the queen of hearts-第17章

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I　knew　the　reason　now　why　my　father　had　never　confided　the　truth
to　anyone；　his　own　family　included。　My　mother　had　evidently
confessed　all　to　her　sister　under　the　seal　of　secrecy；　and　there
the　dreadful　disclosure　had　been　arrested。

〃Your　uncle　told　me；〃　the　priest　continued；　〃that　before　he　left
England　he　took　leave　of　you　by　stealth；　in　a　place　you　were
staying　at　by　the　sea…side。　Tie　had　not　the　heart　to　quit　his
country　and　his　friends　forever　without　kissing　you　for　the　last
time。　He　followed　you　in　the　dark；　and　caught　you　up　in　his　arms；
and　left　you　again　before　you　had　a　chance　of　discovering　him。
The　next　day　he　quitted　England。〃

〃For　this　place？〃　I　asked。

〃Yes。　He　had　spent　a　week　here　once　with　a　student　friend　at　the
time　when　he　was　a　pupil　in　the　Hotel　Dieu；　and　to　this　place　he
returned　to　hide；　to　suffer；　and　to　die。　We　all　saw　that　he　was　a
man　crushed　and　broken　by　some　great　sorrow；　and　we　respected　him
and　his　affliction。　He　lived　alone；　and　only　came　out　of　doors
toward　evening；　when　he　used　to　sit　on　the　brow　of　the　hill
yonder；　with　his　head　on　his　hand；　looking　toward　England。　That
place　seemed　a　favorite　with　him；　and　he　is　buried　close　by　it。
He　revealed　the　story　of　his　past　life　to　no　living　soul　here　but
me；　and　to　me　he　only　spoke　when　his　last　hour　was　approaching。
What　he　had　suffered　during　his　long　exile　no　man　can　presume　to
say。　I；　who　saw　more　of　him　than　anyone；　never　heard　a　word　of
complaint　fall　from　his　lips。　He　had　the　courage　of　the　martyrs
while　he　lived；　and　the　resignation　of　the　saints　when　he　died。
Just　at　the　last　his　mind　wandered。　He　said　he　saw　his　little
darling　waiting　by　the　bedside　to　lead　him　away；　and　he　died　with
a　smile　on　his　facethe　first　I　had　ever　seen　there。〃

The　priest　ceased；　and　we　went　out　together　in　the　mournful
twilight；　and　stood　for　a　little　while　on　the　brow　of　the　hill
where　Uncle　George　used　to　sit；　with　his　face　turned　toward
England。　How　my　heart　ached　for　him　as　I　thought　of　what　he　must
have　suffered　in　the　silence　and　solitude　of　his　long　exile！　Was
it　well　for　me　that　I　had　discovered　the　Family　Secret　at　last？　I
have　sometimes　thought　not。　I　have　sometimes　wished　that　the
darkness　had　never　been　cleared　away　which　once　hid　from　me　the
fate　of　Uncle　George。

THE　THIRD　DAY。

FINE　again。　Our　guest　rode　out；　with　her　ragged　little　groom；　as
usual。　There　was　no　news　yet　in　the　paperthat　is　to　say；　no
news　of　George　or　his　ship。

On　this　day　Morgan　completed　his　second　story；　and　in　two　or
three　days　more　I　expected　to　finish　the　last　of　my　own
contributions。　Owen　was　still　behindhand　and　still　despondent。

The　lot　drawing　to…night　was　Five。　This　proved　to　be　the　number
of　the　first　of　Morgan's　stories；　which　he　had　completed　before
we　began　the　readings。　His　second　story；　finished　this　day；　being
still　uncorrected　by　me；　could　not　yet　be　added　to　the　common
stock。

On　being　informed　that　it　had　come　to　his　turn　to　occupy　the
attention　of　the　company；　Morga　n　startled　us　by　immediately
objecting　to　the　trouble　of　reading　his　own　composition；　and　by
coolly　handing　it　over　to　me；　on　the　ground　that　my　numerous
corrections　had　made　it；　to　all　intents　and　purposes；　my　story。

Owen　and　I　both　remonstrated；　and　Jessie；　mischievously
persisting　in　her　favorite　jest　at　Morgan's　expense；　entreated
that　he　would　read；　if　it　was　only　for　her　sake。　Finding　that　we
were　all　determined；　and　all　against　him；　he　declared　that；
rather　than　hear　our　voices　any　longer；　he　would　submit　to　the
minor　inconvenience　of　listening　to　his　own。　Accordingly；　he　took
his　manuscript　back　again；　and；　with　an　air　of　surly　resignation；
spread　it　open　before　him。

