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V ^' TOBONTO : THE TORONTO NEWS COMPANY. r .&.- Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one thousand eight hundred and eighty-nine, by Stuart Livingston, in the office of the Minister ot Agriculture. I ■ i \ I'i^&am^: THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL HAVE been asked so many times by my brother Artists, to whom I had read extracts from them, to transcribe my entire notes of the history of Professor Paul, that I have at last decided to do so. They contain the story of his life almost word for word as he related it to me, for I always made it my first duty during the continuance of my interviews with him to write down each morning all that he had told me upon the previous evening. This I did with so much care, and at the same time endeavoured, as far as my memory would allow, to preserve the very language which he used in its narration, that the reader, who cares to interest himself in this history, will no doubt become quite as well acquainted with Professor Paul as I was myself. These notes have been in my possession now for nearly seven years, and during that time, they have been read and handled so repeatedly by my friends, that when I came to THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. If transcribe them I found that in places the writing vras completely obliterated. Whenever this was the case, however, I did not hesi- tate to draw upon my memory to supply the missing part, as I always found it was very dear and decided ; but I have never resorted to this expedient unless it was abso- lutely necessary for me to do so in order to rendci- the story intelligible. This has not occurred except at very rare intervals ; and the reader may safely rely upon the accuracy of this trans- cription. Indeed I may add that after it was completed, it was carefully compared with the original notes, and was found to be correct in every particular, with the exception of the few passages to which I have have already alluded. The reader will also find, related at the end of these notes, a brief account of some events in the life of Professor Paul, which afterwards came u:^der my personal observa- tion, and which I have found to be so intimately connected with the history as set out in the notes, that I have thought it would be unwise to separate them. I am unable now after so great a lapse of time, to recollect how it was that Professor Paul came to single me out as the person to whom he should relate his history, but after reading the first few passages of my notes I find that it was evidently at his request that I first began to listen to it. The notes begin as follows : THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 3 fT^ I. WENT down to see Professor Paul the next evening as I had promised. He had requested me to lay aside all ceremony, and come at once upon my arrival into the little room behind the shop, and this I accordingly did. I found a bright coal fire burning cheer- fully in the grate, and before it, in a large arm chair, sat the old man apparently in deep meditation. He was seemingly so engrossed with his thoughts, that he did not notice my entrance, and continued still to sit in silence, so without waiting longer I drew a chair up to the fire and sat down. It was sometime after this, that awaking from his reverie, he happened to turn his glance in my direction and for the first time became awar^of my presence. He looked at me for a moment with a somewhat questioning glance, and then as if recollecting something said slowly : *' Ah, yes, now I remember. It is very good of you to come, my friend. I am afraid you will find m/ history very uninteresting, but it has now at last become necessary that I should relate it to someone, and as you were a brother artist I somehow thought you would be the most likely to give me a patient hearing. I will try and make it as brief as I can, and as there remains a considerable time before the day upon which it must be finished, I will be careful to distribute it over as many evenings as possi- ble, that you may not become too fatigued at any one time." ' -iA^-LAA. : k^-LiJCM^^^^ 7 4 THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. When he had said this he slowly settled himself back in his chair, and continued : " My friend, before I tell you any part of my life story, you must first promise me that you will keep it a close secret within your own soul, until after the time of my death." I nodded my assent. " On your honour as a brother artist you will not allow a word of it to be known to any living person until such time as I have passed away V* " Yes," I said, " I promise it. Professor Paul, and if I promise I will surely keep my word." He seemed satisfied, but added, " It will not be any- thing which you would care to tell in any event, and my asking it to be kept a secret is only a whim, the result of a mere fancy. I have always been afraid that if it were known perhaps people would stare at me, and I wouldn't like that ; I dread it. But my history will be safe in your keeping, my friend ; I feel sure it will j and besides there is a reason why I am obliged to tell you, but this you need not know until the time is complete." I had no idea then to what he referred. I could tell from the dreamy look in his eyes, that his mind was ranging over a long period of years, at least something in his look gave me that impression, and when he next spoke it was confirmed. ** I am not relating to you my history because I find pleasure in dwelling upon the sad events which it chron- icles, but rather because, to aid the purpose which I have in view, it is necessary that you should know it Ah, no» THi; HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. my friend. I would willingly give one half of the years which may still remain to me, if by so doing I might blot out an equal portion of the past, but this it is not given man to do. Memory is eternal, and on its undying page my history is forever written. *' I do not wish to weary you, my friend, by telling you aught of my life save that which you must know, and for this reason I will be brief. " I was an orphan, and lived with my aunt, except when away at College, until I had passed my twentieth birth- day. *' Her home was in Seaton Village, and there I spent the only happy years I have ever known. It was a quaint old-fashioned little place, lying just far enough from the great London to have easy access to some of its luxuries,- and still remain uncontaminated by its vices. There it was that I first learned to know and love the pure face of nature, and from the germs of that affection sprang my other love for that great art which is nature's second self. *' I determined to become a painter. '* I remember well my friend, that even as a mere child, when I lay sick, my Aunt could find nothing that would so well amuse me as some paper and a piece of charcoal. I think I always loved, Art. I have many times spent the whole day wandering over the beautiful stretch of country that surrounded the village without once returning to my aunt's house until warned to do so by the approach of night. Indeed, I have at times spent the night as well as the day in the fieldS) that I might the more easily watch 6 TUB HISTORY OP PROFESSOR PAUL. the delicate shadows, cast upon the grass by the moonlight falling through the trees. '* But I must not linger upon these minor events lest I weary you, though to me they are laden with much sweet- ness. " When I became too advanced in my studies to con- tinue longer at the village school, my aunt with many a loving admonition sent me to London to complete my edu- cation. I was there nearly four years, but during no part of that time did I give any but a very indifferent attention to my general studies, my fondness for art leading me to devote to it every possible moment. During the last two years, 1 occupied my time exclusively in its pursuit. I had already gained some slight distinction at school when the period, during which I was to remain in London came to a close and I returned to my home in Seaton Village without any intentions of a very definite nature as regards my future course. " I had not remained long, however, in the quiet little place, before the dull monotony of village life became (Ms- tasteful to me, and I res :lved to go to Paris. ** I told my aunt, that unless my ideas and conceptions of art were for a time at all events moulded under the influence of the French school, I could never hope to attain eminence in my profession, and at Ifingth I succeeded in persuading her that this could only l^ accomplished by actual residence in Paris. • . ' ** Of my life there T need say little. I entered the atelier of one of the foremost French artists, and studied for nearly two years with all the ardour of which my THB HISTORY OF PR0PB8S0R PAUL. * 7 nature was capable. Some of my work was at length highly spoken of, and presuming upon my sucoess, I rashly decided to paint a picture for the Salon. I sent it in and it was rejected. "I was always of a very impulsive disposition — in excellent spirits one day, and perhaps a fit of the deepest dejection the next — and so, when my picture was refused, all my successes were forgotten. I became disheartened and miserable, and in my despondency I resolved to give up art and return home. It was not long after this that I again found myself in the evening train that runs from London down through Seaton Village. *' I had not bnen home for nearly two years, but as I had always kept up a desultory correspondence with my Aunt, I knev that her affairs had not altered to any great degree during ray absence. " There was one change, however, that had taken place in the little economy of my Aunt's household of which I was then unaware, but which was destined to link itself with my future life." At this point the old man ceased speaking, and, resting his chin upon his hands, gazed earnestly into the ijre. After sitting for sometime without altering his position, he slowly turned towards me and continued : " I have often said in my heart that my li^v might have been made easier lovi'me to bear, but in these later days I .have thought differently, and now I know that it was Detter so, and I would not have it altered if I might. No, my friend, not even if my last great hope should fail — it will not fail ; but if the secret purpose that fills my soui 8 THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. i should prove futile; if my long pondered calculations should be but a chain of sand ; and the reality of my great plan prove only the thin vapour of a dream. I would then ask that no part of the past be changed, but that all remain. But they will not fail. My plan is not a dream. My calculations are based on facts, indisputable facts, and there is no one of them that I have not pondered over for days in nervous dread. They are true. I have authority for them ; the best of all authority." He had become quite excited, and as he continued, his dark eyes, usually so dull and lustreless, assumed a bril- liancy that I had never before seen in them. " Yes, my friend, the best authority that this world has ever produced. You will quickly see that I am not mis- taken when I mention such names as Cardeaux, Gabriel Maund^, Geber, Artephius and Korah ; and again when I speak of Virgilius, Bishop of Saltzburg, whom the Arch- bishop of Mentz consigned to the flames as a heretic for his devotion .0 science, or the great geometricians and chy- mists, Gerbert, and Roger Bacon, and to these I might add the names of others, many of whom, like the great Vir- gilius, preferred to sacrifice their lives rather than their learning. Oan any one read the manuscripts of Urban Grandier, and say of any one part of them all, herein he was mistaken ? I know what you would say, my friend, that the fly, which settled on his head when he was at the stake, was an evil spirit sent of the devil to take possession of his soul ; but I tell you it is false. It was a base story circulated by jealous monks, who told the ignorant people 4hat in the Hebrew Beelzebub signifies the God of flies. THE HISTORY OF PBOFBSSOR PAUL. They had burned his body, and they were not satisfied with that but would have us believe they could also burn his soul. No, my friend, these men outlive the flames of their persecution, and their ntj^mes are handed down to us with reverence." He ceased speaking. Dudng the latter part of his remarks he had arisen to his feet, and he now stood beating his right fist against the open palm of his left hand. As I was quite ignorant of the plans and calculations to which he had referred, I remained silent. Suddenly, as though recollecting something, he turned towards me and said ; " You will pardon me, my friend, but I must leave you alone for a few moments ;*' and he hastened towards the small door that opened on the hall, and went out. I listened to his footsteps upon the stairs, until they died out, and all became silent. I then arose, put some coal upon the little fire, which had become low, for the night was cold, and then sat down in the large armchair that Professor Paul had occupied, and fell to musing upon what I had just heard. What could this great plan be, about which he had talked so earnestly ? Why should he go upstairs so unex- pectedly, and what was he doing up there ] These, and many other similar questions, passed rapidly before my mind. There was something mysterious about it all. I remembered that several of my brother artists, while at lunch in the restaurant