A DREAMER OF DREAMS.
It was with considerable astonishment that Dan saw Dr. Merle
approaching the dell. That so habitual a recluse should break through
his customary rules, and visit a comparative stranger showed that he
must be influenced by a powerful motive. What that motive might be Dan
was unable to conjecture, but hurriedly fixed on the only reason
likely to account for the unexpected presence of his guest. It might
be, Dan thought, that Merle had heard rumours of his attentions to
Meg; and, therefore, had come to demand an explanation. This Dan was
quite prepared to give, and, indeed, rather congratulated himself on
the opportunity thus afforded of placing matters on a proper footing.
His expectation was vain, for it soon appeared from the ensuing
conversation that Merle had sought an interview for an entirely
different purpose.
Although it was a warm day, the wretched creature shivered as he came
down the path, and blinked his eyes constantly in the unaccustomed
sunshine. For so many years he had lived in that darkened room, that
the access of light and the keen air rendered him uncomfortable. He
was wrapped up as though it were winter, and crawled feebly along with
the aid of a staff. With his pallid face, loose mouth, and red-rimmed
eyes, he looked a most pitiable object, and Dan secretly wondered that
this decrepit wreck should be the father of so splendid a specimen of
womanhood as Meg.
"A most undesirable father-in-law," said Dan to himself, as he went
forward to assist his visitor. "But there is one comfort--he cannot
live much longer. Even now he looks as though about to tumble into his
grave."
In order to pay this visit Merle had evidently omitted to take his
usual dose of laudanum; but in place of such abstinence rendering his
brain clear, it made him weak and irritable. The sudden cessation of
the drug unstrung his nerves and clouded his intellect, so that he
sank on the log, to which Dan conducted him, in a state of mental and
physical collapse. His breath came in quick gasps, his hands trembled,
and his lean body shook as with the palsy. In all his experience, Dan
had never seen so degenerate a specimen of the human race. Much as he
despised him, yet he could not refrain from pitying the creature. He
was so weak and prostrate and broken up.
All this time Merle said nothing, his whole attention being taken up
in getting himself settled. When on the log, he coughed, and wiped the
perspiration off his brow, and shivered and shook, until able to
speak. It was quite five minutes before he could do so, and all the
time Dan, after a brief word of welcome, held his peace, and eyed his
visitor with strong curiosity.
"Ow, ow!" coughed Merle, weakly. "What a hill that is to climb! I
haven't climbed one for years. Why do you live in this out-of-the-way
place? It is quite a journey from my house."
"Why did you not send word that you wished to see me, Dr. Merle?" said
Dan, gently. "Had you done so I should have called at your house, and
so saved you the journey."
"I didn't want you to call, young man. Meg would have asked the reason
of your visit, and I do not wish her to know what I have to say."
"Indeed! Does it then concern her?" said Dan, anxiously.
"No! It has nothing to do with her," retorted Merle, querulously; "why
should it? I wish to speak of myself, and of Miss Linisfarne, and of
you."
"Well, and what have you to say?" asked Dan, guessing from this speech
that the errand had something to do with the rumours pervading Farbis.
"You must not be offended, young man."
"I can safely promise you that," said Dan, with veiled contempt;
"nothing you could say would offend me. Pray proceed, Dr. Merle! I am
all attention."
"It is said that you are in love with Miss Linisfarne!"
"So I have heard before."
"Is it true?" demanded Merle, eagerly, putting out one shaking
hand--"is it true?"
Dan did not answer at once. That two such different individuals as
Tinker Tim and Dr. Merle should display emotion in regard to Miss
Linisfarne astonished him greatly. He could not conceive what
influence that faded old woman could exercise over the recluse and the
gipsy; the more so as neither, so far as he knew, had ever set eyes on
the lady. It had been impossible to get the truth out of Tim; but
there was a possibility of forcing a weak creature like Merle to
explain himself. This Dan determined to do, and so spoke with
forethought and deliberation.
"Is it true?" said Merle again, seeing that the young man kept silent.
"Before I answer that question I must ask you to explain your
connection with Miss Linisfarne."
Merle stared at him with a terrified expression, and could hardly
force his dry lips to speak. When he did manage to find his tongue it
was to tell an untruth.
"I have no connection with Miss Linisfarne. All the time she has been
in Farbis I have never seen her."
"Then why trouble to ask if I love her?"
"Because you have no right to love her," replied Merle, vehemently. "I
forbid you--I forbid you! I shall speak to Tinker Tim. I--I----"
His voice faltered and died away in his throat, for Dan had seized him
by the shoulder, and was speaking to him in a very peremptory manner.