〃I　don't　think　you　will　like　this　story；　miss；〃　he　began；
addressing　Jessie；　〃but　I　shall　read　it；　nevertheless；　with　the
greatest　pleasure。　It　begins　in　a　stableit　gropes　its　way
through　a　dreamit　keeps　company　with　a　hostlerand　it　stops
without　an　end。　What　do　you　think　of　that？〃

After　favoring　his　audience　with　this　promising　preface；　Morgan
indulged　himself　in　a　chuckle　of　supreme　satisfaction；　and　then
began　to　read；　without　wasting　another　preliminary　word　on　any
one　of　us。


BROTHER　MORGAN'S　STORY

of

THE　DREAM…WOMAN。

CHAPTER　I。


I　HAD　not　been　settled　much　more　than　six　weeks　in　my　country
practice　when　I　was　sent　for　to　a　neighboring　town；　to　consult
with　the　resident　medical　man　there　on　a　case　of　very　dangerous
illness。

My　horse　had　come　down　with　me　at　the　end　of　a　long　ride　the
night　before；　and　had　hurt　himself；　luckily；　much　more　than　he
had　hurt　his　master。　Being　deprived　of　the　animal's　services；　I
started　for　my　destination　by　the　coach　（there　were　no　railways
at　that　time）；　and　I　hoped　to　get　back　again；　toward　the
afternoon；　in　the　same　way。

After　the　consultation　was　over；　I　went　to　the　principal　inn　of
the　town　to　wait　for　the　coach。　When　it　came　up　it　was　full
inside　and　out。　There　was　no　resource　left　me　but　to　get　home　as
cheaply　as　I　could　by　hiring　a　gig。　The　price　asked　for　this
accommodation　struck　me　as　being　so　extortionate；　that　I
determined　to　look　out　for　an　inn　of　inferior　pretensions；　and　to
try　if　I　could　not　make　a　better　bargain　with　a　less　prosperous
establishment。

I　soon　found　a　likely…looking　house；　dingy　and　quiet；　with　an
old…fashioned　sign；　that　had　evidently　not　been　repainted　for
many　years　past。　The　landlord；　in　this　case；　was　not　above　making
a　small　profit；　and　as　soon　as　we　came　to　terms　he　rang　the
yard…bell　to　order　the　gig。

〃Has　Robert　not　come　back　from　that　errand？〃　asked　the　landlord；
appealing　to　the　waiter　who　answered　the　bell。

〃No；　sir；　he　hasn't。〃

〃Well；　then；　you　must　wake　up　Isaac。〃

〃Wake　up　Isaac！〃　I　repeated；　〃that　sounds　rather　odd。　Do　your
hostlers　go　to　bed　in　the　daytime？〃

〃This　one　does；〃　said　the　landlord；　smiling　to　himself　in　rather
a　strange　way。

〃And　dreams　too；〃　added　the　waiter；　〃I　shan't　forget　the　turn　it
gave　me　the　first　time　I　heard　him。〃

〃Never　you　mind　about　that；〃　retorted　the　proprietor；　〃you　go　and
rouse　Isaac　up。　The　gentleman's　waiting　for　his　gig。〃

The　landlord's　manner　and　the　waiter's　manner　expressed　a　great
deal　more　than　they　either　of　them　said。　I　began　to　suspect　that
I　might　be　on　the　trace　of　something　professionally　interesting
to　me　as　a　medical　man；　and　I　thought　I　should　like　to　look　at
the　hostler　before　the　waiter　awakened　him。

〃Stop　a　minute；〃　I　interposed；　〃I　have　rather　a　fancy　for　seeing
this　man　before　you　wake　him　up。　I'm　a　doctor；　and　if　this　queer
sleeping　and　dreaming　of　his　comes　from　anything　wrong　in　his
brain；　I　may　be　able　to　tell　you　what　to　do　with　him。〃

〃I　rather　think　you　will　find　his　complaint　past　all　doctoring；
sir；〃　said　the　landlord；　〃but；　if　you　would　like　to　see　him；
you're　welcome；　I'm　sure。〃

He　led　the　way　across　a　yard　and　down　a　passage　to　the　stables；
opened　one　of　the　doors；　and；　waiting　outside　himself；　told　me　to
look　in。

I　found　myself　in　a　two…stall　stable。　In　one　of　the　stalls　a
horse　was　munching　his　corn；　in　the　other　an　old　man　was　lying
asleep　on　the　litter。

I　stooped　and　looked　at　him　attentively。　It　was　a　withered；
woe…begone　face。　The　eyebrows　were　painfully　contracted；　the
mouth　was　fast　set；　and　drawn　down　at　the　corners。

The　hollow　wrinkled　cheeks；　and　the　scanty　grizzled　hair；　told
their　own　tale　of　some　past　sorrow　or　suffering。　He　was　drawing
his　breath　convulsively　when　I　first　looked　at　him；　and　in　a
moment　more　he　began　to　talk　in　his　sleep。

