimly. 

"What a fine outlook you have!" she said, in a tremulous voice, turningsuddenly to the window and looking out upon the trees now half strippedof their foliage by the autumn winds. We both stood staring out of thewindow in silence. For my part, I could not have spoken if I had knownwhat to say. How she had changed! The blushing little miss who hadawakened the pangs of first love in my youthful heart was a beautifulyoung woman, now full grown and arrayed in costly finery. Rayel was thefirst to speak. 

"You must be glad to meet again--you have loved each other so long, "said he. 

Honest Rayel! He knew our hearts--their longings, their histories, andalso the vanity and pride that dwelt in them. Why should there be anyconcealment between her and me?

"It has been a long time--a very long time to me, Hester, for I haveloved you ever since we first met. "

She turned toward me, her eyes filled with tears, and I drew her to myheart and kissed her fondly. 

"We have only known each other as children, Kendric, " said she. "Yourheart may change and mine may change--let us wait and see. "

Then she left us, promising to come again next day. 

CHAPTER X

Hester and her maid looked in upon me every morning after that, until Iwas able to leave the hospital. During these visits we told each otherthe eventful story of our lives since the night of our parting ather father's gate. Her first appearance on the stage had been, as Isuspected, literally represented in the play. For years she had beenpermitted to accompany her father behind the scenes, and nights whenthe cast was short she had played small parts with great success. Theglamour and excitement of stage life had proved distasteful to her. Sheassured me that it was her intention never to go back to it, and thisstrengthened my hope that she would some day consent to become my wife. Rayel had told her, during my illness, the strange story of his life. She knew nothing, however, of his wonderful powers, until I had relatedto her some of the experiences which had revealed them to me. He hadsaid nothing to her, I learned, about our discovery of the picture. 

"Who painted the remarkable portrait of you which we saw at thetheatre?" I asked her one day. 

"It was painted, I believe, by a French nobleman, who presented it to mehere in New York. I suppose it looks a little as I did once, but it iscertainly too flattering and much too maidenly for me now. 

"The Frenchman is an impostor and worse, " I said. "The portrait waspainted by Rayel and sold to a broker of the name of Paddington, fromwhom the Frenchman borrowed or bought it. "

Her amazement could scarcely be overestimated when I told her whatoccurred at Mr. Paddington's dinner-party. 

"The Frenchman, " she said, "has been paying me unwelcome attentions eversince the first night of my appearance in New York. He became so odiousto me at length that I refused to accept any of his gifts, and, in spiteof the protests of my managers, returned everything he had sent me, including the portrait. "

I did not tell her that it was this same Frenchman to whom I wasindebted for my wounds. Of that I must wait for more palpable evidence, though not for my own convincing. It seemed strange to me then that justat the moment this thought was passing through my mind she asked me whomI suspected of having committed the assault. It occurred to me aftershe had gone that possibly she had some cause to suspect the man who hadbeen the subject of our conversation. 

Rayel always came late in the day, when there was no chance of meetingother callers, and stayed with me until bedtime. As returning strengthbrought back to me that interest in life which prompts keen observation, I could see that a great change was coming over him. His face wore amelancholy look which indicated too clearly that his mind was sufferingunder some sad oppression. He was as gentle and considerate as ever, andas tireless in his efforts to increase my comfort, but he rarely spokenow, except in reply to my questions. He would sit by my side for hours, gazing out of the window with a vacant look in his eyes, until the lightof day grew dim and the lamps were lighted. When supper was served to usI could never induce him to eat. 

"What is the trouble, Rayel?" I asked, one evening. "You are notyourself lately. "

Neither of us had spoken for a long time. He turned suddenly, asif startled by my words, his lips quivered, and stammering almostincoherently, he rose to his feet. Then he stood erect before me for amoment, looking sadly and thoughtfully into my eyes. 

"Nothing, Kendric, " he said presently, in a deep tone that trembled withemotion. "I think I have been working too hard and need exercise--thatis all. " Then he grasped my hand warmly and bade me good night. 

I believe his answer to my question was the first lie that he had everspoken. 

CHAPTER XI

Next day I was discharged from the hospital, and Rayel and I were drivento our apartments. He had a number of surprises prepared for me. A largepainting on his easel, awaiting some finishing touches, compelled myattention as soon as I entered the room. It represented a scene inour own lives, which had lasted but a second, but which could never beforgotten by either of us. He had seen me when I stood looking backwardin that vivid flash of lightning--there could be no doubt of it now, for here was the scene transferred to canvas. The shaft of white lightshaking and darting across the black sky like a gleaming sword; the manon the sidewalk looking backward with a startled glance; the big dropsof rain falling sidelong in the wind--these were all reproduced on thecanvas. His later pictures were characterized by a cynical tendency, which I observed with regret. It was evident that his sensitive mindhad taken impressions from its brief contact with men, which were sadlyaffecting his thought. 

He showed me numerous letters, many of which were from women who desiredto visit his studio and see his work. Indeed, my cousin had apparentlygrown suddenly famous in the American metropolis. He was the victimrather than the victor of fame, however, and regarded the matter withvery serious concern. The press of New York had been full of gossipconcerning his "eccentricities" since the event which had put my life indanger. One of the society journals had printed a highly coloredversion of that little episode at the house of the Paddingtons, and hadconcluded its article by saying that the fair Miss Paddington had fallenmadly in love with her father's strange guest. 

That night, as we were sitting by the grate fire in our own rooms, Rayel, encouraged by our seclusion, began to emerge from the silence towhich he had seemingly gone back for refuge in time of trouble. 

"We shall soon be ready to start for England, " I said. 

"I do not wish to go to England, Kendric, " said he. "For a long timeI have thought over it. Let me go back to the old house and live by myfather's grave, until the good Lord takes me to a better home. I wouldmiss you, dear Kendric, and every day I would look for you to come, butI shall be happier there. "

His words touched me deeply, and I was not prepared to answer him withperfect calmness, although I had lately suspected that his despondencywould lead to this resolve. 

