FullReads

When the two ladies came to the bed where the beans were to be planted, the gardener found that he had not mistaken their errand.

“John,” said the Mistress of the House, “I hear you tell a very good story, and I want you to tell me one. Let us find a shady place.”

There was a pretty summer-house on the upper terrace, a shady place where the air was cool and the view was fine; and there they went: but there was no need of John Gayther’s making any pretence of trimming up pea-sticks this time.

“I have a story,” said he, his stool at a respectful distance from the two ladies, who were seated on a bench outside the little house.

“Is it about yourself?” asked the Daughter of the House.

“No, miss, not this time,” he answered.

“I am sorry for that,” she said, “for I like to think of people doing the things they tell about. But I suppose we can’t have that every time.”

“Oh, no,” said her mother; “and if John has an interesting story about anybody else, let him tell it.”

The gardener began promptly. “The name of this story is ‘The Lady in the Box,'” said he, “and, with the exception of the lady, the principal personage in it was a young man who lived in Florence toward the end of the last century.”

“And how did you come to know the story?” asked the Daughter of the House. “Has it ever been told before?”

Now there was need to assert himself, if John Gayther did not wish to lose grace with his hearers, and he was equal to the occasion. “It has never been printed,” said he, quietly but boldly. “It came to me in the most straightforward way, step by step.”

“Very good,” said the Mistress of the House; “I like a story to come in that way.”

“The young man, whose name was Jaqui,” continued John Gayther, “was of good parts, but not in very good circumstances. He was a student of medicine, and was the assistant of a doctor, which means that he did all the hard work, such as attending to the shop, mixing the drugs, and even going out to see very poor patients in bad weather. Jaqui’s employer–master, in fact–was Dr. Torquino, an elderly man of much reputation in his town. The doctor expected Jaqui to be his successor, and as the years went on the younger man began to visit patients in good circumstances who fell sick in fine weather. At last Dr. Torquino made a bargain with Jaqui by which the latter was to pay certain sums of money to the old man’s heirs, and then the stock and good-will of the establishment were formally made over to him; and, shortly afterwards, the old doctor died. But before his death he told Jaqui everything that it was necessary for him to know in regard to the property and the business to which he had succeeded.

“Torquino’s house was a very good one, consisting of three floors. On the ground floor were the shop, the private office, and the living-rooms. The old doctor and Jaqui lodged on the third floor. The second floor was very handsomely furnished, but was not then occupied–at least, not in the ordinary way. It belonged to Dr. Paltravi, the old doctor’s former partner; a somewhat younger man, and married. He had been greatly attached to his wife, and had furnished these rooms to suit her fancy. He was a scientific man, and much more devoted to making curious experiments than he was to the ordinary practice of medicine and surgery. In a small room on this floor, at the very back of the house, was Donna Paltravi, in a box.”

“Was she dead?” exclaimed the Daughter of the House.

“It was believed by Dr. Torquino that she was not, but he could not be sure of it.”

“And her husband?” asked the elder lady. “Was he dead?”