Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1885-10-11

over. lately had Suspicion, from c,''""'
sensstions In that organ. that bis heart
was Affected. ~ am not naturally :
nervous subject" he added with mel
ascholy smile. /" but At present . sm
ne better than an old woman, Paul.
fear YOU will find me quite ruin, per-
bsps beyond the capacity OF your art
TO restere.."
sent without delay for my bag, pro-
duced = stctheocopc, and examined him
carefully. / could find nothing wrong.
On the contrary, all the important or
sans Of the body we're in sound condi-
ton. The nervousness, together with
the resulting insomnia OF which he
spoke, proceeded, therefore, from some
outer cause, which it now became my
business to discover. The supposed
affection Of the heart was merely i'm
sginary.
Froissart," ] said, when ! had I'm
ed, 81 can only account for your state
by supposing you to be subject to some
secret cause Of agitation Of which you
have not spoken. If such be the case,
you must not hide it, or i can do
nothing for you"
As said these words Froissart
started and regarded Inc with agitation,
but he was silent. The action was not
lost on me. did not think III TO in
crease his disturbance expressing the
question further, but paused mo
ment so as to give him space to answer
if he pleased. lie understood my Sc
lence.
at is just" he said at length, lit
is very just. ] will not hide it. l
havt--I have q most strange story to
tell you, Paul. And it is because it is
so strange, so unsccountable, so in
credible, that / hesitate to tell it, lest
you think me mad or dreaming"
He paused the tone was peculiar.
waited with much curiosity for him
to continue. But my curiosity was
doomed for the time to disappoint-
ment.
But not now" he said, after mo-
ment's hesitation, "not now. This is
neither the time nor the place, and l
am ashamed to have kept you here talk
ing about my ailments when you must
be dying Of hunger. 1t is true that if
| lived like hermit in a rock could
hardly be more solitary than i am, but
my fare is somewhat better than an an
chorite's, as hope to show you.
Come"
Froissart had not exaggerated when
he likcned himself in solitude to her
nit. His establishment, it appeared,
consisted Of himself alone, together with
. few domestics necessary for his re-
quirements. Notwithstanding this, the
dinner to which we sat down was OK
cellent; the wine was choice, and ]
secretly applauded Froisart's good
sense and taste. am no bon riuGnt,
vet | confess | have much SYM
psthy with the dictum Of the great hui
morist, {" shrink instinctively from one
who processes to like minced veal" 1
noticed, however, that Froissart him.
self ate little, though he drank with less
sign from which BODIED
i'll. need not say that | observed him
with attention--at least | need not say
SO to one Of my profession. No lynx,
no eagle has, nor needs to have, such
eyes as physician. And | was ply
sician watching a friend.
As we dined our conversation, as
might have been expected, turned upon
The events which had filled the lives Of
each Of us during the twenty years or
more which had elapsed since we had
parted. Froissart's life, as he related
it, had, however, been singularly un-
eyentful one, while, at the same time,
it had been essentially characteristic of
the man. Many years before, he told
me, he had fallen in with the owner
of that house, and had accepted
an invitation to pass few days in
his company. A strong community Of
tastes drew together host and guest
days flew by, and still Froissart linger-
ed days passed into weeks, weeks into
months into years, and still he
and old Martin Sombras-an old bach
elor like himself-lived together in the
solitary mansion. The life suited them
both, and. what is more singular, they
suited each other. Their days were oc-
cupied in scientific Investigations, in
which both took much interest. Their
evenings passed in playing chess, which
game was in Sombras an engrossing
passion.
They had lived together uninterrupt-
edly till three months ago, when old
Martin Sombras suddenly died, leaving
the house and the whole Of his property.
which was considerable, TO his COM
panion Of SO many years. Since that
time Froissart had lived absolutely
alone, nor had he even crossed the lake
since the day on which he had seen his
old friend carried to the grave" That
lake" he so expressed himself, over
which all worldly rumor flies as slowly,
and perishes as surely, as birds that
wandered Of old over the waters of
Aornis."
As Froissart spoke, a picture arose in
my mind S eye. ] saw again the gloomy
water as it was when had crossed it in
the afternoon-black, impenetrable,
stilled as night and death. The fancy
struck me at the moment to ask Frois-
sart the cause Of the remarkable ap-
pesrance of the water-so lustrous, yet
so sombre.
81 suppose" | said, 1.-THE lake is
unusually deep?"
Deep? "he repeated. "You are
right; it is so. How deep | am unable
to tell you. There is an old saying in
the neighborhood that it reaches to the
centre Of the earth; and the legend,
however absurd, shows that the ex-
IRENE depth Of the water has been long
known. tits, ! believe, an undoubtsd
fact that the lake has never been
fathomed.
Froissart rose from the table as he
spoke and led the way back to the
library, where our coffee was brought
to us by man-servant. Evening had
now closed in, and the burning fire
and lighted lamp made the room
look warm and comfortable. And
yet l felt, without precisely knowing
why, q curious uneasiness. Perhaps,
scarcely recognized by nv self, the recol.