"Why must we separate now, after we have become so dear to each other?"I asked. "Something has happened to change your purpose since I havebeen ill--tell me what it is. "

"To speak frankly, Kendric, I must say that the world has sadlydisappointed me. It is full of vanity and deceit and selfishness. Everyday brings to me some hideous revelation which the mercy of heaven hashidden from others. I have seen the righteous forsaken of men, and thewicked receiving homage; I have seen the unjust triumphing over thejust; I have seen some reveling in abundance while others were beggingfor bread. Everywhere I have found want and misery staring me in theface. 

"Remembering what Christ said, I sold all I had and gave to the poor, and now there is nothing more I can do. My best pictures, my money andall my extra clothing have gone to feed the hungry and cover the naked. And even now, when I have nothing left to give, I find as much misery asbefore. Often, since I have been alone, I have had nothing to eat and nofire to keep me warm. Then I feared to tell you what I had done, and Ibore it in silence, hoping that I might earn more money by painting. ButI could not work. When Hester came back I told her all my troubles, andshe gave me money, not only for my own use but for the use of others whoneeded it more than I. She and I have wandered about the city by day andby night, ministering to the sick and the friendless. "

He ceased speaking, his head bent forward upon his hands. It was indeeda serious situation into which a too generous heart had betrayed him. Nearly all his fortune had descended to him in cash on deposit, andpayable either to my order or to his. He had therefore saved nothingfor himself that had been available for the satisfaction of his goodimpulses. Instead of displeasing me, however, as he feared, his actiononly increased my love for him, if that were possible. 

"Do not let these things trouble you, Rayel, " I said. "We shall find nodifficulty, I think, in earning money enough for our needs. I cannot seeyou shut yourself away from the world: you have yet an important workto do among men. You are now morbidly sensitive to the misery thatsurrounds us, but you will feel it less keenly as it grows morefamiliar. "

"You do not understand me, Kendric, " said he, starting from his chair, and pacing restlessly up and down the room. "I cannot deceive youany longer. In begging you to leave me, it is your own happiness I amthinking of. Please go as soon as possible, " he pleaded, laying his handgently upon my shoulder. "Take her with you, and let me stay. "

My heart seemed suddenly to have stopped beating. 

"My God, Rayel!" I exclaimed. "Are we both in love with the same woman?"

"No, Kendric, no, " he said quickly, taking my hand. "I do not mean that. I would not permit myself to love her, knowing that you love her also. "

"What, then, do you mean?" I asked. 

"That there is danger, " he answered huskily, sinking into a chair. "I ama fool not to have thought of it long ago!"

His words seemed to sting me, and for a moment I could not speak. 

"You know what is in her heart, Rayel, " I said presently. "Tell me, isit false, or is she, as I have thought, a pure and noble woman?"

"She is pure and worthy of your love, " he answered. "Her life has beenmuch exposed to temptation, but her character has been greater than anytemptation. When she began to go with me among the poor I did not knowwhat love was. I had never felt the power of it, nor did I think of thedanger to all of us. When at last it came upon me, and I saw whatit meant, I resolved not to see Hester again until God had given mestrength to subdue that passion. For days my heart was near breaking. When you asked me to tell you what made me sad, I had not the courage todo it. Then I told you a lie. I did the very thing which I have so muchcondemned in others. This trouble has taught me to comprehend and topity the frailty of men. I look forward with fear and dread for my ownsake. . I shall be safe in my father's house. I must go back, but, beforeI go, forgive me. Tell me that you do not despise me. "

As he ceased speaking he laid his hand upon my shoulder and peered intomy face with a frightened and appealing look. 

"Despise you!" I repeated. "No. You are dearer to me now than ever. Whatyou have told me will bring us closer to each other, if we consider itwisely. As yet there is no pledge between Hester and myself, save theassurance given by unuttered thoughts. Her heart is free. I have noright to claim it. If she loves you I shall wish you both much joy. "

"That will not be necessary, Kendric. I had rather die than know that Ihad come between you. I cannot even risk the danger of it. I must leaveyou to-morrow. "

"Under no circumstances will I consent to that. My promise to yourfather and my duty to you forbid it. To go back now would be cowardlyand unworthy of you. With my help and guidance you can do great things. We must face the world with stout hearts. As to this trouble, letus concern ourselves about it as little as possible. I believe thatwhatever may be best for all will happen if we but wait with patience. "

Rayel made no answer, and for some moments we both sat looking at theglowing embers in silence. 

"I shall obey your wish, " he said presently; "I cannot do otherwise. I am like a child, and must look to you for instruction in all things. Perhaps there will come a time when I can repay you. "

"It will be a pleasure for me to help you as I would a brother, and youwill owe me no gratitude for it, " I said. 

We sat discussing our plans for the future until near midnight. Whenwe went to bed at last, Rayel looked happier than I had seen him beforesince my recovery at the hospital. 

When I awoke it was near midday. I went to call Rayel and found that hewas gone. 

CHAPTER XII

After waiting for him nearly an hour I went to a neighboring restaurantfor breakfast. On returning I found that he had not yet come back. Alarmed at his continued absence I went at once to Hester's apartments, scarcely expecting, however, to find him there, but confident that shewould be able to tell me where he was likely to go. 

"No doubt he has gone on some good errand, " she said. "Has he not toldyou of his charitable enterprises?"

