The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1857-12-03
NO. $40.

again. He took up the shutters. but paused
suddenly on the very point of using them, and
looked attentlvey at the candle-then back.
over his shoulder. at the curtained bed-then
DacS at tne candle. 1t had been lighted, for
the hrst time, to show him the way up stairs.
and three parts of it, at least. were alraedv
consumed. In another hour. it would he bnrn,
out. In another hour, unless he called AT onca
to the man who had shut up the Ian for n fresh
candle, he would be left in the dark.
Strongly as his mind had been affected since
he had entered the room, his unreasonable
dread OF encountering ridicuie, and of exposing
his courage to suspicion, had not altogether lost
It's influence over him, even yet. He fingered
irresolutely by the table, waiting till he could
prevail on himself to open the door, and call.
from the landing, to the man who had shut IN
the Inn. In his present hesitating frame OF
mind, it was kind of relief to gain a few mo.
ments only, by engaging in the trilipg occuus.
ton of shutting the candle His hand trembIed
little, and the shutters were heavy and awk
ward to use. When he closed them on the wick.
he closed them hairs breadth too low In an
instant the candle was out, and the room was
plunged in pitch darkness.
The one impression which the absence of
light immediately produced on his mind, was
dlstrust of the curtained bed-distrust which
shaped itself into no distinct idea but which
was powerful enough, in its very vagueness, to
olnd him down to his chair, to make his heart
beat last, and to set him listening intently. No
sound stirred in the room but the familiar
sound of the rain against the window. louder
and sharper row than he had heard it vet.
Still the vague distrust, the inexpressible
dread, possessed him, and kept him in his chair.
tie had pat his carpet-bag on the table when
ne hrst entered the room; and he now took the
Key from his pocket, reached out his hand soft
~, opened the bag, and CROPPED in it for his
travelling wrltlngcase, in which he knew there
was small store of matches. When he had
got one OF the matches, he waited before he
struck 1t on the coarse wooden table, and list
ened lntenuy again, without knowing whv.
Still there was no sound in the room but the
steady, ceaseless, rafting sound of the rain.
de lighted the candle again, without another
moment OF delaY and, on the instant of IFS
burning up, the first object in the room that his
eyes sought for was the curtaned bed.
Just before the light had been put out, he
had looked in that direction, and had seen no
change, no arrangement of any sort, in the folds
of the closely. drawn curtains.
When he looked at the bed now. he saw.
hanging over the side of it, long, white hand.
III lay perfectly motionless, midway on the side
OF the bed, where the curtains at the head and
the curtains at the foot met Nothing more
was visible The clinging curtains hid every
thing but the long white hand.
He stood looking at it, unable to stir. unable
10 cry out feeling nothing, knowing nothing
every faculty he possessed gathered up. and lost
in the one seeing faculty. How long that 6rst
panic held him, he never could tell afterward.
1t might have been only for a moment. Il
might have been for many minutes together.
how he got to the bed--whether he ran to it
neadiong, or whether he approached it slowly
now ne wrought himself up to uncose the cur
talns and look in, he has never remembered
ana never will remember to his dying day. II
10 enough that he did 90 TO the bed. and that
he did look inside the curtains.
The man had moved. One of his arms vas
outside the clothes; his face was turned q IA.
tie on the pillow; bis eyelids were wide omen.
Changed as to position, and as to one of his
features, the face was otherwise fearfully and
wonderfully unaltered. The dead paleness and
the dead quiet were on it still.
. Un NED gl te Jahsaewed Arthur tbisnne Glance
The man whom the landlord called Ben "
was the first to appear on the stairs. In three
words, Arthur told him what had happened, and
sent him for the nearest Doctor.
l, who tell you this story, was then STAYING
with medical friend of mine, in practice at
Doncaster, taking care of his patients for him.
during his absence in London; and /, for the
time being, was the nearest Doctor. They had
sent for me from the Inn, when the stranger
was taken ill in the afternoon but was no:
at home, and medical assistance was soaeht for
elsewhere. When the man from The Two
Robins rang the night-bell, 1 was Just thinking
of going to bed. Naturally enough, did not
believe word Of his story about "a dead man
who had come to life again" However, / pnt
on my hat, armed myself with one or two bot
ties OF restorative medicine, and ran to the Inn,
expecting to ind nothing more remarkable
when got there than a patient in fit.
My surprise at finding that the man had
spoken the literal truth was almost, if not quite
equalled by my astonishment al finding myself
face to face with Arthur Holiday "a soon as
entered the bedroom. 1t was no time then for
giving or seeking explanations. We Just shook
hands amazedly; and then | ordered every
body but Arthur out Of the room, and hurried
to the man on the bed.
The kitchen fire had not been long out.
There was plenty of hot water in the boiler,
and plenty of flannel to be had. With these,
with my medicines, and with such help as Ar
thur could render under my direction, | drag.
ged the man, literally, out of the jaws of death
In less than an hour from the time when had
been called in, he was alive aad talking in the
bed on which he had been laid out to wait for
the Coroner's inquest.
You will naturally ask me what had been the
matter with him; and l might treat you, in
reply, to a long theory, plentifuly sprinkled
with, what the children call, hard words |
prefer telling you that. in this case, cause and
attacf QOnld ha &C.
by any theory whatever. There are mysteries
in life, and the conditions of it, which human
science has not fsthomed yet; and | candidly
confess to you that, in bringing that man back
to existence, was, morally speaking, cropping
haphazard in the dark l know from the test
imony OF the Doctor who attended him in the
afternoon) that the vital machinery, 80 far IA
It's action is appreciate by our senses, had in
this case unquestionably stopped; and | am
equally certain (seeing that | recovered him)
that the vital principle wss not extinct. When
| aid, that he had suffered from a long and
complicated illness, and that his whole nervous
system was utterly deranged, have told you
all | really know of the physical condition of
my deadalive patient at The Two Robins Inn.
When he came to-" as the phrase goes, he
was startling object TO look ct, with his color.
less face, his sunken cheeks, bis wild black
eyes, and bis long black hair. The first cues.
ton hs asked about himself, when he could
speak, made me suspect that had been called
in to man in my own profession. | men.
toned to him my surmise, and he told me that
l was right.
He said he had come last from Paris, where
he had been attached TO hospital; that he
had lately returned to England, on his way to
Edinburgh, to continue his studies; that he had
been taken i'll on the journey, and that he had
stopped to rest and recover himself at Don.
caster. de did not add a word about his name,
or VINO ne was, and of course / did not ques.