The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1874-11-18

S~eoAhS> eo was lucllueu 10 Iuluk, from
some passing confusion in his thoughts which
II always cost him little effort to discipline
and overcome. Does it surprise you to find
how close observed man who was only
chance acquaintance, at my first interview
with him? Or do your suspicious enlighten
yon, and do you say to yourself, She has
fallen in love with Mr.. Roland Cameron at
first sight? l may plead in my own defense
that was not quite romantic enough to go
that length. But own l waited tor his next
visit in impatience which was new to me in
my experience of my sober self. And, worse
still, when the day came, 1 changed my dress
three times, before my newly-developed van
ity was satisfied with the picture which the
looking-glass presented to me of myself!
In a fortnight more my father and my
brother began to look on the daily compan-
ionship of our new friend as one of the set
tied institutions of their lives. In fortnight
more Mr.. Roland Cameron and Though
we neither of us ventured to acknowledge it
were as devotedly in love with each other as
two young people could well be. All, what
a delightful time it was, and how cruelty soon
our happiness came to an end!
During the brief interval which have just
described, observed certain peculiarities in
Roland Cameron's conduct which perpleXed
and troubled me, when my mind was busy
For instance, he was subject to the strang-
est lapses into silence when he and l were
talking together. At these times his eyes as
sumed weary, absent look, and his mind
seemed to wander away-far from the con-
versation and far from me. He was perfect
ly unaware of his own infirmity; he fell into
it unconsciously, and came out OF it uncOn-
sciously. III noticed that he had not been
attending to me, or if l asked why he had
been silent, he was completely at a loss to
comprehend what l meant. l puzzled and
distressed him. What he was thinking of in
these pauses of silence, it was impossible to
guess. His face, at other times singularly
mobile and expressive, became almost per-
feet blank. Had he suffered some terrible
shock, at some past period OF his life? and
had his mind never quite recovered it? l
longed TO ask him the question, and yet
shrank from doing it. was SO sadly afraid
of distressing him; or, to put it in palmer
words, was so truly and so tenderly fond of
him.
Then, again, though he was ordinarily,
sincerely believe, the most gentle and most
lovable of men, there were occasions when
he would surprise me by violent outbreaks of
temper, excited by the merest trifes. A dog
barking suddenly at his heels, or a boy
throwing stones in the road, or an importu-
nate shop-keeper trying to make him pur-
chase something that he did not want, would
throw him into frenzy of rage which was
without exaggeration, really frightful to see.
He always apologized for these outbreaks, in
terms which showed that he was sincerely
ashamed of his own violence. But he could
lapses into passion, like the lapses into 81
lence, took him into their own possession,
ond did with him, ior the time being, just
what thew pleased.
One more example of Roland's peculiari.
ties, and have done. The strangeness of
his conduct, in this case, was noticed by my
father and my brother as well as by me.
When Roland was with us in the evening,
whether he came to dinner or to tea, he in
variably left us at exactly nine O'Clock. Try
as we might to persuade him to stay longer,
he always politely but positively refused.
Even I had no influence over him in this
matter. When I pressed him to remain
though It'll cost him an effort-he still retired
exactly as the clock struck nine. He gave no
reason for this strange proceeding; he only
said that it was habit of his, and begged
us to indulge him in it, without asking for
an explanation. My father and brother (be-
ing men) succeeded in controlling their Gu
riosity. For my part (being woman) every
day that passed only made me more!and more
eager to penetrate the mystery. privately
resolved to choose my time, when Roland was
in particularly accessible humor, and then
to appeal to him for the explanation which
he had hitherto refused, as special favor to
myself
In two days more found an opportunity.
Some friends of our, who had Joined us at
Eastbourne, proposed a picnic party to the
famous neighboring cliff called Beachey Head.
We accepted the invitation. The day was
lovely, and the gypsey dinner was, as usual,
infinitely preferable flor once in way) to a
formal dinner indoors. Towards evening
our little assembly separated into parties Of
twos and threes to explore the neighborhood.
Roland and found ourselves together, as a
matter of course. We were happy, and we
time to ask the fatal question? I am not
able to decide; only know that I asked
it.
s'Mr. Cameron" said, twill yon make
allowances for weak woman ?-and will you
tell me something that am dying to know ?'
lie walked straight into the trap-with
that entire absence of ready wit or small sus-
picion q leave you to choose the right
phrase) which is so much like men, and so
little like women.
"Of course, will p he answered.
"Then tell me-" asked, 'why you al
ways insist on leaving us at o'clock?"
He started, aud looked at me-so sadly, so
reproachfully-th would have given every
thing possessed to recall the rash words
that had just passed my lips.
eff consent to tell you," he replied-af-
ter momentary struggle with himself, twill
you let me put question to you rst?-and
will you promise to answer ?'
gave him my promise, and waited eager
ly for what was coming next.
''Miss Brading,'' he said. ''tell me honest
ly-do you think am mad?"
1t was impossible tc laugh at him ; he spoke
those strange words seriously-sternly, 1
might almost say.
mo such thought ever entered my head"
I answered.
He looked at me very earnestly.
'You say that, on your word of honor?"
"On my word and honor"
I answered with perfect sincerity; and I
evidently satisfied him that had spoken the
truth. He took my had, and lifted it CRATE
fully to his lips.
'Thank you,' he said simply. "You en-
courage me to tell you very sad story"
"Your own story % I asked.
'My own story. Let me begin by telling
you why persist in leaving your house, al
ways at the same early hour. Whenever 1
60 out, / am bound by a promise to the per-
son with whom am living at Eastbourne, to
return at a quarter past nine o'clock"
1.-THE person with whom you are living ?"
repeated. ''You are living at a boarding
house, are you not2'
81 am living, Miss Brading, under the care
of a doctor who keeps an asylum for the in
sane. He has taken house for some of his
wealthier patients, at the sea side; and he al
lows me my liberty in the day time, on con-
dition that 1 faithfully perform my promise
at night. 1t is quarter of an hours walk
from your house to the Doctors; and it is a
rule that the patients retire atIhalfpast nine
O'clock
Here was the mystery which had so sorely
perpleXed me, revealed at last! The dlsclos-
ure literally struck me speeches.. Uncon-
sciously and instinctively drew back from
him few steps. He fixed his sad eyes on
me with touching look of entreaty.
"Don't shrink away from mer' he said.
''You don't think am mad"
1 was too confused and distressed to know
what to say-and, at the same time, I was
too fond of him not to answer that appeal.
took his hand and pressed it in silence. He
turned his head aside for a moment.
thought saw tear on his cheek. 1 felt his
hand close tremblingly on mine. He mas
tered himself with surprising resolution; he
spoke with perfect composure when he
looked at me again.