one day, had made jokes at my expense, and questioned the old man's sanity. «^Well, perhaps he was insane Apou some topic ; if so, I had only 10 THK HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. to wait, and he would surely mention it. An insane man would hardly keep a secret. I do not now remember to what conclusion I had come, except that I would await his return, when my thoughts wandered to the subject of the picture I purposed beginning next day. N'ow a young artist always believes his next work will be the one to make him famous, and, as I was no exception, at the same moment that I began to dream about that picture, I became utterly oblivious to time and circumstance. I remember being aroused by the little clock in the outside shop striking twelve. Surely my ears had deceived me. Carrying the light into the shop, I examined the face of the clock, and found that it was nearly two hours since Professor Paul had left me. I would wait no longer. I placed a guard over the fire ; pulled on my great coat ; and after turning down the light went out, first taking care to spring the lock of the outside door after me. THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. II. • HEN I visited Professor Paul next evening I found him sitting as usual in the little back room before the fire and apparently in excellent spirits. He chatted with me gaily, upon various topics, without once re- ferring to his hasty departure of the pre- vious night, and afterwards, when our conversation somewhat flagged, proposed of his own accord that he should resume the narration of his story. I at once assented, for I was beginning to feel a strange interest in the narrator. " I think," said he, " that I spoke to you last night of the events which led me to leave Paris and to return to Seaton Village ; I will now take up my history from the time of my arrival there. "As I approached my aunt's house I saw a light shin- ing through the window of the room in which she was accustomed to sit, and on ray arrival I at once made my way towards this room, and opened the door expecting to find her within. I was disappointed, however, the only occupant being a young girl, who, at the time of my entrance, was standing in front of my aunt's chair with her face turned towards the door. She had evidently been sitting before the fire occupied with her sewing, which lay discarded upon the floor, and bad arisen, disturbed by my footsteps upon the walk. ^(ff^ '* ' Oh,' I said, ' I be^ your pardon ; T had expected to 12 THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. find my aunt here when I saw the light in the window, but I see she is not at home.' " < No,' she replied, * Aunt Hilda is not at home ; she went to a meeting in the church this evening, and has not returned. I suppose,' she added, ' you are her nephew from Paris ; she said one was coming. Are you her nephew *? ' And then, not awaiting a reply, she continued. * How thoughtless I am ! It is my turn now to be sorry ; here I have kept you standing all this time without asking you to be seated, and you must be so tired after travelling all the way from Paris, and then your long walk from the train.' She drew a second chair up to the fire and said : * Won't you sit down here, Mr. ; ' she hesitated for a moment while I supplied my name, and then continued. ' Yes, I remember now, that was the name my auntie spoke of ; you will be seated, won't you, Mr. Arrall ) ' ** I took the proffered chair ; and as she continued her sewing and the conversation, I obtained a better view of my aunt's little visitor. " I had, when I first entered the room, almost uncon- sciously noticed the pleasing effect of the dark red gown fitting closely to the slight girlish figure ; and now, upon examining her face, I found it was not less deserving of attention. It was not a beautiful face, nor even one which might be called pretty, looked at from an artistic stand- point, and yet there was something about it that I certainly found pleasing. Her eyes, which were blue, seemed to have in them tears and laughter so closely blended that one%>uld never say at any time which would come the most readily. THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 13 "I am not now, my friend, speaking solely of the impression I formed of her at that time, for I came to know her much better afterwards, but I do not think that at any time during the days which followed she ever appeared prettier in my eyes than she did during that first evening of our acquaintance. No, my friend. I have many times since, in the gay French capital, seen women with eyes like stars ; with hair like the sunlight ; and with the stateliness of a queen ; but I have never since seen a face that spoke so quickly to my heart as did the one upon which I looked that evening. "It would be impossible for me to give you any description that would adequately bring before your mind a true conception of her features, and fortunately it is not necessary for me to do so. Shortly after the time of which I have been speaking she gave me several sittings ; and I painted a picture of her which I still have in my possession and which I will show you when the time is come. " She still continued to talk of any thing which she thought might be of interest to me, evidently trying, if possible, to make me feel that I had at last reached home. When she spoke she seemed to have such an unbounded faith, that the village church, the new minister, her trip to London, and Aunt Hilda, must be most pleasing topics of conversation that I soon found myself an interested listener, become so by the unaffected innocence of her manner. " After she had chatted in this way for some time I said : * You spoke a few moments since of Aunt Hilda ; is she really your Aunt 1 ' " < Oh, no," she replied, * Aunt Hilda is no relation of u THB HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. mine ; I just call her aunt because she wishes it, and I like to. I wish she were though ; she is so good, and then you know I haven't many relations. It would be odd if she really were my aunt, wouldn't it, because then you see we would be cousins 1 But as it is ; why we are no relation at all to each other although we both call her aunt.' " ' You seem very ready to disclaim me,' I replied, for I felt piqued, though I would not own it, at the way she had spoken. ' I suppose you also have heard of my failure in Paris ; well, I might have remembered that bad news travels fast.' ** She took no notice of my first remark ; but turning her face from the fire, into which she had been gazing as I spoke, looked at me in silence for a few moments. " I remember there was a look of commiseration upon her face. My friend, I never was one of those who seek the opinion of their fellows, and I never asked nor cared for the sympathy of others in my misfortunes ; but I remember well the unmistakable feeling of pleasure that stole over me as I saw the wistful look in those great blue eyes. " Presently she spoke again. * Did you really fail 1 I am sorry for you, very sorry. Won't you tell me about it t I wish you would. I think perhaps it would do you good to tell me. It always does me good to tell someone when I am in trouble.' *' So it was of my good she was thinking ; well, I would tell her, and for perhaps the next half hour I found myself relating to this young girl the history of my struggle in Paris, of the technical defects in my picture, and even of THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 15 the adverse criticism of the Salon jury. She listened to the story with rapt attention, though she could not hare understood one half that I said, and when I had finished she sat for sometime gazing into the fire. " I said nothing but waited for her to speak. " Presently she turned again towards me and said : 'Yes, I am sorry for you, very 'sorry. ' She hesitated, but seemed as though she would say more, so I said 'There is something further you would say ; what is it ? ' " 'You will not be angry with me if I say it ? ' " ' No, ' I replied, ' I will never be angry with you. ' " 'Well then, I think, perhaps, you should have stayed in Paris and tried to paint a better picture- that would not fail, but then you know, I am not at all sure that I am right. ' " I knew she was right, but before I could reply I was interrupted by the entrance of my Aunt, and from that time the conversation became general until we all retired for the night. " It may seem strange to you, my friend, that I am able after so many years to recall those scenes so distinctly, but I have gone over them so many times that they seem as though they had occurred but yesterday. " Winnie — that was the name my Aunt had called her — went away each morning after breakfast to her studies at the village school, and I, during the same period, usually retired to the little studio which my Aunt always fitted up for me when £ was at home, and worked at my sketches. When the noon hour was come I almost invariably laid aside my brushes, and walked down towards the school- 16 THE HISTORY OF PR0FB880R PAUL. house to meet her. She always seemed pleased when she saw me coming, and if I was a little late and one of the village youths had already accompanied her part of the way she would always dismiss him and return with me. ** I had no reason, however, to feel flattered by her preference, as she invariably gave as her reason for it, that we were both going to the same destination and of course then it wouldn't inconvenience any one. " When she dismissed her cavalier, it was always with such a winning little smile, and with such genuine thanks for his trouble in attending her, thai I never remember seeing one take his leave of her thus, without looking per- fectly contented, and more than ever bewitched by the unaffected kindness of her manner: 1 believe that one half of the boys in that school had enrolled themselves under her colours, prepared without question to do her slightest command. If so they certainly had a very dis- creet and indulgent little sovereign. " I remember being amused one day at her odd and charitable way of deciding a rather delicate question to the entire satisfaction of all parties concerned, at the same time I became aware why it was, that she had quite as many friends among the girls of the village, as among those of the opposite sex. '* I had been busily engaged all the morning upon some sketches which I purposed sending up to London for sale, and as it had been raining steadily I had not noticed the lapse of time. When I looked at my watch, it was al- ready considerable past the hour at which the school was usually dismissed, so I at once pulled on my cap and THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 17 started out. I had not proceeded far however before I met quite a little procession coining towards the house, and what was my surprise to see it headed by Winnie's most ardent admirer. At his side walked one of the homeliest girls in the village, whom he was courteously shielding from the rain with a large umbrella. Next to these came another youth that I had only yesterday met coming home with Winnie, and by his side was a little lame girl to whom he was playing the chivalrous knight, while bringing up the rear, and entirely alone and unaided, trudged Winnie her- self apparently the perfect picture of good-will and contentment. it ( Why, Miss Winnie, ' I exclaimed, as I reached her side, ' what in the world does all this mean 1 It surely can't be possible that two of your most devoted worship- pers have withdrawn to other shrines, and left yours deserted. ' '* * Oh, hush, ' she said, ' don't speak so loud or they'll hear you. It is so funny ; but I'm sure I couldn't tell you now without laughing right out, and I know they wouldn't like that, so you will have to wait till we reach home. ' " When I had taken off her waterproof and rubbers, an i she was snugly ensconced before the sitting room fire, she told me all about it. " Breaking out into a little laugh she said, ' Ob, Mr. Arrall it was all so funny, so very funny. The way it was, was this : You remember yesterday, when Oharlie and I met you on the road home, I promised Charlie before he left that he might walk up with me to-day. Weil, this morning, as I was going to school, I met Hal, and he said 18 THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. it would surely rain before noon, and he asked me if he might come down with me in case it did. I said yes ; be- cause T always find it difficult to carry my books and an umbrella too ; the books are so heavy you know. ' " I took occasion at this juncture to remark that I did not remember ever having seen her carry either until to- day. She however quite ignored my interpolation and continued : " * When I came out at noon Charlie was waiting for me, and it was only then I remembered that I had promised them both. I wouldn't think what to do about it, and while I was standing undecided Hal came up, and they began to get real angry at each other. I had just told them that I was very sorry, and that it was all my fault — because it was you know — when out came the two girls you saw with them, and as they never have any one to accompany them home, I thought that would be a good way to settle matters. So I told the boys they were to go with them and that I wouldn't walk with any one at all to-day, and they both said they would, and what is more, were very good and kind about it, but it all seemed so funny to me that I could hardly keep from laughing.' "She sat for a few moments as if in grave doubt about something, and then added solemnly ; ' Do you know, I don't think I can be very good today, or I wouldn't have wanted to laugh the way I did, would I ] '*Poor little Winnie, she always had some question of casuistry, about which her conscience refused to be satis- fied. ** And so the time wore on, lazily and monotonously, as it THB HISTORY OF PR0FBS80R PAUL. 19 always does in the quiet life of a village, and yet eaoh day as it passed was slowly weaving into my life a brighter ray of light than it had ever known before. I knew I could no longer conceal from myself the secret ; I was in love with Winnie. " My aunt, with a woman's quick intuition in such matters, had known it even before myself, and I well remember her saying to me one day, after Winnie had left us to go upstairs for somethimg, * Be careful, Paul, be very careful what you are doing, remember that the world would scarcely be content to live in the darkness, after it had once known the radiance of the sun.' ** ' Quite true, Aunt Hilda,' I replied, ' but why not always have che sun 1 ' «< 'Because it may be beyond the compass of your powers, Paul.' " I knew well to what she referred, and said, ' I see no reason. Aunt Hilda, why I should not try to gain her love, except it be my own unworthiness, and if she ever truly loves me she is good, and I think she will forgive me that.' ** ' There may be other reasons, Paul, of which you are not aware. Her mother when she died was a Roman Catholic j her father is ono now, and Winnie has always been taught that ib is to be her religion also.' ** * But Aunt Hilda, how can that be any reason 1 ' " * I have not finished yet, Paul. Her father, who is a pre-eminently selfish man, is an invalid in very straightened circumstances, and will undoubtedly wish her to marry for wealth, and Winnie is not the sort of girl for whom it will be difficult to find suitors.' 