"He told me last night how they had reduced his fortune. "

"Poor fellow!" she continued. "In his zeal for others he quite forgothis own needs. I would have told you about it, but that he implored meto spare you any knowledge of his condition. I think we shall be able tofind him. Let us go and try. "

Hester and I set out at once, walking rapidly against a biting east windtoward the river. On reaching Second Avenue we took a car and rode downamong the big tenements towering into the sky on all sides in the lowerpart of the city. Alighting in the midst of these human hives, wemade our way through a wretched crowd, shivering in the livery ofdestitution, down a long and narrow alley. Entering one of the doorwayswe climbed a steep flight of stairs, above which was a squalid throngpressing about an open door on the landing. The women held childrenin their arms, and many of them were crying bitterly. The men stood insilence peering curiously over the heads of the further throng into thecrowded chamber. Some of them greeted Hester with great respect, andmoved aside that we might have room to enter. As we neared the door Icould hear a babel of strange tongues and the voices of women callingdown the blessings of Heaven upon some one in their midst. It was Rayel. He stood in a corner of the room holding two little children in hisarms, and the crowd was pressing forward as if eager to speak with him. He was talking in a low voice to those nearest him, but I was unable tocatch his words. There were men and women of many nationalities in thethrong. I saw Italians, Celts, Poles, Germans and even men whose swarthyfaces and peculiar garb betokened Syrian origin. When we pressed nearerto Rayel I saw some, as they came within reach, extend their handsand touch him fondly, uttering exclamations as they did so, often ina tongue that was strange to me. These simple-minded people seemed toregard him as a supernatural being whom it was good to talk with, andwhose touch it was a blessing to feel. A look of love and gentleness andsympathy irradiated his face and invited their confidence. These wereevidently the poor whom he had befriended, and he was now taking leaveof them, probably forever. It was a scene the like of which few canever hope to witness. After all, I thought, what manner of riches canbe compared to the satisfaction which Rayel feels at this moment? I wasquite ready then to applaud his unselfish generosity, for in that gloomyand unclean place I first saw the full radiance of God's truth that itis infinitely more blessed to give than to receive. We stood for a longtime looking upon this memorable meeting of Cadmus and Caliban. When atlength he caught sight of us, Rayel came where we stood, and said he wasready to go home. Perceiving that we were about to go, the crowd hurriedfrom the building into the narrow alley leading out upon the street. Some shouted endearing farewells as we passed them, and many of theirhardened faces were wet with tears. The sun was just going down and theshadows were deepening between the high walls looming above us as westarted homeward. Hester insisted that we must dine with her and decideupon the day of our departure. Rayel and I went directly home for a bathand a change of clothing, after which we proceeded at once to Hester'sapartments. Evidently somewhat fatigued by the day's experience, Rayelhad little to say while we were eating dinner. It was arranged that wewould start for England by the first steamer on which we could secure acomfortable passage. We had no sooner finished our coffee than a servantannounced Mr. Benjamin Murmurtot, who wished to see Miss Bronson. 

"A reporter!" exclaimed Hester. "There's no dodging them in America. Shall I ask him in for a moment?"

We said yes, of course, and Mr. Murmurtot presently fluttered into theroom. He was a natty little man, with a large nose, a bald head and adecidedly English accent. 

"Delighted to see you, Miss Bronson, " said he, "delighted, I'm sure. Thought I'd call and pay my respects before you leave the city. "

He greeted us all with like effusiveness and sat down facing Hester. 

"It's very kind of you, " said she; "but pray how did you know I was toleave the city?"

"Why, I'm sure, Miss Bronson, everybody knows you are going home to bemarried?"

"It is true that I am going home soon, " said she, "but I must decline todiscuss my object in doing so. "

"Pray pardon me; I'm a journalist, you know, " said Mr. Murmurtot, "andI earn my living by impertinence. Have I not seen you before, sir?" hecontinued, facing Rayel. "I think you were at the theatre one eveningsome time ago--sat in the lower box at the right of the stage--Iremember it well, sir. "

"I remember the occasion, " said my cousin, with his accustomed gravity. 

"I read about that occurrence at Mr. Paddington's dinner-party, sir, "continued Mr. Murmurtot. "It was decidedly clever in you, sir--deucedlyclever! Everybody is talking about it, now that the Count has beenarrested. "

"Arrested!" I exclaimed; "has he been arrested?"

"Yes, this morning, for the robbery, you know. They say that the policehave secured evidence that will convict him sure, but it seems they arenot yet ready to make it public; reporters can't get the Inspector tosay a word about it, you know--not a word. "

There were exclamations of surprise and gratification from all present, save Rayel, who remained silent, while a faint smile stole over hisface. 

"I knew they would find him out, " said he. 

"I hear that you are a mind-reader, sir, " said Mr. Murmurtot, againaddressing my cousin. 

"And you are a detective, I believe, and not a reporter, " said Rayel. "It is good that we understand each other. "

Mr. Murmurtot started with surprise at the remark. 

"I do not know how fully you may be acquainted with my secret, " said he, "but permit me to assure you that I am here on a friendly mission. 

"I have no doubt of that, " said my cousin. 

"Let me proceed directly to the object of my visit, then, which is tolearn how soon you expect to return to England. "

"By Saturday, if possible, " I replied. 

"That is good, " said he, turning toward me. "The sooner the better. Inthe meantime it will be my duty to keep a sharp eye upon you; I havebeen near you all day. You need not feel any alarm--only do not besurprised if you meet me often. I am responsible for your safety, thatis all. "

"For whom are you acting?" I asked. 

"My dear sir, " said he, rising to go, "men in my line of business mustnot talk too much. Good night. "

After he had gone we asked Rayel to tell us more about this mysteriousvisitor, but he was unable to do so. 

When we started away Hester put on her wraps and walked with us to thecab. As we alighted at our own door I saw a man standing by the streetlamp on the corner, some distance away, whom I recognized as Mr. Murmurtot. I found a letter from Mr. Earl awaiting me at home, in whichhe urged us to hasten back to England as soon as possible after myrecovery. 