"There must be an end to this, Dr. Merle," he said decisively. "I
cannot allow you to meddle with my private affairs without having some
explanation. You spoke of Miss Linisfarne--you speak of Tinker Tim.
Between the three of you there is some understanding. Now, what is
it?"
"I daren't tell," whimpered the wretched creature, thoroughly
frightened by this vehemence. "There is nothing--nothing."
"Yes, there is! Out with it, sir. Before you leave this place I must
know."
Merle half arose from his seat as to escape; but Dan, now thoroughly
angry at what he regarded as an unjustifiable interference, forced him
down. The man snarled and muttered. Like a rat driven into a corner he
turned at bay.
"I shan't tell you!"
"I'll drop you into the well if you don't," said Dan, grimly. "I'm not
going to have you and Tim interfering with my business without knowing
your reasons."
"Has Tim been here?"
"He left as you came. I wonder you did not meet him. And he asked me
the same question as you have done. What business is it of yours or of
his if I marry Miss Linisfarne? It has nothing to do with you."
"Yes, it has--yes, it has! I love her--I love her!"
"How can that be, when, by your own confession, you never saw her till
you came to Farbis?"
"I didn't say that! I said that I had not seen her since she came to
Farbis."
"Indeed! Then you knew her before she settled at the Court?"
"Yes! I--that is--oh, don't ask me any more!" said Merle, in an
hysterical manner. "I can't tell you. If Tinker Tim knew he would kill
me."
The alarm of the man was so genuine that Dan soothed him with soft
words, as one would soothe a frightened child. And, indeed, Merle was
little else, for the pernicious drug had effectually destroyed his
manhood, and converted him into a nervous, irresponsible being.
"Don't be afraid, Merle," said Dan, quietly; "no one shall hurt you. I
can protect you from Tim; only tell me all!"
"I cannot tell you about Tim, for I know hardly anything of him. But I
can tell you my own story."
"Very good; do so! Tim has promised to tell me his later on.
Meanwhile, let me hear yours. You say you knew Miss Linisfarne?"
"Yes, twenty-three years ago, it may be more. I have quite lost count
of time."
"I don't wonder at that," said Dan, gravely.
"I--I only use it to soothe my pain," said Merle, hurriedly. "It makes
me dream, and forget the past. If you only knew how I have been
tortured--how I am tortured by memory--how burdensome my life is to
me, you would not grudge me the drug which enables me to bear my
accursed existence."
"Why are you tortured by memory? Have you committed a crime?"
"No! Do I look like a criminal! My sole crime is in having loved this
woman too well. My name is not Merle--what it is does not matter.
Three and twenty years ago I was a man, not a creature like I am now;
but a man with a career before me. I met with Laura Linisfarne and
loved her. She said she loved me, and then we were engaged. I lived in
a fool's paradise for some months, and then found out her treachery,
her wickedness. She ruined my life; she made me an outcast and a
bye-word. I followed her here--to the exile to which her sin had
condemned her. For years I have not seen her, but watched over her
agony. For every pang I have felt, she has likewise suffered, for she
has no opium to dull the stings of memory. If she says she loves you,
she lies. She is a viper, a devil, a fiend! Were I strong enough, I
would kill her! I was a man once--now look at me!"
He sprang to his feet and stretched out his arms. A look of fury
distorted his face, and he shook like a reed.
"Look at me!" he cried. "This is he that was once Richard Mallard!"
"Ah! Mallard--not Merle."
"Oh, what have I said--what have I said?" cried Merle, with a sudden
revulsion of feeling. "I did not mean to tell you my name, I--I----"
"Hush, hush, no harm is done."
"You know my secret; I shall tell you no more. Let me go--let me go.
If you would know more, ask Tim. He can tell you why I came here--how
bitterly I have suffered at the hands of that woman. And now she would
marry you. Avoid her--avoid her, or she will ruin you as she has done
me!"
"She will not marry me. I don't love her," said Dan, slowly. "I am in
love with your daughter Meg; I want to marry her."
Merle looked at him with a dazed expression, then tossed up his arms,
and, with a sudden access of strength, ran away up the path, laughing
hysterically.
"Ha! ha! you love my daughter," he cried, shrilly. "Go and tell Laura
so! It will make her suffer. After all these years her sin has found
her out. Go! go! tell her all! It will fill the measure of my
revenge."
He disappeared, still laughing loudly, and Dan could hear the echoes
of that cruel mirth dying away in the distance. Astonished as he was
at the way in which Merle had received his announcement, he made no
attempt to follow; but, without changing his position, reflected on
his course of action. His decision was soon made.
"I shall see Jarner," he said, "and then Miss Linisfarne."