20 THE HISTORY OF PR0FB880R PAUL. "'But Aunt Hilda/ I exclaimed, 'I shall not always be poor. Yoa think because my picture was rejected that I am forever a failure. It is not so ; it is anything but that. Why it was presumption for me to send it in ; and I could expect nothing but failure. I would have won it in another year ; and I will win it yet. I will work night and day to win it.' " ' No Paul, you do not understand me ; there is no one believes in you more firmly than I do, yet it may be I am wrong ; in any case, I see it is too late to warn you now.' **We remained silent for sometime, until it length Winnie came in again, and I retired to my studio to work upon my sketches. " It was not long after this that Winnie and I went out one afternoon sketching together. She had accompanied me upon several occasions, and on this afternoon of which I am speaking had begged so much to be allowed to go, that it would have taken a much harder heart than Aunt Hilda's to refuse her. Ah, my friend, that afternoon is at this moment before my mind as if it were yesterday. I remember well how pretty she looked as she walked merrily along, every now and again springing up the grassy bank that skirted the road to pick a wild flower or some bright leaf, which her quick eye had seen in passing. It was from one of these excursions, that she returned holding up a daisy in view, and calling upon me to wait. I did so, and when she had overtaken me and regained her breath, she began : ' Now Mr. Arrall I want you to promise that you will do something for vie ; you will promise won't you ) Please do.' THB HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 21 ** * Winnie/ I replied, * I wish you wouldn't call me Mr. Arrall ; I don't like to be called that by any one, and least of all by you. I would rather you would oall mt Paul ; won't you oall me, Paul, Winnie 1 ' "She remained silent for a few moments^ and then said slowly, ' No, I couldn't do that ; I never call any gentlemen by their first names ; you see I am only a little girl, and it wouldn't be right ; and besides I am quite sure Papa wouldn't like me to. No, I don't think I could ever do that' " I picked up my paints and* easel, which I had laid down when she called, and we continued our walk in silence. When we at last reached the scene of my unfinished sketch I at once set up my easel and began work, as I hoped that afternoon would see it completed. It was Winnie's favourite spot, and the sketch, which was a rather pretty little water colour, I intended to give her when finished. " She lingered around for some time, and then seeing that I was apparently so absorbed in my work, gradually wandered off about the field to gather the wild flowers and grasses of which she was so fond. After occupying herself for sometime in this manner, I observed that she was slowly making her way over to where I was painting, and as she sat down upon the grass near my easel, I noticed that her great blue eyes had a troubled look in them. I said nothing and continued my sketching. " Presently she spoke : ' We have always been good friends haven't we 1 * " ' Yes,' I said, 'Miss Winnie, I think we have.' 22 THE BISTORT OF PROFESSOR PAUL. ** * And we are good friends now, arn't we 1 ' sh* continued. '* * Well/ I replied, ' perhaps my idea of friendship is different from yours, but I don't see how we can really be good friends if we are always to be formal like this, and I am to call you Miss Winnie, and you to call me Mr. Arrall.' " * Yes, but you don't need to call me Miss Winnie ; I don't like you to call me that, ever. You may call me just Winni?^, or Win, or Winifred, or Fred — Fred you know is really a part of my name, although by rights it ought to be only a boy's name — or you may call me anything else you please.' " She had looked very pretty, as she sat there upon the grass repeating over the list of her names, and giving her head a quaint little nod as she mentioned each new one, and now after a moment of silence she continued, looking up half wistfully into my face : '' 'Now we are best friends, aren't we ; because that is a good deal you know ; I don't let any of the village boys call me Fred 1 ' " ' Yes, Winnie,' I said, * but what are you going to call me t' *' Her face at once clouded over again, and she sat for sometime in silence while I continued my painting. When she next spoke, she did not refer to my question, but said slowly : *' *I asked you on the road if you would promise to d o something for me, and you haven't told m e yet if you would.' THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 33 " * You know Winnie,' I replied, ' I always do what- «Ter you ask, if it is possible.' " < Well then, will you do this ; it really isn't anything, only I thought it would be good fun to see you 1 You will now, won't you 1 ' " She stretched out her hand towards me, holding in it the daisy which she had picked up by the roadside, and I reached over and took it. *• * Now, what do you want me to do with it, Winnie, you know you haven't told me yet 1 ' " ' Oh, don't you know 1 ' she replied, and then break- ing out into a little laugh, continued, ' Why, of course I want you to pull the whito parts off, and see if your laiy loves you ; that is all we ever do with daisies.' " At first I thought perhaps she might mean something by it, but my hopes wer& short lived when I saw the utterly unconscious look upon her face. " ' No, Winnie,' I answered, * what can be the use when I know she doesn't 1 ' " ' But how do you know she doesn't ? ' " ' Because if she did she would rather call me Paul, and she has just said she would never call me that.' " As I said this, the half-enquiring look with which she had been regarding me gradually died out of her face, and her cheeks became very red. She rose slowly to her feet, and looking at me reproachfully, said : " ' I don't think it was good or kind of you to bring me away off here alone, and then talk to me in this way ; you haven't any right (o say these things to me, and if I had thought you would say them T wouldn't have come.' w 111 24 THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. " At this point two big tears which had been gathering in her eyes while she was speaking rolled slowly down her face. " Then she continued, * I don't think I want to stay here any longer ; I want to go home j I feel as if I never wanted to see this place any more.' *' I said nothing, but slowly gathered my painting mate- rials together, and we walked back to the village in silence. '* The next morning I did not go down to breakfast until after Winnie had gone to school, 'and when I saw my aunt I informed her that I intended to take the noon train for London, where I purposed remaining a week to try and dispose of my sketches. She had evidently divined that something had gone wrong between Winnie and my- self, for she made no objection, merely remarking that she would have my lunch ready in time. I thus left the vil- lage without again seeing Winnie." When he had reached this point in his narrative, the old man ceased speaking for a few moments, and then turned to me and said : "I am afraid I have greatly trespassed upon your kindness this evening, my friend, but I will continue to do so no longer ; I will reserve the remaining history of my village life, until you are again with me upon some future evening." " Your story has interested me very much, Proftuoor Paul, and if you will not be otherwise occupied, I would be glad to hear it continued tomorrow night." A pleased look came over his face as he replied : " Ah, my friend, you are very good to me ; it is good THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 26 of you to say that when I have so greatly taxed your patience this evening, but I will try and be more brief in future. Oh, yes, my friend, if you will, by all means come to-morrow night ; indeed it will be necessary that you should come almost every evening now, or my history will not be completed m time, it is becoming so much longer than I had expected." , After this I bid Professor Paul good night and returned to my lodgings. I I lifl ll ! 26 THB HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. III. HEN Professor Paul resumed the recital of his story on the following evening, he said : " It is not necessary, my friend, that I should speak to you concerning my trip to London, except to say that I wai^ successful in the sale of my sketches, nor yet did any events worthy of mention occur during the first week or so of my return to the village. I avoided as much as possible being with Winnie, at first for my own sake and latterly for hers. " She had grown very quiet since my return, and when- ever I happened to be thrown in her company, I could not help noticing that she seemed to have lost all her bright- ness and those pretty little winning ways, which had before made her so attractive. "I felt almost like one who has committed a crime. " I could not help believing that this change was on account of her aversion to my presence, and I decided, though not without many a severe struggle, to avoid her even more carefully during the remainder of my stay, and at the earliest opportunity, after the rest of my sketches were finished, to leave again for Paris. " As Winnie was at home every afternoon I always spent that time in the fields engaged with my painting, and upon my return, as soon as the evening meal was over, I at once retired to my studio and occupied myself in pre- paring my materials for the next day. And so the days THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 27 passed by, and at length my sketch was completed, and to-morrow I would bid good-bye to village life, and Winnie. " I told my aunt at the dinner table of my intention, and then went out into the fields to visit my old haunts for the last time. When I returned home they were waiting tea for me, and as soon as it was over, I went at once to my studio to complete what packing still remained to be done. " Do you know, my friend, I had said each day to my- self, ' It will be a good day for you, Paul, when you are in Paris absorbed in your art, and have forgotten all abouc this girl ; yes, it will be a good day for you, and you will be glad when it comes,' and ii was now already so near at hand and I was sorry. Yes, my friend, when I stood that evening for the last time in the little studio where she had so often sat ; when I rememj^ered her pretty ways, her many little graces, the pleasant good fellowship, with which she had so many times related to me her little store of village news ; I felt more than sorry ; I felt a great dread of the darkness that would be mine, when the bright little ray of sunlight, which had crept so graciously into my life, should die out of it forever. " In looking over my sketches I found one which could scarcely be called completed, and had just sat down to put a few finishing touches upon it, when I heard a timid little knock at my studio door. Indeed it was so faint that I was not quite sure I had not been mistaken. It was repeated, however, and I called out 'Come in.' " The door opened slowly and a slight little figure in a very familiar dark red gown slipped noiselessly into the im If 28 THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. room. It was certainly Winnie; there couldn't be any mistake about that, though I could hardly believe it. As she stood there a few steps from the door, her cheeks were Yery red and her eyes were cast down upon the floor. " What could it mean 1 " I said nothing, but turned to my easel and continued touching up my sketch. " Presently a very tremulous little voice said slowly : * Aren't you going to speak to