"You and Rayel, " he said, "will, I trust, make your home at my house. "

Next day we began our preparations for the voyage. 

CHAPTER XIII

It was on a bleak and windy night in December that we were driventhrough a pelting rain to one of the docks on the North River, which oursteamer was to leave at high tide in the early morning. When we alightedMr. Murmurtot stood shivering in a greatcoat and muffler close by thepassengers' entrance. 

"This is a good place for a warm greeting, " said he, taking Hester'shand. "I've stood here so long that my teeth are chattering from thecold. "

"Won't you come aboard with us?" I asked. 

"Not yet, " he replied; "but I expect to sail with you in the morning. "

"'Sa rough night, sir, " said the porter who carried our luggage, "butwe'll find it a bit rougher outside, I'm feered, afore anither night. "

Fatigued by a long day of arduous work, we went at once to ourstaterooms. I was soon asleep after getting into my berth, but wasawakened by the tramp of feet on the upper decks and the shouting ofthe crew long before the ship left her moorings. They reminded me ofthe first night I had ever spent on an ocean steamer--the night I leftLiverpool on that journey fraught with danger I had not then dreamedof. I had grown old very fast under the influences that had come into mylife since then. Indeed, I was now a man, whereas I had been only a boywhen I left England. But Rayel was with me now, and that repaid me forall I had suffered. What would he have done in that lonely mansionafter his father's death? For hours my mind was occupied with thesereflections, and at length I determined to dress myself and go on deck. Rayel awoke while I was dressing and decided to go with me. 

We found the decks thronged with people, and the ship's crew werebustling about, getting ready to sail. We stood near the gangway, facingthe dock. A man was pacing back and forth in the opening whose figureseemed familiar to me. Presently he came aboard, and as he passed nearus I saw it was the omnipresent Mr. Murmurtot. 

"I wonder if he is afraid somebody will steal the ship?" I remarked. 

"No, he is looking for some person, " said Rayel, divining my thoughts. 

"All ashore! Stand away, there!" shouted one of the ship's officers. 

The passengers fell back, the gangway was pulled aboard, the greathawsers were loosened, and the ship moved slowly away from the dock. Westood for a long time watching the river craft and the receding lightsof the city. The ship was well beyond the Atlantic Highlands when wewent to our stateroom and to bed again. We slept until late in themorning, and arose barely in time for a late breakfast with Hester. Rayel seemed cheerful enough and took more than ordinary interest inhis surroundings. When we had risen from the table he led me aside anddirected my attention to a short, stout man with a bristly growth ofclose-cropped black hair, a low forehead and shaggy eyebrows, who wasleaning lazily against the railing of the stairway. 

"Let us avoid him, " he whispered. "I do not like his looks. "

What can this mean? I asked myself, as we all proceeded to the deck. Perhaps he was the man the detective was looking for. 

It was a beautiful sunlit afternoon, and the vessel rode steadily in asea that was growing quiet under the dying impulse that the winds hadleft behind them. We drew our chairs together on the deck near the sternof the vessel, and had settled down for a quiet chat among ourselveswhen we were unexpectedly joined by Mr. Murmurtot. 

"Delighted, I'm sure!" he exclaimed, with the same inimitable drawl Ihad noted on the occasion of our first meeting. I soon observed thatthe artful little gentleman was master of an elaborate system ofexclamations by which he encouraged one to talk freely without sayinganything himself. 

In response to my assertion that we had been exceedingly busy gettingready for the trip he said simply: "Indeed!"

It was a very unusual burst of confidence in which he was moved toexpress his views with any greater freedom. When the remark whichpreceded it was evidently expected to meet with Mr. Murmurtot'sconcurrence, then he would say, "Yes, indeed!"

If the remark were one to which this response would be inappropriate heoften went to the extent of observing, "I dare say!" seeminglyventured after careful consideration of the chances for and against theproposition which provoked it. 

"My dear sir, I do not agree with you, " he would always say when he feltcompelled to differ with me. If the difference in our views chanced tobe extremely radical, he would throw particular emphasis upon the word"dear, " as a sort of recompense for his opposition. These forms ofspeech, with occasional and slight variations, were always employed byMr. Murmurtot as a medium of thought and sentiment. 

In the midst of our conversation I noticed the man whom Rayel hadpointed out to me when we arose from the breakfast-table. He wasstanding against the rail, not twenty feet from where we sat, and as Ilooked at him he turned away and walked leisurely down the deck. In amoment Rayel was on his feet, and, excusing himself, he proceeded inthe same direction. An hour later, as he had not returned, I left Hesterwith Mr. Murmurtot and went forward in quest of him. He was in thereading-room, apparently interested in a newspaper. As he did notobserve me, I sat down behind his chair without disturbing him. To mysurprise I saw that he was not reading the paper, but that his eyes werefurtively watching the mysterious stranger he had followed, who saton the other side of the room listlessly puffing at a cigarette. I wasseated scarcely a moment when Rayel seemed to be aware of my presence. Looking from face to face until he had discovered me he arose and cameto my side. 

"I was trying to read a newspaper, " said he, leading the way to thedoor, "but reading is still hard work for me. "

"I saw that you did not seem to be looking at the paper, " said I, aswe proceeded to the deck. He made no reply, but stopped and looked outacross the waste of waters at the horizon. 

"Do you know that man?" I asked. 

For a moment I stood waiting for his answer. Apparently he had not heardmy question, and I repeated it in a somewhat louder tone. 

He turned suddenly with an impatient exclamation. There was a flash ofanger in his eyes as he faced me. I had never seen him in such a moodbefore. 

