VIII.
"It was arranged," said Emilius, after a pause, during which herecalled with clearness the momentful history of the few short hourswhich had sealed his brother's fate, "that Patricia should leave herfather's cottage at midnight, when her father was asleep. I was towait for her about a quarter of a mile from Mr. Carew's house with ahorse and cart, in which we were to travel to the lodgings I had takenfor her. This portion of our plan was successfully carried out, andPatricia and I were journeying to our new home. It was midnight by mywatch when we started, and we had ridden for less than an hour whenPatricia was overtaken with a sudden faintness. I was alarmed, andupon questioning her she said that she felt too weak to bear thejolting of the cart. The fact is, she was exhausted and worn withfatigue and anxiety. With her contemplated flight in her mind she hadhad but little sleep for two or three nights; her strength wasovertaxed, and I saw that she needed immediate rest. I proposed thatwe should stop for three or four hours, so that she could sleepwithout disturbance, and upon my assuring her that we were quite safeshe gratefully acceded to my proposal. In a very short time I madepreparations for her repose; some hay I had brought with me furnishedher a tolerably comfortable bed, and I had also provided rugs, withwhich 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 partof the forest, which even in daylight is seldom traversed. The nightwas fine, though dark. All being secure, I sat me down on some drymoss by the side of the cart, and in a few moments was myself asleep.I awoke suddenly and in terrible agitation. In outward aspect nothingwas 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 Ihad been asleep but a quarter of an hour. The horse was grazingquietly and contentedly; Patricia was sleeping peacefully, and Ijudged that she would continue to do so for many hours unless she werearoused. 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 fewminutes when I was in a state of unconsciousness. It seems incrediblethat 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'ssleep.
"I dreamt of my father and his brother, and I was living a dualexistence as it were, my father's and my own; and as I was associatedwith him, so was my brother Eric with our uncle Kristel. There was astrange similarity in the positions; as my father had flown, unknownto 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 oflove, and who had inspired in _his_ heart feelings akin to my own. Thetragic end of my father and uncle seemed to be woven into my life andthe life of my brother. It was a phantasmagoria of shadow, belongingboth 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 uponwhich I was sleeping. I saw him distinctly, though he was walkingthrough darkness, and although I do not remember in my consciousmoments to have ever taken note of the particular conformation of theground and the arrangement of the trees, the scene, with all itsdetails of natural growth, was strangely familiar to me. And behindhim, unknown to himself, stalked a threatening Shadow, with Death inits aspect. Then came a whisper, 'Your brother is in danger. Seek, andwarn him!'
"This spiritual whisper was in my ears when I awoke.
"'Seek, and warn him!' It was clearly my duty. Such visitations hadcome to my father, and were fatally realised. Dare I neglect thewarning?
"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 arousingher. 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 Iawoke her she would probably prevail upon me to remain with her, and Imight have cause in all my after life to reproach myself for havingneglected the spiritual warning. To be lightly regarded perhaps byother men, but not by me. I was Silvain's son.
"I wrote on a leaf torn from my pocketbook, 'Do not be alarmed at myabsence; I shall be back at sunrise. There is something I haveforgotten, which must be done immediately. Sleep in peace. All iswell.--Your lover and husband, EMILIUS.' I pinned this paper at herbreast, arranged the rugs securely about her, and left her.
"I cannot describe to you how I was directed, but I plunged withouthesitation and in perfect confidence into the labyrinths of theforest, and my steps were directed aright. I walked swiftly, andrecognised 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 mustspeak 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 andtormented 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 circumstantiallyall that passed between me and Eric on that our last interview.Suffice it that I succeeded to some extent in calming him, that Isucceeded in making him understand that I had done him no consciouswrong; that Patricia was my wife and loved me.
"'Had it been your lot, Eric,' I said, 'to have won her love, I shouldhave suffered as you are suffering; but believe me, my dear brother,that I should have endeavoured to bear my sufferings like a man. Itlay 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 Isucceeded in wooing him back to our old relations, in which we wereguided wholly and solely by brotherly love. You are not to believethat this was accomplished without difficulty. There were, on hisside, paroxysms of rebellion and despair, in one of which--after hehad 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 thewitness who has testified against me. They bear, I well know, aninjurious construction, but my conscience is not disturbed. My heartis--and I am racked by a torture which threatens to undermine myreason when I think of my wife and unborn child.
"At length peace was established between me and my dear brother. Andthen it was that I told him of my dream, and of the uncontrollableimpulse which had urged me to seek for him in the forest. I asked himto accompany me back to Patricia, but he said that was impossible, andthat 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 entirelydismiss my fears for his safety. Eric, however, refused to share them.'What is to be will be,' he said; 'otherwise it would not have beenfated that our father and his brother--twins, as we are--should haveloved 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.