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“‘Hurry, please, sir,’ said the maid; ‘she is very impatient, and I cannot explain to her.’

“Thus reassured, Jaqui followed the maid.”

“The quick temper of Donna Paltravi reminds me of Edmond About’s story of ‘The Man with the Broken Ear,'” said the Mistress of the House. “The hero of that story was a soldier who had been preserved in a dried condition for many years, and who proved to be a very bad subject when he had been dampened and revived.”

“I have read that novel,” said John Gayther, considerably to the surprise of both his hearers, “and it belongs to the same class as mine,–of course you know all stories are arranged in classes,–but the one I am telling you is much more natural and true to life than the one written by the Frenchman.”

“I am quite ready to believe that,” said the Mistress of the House. “Now please go on.”

The Daughter of the House did not say anything, but she looked very earnestly at the gardener; the conviction was forcing itself upon her that John Gayther himself had a story, and she hoped that some day she might hear it.

“Jaqui was very much surprised when he saw Donna Paltravi. He had seen her face so often that he was perfectly familiar with it, but now he found it had changed. In color it was not as lifelike as it had been in the box. She was pale, and somewhat excited. ‘My maid tells me you are a doctor, sir,’ said she. ‘But why do you come to me? If I need a doctor, and my husband is away, why is not Dr. Torquino here?’

“‘Madam,’ said Jaqui, his voice faltering a little, ‘you will excuse the intrusion of a stranger when I tell you that Dr. Torquino is dead.'”

“Rather abrupt,” said the Mistress of the House.

“He could not help it, madam,” said John Gayther; “it popped out of his head. But it did not matter; Donna Paltravi had a quick perception. ‘Oh,’ she exclaimed, ‘and I not know it!’ Then she stopped and looked steadfastly at Jaqui. ‘I see,’ she said slowly; ‘I have been in one of my trances.’ Then she grew still paler. ‘But my husband, he is not dead? Tell me he is not dead!’ she cried.

“‘Oh, no,’ exclaimed Jaqui; ‘he is alive and well, and will be with you very soon.’ Donna Paltravi’s face lighted with an expression of great happiness; her color returned; and she looked almost as handsome as when she had been lying in the box. ‘Blessed be the holy Mary!’ said she. ‘If he is well it does not matter what has happened. How long have I been in a trance?’

“‘I cannot say exactly,’ replied Jaqui, very much afraid to speak the truth; ‘in fact, I was not here when you went into it: but–‘

“‘Oh, never mind, never mind!’ she exclaimed. ‘My husband will tell me everything. I would much rather he should do so. But what ugly-fashioned clothes you are wearing, sir! Does everybody dress in that way now, or is it only doctors? I am sure I must have been asleep for a good while, and that I shall see some wonderful things. It is quite delightful to think of it. I can scarcely wait until my husband comes. I want him to tell me everything.’

“When the greatly relieved Jaqui returned with this news he threw Dr. Paltravi into a state of rapture. His wife knew what had happened; she had not been shocked; she understood; and, above everything else, she longed to see him! After all these forty years he was now–this minute–to be with her again! She was longing to see him! With all the vigor of youth he bounded up the stairs.

“Now,” said John Gayther, “we will pass over an interval of time.”

“I think that will be very well indeed!” the Mistress of the House said approvingly.

“Not a long one, I hope,” said her daughter, “for this is a breathless point in the story. I have worked it out in my own mind in three different ways already.”