"Forgive me, " said he. "I am only angry with myself. Come, Hester willbe looking for us. "

I did not venture again to refer to our bristly fellow-passenger inRayel's presence. Never inclined to talk much, even with me, he wasbecoming more silent than ever as the voyage continued. Day by day hisinterest in that strange man seemed to increase. He spent as little timeas possible in my company. When not with me he was hounding him aboutthe ship, keeping him in sight from some favorable point of observation. What was the meaning of it? The question forced itself upon my mindpersistently by day and night, and begat in me a gloomy reticence whichHester was quick to observe. Every day I expected some revelation fromRayel, but he said nothing about the man in whom he had taken suchextraordinary interest. 

We had been over a week at sea, and I was sitting alone one afternoon, when Mr. Murmurtot came along and asked if he might introduce anacquaintance of his whom I ought to know. Then he went to find thegentleman, saying that he would return in a few moments. He had nosooner left me than my mind reverted to the man who had been the bugbearof my thoughts since we left New York. Presently Mr. Murmurtot touchedmy arm. Looking up suddenly, I saw standing before me the very man ofwhom I had been thinking. 

"Mr. Lane, let me introduce you to Mr. Fenlon, " said the detective. I shook the hand that was extended to me mechanically, and made someincoherent response--I do not remember what. I had been taken bysurprise. My voice was unnatural and my strength seemed to have left mesuddenly. 

"Are you not well, sir?" he asked. 

"No, sir, he is not well yet. "

It was the voice of Rayel that answered for me. He was standing by myside, his lips tightly drawn, and his eyes fixed upon the man Fenlon. There was a terrible look on his face as he stood there towering aboveus. The man turned pale and moved quickly backward two or three steps, staring at my cousin as if in fear of receiving a death-blow. For aninstant, only, he stood like some fierce animal at bay, then turnedand walked hurriedly down the deck. The situation was made all the moreimpressive by the interval of silence that followed Rayel's words. 

"Forgive me, " said Mr. Murmurtot, taking my hand, "if this meeting wasunpleasant. It was necessary. " Then he bowed politely and walked away. The sun was just going down as Rayel and I entered the cabin, whereHester was waiting for us. 

"The captain thinks we will reach Southampton before five in themorning, " said she. 

I was glad to learn that our voyage was so near its end. 

CHAPTER XIV

After dinner Rayel and I went at once to our stateroom. 

"I am out of patience with myself, " said he, as soon as we were seated. "My mind is failing me just when I need it most. I have grown dull andstupid. For more than a week I have been trying to find out that man'ssecret. I knew that he had a secret, and that it concerned us. Not untilto-night was I certain that I had found it out. Once I could see thetruth clearly. No matter how deeply it was buried under lies--I couldsee it. But now there is something like a mist before my eyes, and I amsure of nothing. Perhaps it is because I am now a liar myself, as bad asany of them. God have mercy on me!" said he, rising, and speaking withmuch animation. "I know now what is blinding my soul. When a man lieshe loses some degree of his power to distinguish between truth andfalsehood. "

He stood looking into my face impatiently, as if waiting to hear what Iwould say to his remark. 

"That would be the natural result, I have no doubt, " said I; "butare you not trying to convict yourself of too much wickedness andstupidity?"

I had never considered the misfortune of knowing too much--of being ableto detect every difference between word and thought, between appearanceand reality. That was the power which Rayel possessed, and it increasedhis moral responsibility by as much as it transcended the power commonto others. Here, indeed, was a man ripe for the fate of a martyr. 

"Won't you tell me Fenlon's secret, if you have found it out?" I asked. "I've been thinking about it night and day since we first saw him. "

"Be wise! Don't try to learn too fast, Kendric" said he. "You shall knowit soon, I am sure of that--indeed, I promise that you shall. "

"I am quite willing to wait on the future for everything if you think itis best, " I said. 

We sat for a long time, making plans for our future life in England. Itwas near midnight when we retired to our berths, but we were up earlyin the morning, eager to catch the first sight of land. On reaching thedeck we were overjoyed to see the distant spires of Southampton glowingin the morning sun. 

CHAPTER XV

Mr. And Mrs. Earl met us at the station of the Southwestern Railwayin London, and we were driven at once to their home. Hester came tobreakfast with us, but Mrs. Earl would not let her go to Liverpool thatday, ship-worn and fatigued as we all felt after the voyage. 

"You resemble your father, sir, when he was of your age, " said Mr. Earl, addressing my cousin, as we were eating. "But you are larger, muchlarger, than he was. "

"You were my father's friend when he was a young man, I believe?" saidRayel. 

"Yes, he and his brother were my best friends in those days. I tried toinduce him to study law, but he was more inclined to medicine. "

Rayel had found a man quite after his liking and the two were on thebest of terms at once. Indeed, he seemed to talk with my benefactor asfreely as he ever talked with me. I found Mrs. Earl very much as I hadimagined my mother to have been--a full-faced, ruddy-cheeked woman; witha sweet voice and gentle manners. She greeted me as if I were her ownson returned from a long journey, and when we sat down to talk afterbreakfast, I felt the joy and peace of one who has found a home aftermuch wandering. 

I spent the afternoon with Mr. Earl in his library, and he listened withdeep interest to the complete story of my life since the night we partedin Liverpool. 

He had many questions to ask me touching the attempt upon my life, andmy replies were jotted down in his memorandum-book. After I had told himall that I was able to tell he sat for some moments thoughtfullyturning the pages of the book, stopping now and then to read some of thememoranda. 

"It looks pretty bad for them, doesn't it?" said he calmly, looking upat me over his spectacles. "But we'll bring this matter to a climax verysoon, " he continued. "We haven't seen the last act of the play yet. Youneed not have any further fear for your safety--I will look after that. You may feel quite free to go and come as you please in this part of thecity. Above all things we must avoid letting them know that we suspectanything; it might defeat me in getting hold of the last bit of evidencethat is necessary to complete our case. "

I nodded, and waited for him to proceed. 