me, Paul 1 ' " ' Yes, Winnie ; won't you come over here and sit down 1 ' " She came slowly over and seated herself in a large arm chair close to my easel. '• • Now, Winnie,' T said, ' something is the matter ; what is it'i You will tell me all about it, won't youl You know you said once before, that it always did you good to tell someone when you were in trouble ; won't you tell me this time 1 ' ** The tears had begun to roll slowly one by one down her cheeks, and it was a very choked little voice that spoke as she said : " * Oh, Paul. I have been so miserable, so" very miser- able, ever since that day in the field. I was so unkind to you, and any other girl would have been glad to know you liked her. Oh, 1 shall never forgive myself ; no, I know I never shall.' ' Her voice was choked with sobs, and the tears were x^fMag rapidly down her face. ** I said soothingly : ♦ Poor little Winnie ; it wasn't your fault at all; it was my fault;' but she interrupted me. " * No, it wasn't your fault a bit ; it was all my fault, THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 29 rs were and the next day I felt so sorry, oh, so sorry, about it all, and I was going to ask you to forgive me, but when I came home you were gone, and I thought my heart would die. Then I counted each day until you would come back again so I could tell you, and when you came you were so angry with me that I couldn't, but to-day when you said you were going away for good, I knew I couldn't bear it any longer ; oh, Paul. I am co sorry, so very sorry.' " She ceased speaking, and sat pulling nervously at her handkerchief, which was wet with her tears. " 'Winnie,' I said, * I was never angry with you ; I thought you didn't want to see me, that was all.' ** * But I never said I didn't want to see you, did IV ** * No, perhaps not, but I thought so,' and then I added slowly, " * Did you want to see me, Winnie 1 ' " She was silent for a moment ; her fingers still con- tinued to work nervously with her handkerchief ; her eyes were cast down upon the floor, and her cheeks, which had become pale, during her fit of crying, became slowly very red again. Her voice was almost a whisper when she spoke, but it was a whisper which I would have given my life rather than lose as she said : "'Yes, Paul, I think I did.' " We sat in silence for some moments, and then I spoke. " ' Winnie, I wanted to tell you something that day in the field, but you wouldn't let me ; may I tell you now 1 ' " A little nod was her only reply, and I continued : " ' It was this, Winnie : I wanted to tell you that I thought you were the dearest little girl in all the world. li V, 30 THE HISTORY Or PROFESSOR PAUL. and that I loved you most. Winnie, I still love you most. I know I am not worth liking by any girl, and least of all by you ; but if you do like me, even if it be only just a little better than any one else, I wish you would tell me BO ; I wish it very much. Do you Winnie 1 ' " She hesitated a moment, and then said : " * I don't know, Paul ; I like you as well as any one.' Then she added dubiously : " * Don't you think it would do if I said I would try to like you best ) ' *' * No, Winnie,' I answered, * I wouldn't ask you to do that ; it wouldn't be for your own good to do it. Per- haps you haven't thought of this enough ; would you rather wait until to-morrow night before you tell meV " * Yes, Paul,' she said eagerly, * I would rather wait ; I think I would know better then.' *' ' Very well, Winnie,' I replied, * it shall be as you wish, and I shall expect to see you again to-morrow.' ** She rose without replying, and walked slowly over to the door ; when she had reached it, however, she stood for a moment as if still in doubt about something, and then turning again towards me said : ** * And you are quite sure, Paul, that you won't go to-morrow.' " * No, Winnie,' I answered, * 1 will never go if you tell me to stay.' *' A bright little smile broke over her face, lighting it up as I had so often seen it before. " She said quietly, • You are very good to me, Paul ; good night,' and before I could reply she was gone." THB HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 31 At this point ia his narrative, the old man paused for a few moments and then said : <' No doubt, my friend, you think I might well spare you the weariness of listening to all these details, but I feel sure you will forgive me, when I again remind you that these were almost the only happy days that I have known." When he had said this he again resumed his narration. " My friend," he continued, ** every womto bom into this world has it in her power to be either the sunlight or the shadow in some man's life, and what Winnie was to be in mine this day should decide. I thought the day never would pass ; it dragged along so slowly. At length, however, I found myself again seated in my studio, and this time I was waiting anxiously for that timid little knock, which had so nearly escaped me on the previous evening, and which I felt sure I would hear before long. " At last it came, and I called out : " ' Come in, Winnie.' *' She entered, and without once looking at me, walked slowly over to the arm chair, and resting her arm upon the back, remained stationary beside it. " * Well, Winnie,' I said, * what are you going to do with me ; am I to go or stay 1 ' " I waited for a few moments, but she still remained silent, so I continued. * Winnie, you said you would tell me to-night if you liked me a little better than anyone else ; do you, Winnie ? ' " While I was speaking her eyes remained cast upon the floor, and when I had finished I saw that the little i ;' i I If ly : p 32 THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. white crucifix, which hung down upon her bosom, was rising and falling very rapidly. She was still silont for a moment, and then, raising her eyes to mine, she said ■lowly : •' ' Yes, Paul, I love you most.' " I arose, and walked over to where she was standing, took her hand in my own, and said : " ' Winnie, you are good, very good to me, and I never felt so much how unworthy of it all I am unt'l now ; but I will try and be better ; I will try very hard.' " She said nothing, and I continued. " ' Winnie, if I should ask you to kiss me now, would your "She hesitated for a moment, and then broke out impulsively : *' ' Oh, Paul, it is awful the way you own me ; I think if you told me to do anything, I would do it.' " • Yes,' I said, * that is because you love me, Winnie ; but listen, I am not going to ask you to kiss me, because I don't think I have any right to until I have first asked you to marry me. You are too young for that yet, and even if you were older, I couldn't do so while I am only a student. Do you understand me, Winnie ? ' " She nodded her head, and I continued. " * But some day I will come and ask you, and when that day comes, Winnie, what will you say 1 ' *'It was a very low little voice that spoke as she answered : " * 1 think I will.say, yes, Paul.' " * Don't you know it, Winnie 1 ' I questioned. THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 33 " ' No, Paul ; we don't any of ua know what is in the future, but I feel very sure it it will be yes.' <" I must go now,' she continued, ' I am afraid it is already quite late, but we understand each other now, don't we, Paul 1 ' " * I think we do, Winnie,' I replied, ' and if anything comes that you don't understand, you will ask me about it, won't you 1 ' ' " * Yes, Paul ; good night.' " * Good night, Winnie,' and she had passed through the doorway and gone upstairs. " The next day after dinner, while we still lingered at the table, my aunt mentioned my proposed journey, and said : " * I thought you were going to leave us, Paul 1 ' ** * Yes, Aunt Hilda,' I replied, * I had intended going, but I have now altered my purpose for the present.' << As I said this my aunt quickly glanced from me over to Winnie. Poor Winnie, she could not encounter my aunt's look, and dropped her eyes to the table, while a guilty flush slowly dyed her cheeks. " Aunt Hilda did not seem surprised, but quickly remarked : " * You have done nothing to be ashamed of, Winnie ; if your mother had lived, I think she would have wished so. ** I arose, and going round the table to where my aunt sat, kissed her affectionately, and then left them alone together. " Ah, my friend, I could easily, relate to you each little incident that helped to spend all too quickly the i '; 34 THE HISTORY OF PROFE880R PAUL. bappy days that followed, but this I must not do lest I should weary you. No, my friend, I will now be content to draw my village history to a close. " I rarely went out sketching during those days, with- out asking Winnie to accompany me, and as she was such an earnest little pleader, her aunt was usually won over to give her consent. I mention this because it was upon one of these occasions that some events of a former day were re-enacted, and this time had a happier termination. I had been sitting some time at my easel engaged in sketching, when she again came running over to where I sat, holding up a daisy in her hand, and offering it to me as she had done before. I knew this time what she wanted me to do with it, but I only said , " ' What can be the use of pulling it now, Winnie, it won't be any good, will it 1 ' " * Oh, but you must pull it if I want you to ; besides, if you had pulled it before perhaps it would have told you different from what you thought, and — and saved us all that trouble.' " ' Well,' I replied, * I suppose if you say must, it means must, so let me have it, and I began to slowly pull the petals.' ** She loves me, loves me not ; she loves me, loves me not. •* * Oh, Winnie,' I exclaimed, with feigned horror, * she doesn't love me ; what shall I do ? ' *' She was a very dubious little maid for a moment, as she said slowly, *0h, well, I suppose it couldn't really make any difference now,' and then, as though recollecting THB HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 35 something, her face brightened up, and breaking into a smile, she added gaily, ' Why, of course it couldn't make any difference now, because wo know she does, don't we, Paul 1 ' *' ' Ah, Winnie,' I said, * I think I could paint great pictures some day, if I always had you near.' *' The next Sunday was the one which I had decided should be my last in the village. I had not yet informed Winnie of my intended departure, because I knew her too well to think for a moment that she would wish me to stay, when she knew that it was best for me to go, and besides, I did not wish her to be unhappy in knowing its approach, for a longer time than was really necessary. I remember well that Sunday, how we all went to the little village church together, and how beautiful I thought Winnie looked, as she sang in the anthem with the little choir. Ah, my friend, I will never forget it. And I will always remember, how as I joined her afterwards, she put on such a contrite look and said : " * Oh, Paul, I felt so very wicked all through the service that it didn't do me any good ; no, not a bit.' « t Why, Winnie, I watched you a great deal, and you always looked good.' *' ' Ah,' she replied, ' that was it ; it was because you were looking at me that I felt so wicked.' " * Well,' I replied, * it may perhaps havo been wrong for me to look at you so much instead of at the minister, but really, Winnie, I can't see how it could possibly be wrong in you also.' " * Oh, yes, it was ; it was wicked for me too, very ... 4' 36 THE HISTORY OP PROFESSOR PAUL. wicked ; because, joc see, I couldn't help thinking all the time how sorry I would be if you didn't look. You won't do it any more, will you,. Paul ? ' " * No, not if you feel so very wicked about it, but then, of course I may lock at you sometimes; I couldn't help that you know. How often may I look, Winnie r *' • Well,' she said reflectively, * let me see,' and she began counting them off on her fingers ; ' there would be once after the hymns — just once, mind — and that's one ; and once after the prayer, that's two ; and once after scrij^tures, and once after the sermon, and then once after the hymn again, and that's all.' " After a moment's pause, she continued. " • Oh, Paul, that's too many ; it is five times, and I feel sure five is too many. No, we must go over it again. It must be only once after the prayer, and then once each after the hymn, the anthem, the scriptures, and the last hymn. Now, how many is that ? ' " * That is five Winnie,' I said, laughing. " She stood for a moment in grave doubt, and then said slowly : i( < Well, I am afraid it can't be helped ; there doesn't seem to be one we could leave out, does there, Paul ] ' " And so her conscience was at rest for a little while, though it was easy to predict that it wouldn't remain so very long, for a busier little conscience I never knew. '* It was on this same Sunday in the evening, as we sat together before the fire in my aunt's sitting-room, that I first told her of my intention to return to Paris. We had THE HISTORY OP PROFESSOR PAUL. 87 been sitting for some time without speaking, when I said gently : " * Winnie, you wouldn't want me to do anything if you knew it wouldn't be for my good, would you 1 ' "She looked up quickly with a startled expression upon her face, as though she apprehended something, and said : " ' No, Paul, you know I wouldn't ; but why do you ask ? What is it that you are going to do ? ' " * Don't you remember the first evening that we met each other, Winnie, how you said you thought I should have stayed in Paris and painted a