〃Wake　up！〃　I　heard　him　say；　in　a　quick　whisper；　through　his
clinched　teeth。　〃Wake　up　there！　Murder！〃

He　moved　one　lean　arm　slowly　till　it　rested　over　his　throat；
shuddered　a　little；　and　turned　on　his　straw。　Then　the　arm　left
his　throat；　the　hand　stretched　itself　out；　and　clutched　at　the
side　toward　which　he　had　turned；　as　if　he　fancied　himself　to　be
grasping　at　the　edge　of　something。　I　saw　his　lips　move；　and　bent
lower　over　him。　He　was　still　talking　in　his　sleep。

〃Light　gray　eyes；〃　he　murmured；　〃and　a　droop　in　the　left　eyelid；
flaxen　hair；　with　a　gold…yellow　streak　in　itall　right；
motherfair　white　arms；　with　a　down　on　themlittle　lady's　hand；
with　a　reddish　look　under　the　finger　nails。　The　knifealways　the
cursed　knifefirst　on　one　side；　then　on　the　other。　Aha！　you
she…devil；　where's　the　knife？〃

At　the　last　word　his　voice　rose；　and　he　grew　restless　on　a
sudden。　I　saw　him　shudder　on　the　straw；　his　withered　face　became
distorted；　and　he　threw　up　both　his　hands　with　a　quick　hysterical
gasp。　They　struck　against　the　bottom　of　the　manger　under　which　he
lay；　and　the　blow　awakened　him。　I　had　just　time　to　slip　through
the　door　and　close　it　before　his　eyes　were　fairly　open；　and　his
senses　his　own　again。

〃Do　you　know　anything　about　that　man's　past　life？〃　I　said　to　the
landlord。

〃Yes；　sir；　I　know　pretty　well　all　about　it；〃　was　the　answer；　〃and
an　uncommon　queer　story　it　is。　Most　people　don't　believe　it。　It's
true；　though；　for　all　that。　Why；　just　look　at　him；〃　continued　the
landlord；　opening　the　stable　door　again。　〃Poor　devil！　he's　so
worn　out　with　his　restless　nights　that　he's　dropped　back　into　his
sleep　already。〃

〃Don't　wake　him；〃　I　said；　〃I'm　in　no　hurry　for　the　gig。　Wait　till
the　other　man　comes　back　from　his　errand；　and；　in　the　meantime；
suppose　I　have　some　lunch　and　a　bottle　of　sherry；　and　suppose　you
come　and　help　me　to　get　through　it？〃

The　heart　of　mine　host；　as　I　had　anticipated；　warmed　to　me　over
his　own　wine。　He　soon　became　communicative　on　the　subject　of　the
man　asleep　in　the　stable；　and　by　little　and　little　I　drew　the
whole　story　out　of　him。　Extravagant　and　incredible　as　the　events
must　appear　to　everybody；　they　are　related　here　just　as　I　heard
them　and　just　as　they　happened。

CHAPTER　II。

SOME　years　ago　there　lived　in　the　suburbs　of　a　large　seaport　town
on　the　west　coast　of　England　a　man　in　humble　circumstances；　by
name　Isaac　Scatchard。　His　means　of　subsistence　were　derived　from
any　employment　that　he　could　get　as　an　hostler；　and　occasionally；
when　times　went　well　with　him；　from　temporary　engagements　in
service　as　stable…helper　in　private　houses。　Though　a　faithful；
steady；　and　honest　man；　he　got　on　badly　in　his　calling。　His　ill
luck　was　proverbial　among　his　neighbors。　He　was　always　missing
good　opportunities　by　no　fault　of　his　own；　and　always　living
longest　in　service　with　amiable　people　who　were　not　punctual
payers　of　wages。　〃Unlucky　Isaac〃　was　his　nickname　in　his　own
neighborhood；　and　no　one　could　say　that　he　did　not　richly　deserve
it。

With　far　more　than　one　man's　fair　share　of　adversity　to　endure；
Isaac　had　but　one　consolation　to　support　him；　and　that　was　of　the
dreariest　and　most　negative　kind。　He　had　no　wife　and　children　to
increase　his　anxieties　and　add　to　the　bitterness　of　his　various
failures　in　life。　It　might　have　been　from　mere　insensibility；　or
it　might　have　been　from　generous　unwillingness　to　involve　another
in　his　own　unlucky　destiny；　but　the　fact　undoubtedly　was；　that　he
had　arrived　at　the　middle　term　of　life　without　marrying；　and；
what　is　much　more　remarkable；　without　once　exposing　himself；　from
eighteen　to　eight…and…thirty；　to　the　genial　imputation　of　ever
h