"It was arranged," said Emilius, after a pause, during which he
recalled with clearness the momentful history of the few short hours
which had sealed his brother's fate, "that Patricia should leave her
father's cottage at midnight, when her father was asleep. I was to
wait for her about a quarter of a mile from Mr. Carew's house with a
horse and cart, in which we were to travel to the lodgings I had taken
for her. This portion of our plan was successfully carried out, and
Patricia and I were journeying to our new home. It was midnight by my
watch when we started, and we had ridden for less than an hour when
Patricia was overtaken with a sudden faintness. I was alarmed, and
upon questioning her she said that she felt too weak to bear the
jolting of the cart. The fact is, she was exhausted and worn with
fatigue and anxiety. With her contemplated flight in her mind she had
had but little sleep for two or three nights; her strength was
overtaxed, and I saw that she needed immediate rest. I proposed that
we should stop for three or four hours, so that she could sleep
without disturbance, and upon my assuring her that we were quite safe
she gratefully acceded to my proposal. In a very short time I made
preparations for her repose; some hay I had brought with me furnished
her a tolerably comfortable bed, and I had also provided rugs, with
which I covered her. I took the horse from the cart, and tethered it,
and before this was accomplished Patricia was in a peaceful slumber.
"There was no fear of our being disturbed. We were in a secluded part
of the forest, which even in daylight is seldom traversed. The night
was fine, though dark. All being secure, I sat me down on some dry
moss by the side of the cart, and in a few moments was myself asleep.
I awoke suddenly and in terrible agitation. In outward aspect nothing
was changed. All was as I had left it but fifteen minutes ago; for,
upon consulting my watch by means of a lighted match, I found that I
had been asleep but a quarter of an hour. The horse was grazing
quietly and contentedly; Patricia was sleeping peacefully, and I
judged that she would continue to do so for many hours unless she were
aroused. Nature's demands upon her exhausted frame were imperative.
"Everything being so secure, what cause was there for agitation?
"The cause lay in myself, and had been created during the last few
minutes when I was in a state of unconsciousness. It seems incredible
that so much should have passed through my brain in so short a time,
but I have heard that a dream of years may take place in a moment's
sleep.
"I dreamt of my father and his brother, and I was living a dual
existence as it were, my father's and my own; and as I was associated
with him, so was my brother Eric with our uncle Kristel. There was a
strange similarity in the positions; as my father had flown, unknown
to his brother, with the woman he loved, so was I flying, unknown to
_my_ brother, with the woman to whom I was bound in strongest bonds of
love, and who had inspired in _his_ heart feelings akin to my own. The
tragic end of my father and uncle seemed to be woven into my life and
the life of my brother. It was a phantasmagoria of shadow, belonging
both to the past and the present; and it was succeeded by another,
which was the chief cause of my violent awaking.
"Eric was walking in the forest at some distance from the spot upon
which I was sleeping. I saw him distinctly, though he was walking
through darkness, and although I do not remember in my conscious
moments to have ever taken note of the particular conformation of the
ground and the arrangement of the trees, the scene, with all its
details of natural growth, was strangely familiar to me. And behind
him, unknown to himself, stalked a threatening Shadow, with Death in
its aspect. Then came a whisper, 'Your brother is in danger. Seek, and
warn him!'
"This spiritual whisper was in my ears when I awoke.
"'Seek, and warn him!' It was clearly my duty. Such visitations had
come to my father, and were fatally realised. Dare I neglect the
warning?
"But what was to be done must be done instantly and without delay.
Could I leave Patricia? I leant over her, and gently called her name.
She did not reply. I softly shook her, but did not succeed in arousing
her. And while I was thus engaged I continued to hear the whisper,
'Your brother is in danger. Seek, and warn him!'
"I decided. Patricia could be safely left for a little while. If I
awoke her she would probably prevail upon me to remain with her, and I
might have cause in all my after life to reproach myself for having
neglected the spiritual warning. To be lightly regarded perhaps by
other men, but not by me. I was Silvain's son.
"I wrote on a leaf torn from my pocketbook, 'Do not be alarmed at my
absence; I shall be back at sunrise. There is something I have
forgotten, which must be done immediately. Sleep in peace. All is
well.--Your lover and husband, EMILIUS.' I pinned this paper at her
breast, arranged the rugs securely about her, and left her.
"I cannot describe to you how I was directed, but I plunged without
hesitation and in perfect confidence into the labyrinths of the
forest, and my steps were directed aright. I walked swiftly, and
recognised certain natural aspects made familiar to me in my dreams.
And in little more than an hour I saw Eric a few yards ahead of me,
strolling aimlessly and in a disturbed mood. I called to him.
"'Eric!'
"'Emilius!'
"But there was no friendliness in his tone.
"'It is you who have been dogging me!' he cried.
"'I have but this moment arrived,' I replied.
"'In search of me?'
"'Yes, my dear brother,' I said, passing my arm around him. 'We must
speak together, in love and confidence, as we have ever done.'
"Already he was softened, and I breathed a grateful sigh.
"'Have you been followed, Eric?' I asked.
"'I do not know,' he replied. 'I cannot say. I have been racked and
tormented by torturing fancies. Trees have taken ominous shapes;
shadows have haunted me; my mind is distraught; my heart is bleeding!'
"It would occupy me for too long a time to narrate circumstantially
all that passed between me and Eric on that our last interview.
Suffice it that I succeeded to some extent in calming him, that I
succeeded in making him understand that I had done him no conscious
wrong; that Patricia was my wife and loved me.
"'Had it been your lot, Eric,' I said, 'to have won her love, I should
have suffered as you are suffering; but believe me, my dear brother,
that I should have endeavoured to bear my sufferings like a man. It
lay not with us that this should have occurred; it lay with Patricia.
It is not so much our happiness, but hers, that is at stake.'
"It is a consolation to me in my present peril to know that I
succeeded in wooing him back to our old relations, in which we were
guided wholly and solely by brotherly love. You are not to believe
that this was accomplished without difficulty. There were, on his
side, paroxysms of rebellion and despair, in one of which--after he
had learned that I and Patricia were man and wife--he cried, 'Well,
kill me, for I do not care to live!' These were the words heard by the
witness who has testified against me. They bear, I well know, an
injurious construction, but my conscience is not disturbed. My heart
is--and I am racked by a torture which threatens to undermine my
reason when I think of my wife and unborn child.
"At length peace was established between me and my dear brother. And
then it was that I told him of my dream, and of the uncontrollable
impulse which had urged me to seek for him in the forest. I asked him
to accompany me back to Patricia, but he said that was impossible, and
that he could not endure the agony of it. I put myself in his place,
and recognised that his refusal was natural. But I could not entirely
dismiss my fears for his safety. Eric, however, refused to share them.
'What is to be will be,' he said; 'otherwise it would not have been
fated that our father and his brother--twins, as we are--should have
loved the same woman, and that we should have done the same.'
"I was anxious to get back to Patricia, and I left him in the forest.
I knew nothing further until I was arrested and thrown into prison."
"An innocent man?" said Doctor Louis.
"As innocent as yourself," was Emilius's reply.