better picture, that would not fail 1 Well, I am going back to Paris to paint that better picture, and I feel sure it won't fail this time, because I have a new inspiration now.' "The tears slowly gathered in her eyes, as she sat looking into the fire after I had finished speaking, and presently she broke out impulsively : " * Oh, Paul, I am sorry^J ever said that ! ' Then, after hesitating a moment, she brushed away the tears, and looking into my face said : " * No, Paul, I was wrong ; I am not sorry I said it. It was right for me to say it, and it is far better that you should become a great artist than that I should always have you with me. Yes, it is far better, Paul, and I am glad you are going.' " The old man had been gazing steadily into the fire all the while he was narrating his story, as if he could see it written in the flames, but at this juncture he turned to me, and looking straight into my eyes, said solemnly : i >'n 38 THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. " You will easily understand now, my friend, why it was that I loved Winnie." When he had srid this he threw ) ..Ai back in his chair and remained in silence, apparent joing over again in his own mind the scenes he had been relating to me. As I had by this time become somewhat accustomed to his manner, I knew that he had now finished speaking for the evening, so after waiting a few moments without dis- turbing the old man in his reverie, I took up my cap and went out. THE HISTORY OF PROFBSSOR PAUL. 39 IV. . F I should vividly picture to you, my friend, the events of my student life in Paris, I would easily awaken your sympathy and commisera- tion, but, at the same time, it would be neces- sary for me to recall in detail scenes of failure and reverses almost amounting to despair, the recollection of which would be fraught with the deepest misery to me. I will, therefore, give you only a very brief account. Indeed, my friend, I would willingly pass over the entire period of my stay in silence, as a history which it V7ere well should be forgotten; but I am drawn to speak of it because it is, perhaps, better that you should in some degree be made aware of the reasons for its awful termination. " Shortly after my return I was admitted to the Acad^mie des Beaux Arts, a privilege which, as you are aware, is not easily obtainable by foreigners, and while there I laboured with an energy which I had not before known I possessed. " I lived on the Rue des Fetits Champs, which is not far from the Acaddmie, though on the left bank of the river, it being but a few moments walk from the Pont du Carrousal, and once across the river at this point, I was in sight of the building. I thus lost but little time in passing between the Acad^mie and my lodgings. '* I had another reason, however, for living there ; it was cheap. I had resolved to have the best instruction in my ) ■^awr 40 THE HISTORY OP PROFESSOR PAUL. Art which Paris could afford, and to obtain this, I knew would require considerable money. It thus became my object to save every cent possible, and I began with my lodgings. My room, which was called furnished — the furniture consisting of a bed, table and chair, — cost me only thirty francs a month. You will, perhaps, be sur- prised at this, my friend, but it is easily explainable. It was in the fifth storey, and was a chambre de gargon^ which, although usually rented without furniture, the concierge had in this instance fitted up, all the other rooms being occupied. When I say it was in the fifth storey, you must remember that the first two flats, the Rez de Chausse and L'Entresol, are not counted in Paris, and thus it was really in the seventh. " During the latter part of my second year, when my health had given way under my continual labours, I re- member many a time, almost fainting as I climbed these long, winding flights of stairs that led up to my little room beneath the roof. But I must not speak of this now, as it will be necessary for me to mention it later on. <* I formed no companionships which might interfere with my studies, and indulged myself in none of the many amusements of which my fellow students at the Academie were so fond. I had thus time to take lessons in Archi- tecture, which I knew could not fail to be of great assist- ance to me, and also a thorough course of instruction in Anatomy at L'^cole de Medicin in the Quartier Latin. " I visited the ateliers of the foremost French artists, and while there I was a constant and earnest listener to the great Babel of discussion upon every branch of Art by THE HISTORY OP PROFESSOR PAUL. 41 men of all countries and all kinds of previous training. I thus acquired a broad and comprehensive understanding, untrammelled by the peculiar characteristics of any one school. " I did nothing but work. " When I was too exhausted to do anything else, I read the biographies of eminent artists which I borrowed from my fellow-students at the Acaddmie, and thus obtained a new inspiration. This, however, only had the eJ9ect of urging me on to still greater efforts. I rarely slept longer than six hours a night, and during the remainder of the time I lived in a continuous atmosphere of art, without a thought of the intense exhaustion that each day more surely followed my labours. I was animated only by one great purpose, that of one day becoming a great painter and attaining to all the happiness which I knew it was destined to bring. " I had all along looked forward to spending the sum- mer vacation with my aunt and Winnie at Seaton village, and the thought of this had consoled me in many a weary hour, but it was not to be. " i remember well how I almost gave way under my disappointment when one day I received a letter from my aunt, saying that Winnie's father had taken her home to stay with him in London, and adding that she thought it would be unwise for me to vir^it her there. I was so weak from my long continued efforts, and my disappointment was so keen, that I remember well I cried myself to sleep that night just as if I had been a child. I replied to my aunt's letter, however, by saying that !(: it r !e li 42 THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. perhaps it was for the best, as I would now remain in Paris during the summer, and have an opportunity of thoroughly visiting the art galleries which my studies had not before allo"^* 1 me. "And so ttxd uneventful days dragged slowly along, and I toiled on, all unconscious of the way in which my health was being steadily undermined. •♦I remerr>be: \m\l the night when I first began to suspect that homfVii^'iK: -svas wrong with me. , I had arisen as usual at six o nioci. thnt morning, and studied upon my anatomy work ^,.:\t\\ it w ir^e to go to the Acad^mie. I had no classes in tho >«fii ;rr .. n ^-^.d remained in my room painting until dark. 1 worked very hard as I wished to get the canvas covered as soon as possible, it being a mere * catch ' picture, intended for sale, and I was much in need of money. When it was too dark to paint any longer, 1 laid down my brushes and arose to set my easel back in the corner for the night. As I did so I felt an unusual whirling sensation in my head, and staggering backward sank down upon the bed and was forced to remain there. " I had been resting in this way for perhaps half an hour or more, when a young American artist, who occupied a room four flats below mine, pushed open my door. " He was a genial, good-hearted fellow, and had been very kind to me in many ways since our acquaintance began. Indeed he was the only one of all the students with whom I became at all intimate. He had come to Paris, as he was fond of saying, * To study art and have a good time,' and I never remember hearing him make this statement without he also added, * and especially the latter.' \ THE HISTORY OP PROFESSOR PAUL. 43 He certainly did have a good time in the ordinary s^nse of the term, and being a thoroughly unselfish fellow he had often begged mo to share it with him, always offering to pay everything if I would only accompany him. '*This had occurred so often of late that as soon as I heard my door open, and knew who it was, I suspected what he wanted even before he spoke. '' As he entered, not being able to soe me in the dark- ness, he remained standing near the doorway, and called to know if I was there. " I answered that I had lain down for a few minutes, as I did not feel very well, and asked him to light the lamp. " When he had done this he began as usual : "•Now Paul, old fellow, I want you to come out ■to-night, and I know you won't refuse this time, as it is instruction and entertainment combined. Happy com- bination, isn't it 1 You see a few of us English students — Johnson, Lennard and some others — are going to meet to-night at the cafe down on the Place Pigalle to discuss art matters — upon my word, Paul, only art matters — and I told them I knew you would come. Now you won't disappoint us, old fellow, will you ? You know it was only last week that I asked you to lay aside work and come over to the Od^on to hear one of Moli^re's best, and you wouldn't go, and if you won't come to-night, why I'll have to give up trying, that's all.' " ' Well, Harry,' I said, • I really don't think I feel well enough to work to-night, anyway, and it's so good of you to keep on asking me after, so many refusals that I I Tr*r- ill 44 THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. think I'll go to-night, and perhaps the change will do me good.' " * Do you good ? well, now you are talking. Why, of course it'll do you good. You're turning yourself into a regular machine, Paul, • with the way you're slaving along here. But we'll wake you up to-night, now you see if we don't.' Then after adding that it would be time to start in about an hour, and asking me to call at his room on my way down, he went out in high spirits. " I had not been at the cafe much over half an hour, when I again felt the strange sensation in my head which I had experienced in the afternoon. I tried to overcome it, but it was no use, so I told Harry that I felt poorly and would go back. He insisted on accompanying me, but as I refused to go at all unless he remained he at last consented to do so, and watching an opportunity I slipped quietly out. ** I was obliged to walk very slowly on account of my head, and when 1 at last reached the door it was after nine o'clock, and I found it closed for the night. I rang the bell, and then felt so faint that I was obliged to lean against the side of the doorway to support myself. I remember thinking how long it took the concierge to pull the cordon. At length the door opened. I entered the dark stone hall, slowly shoved the door shut, and staggered along until I came to the concierge's room. Here I called out my name, as was usual when entering after night, but the concierge called back to wait as she did not recognize the voice. I felt that I could not stand upon my feet any longer, and was just about to give up trying, when THE HISTORY OP PROFESSOR PAUL. 45 io me Why, : into aving ou see ime to \ room I hour, which ercome poorly Dg me, I at last slipped ;o£ my ier nine ang the to lean Iself. I to pull ired the aggered called [ht, but lognize ly feet :, when there was another ring at the bell, and in a moment more Harry's voice had called out that it was all right, and I felt him beside me helping me upstairs. After that I knew nothing more that night " The next morning when I awoke I felt a dull throbbing in my head, and after I had arisen I became so dizzy that I was obliged to at once sit down and remain so without moving for some moments. " Harry came in shortly after, and said he had been with me until after one o'clock, as he was afraid from the way I acted that I was going to be sick. He had thought so at the ca/e and followed me home, keeping a short di^itance behind so I shouldn't notice him. " He now asked if he hadn't better call in a doctor, adding that he knew one that he thought would come fur nothing. " Coming as it did from Harry I know of course what this meant, and at once refused to allow him. " He made me promise, however, not to leave my room or do work of any kind for a day or so, and then left me, saying he would run up again in the afternoon. " Ah, my friend, that boy was one of the best hearted young fellows I ever knew. " Well, I absented myself from my classes at the Acad6mie for the next three or four days, and then as I felt but little better I resolved to give them up entirely. '*I came to this decision the more readily, as I had even then for some days been at work during stray moments upon the picture which I purposed sending in to compete for a place at the next Salon. Indeed, some i^i 46 THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. arrangement of this kind was necessary, even had my health been better, for there were now but few remaining days in January, and the Salon was to be opened on the first of May. " At first I proceeded cautiously, and spared myself as much as possible. I allowed myself two hours longer each night for sleep, and reserved my afternoons for outdoor exercise, confining my work entirely to. the morning. ''If I had continued, my friend, to follow this up all might yet have been well, but I don't suppose it was longer than the course of two or three weeks when, feeling myself stronger, all my good resolutions were forgotten, and again absorbed in the intense fever of my purpose I threw aside all restraint, and again gave myself over to the old life of unremitting toil. " I remember well the day my picture was