"Let us go carefully until we're sure of our ground, " he continued. "Your stepmother knows you are in London, of course. You must go and seeher. Take your cousin with you, and--well, you will know how to treatthem. After all, you must bear in mind that in the eye of the law everyman is innocent until he is proven guilty. Adopt that view of the caseyourself. You needn't fear anything from Cobb or his wife. Only bereasonably prudent. "

"I've no fear that they will try to do us any harm, " said I; "andI would greatly enjoy visiting the old house. Perhaps we could goto-morrow. "

"The day after. You'd better go down to Liverpool to-morrow with theyoung lady, and return by the night train. "

That day saw the beginning of a deep and lasting friendship betweenHester and Mrs. Earl. When we left next morning to go to Hester's homein Liverpool, she promised to return soon for a long visit. By teno'clock we were well out of smoky London, on the way that I had alreadytraversed once before, with a cheerful heart most creditable to me underthe circumstances. Mrs. Chaffin was waiting for us at the gate when wealighted in front of the old wood-colored cottage--that haven of wearylegs in days gone by. Phil (who had lengthened noticeably in the serviceof Valentine, King & Co. ) was there, too, and all the rest of theChaffin household in Sunday clothes. Mrs. Chaffin was quite besideherself with joy. 

"Dear-a me!" said the good lady, after the salutations were over. "Dear-a sakes! How you've growed! I didn't think you'd ever live to gets' big. I thought as 'ow som' 'arm 'd come to ye when ye went away, an'Hester--"

"Mamma!" exclaimed Hester, with a reproving glance. "Don't tell him. "

"I'm that fidgety I don't know what I'm sayin'. The Lord bless us, butye must be hungry!" said the good woman, as she spread the table fordinner. She had guessed rightly, and Hester bustled about, helpingher mother get the dishes on the table, with a critical eye to all thearrangements. Rayel was much amused by the children, the youngest ofwhom had climbed upon his knee and was taking liberties with his cravat. He was wholly unaccustomed to the pranks of children, and we frequentlyrallied to his defence. He seemed to enjoy them, however, and was sooninvolved in a spree at which both Hester and I laughed heartily. 

"This herring ain't extra good, sir, but I 'ope it won't go ag'in' ye, "said Mrs. Chaffin to Rayel, as we sat down to the table. 

He seemed in doubt for a moment as to what it would be proper to say inreply to this well-intended remark. 

"I have never eaten a herring, madam, " said he, gravely, "but I have nodoubt it will be good. "

"I 'ope so, sir--indeed, I 'ope so; but I dare presume to say that itwill taste bad enough to the likes of you. "

Mrs. Chaffin (good soul) had evidently concluded that my cousin was aman entitled to extra politeness. Hester had adroitly side-tracked theherring question and started another train of speculation, when hermother's misgivings were again excited respecting the tea, which Rayelhad just tasted. 

"Murky, sir?" she asked, with a glance of alarm. "I 'ope it don't tastemurky. "

Mrs. Chaffin's solicitude respecting the tea and the herring remindedme of the first time I had stretched my tired legs under that hospitableboard at Phil's invitation; of those big, wondering eyes that stared atme across the table; of the songs and stories which beguiled the eveninghours. 

The candles were lit before dinner was over, and when we rose from thetable it was to gather about the warm fire and exchange memories, whileRayel listened with deep interest. Phil had been promoted from a pair oflegs to a pair of hands, and was now third bookkeeper for the firm. Ourcarriage came for us at nine o'clock. Hester had decided to stay a dayor two with her mother, but it was necessary for Rayel and me to returnto London that night, as we were to make an important call the next day. 

CHAPTER XVI

Late in the afternoon of the day following our visit to Liverpool weascended the big stone steps of my old home and pulled the bell. Afterall, I found that my nerves were not quite steady while we were waitingfor the door to open. We had come intending to spend the night there, and my benefactor had given me certain precautions not calculated tomake me feel entirely at home. Was there some deeper plan underlyinghis suggestion as to this visit than he had chosen to explain? I had notlong to consider that point, however, for suddenly the door opened anda servant in imposing livery confronted us. I handed him my card and wewere shown into the reception room at once. Presently he conducted us tomy stepmother, who greeted me with a great show of cordiality and sometears. She had grown old fast since I left home, but she had artfullydisguised the evidences of age upon her face and neck. Why had I stayedaway so long? What had she done to deserve such shameful neglect? Theseand other questions taxed my wits for an answer that would neitheroutrage my own conscience nor offend her. Mr. Cobb, who had justreturned from his office, suddenly entered the room. His face assumed anashen pallor, and he stared at me quite dumfounded for a moment, when Iarose and stood before him. 

"It is Kendric. Don't you recognize him?" said my stepmother. 

"So it is!" he exclaimed. "But he's grown quite out of my recollection. "The man had recovered his self-possession in a moment, and treated me, it must be said to his credit, with marked coolness. I was likely to geton with him very well, I thought, but the fawning attitude of his wifequite unhorsed me. If I am to see the devil I'd rather he'd frown thansmile. Cobb had very little to say to us, and left the room at the firstopportunity. In doing so he had shown scant consideration for his wife, however, as it left a burden upon her shoulders that must have taxed herstrength. But she was not unequal to it. Her smile broadened after hehad gone, and there was a tone of deeper sincerity in her expressionsof regard. We had been to dinner, and if she would kindly send a littlecold lunch to our room at bedtime that would be quite sufficient. Duringher absence for dinner the reaction came. When my stepmother returnedshe seemed to have suddenly grown older, and she looked at us throughhaggard and sunken eyes. Surely this was a terrible punishment she wasundergoing, and I pitied her. Mr. Cobb had an important engagement tokeep, she said, and hoped we would excuse him. Slowly the evening woreaway and at ten o'clock we were shown to our room, greatly fatigued bythis trying experience. It was a room fronting the street on the thirdfloor, which I had occupied before I left home. The walls had beenpainted white since then, with a frieze of gold along the ceiling. My father used to sleep in the room directly under it. Rayel had beensilent and absent-minded all the evening, rarely speaking except inreply to some question. 