finished. When I had put the last touch upon it and placed it against the wall, I felt so exhausted that I stretched myself out upon the little couch in the corner of my room, and lay there without moving. I don't know whether I fainted or slept, but I remembered nothing more until I felt my- self being shaken, and when I had roused up sufficiently I saw Harry leaning over me and looking into my face. " After he had satisfied himself that I was fully awake, he said : ** * I say, Paul, get up and show me this picture of yours. T want to see how it looks now that it's so near finished.' " * I don't feel very well to-day, Harry,' I replied, • but it's that canvas over there with its face to the wall, and you may bring it out yourself, if you want to.' THE HISTOBY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 47 my ling . the ill as each tdoor ap all longer nayself I again 7 aside . life of nished. against self oat ind lay fainted elt my- ciently face, awake, ){ yours. inished.' replied, le wall, ** He moved my easel into the best light, and then carefully placing the large canvas upon it, stepped back and stood for a time contemplating it in silence. « Presently he turned to me and exclaimed : " ' Paul it's a masterpiece. I don't pretend to know half as much about painting as I ought to considering the time I've been at it, but I know this much that when a picture makes me keep still to look at it, why there's pretty sure to be something great around it somewhere, and you can bet I couldn't whistle in front of this one.' ''After again taking a careful survey of it he continued : " ' I say, Paul, where in the world did you get that facor " * I know a girl who has a face like that, Harry,' I replied. <' Well sir, she must be an angel and no mistake. " 'She is Harry,' I answered, and then we again lapsed into silence. "After he had been regarding the picture for some moments longer, I said : " ' Harry, I wish you would do something for me.' " ' Anything, old fellow ; what is iti' " ' Well, I don't feel like going out to-day, and I wish you would go round unto the boulevard, and tell Gothard that the picture will be ready to-morrow for framing, and I want him to send up for it.' " He readily consented to go, and shortly afterwardu left me saying he would see that it was all right. "The next morning I was unable to rise from my bed ; they sent for the picture however, and said it would be )■: m 1 1 \ .1: !' If 48 THB HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. framed that saino day and sent immediately over to the Palais de I'lndustrie. In the afternoon Harry dropped in to see how I was, and before he left promised that he would go round next day and see if it had been sent. *' At this juncture the old man paused and said : '* ' I am relating these events very rapidly, my friend^ but it is only because, as I have already told you, I do not care to dwell upon them at any greater length than is really necessary.' He then continued : " It was late in the afternoon of the following day, and I had again been obliged to lie down from sheer weakness, when suddenly I heard some one running rapidly up the stairs, and in a moment more the door of my room flew open and in rushed Harry. '* I saw that he was completely out of breath, so I waited a moment and then said : " 'Well, Harry, has it been sent in yetT " Sent in ! he gasped. Well no, I should say not. It's sold. Don't you hear it old fellow ; it's sold. By jove ! " Sold ! I exclaimed excitedly ; sold to whom ? ** Why to one of old Gothard's English customers, and he's got the funds with him in notes on your own bank — Bank of England notes my boy just as good as gold — and all that's wanting is your name on this receipt, and I bring you the money. *' * How much, Harry,' was all I could say. " ' How much do you want?' " As I thought a moment, I ran over all those weary days, and I said slowly, * fifty pounds.' THB HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 49 ) the ed in ay, and jakness, up the om flew ih, 80 I ly jove 1 lers, and bank — )ld— and Id I bring Lse weary " * Fifty pounds nothing/ he exclaimed, waving the receipt excitedly in the air, *it is one hundred and fifty pounds, and he's to settle old Gothard's commission besides.' " As he said this I sprang from the bed, and grasping the receipt from the table where he had thrown it I ran to the window. It had already become quite dark, but I could easily discern a( the top in figures, one hundred and fifty. " Harry lit the little lamp, and after I had signed the receipt he seized it and rushed out again. "I arose and paced up and down the loom slowly repeating over to myself the words 'One hundred and fifty pounds.' "Ah my friend, you could never understand the strange mingling of emotions that swept over me. One hundred and fifty pounds. Surely those days of despair must have been only a dream. Paint ! I could paint a thousand pictures now without weariness. And Winnie ; what would Winnie say ? It had been a long weary time to wait, but I could go to her now — go to her honourably now — and she would say again 'Paul I love you most.' Yes, I ^new she would say it, and then she would be mine, my own, mine for ever mine, mine ! " I turned round. "Harry had entered the room without my hearing him, and upon the table lay the notes in a roll. " * I guess I made a pretty clever dicker this time old fellow,' he said as he saw me looking at them, and then beginning to slowly count them over continued ' I want \i I 1 1 I'' i' 50 THE HISTORY OF PR0FB8S0R PAUL. you to see that they are all right because it's a pretty large amount of money.' ** They were all right, and I was just beginning to urge him to accept a commission out of it himself, though I knew well he wouldn't do it, when he stopped me by exclaiming : " * Oh, by Jove, Paul ! I have a letter lor you ; they gave it to me on my way up the first time, and I forgot all about it in the excitement.' *' He drew it out of his pocket and handed it to me. '* Seeing that the handwriting was my runt's, I threw it down upon the table, remarking that it was not of im- portance and I would read it again. As I did so, however, it occurred to me that, perhaps, this letter might be in reference to my return home. I had written my aunt nearly three weeks before, saying that I would finish ray picture in a few days and would then be free to leave Paris, and this letter was probably in reply. '* Would Winnie be there 1 " I waited no longer, but tore off the envelope, and as I was still trembling with the excitement of the last few moments, I asked Harry to read it for me. " I still continued pacing up and down the room as he began to read something about like this : " • Dear Paul, — I have to tell you in the next few lines what I fear you may, perhaps, consider bad news, but as your letters have not been very ardent of late I don't think you will take it very seriously to heart. It occurred nearly two months ago, but I kept it back from you, because I was afraid that, perhaps, it might interfere with the sue- THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 61 argo urge gbl le by ♦bey Eorgot me. tbrew o! im- )wever, b be in ly aunt lisb my ,0 leave and as llast few \va. as be cess of your picture. From the contents of your last letter, however, I judge that it will have been finished sometime before this reaches you, and I sincerely hope that, in the success which I know it will bring, you will be able to forget this disappointment.' ** • I wonder what in the world it can be, Harry,' I exclaimed, and then continued with a laugh : ' Perhaps the chimney has been blown off the house ; it would cer- tainly be a momentous event in Seaton.'- " He laughed, also, and continued : " ' They say he settled five thousand pounds on her at the time of the marriage.' " ' That doesn't make sense,' he exclaimed, and then, after a short pause : *' ' wait a minute. I guess I've skipped a line or something. Now don't interrupt me again, Paul, it's hard enough as it is. Really, this is the funniest fist I ever tackled. Let me see ; yes, here it is.' ** * Winnie was married in ' " * What's that you say,' I cried, stopping in my walk near the table. ' Read that again, Harry.' " As I said this I continaed my walk. '* Of course, he was mistaken — a very funny mistake to make though ; still it couldn't be* there ; of course, it couldn't ; what was the use of even thinking about it ; the idea was absurd on the face of it. *' All this passed with the rapidity of lightning through my mind, but as I saw him preparing to continue, I stop- ped in my walk to listen. " He again read slowly : I I \m I 52 THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. (( ( Winnie was married ** As he pronounced the words, my body ceased its nervous trembling and became cold. I said, faintly : " ♦ Harry it can't be there j it surely can't be there. She might be .dead ; yes, she might, perhaps, be dead, though I don't think God would let her die when He knows she is all I have, but she can't be married ; no, it is impossible.' " He glanced narrowly at my face for a moment, and then said : ** ' No, I guess not ; perhaps, I'm mistaken, old fellow. You see it's pretty hard to make out.' " I saw he was afraid to let me know the truth, and was trying to keep it from me. I snatched the letter from his hand, and holding it to the light, read slowly, almost calmly, the awful words, '• • Winnie was married in February last.' **I folded the letter and carefully laid it back upon the table ; I turned slowly round to look at Harry and the next instant fell to the floor unconscious. " My friend, I never awoke again for seven years. I was insane. »» THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 58 its lere. lead, I He tto, it b, and :eUow. h, and )r Irom almost upon tud the fears. I V. T was in the beginning of the eighth year that I was one day pronounced sane, and released from the private asylum in London where I had been so long confined. "They say that seven years will alter the entire substance of the human body, and it is perhaps true, but my friend I have reason to know that seven years will sometimes make a change much greater than that. When I was taken into that awful place I was a young man with life all before me, but when I came out ; ah, my friend, when I came out" — He ceased speaking, and raising his hand from his knee, where it had been resting, held it suspended in the air for a moment and sat watching it tremble. Then he placed it upon his head and slowly passed the fingers through his thin white locks. The act was more expressive than words, and knowing well what he meant, I remained silent. It was some moments before he spoke again, when he did so he said : " It is perhaps strange, my friend, but I have never since had a recurrence of the malady. No, my secret is secure, for no one could ever suspect it from any act of my life since. You, my friend, have been with me a great deal of late, and you would never have known it had I not told you, would you 1 " 4 ! \ i !, f i }i 54 THE HISTORY OP PROFESSOR PAUL. He lookod at me almost suspiciously, and as there was only one answer which I dared make, I said : " No, Professor Paul ; I think on the contrary that your powers of recollection are marvellous for a man of your advanced years." " Ah that is it," he exclaimed, " my advanced years ; they all think I am only an old man. I tell you sir I am not an old man ; I am young ! Young ! Do you hear me 1 I am young ! " He spoke almost angrily. I said nothing in reply, and after sitting for some- time in silence he again addressed me in his usual low voice : * " You must forgive me, my friend. You are right ; I am really old, though not in years. I tremble as I remember the awful feeling that took possession of me when I first became aware of it. " I was on my way to the depot, where I had intended to take the noon train down to see my aunt who was still living in Seaton Village, when, in passing a drug store, I happened to see a face reflected in a large mirror that stood in the window. It was an awful face. I shuddered when I saw it. The dark eyes were sunken and dull, the skin was drawn and wrinkled, while over the pale forehead -straggled a few scattered locks of long white hair. I turned to see who my companion could be that owned a face so set in misery. I was alone. Then the awful truth flashed upon me ; the face was my own. A dull, sickening sensation of despair crept over me, and I felt I could go jio further. I entered the shop and saying I felt unwell, THE HISTORY OF i?ROFESSOR PAUL. 55 ended ,s still ore, I that [dered 111, the •ehead At. I ned a truth :ening lid go n well I threw myself down upon a lounge in the back room where the clerk had taken me. I did not cry out and there was no tear upon my cheek ; but in my heart I cursed her who had brought upon me all this misery. " I waited until it was time for the evening train, and then continued on down to the depot. « When I reached the village I walked at once to my aunt's house, and as I approached I could see the same little light gleaming out its welcome from the window. At the sight of it again, a flood of memories arose out of the past and swept over me almost bringing the tears. Before they could come, however, the hard thoughts had again taken possession of my 'heart and they were checked without falling. << When I entered the sitting room my aunt was occupying her accustomed arm chair in its old place before the open fire. I had intended to greet her just as usual ; but when I approached and saw the look upon her face, so ineflably tender and spiritual, I was someway strangely drawn to contrast it with the bitterness of my own feelings and my lips refused to move. " There were some young children playing in the room as I entered, and I remember distinctly noticing how the two little girls stole noiselessly out, as though frightened by my approach, while the boy crept into the corner and sat there without speaking. " ' They are afraid of the madman,' I muttered to my- self, and as I did so the opening to my better nature closed again — closed so tightly that when my aunt arose T still said nothing. *-'5i 41 Mi 56 THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. "*I was expecting you, Paul, and bid you welcome home again.' " She had come over to where I was standing and now, drawing me slowly down towards her, kissed me on the forehead. " I still remained silent, and sinking into a chair sat for sometime gazing into the tire. I then arose, and going upstairs to the little room that had always been mine, threw myself down upon the bed and slept. <* Several days passed, Winnie's name was never once mentioned. I walked out each evening after dusk ; but remained in the house during the daytime as I did not wish to be seen. I was thus thrown much in the company of the children. I noticed they did not shun me as I had thought at first, though a hush always fell upon their play when I approached. " One evening after prayers — my aunt always had prayers in the evening before the children went to bed. She never prayed like other people, but always seemed to talk to Someone ; and, though I hadn't much faith in any- thing, I always felt when my aunt was engaged in prayer that Someone listened. One evening, after prayers. thought I almost felt the old feeling of tenderness stealing over me again as I sat gazing into the fire. I had been sittirg thus for sometime when one of the little girls came slowly over to where I was, and looked wistfully into my face. "'There is something I wanted to ask you. Uncle Paul,' — my aunt had taught them to call me uncle — 'may I ask you 1 ' THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 67 >me LOW, on ' sat ;oing brew once ; but i not ipany I had rplay had bed. ned to n any- prayer ers, I ealing been 18 came y into Uncle 'may I " I nodded my assent, and she continued : " ' Well it was this ; why did the good Christ want to suffer for other people; was it really because he loved them so much ? ' "There was something in the simple way the child asked mo, that made me feel strange. " I replied almost gruffly, ' Ask your aunt, child, she knows more of such matters than I do.' " With a disappointed look she said : < I asked Auntie, but she told me to ask you ; that you would L^ow, because you had suffered for others a little like the good Christ did so much.' *< I looked at my aunt ; the tears were slowly trickling down her cheeks, I felt my own eyes wet, and then the big tears came one after another. " I arose, and going up to my room threw myself down upon the bed, and wept like a child. *< I don't know how long it was till I heard my aunt call my name. She came over and sat down upon the bed where I lay, and taking my hand in one of hers, with the other smoothed the hair back off ray forehead, just as my mother used to do when I was little. When she spoke it was in a very low and tender voice : " * Your life has been unhappy, Paul, very unhappy ; because you were too confident in your own powers, and thought that in the fulness of your love and the great- ness of your b'.rt, you would find that which satisfies, but you were wrong, Paul ; you were mistaken, that is all. Ood knows what is best for each of us, and seeing the idol that you worshipped. He reached down His hand and ! M J. 68 THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. withdrew it beyond your grasp, and when you looked again you saw only the darkness chat had fallen between you and all you loved, and you despaired. But you were wrong again, Paul, for God had still left you the one thing most priceless of all, though you, in your blindness, would not wait to see that it remained. Listen, and I will lift a corner of the veil, and let a gleam of light as pure as heaven shine in upon your life.' " * I don't want it, Aunt Hilda,' I cried j ' I wish I had never been born.' " * Don't say that, Paul ; if you knew all you wouldn't say that. The noblest woman I ever knew — the one woman you loved, Paul — loved you ; yes loved you more than all, even to the end.' " ' Aunt Hilda, if you mean — if you mean her, she was false, utterly false ; I cursed her then, and I curse her now.' I would have said more, but she stopped me, exclaiming : " ' Oh, Paul, Paul, if you only knew. Listen and 1 will tell you the story ; it is not long. It begins with that awful night when the history of your long struggle in Paris, and its terrible termination, first came to her knowledge while glancing over a London news- paper.'" " * They telegraphed for me, and when I arrived she was still unconscious. I remained with her through all the long days and nights of fever and delirium that followed, and through it all, even when the fever was at tlie high- est, she never ceased to call your name. Oh, Paul, I never heard such agony in a human voice.' THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 59 '* At this point my aunt's feelings overcame her, and she ceased speaking. " When she had at length become calmer, she continued : "'I remember well the night they said she would die. I sat beside her bed ; it was nearly midnight, and they said she could not live till morning. She slowly opened her great blue eyes and looked up into mine. Uer lips moved, and I leaned over to catch the sound.' " ' Auntie,' she whispered, ' they say I will die before morning, don't they 1 ' " • Hush, dear.' *' ' Auntie, promise me something.' " ' Anything, dear ; but you must not talk.' " It was only a breath this time. " ' Auntie, if I die and Paul recovers, will you tel^ him that I loved him most ? ' " ' Yes, dear,' I whispered, and with a little sigh she slowly closed her eyes again. " I thought she was dead, but she only slept. They had said she would die ; she lived. " Afterwards, when the fever had left her and she had become stronger, she told me the whole story. ** When her father took her with him to London in the summer, he did so with the intention that she should become engaged to an elderly but wealthy acquaintance of his, and shortly after arriving home he informed her of his wishes. She refused to comply, and when this Mr. Moreland proposed to her he was rejected. This angered her father greatly. He argued and expostulated by turns* telling her that he must have the money to go abroad, as f1 Hi 60 THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. it was his last hope for life, and still she resolutely refused to do what she knew to be wrong. He then asked her reasons, and she told him simply of her love for you, and how she could never love or marry anyone else. He tried to laugh her out of it, but all to no purpose, for she remained true to the pure instincts of her womanhood. '* And so the time wore on, and each day she watched her father slowly dying by inches before her eyes — he did die within two months after he reached Pau— and eacL day he told her that a word from her would save him. " She never spoke once of her own suffering, Paul, during all the time she was relating this to me, but when she told me what follows, her face, even at the memory of it, became as white as it was upon that awful night when she lay so near to death. " One day her father's cough troubled him much more than usual, and his condition at length became so serious that the attending physician thought it best to call in another in consultation. Winnie was present when the result was made known, and heard them tell her father that unless he left immediately for the south of France he could not live three months, but if he went at once they both thought there might still be hope. "That evening Mr. Moreland renewed his proposal, and offered, if accepted, to at once advance the money necessary to enable her father to go. She consented, and shortly after, as I wrote you, they were married. " When she had told me all this, Paul, she was silent for some moments, and then added slowly : " ' He was my father, Aunt Hilda, and if it were all to THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 61 do over again I would do it just as I did, yes, I would do it all, if God would help me as he did before.' '* You remember, Paul, what I once told you about Winnie's religion ; well, there is only one short chapter more to add to the story. After she had employed some of the best physicians to examine your case, and they had all given it as their opinion that you would probably never regain your reason — '* At this point I could bear the suspense no longer. '* < Oh, Aunt Hilda,' I cried, ' tell me only one thing, is she alive or — or dead 1 ' *' ' She is dead to you, Paul ; she is in the town of St. Par, in Southern France, at the Convent of the Holy Sisters — she is a nun.' , /I [posal, loney I, and silent all to m 63 THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. VI. THINK I gave you last evening, my friend, a history of the few more important events that occurred during my first year in the village of St. Far. If 1 did, I must have mentioned the good brothers Barsad, in whose employ I was during the greater part of my sojourn thore* Did I not speak to you, my friend, of the good brothers 1 " I made no reply, as I had found it was wiser never to difier from him in anything which he might say. He had such a firm belief in the certainty of his powers of recollection that upon several occasions my drawing his attention to inaccuracies of this nature had led us into argument. Indsed, once or twice when this happened he had refused during the remainder of the evening to again speak of his history, and that notwithstanding I had con- sented to admit I was in error. He seemed not to notice my silence, however, and continued : *• Ah, my friend, the villagers were not mistaken when they called the brothers good. It had not until then been my fortune to meet two such venerable and saintly old men, nor have I over since Reen their like. They were, in truth, as 1 havu said, far advanced in years, both of them having watched the varying changes of over three-quarters of a .century, and it was related of them in the village, that during the whole of that time there had never been a .single falling out between them. After I had lived for some time in the home of the brothers, I found no difiS- THE HISTOllY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 63 when en my in, nor I, as 1 lavinj, of a ,, that teen a id for diffi- culty in believing this to be true. I'do not recollect ever seeing the one sit down to a meal until the other was first present. I well remember one evening coming in late from the fields, and finding Suger sitting, as was his cus- tom, in the little yard before the house, and seeing that the table was already prepared for our simple meal, I showed some signs of impatience at being obliged to wait, for I was very hungry. The grave old man turned towards me and slowly said : ** * Be seated at the table, my son, and begin to eat ; it is not well that your hunger should remain longer unsatisfied.' " I replied, ' Will you not also be seated. Father Suger, it is now so long since the noon hour 1 ' " * No, my son,' he said, * I will await my brother's coming, I do not care to eat until the food first has his blessing.' " It may seem strange to you, my friend, that he should call me son, seeing that I also appeared well ad- vanced in years, but you would not deem it so if you had seen him. There were few in -the village who remembered ever hearing him called by any other name than that of Suger, and, indeed, my friend, the benignity of his nauce would have commanded that reverent address, fro one to whom the story of his godly life was wholly unknown. " But to nie, my friend, he became more than a father in mere mod< i formal address ; ah, yes, much more than that. Ho' r'ten after returning from labour have I thrown my&t down upon the grass at his feet, and felt r :4 ■M\ M^ ■tj 64 THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. encouraged and strengthened by his wise and kindly words. And, ah, my friend, how often upon those occasions have I sorrowed secretly, for it was only then that I fully realized how great a loss had been mine when my father was taken from me during the unknowing days of my childhood. " In the morning, if the day promised to be fine, he would always carry his armchair down into the little garden and place it under the shade of a tree which stood at a short distance from the door path. This was his favourite resting place, and here he might be found at almost any time during the remainer of the day, listening to the shrill piping of the birds, of whose singing he was very fond. <' I remember hearing a neighbour one iay remonstrat- ing with him in a friendly way for not driving away the birds and taking better care of his vines, but the good old man only replied : *' < God created the birds as well as ourselves, and they must also be fed.' " It was while enjoying the quiet and shade of this retired spot that he related to me many of the events of his earlier life. He seemed never to weary when speaking of his father, and described him as a man of much learn- ing for one born in those parts. I remember his telling