"I feel sad for some cause I do not understand, " said he, preparing toretire. "I shall be glad when to-morrow comes. "

"We will go back in the morning, " I said. "You don't feel at home here, do you?"

He did not seem to hear me, but tried the door, which I had alreadybolted, and then got into bed, yawning and shivering, for the room wascold. I turned down the light, and, opening the shutters, looked outupon the street, now deserted save by a solitary man who had just passedthe house and whose slow footsteps were gradually growing less distinct. I crouched there, listening for some moments to that fading sound, whenit began to grow louder again. The man had turned about and was comingback. As he passed under the lamp on the opposite corner I thought Irecognized the slim figure of Mr. Murmurtot. Suddenly I was startled bya noise in the room adjoining ours, and sprang to my feet in a tremor. Plague take my imagination! It was somebody going to bed. I sat downagain and for a long time looked out at the man walking back and forthin front of the house. I was rapidly getting into a condition of mindunfavorable to rest and, closing the shutters, I went to bed at once. For hours I lay tossing restlessly from one side to the other, andfinally fell into a deep sleep. I must have slept a long time when Isuddenly awoke, laboring with nightmare. I had heard no sound, I hadfelt no touch, but all at once my eyes were open and I knew that I wasawake. The lamp was burning dimly on the table beside my bed. How myheart was beating! And my arm--how it trembled when I tried to raise upon my elbow and look about the room!

"Who's there?" I whispered. Was it Rayel standing near the bed, his bodyswaying backward and forward, or was I yet asleep? Everything looked dimand weird. I seemed to be in some silent ghostland between sleeping andwaking. I rubbed my eyes and peered about the half-darkened room. It wasRayel, and, as I gazed at him, his eyes seemed to shine like balls offire. I called to him, but he made no answer. What had happened since Iwent to sleep? Alarmed, I threw the covers aside and leaped out of bed. As I did so he stepped up close to the opposite wall, and, as his handmoved, I could hear the grating of a crayon on its surface. In tremuloushaste I turned up the wick of the lamp and tiptoed toward him, holdingit in my hand. He was stepping backward and excitedly pointing at thewall. He had been drawing a picture on its white surface--the form ofa woman holding something in her hand. I stepped nearer, still carryingthe lamp. A sharp interjection broke from my lips. The woman picturedthere was my stepmother, and it was a knife that she held! A man waslying at her feet. Again Rayel stepped forward, and again I heard thecrayon grating on the wall. Then he stood aside. Great God! There weredrops of blood dripping from the knife now. Rayel sank down upon thefloor and covered his eyes with his hands. I stood there, dumb with fearand horror, looking first upon him and then upon the picture. 

The silence of the night was unbroken save by those slow footsteps inthe street to which I had listened before retiring. But suddenly I hearda low wailing cry in the room adjoining ours. It so startled me thatI came near dropping the lamp. Strange and weird it sounded, graduallygrowing shriller and more terrible to hear! It was the voice of mystepmother. Was she dreaming? And had Rayel seen the vision thataffrighted her? Was that dagger pricking her brain? In a moment theswelling cry broke into a sharp scream, such as might come from oneexposed to sudden peril, and ceased. Then the sound of a bell rangsharply through the house, followed by loud knocking at the door and aman's shout. 

"Open the door, I command you!" he said. 

He must have heard that piercing cry. Rayel still lay motionless uponthe floor. Was he asleep? Why did he not rise? I began to feel numb. Iseemed to have lost the power of motion. I could hear some one rappingat our door, but I could not move. 

"Kendric! Kendric! Kendric!" Was it my stepmother who was calling me?What a piteous, pleading tone! "Let me speak to you, Kendric! For God'ssake, let me tell you!" I was reeling: my strength had all left me. Crash! went the lamp at my feet. There was a great flash of light, whichdazzled my eyes, and I fell heavily upon the floor. 

I was in the open air when thought and feeling came back to me. My handsand face were paining me as if they had been terribly burned. There werea number of men standing over a motionless figure that lay beside me. 

"The poor lad!" said one of the men "he's nearly roasted. See herehow the clothes have been burned away from his neck! Can't ye stop theblood? The mon'll die afore the amb'lance comes ef we don't stop theblood. A brave mon he is, too. D'ye see 'im coming down the stairs withth' other one on his back?"

Of whom were they talking? I struggled to my feet--I could feel no painnow--and bent over that still form which had been lying beside me. Oh!it was the heaven-blessed face of Rayel, now bleeding and scarred andghastly. I raised his head. The hair fell away where my hand touched it, and a groan escaped his lips. I could not speak nor weep nor utterany sound. A strange calmness came over my spirit and I sat theremotionless, bending over him I loved so well, while the crowd of menlooked on in silence. "After His own image made He man;" these wordscame to my mind as I looked into that dear face. Then I prayed insilence--for him. Thank God! his eyes were open now and his lips weremoving. I bent lower until I could feel his breath upon my cheek. 

"Is it you, Kendric?" he whispered. "Did I save you from the fire? Icannot see you, but I know you are here. "

I heard his words distinctly, but I could not answer. The power ofspeech seemed to have left me. 

"The fire awoke me, " he continued, moaning. "We were lying on the floor. I called to you, but you did not answer. Thank God! you are safe now. "

Returning consciousness brought with it an increasing sense of hispain, and he began to struggle and groan in dreadful agony. Suddenly, extending one of his blackened hands until it touched my face, heshouted in a loud voice:

"Kendric! Kendric! help--help me!"

Then some men laid hold of me and lifted me up. I clung to Rayel withall my strength, but could not resist them, and as I was borne away Iknew that Rayel and I had parted forever. 

CHAPTER XVII

After that midnight parting the first thing I can recall was the touchof a gentle hand upon my face. When my eyes opened I saw Hester bendingover me. 

"You are at home now, Kendric, " said she. Such a feeling of weaknesscame over me that I could not speak. I thought a nail had been driveninto my brain, but the tears that began rolling down my cheeks and themoans that broke from my lips seemed to loosen it. 

Many days passed before I was able to reflect upon this last tragicepisode in my life or to take any thought of the morrow. One eveningI awoke from a deep sleep feeling a new interest in life. There werepeople sitting in the room and talking in low tones. 

"Has he asked for Rayel yet?" said one of them. 

"Not yet, " was the answer. 

"Better not let him know about it yet. There's time enough. He'll bearound soon. "

I called to them and they came quickly to my bedside. There were Hesterand Mr. Earl and his good wife, all looking down upon me with smilingfaces. 

"You need not be afraid to tell me now. I know that Rayel is dead. "

They made no answer. 

"I know he is dead, but tell me how it happened, " I said. "There is nodanger; I am quite strong now. "

Mr. Earl took my hand and told me in a low, calm voice, all he knew ofthe tragedy. He only knew, however, that the lamp had exploded and thatRayel had been horribly burned by the oil. 

"I suppose, " said he, "that the lamp was on a table near his bed when itexploded. In a moment the whole room was afire, and you, no doubt, beingasleep at the time, he lifted you up and ran with you down the stairwayand out of the open door. But in the meantime he had been horriblyburned, and he fell in a faint as soon as he reached the pavement. Strangely enough you were unconscious for some moments, although youwere not badly burned. Probably it was the smoke. "

Then no one knows, thought I, what really did happen that night. Thelamp must have fallen almost directly upon Rayel's head, and the oil hadno doubt saturated his hair and clothing. 

"And the house?" I asked. "Is that--"

"In ashes, " he replied. 

Then every trace of that strange event, which no eye save mine hadwitnessed, was wiped out forever. The hideous secret had better never betold. 

"If I was not badly burned, tell me why I have been lying ill. "

"Brain fever, my boy, " said he. "Too much excitement, I presume--butyou're out of danger now, and will be on your feet again in a few days. "

Fortunately the latter assurance was rightly spoken. The first daythat brought me strength enough to put on my clothes and walk about thehouse, Mr. Earl invited me into the library to talk business. We wereno sooner seated than he unlocked a drawer and handed me a document toread. 

It was a deed of all my father's real and personal property. 

"They have both confessed, " said he. 

"Confessed what?" I asked, wondering if the secret of my father's deathhad come out. 

"The conspiracy against your life. There were two accomplices--one Countde Montalle, formerly a servant of Cobb, and now a convict in America, and the other a man named Fenlon, who is under arrest. These were themen who tried to take your life. Fenlon came over on the steamer withyou, I believe. "

"And my stepmother--where is she?"

"Gone to answer for her sins at a higher court, " said he. "Her lastdeposition is annexed to the deed. The old hussy ran into the fire likea miller, and stood there screaming, 'Look at that picture on thewall! Oh, God! do you see it?' she shouted to the fellow who found herstanding in the smoke and flames. The chap was so excited he reallythought that he did see the picture of a woman holding a knife. "

"That is strange, isn't it?" said I. "Who was the man?"

"A detective, " said he, "whom I hired to watch the house that night. Heheard some disturbance, it seems, and, fearing mischief, he immediatelyforced the door open and ran pell-mell into your cousin, noble fellow, who was then bringing you down-stairs. If he had been one moment laterthe woman would have been burned to death, and we would never have gotthis deposition. Cobb wouldn't have been the first to weaken, you may besure of that. But after she had told the whole story, why, there was nouse in holding out. Badly burned? No, strange to say, she was not badlyburned, but frightened out of her wits. The nervous shock was too muchfor her and soon led to fatal results. Cobb will go to prison. "

I made no reply. I could not have found words to express the thoughtsthat came trooping through my brain. 

"I have to tell you, " he continued, "that your cousin left a willbequeathing to you his father's house and a number of valuablepaintings. "

I turned away and burning tears of sorrow came to my eyes. It was indeeda sad inheritance--the earthly part of his great riches--and of littlemoment to me. I could not bear to think or speak of it then, and Ibegged my friend to hide the will from my sight until time might give mestrength to read it with composure. 

One evening in early spring Hester and I were walking along the shore ofthe Mediterranean at Marseilles. I had been traveling through southernEurope since my recovery, accompanied by Mr. And Mrs. Earl. Hester hadrecently joined us in this ancient city of Provence. The sun was sinkingbelow the distant horizon of water, and his shafts, glancing from thewestern edge of the sea, shot far into the immeasurable reaches aboveus. We stood in silence while the great wall of night loomed into thezenith, and then fell westward through the luminous slope of heaven. Thebroad terrace from which we viewed the scene was quite deserted. 

"If it is a hopeless love I cherish, let me know it now, Hester, " I saidas we turned to go. "I cannot wait any longer. "

"You can wait half an hour longer, I am sure, " she said, hurrying mealong. "We will be at home, then. "

Some months after Hester had become my wife we received a call in Londonfrom our old friend, Mr. Murmurtot. 

"You have been playing in a great life drama, " said he to Hester, "andI, too, have had a part in it. Lest you may think that it was thefool's part, let me tell you that I am the man who arrested the Count deMontalle. "

"And the man who brought Fenlon to justice?" I asked. 

"The same. He confessed within three hours after you were introduced tohim. "

 * * * * * * *

Every week my wife and I visit Rayel's grave and strew fresh flowersupon it. A tall shaft of marble marks the spot where he lies at rest. His name is graven in the stone, and underneath it are these words: "Hewas a man without selfishness or vanity. "

 THE END.