me on one occasion how he came to be called by the name of Suger. *' ' I had always been called Pierre,' said he, ' until one day when I was about sixteen years old, my father, who had bv^en sitting for ffome time in profound meditation THE HISTORY OP PROFESSOR PAUL. 65 ds. illy her my 3, he little atcod ,8 bis ad at »ning le was nstrat- tay the )od old id they Intil one ^er, who Iditation called me over to this spot, for it was here he always sat. As I approached him he said : " " Pierre, I have been thinking this morning upon the life of a great and good man ; would you not, my son, like me to tell you something about him ? " " I assented gladly, for I was always fond of hearing my father talk. " " Well," he continued, " he was the friend and adviser cf the sixth Louis, and afterwards, when Louis the Seventh desired to leave France for a time to join the second Holy Crusade, there was none with whom he could so well trust his kingdom as this great man of whom I am speaking. And he, my son, did not betray the confidence which his sovereign had reposed in him, but through the faithful discharge of his duties, lived to be called the father of his country. Now listen, my son, until I tell you the secret of his greatness. He lived in an age when knowledge was held entitled to the greatest reverence ; in an age when the great St. Bernard represented patristic learning, and the profound Abelard, Greek philosophy, but he of whom I speak, unheeding all these, gave up his time to unceasing study of the Holy Scriptures, and had for his purpose the advancement of God's kingdom in the earth and the well being of his own soul. Do you, my son, not wish that you may some day be good and great as he was 1 " " * Oh, yes, father,' I cried, being pleased with the idea of having such a high position. u (I Well, my son," he continued, " he of whom I have spoken was called the Abbot Suger, and Suger you shall from this day be called, that you may always remember 66 THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. when you hear the name that he to whom it once belonged was good first and great afterwards, and may you, my son, strive to be like him." ** When the good Abbot had thus completed the narra- tion of the incident he remained silent for some time as if engaged in thought, and then slowly added, with a sigh : " * Ah, how utterly unworthy of the name have I proved myself to be.' " He told me many other events of his life also, but I would only weary you, my friend, should I attempt their narration, and at the same time it would in no wise further the purpose which I have in relating to you my history. I must, however, inform you of one thing, which I learned from the old man. He had at one time spent some years in Paris as apprentice to a very learned Jew, but of his life there he always refused to speak, until he had become aware that my learning was more advanced than that of the other villagers. He then told me of some strange sights which he had seen while in Paris, and also how he had succeeded in copying part of a very ancient manuscript which the Jew had always been careful to keep in secret. He even went so far as to allow me to see the copy which he had made ; but I need not dwell longer here, as it will be necessary for me to speak to you again concerning these matters. <* I have, perhaps, already in the course of my narra- tive made mention of the younger brother, and if so I have called him Jacques. He was the gardener at the Convent of the Holy Sisters, and, in truth, that was the reason why I first entered the employ of the brothers. I THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 67 ed m» rra- ai{ gh: e I )UtI their wise u my which spent i Jew, atil he anced if some id also kiicient jful to me to dwell to you narra- lif so 1 at the raathe lers. 1 thought that perhaps after a time had elapsed and I had hecome hotter known, I might, with the influence of the hrothers, succeed him in his position at the convent, and my hope was not without reason. ** The old man was beginning at last to show the effects of his long and laborious life. Even since my arrival in the village he had exhibited so marked a change that I had myself noticed it. He stooped more than he did at first ; his step had become slower and less certain, and at times he was even obliged to use a stick with which to steady himself. *' I see you are not surprised at this, my friend, and deem it but the natural consequence of his advanced years, but you must remember the brothers were not men who would succumb easily to old age. They had both been famed for their great strength and powers of endurance from their youth up, and indeed it was commonly related of Jacques — the one of whom I have just been speaking — that when he was a young man one day a large bear came down from the forests back of the convent and he killed it with no other weapon than a short stick. No, I think it must have been his unceasing toil that played such havoc with his strength in his oid age. *' I remember well, upon one occasion, having to lend the old mail my assistance to enable him to reach his home. It occurred one evening, and I mention it thus particularly, because it was during that same evening that I first entered the service of the brothers. ** I was returning along the quiet little road that leads from the convent down past the hoi^e of the brothers, and : ■ 9 68 THE HISTORY OP PROFESSOR PAUL. then taking a turn to the south, runs on through the village. I had been up looking at the convent. I do not know just why it was I went. I had been there many times before, always with the secret hope that I might see her face, and always had I been doomed to disappointment. This occasion had been no exception. I had already tried every means in my power to obtain admittance within the walls of the convent, but without success, and the day when I should do so seemed now as far distant and unap- proachable as it had been seven months before, when I arrived first in the village. " Ah, my friend, in the cold stone that arched itself above that gloomy convent portal might well have been written the awful words which the divine poet saw above the gate of hell : < All hope abandon, ye who enter here.' And yet, although it was my nature so to be, I was not discouraged. I would say to myself each morning, ' It may, be that I will see her to-day,' and again, when the sun had lowered, and the evening was come, * Ah, well, it may be to-morrow.* <* I had with me the picture of her which I painted at Seaton Village when a boy, and I might look at that when I pleased, and no one could take it from me. And then I had my dreams. They were often of her, very often. I have sometimes thought perhap the good angels were sorry for me, and made them so. " Ah, my friend, how I longed to see her face no one can ever know. Just to see it — to see it, if only for a minute. A minute is not long ; listen." He counted slowly up to sixty, as the second hand of THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 69 ge. ,ow nes her ent. ried thin day inap- en I itself been above here.' ^s not g, 'It in the ell, it ktedat when [then I ten. I Is were I no one for a his watch completed the circle of its little dial. Then he said : *'No, a minute is not long, my friend, but it was all I asked for then." He stopped speaking ; his face was working nervously, and with one hand he was pulling at a loose piece of cover- ing on his chair. Then he suddenly arose to his feet, and turning toward me exclaimed : *^ I was wrong, my friend. I say I was wrong when I told you why I went to the convent. That was not my reason. I went that I might gaze at those gray walls, and say to myself, ' She lives, Paul ! She lives ! and you will surely see her, ah, yes, surely, because she lives.' " As he stood before me his whole body was trembling, and he appeared to be again in the same excited state in which I had seen him once before. I felt sorry for the old man, and was about to make some soothing remark, when, without again speaking, he turned to the door and went out. I saw him no more that night. ii land of 70 THB HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. VII. THINK," said Professor Paul, •* that upon the occasion of your last visit, my friend, I told you somewhat concerning my life in the village of St. Par. If I did, I must have mentioned how distasteful to me its dull monotony became. " The village, situated as it was, upon the river Ois^, a small stream that' bears its tribute to the earlier waters of the great Garronne, was withdrawn so far from the main line of travel that a strange face was seldom if ever, seen there. Most of the villagers if not all — really my friend I believe 1 might well say all, and not be beyond the lin^it of the truth — at all events most of the villagers, had been bom there, and by the unaspiring rustics of those parts, this fact alone is always considered a suffi- cient reason for living and dying upon the spot. Some- one has said that one of the four things which prevent a man otherwise capable from becoming great is love of home, and it may be that this was the reason for the dull apathy which seemed to have taken possession of the entire population. If there was a spark of life hidden away in the souls of any of the inhabitants it only shows the truth of this assertion, for it certainly never showed itself in their native village. *' The trips which I was obliged to make at various times to the nearest kown, for the purpose of purchasing seed and other necessaries for the farm, were indeed a THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 71 on ,1 bhe lull )i86, kters the ever, r my >yond ^gers, C8 of auffi." iome- ent a ■ve of dull the idden shows owed larious lasing leed a slight relief, but even then I do not think I could have endured my existence in the village, had it not been that the one great object which absorbed all my thoughts called upon me so earnestly to stay. " It was during my absence on one of the trips I have just mentioned, that an event occurred in the village which was destined to draw the long days of my sojourn there to a sudden close. I had been away purchasing seed as usual, but as the kind I wanted had become somewhat scarce, the crop having been very small that year, T experienced considerable difficulty in obtaining the required quantity. I was thus delayed longer than my accustomed time, and it was not until the evening of the third day after my departure, that I again came within view of the village. It was just dusk as we rounded the last turn in the road, and saw beneath us the lights twinkling in the valley. It was a beautiful sight even to my eyes, which had looked jipon it so many times before. " Below at our feet lay the village, its many glimmering lights making it appear like some quiet lake, embedded among the tall hills, and yielding back again to heaven a pale reflection of its stars. Far to the westward, like a broken vein of blood, rushed the great Garronne down towards the dull red of the sunset. For though it was already dark in the valley, the sun still lingered above the horizon, and the surrounding hills, which caught its last rays, each added a superb pinnacle of flame to the wild beauty of the scene. " It was a long time ago, my friend, that I looked 72 THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. upon that picture, but the events which so quickly followed impressed it forever upon my mind. ** We were obliged to make our descent to the plain below very slowly and cautiously, and the last gleam of light had for sometime vanished from the hills, before we at length drew up in front of the village inn. We alighted, and my companion, finding his horses very much heated, remarked to me that he would water them when he came out. " How distinctly I remember each trivial circumstance of that awful night ! " We entered the inn, and finding no one there, I called loudly for the host. A young girl, whom I knew to be his daughter, answered my summons, and told us her father had been called away suddenly by one of the villagers shortly after the noon hour, and had not yet returned. She added however, that she was expecting hioi every moment, and would if we wished it, herself attend to our wants until he came, to which we gladly as- sented. " We took seats at the table, and she left the room to execute our orders. " During her absence, I expressed my thanks to my companion for his kindness in bringing me so long a journey, and added : ' It will not be necessary for you to take me any further for the bi others do not live far from here, and I can walk it in a few moments.' « He began to protest that he could not think of allow- ing me to do so, when I stopped him by saying : " ' No, my friend, I will walk, as in that case there will THE HISTOHY OF PROFESSOK PAUL. 73 be no noise of the horses, and I can slip in quietly without waking the brothers.' '*1 was just making the latter part of this remark when the inn keeper entered, and as I finished speaking he slowly walked over to where we were sitting and said : « ( You may well slip into that house to-night, my friend, without waking any one.' ** ' Ah,' said I, turning with a laugh to my companion, * our good host will always have his jest. Yes, he is right, the good brothers do sleep somewhat soundly, especially Suger, but then after a long life of toil like his, one des- erves his rest. Is that not so 1 ' " I turned toward the inn-keeper, and noticed for the first time that hit asuaily jolly face wore a very quiet and grave expression. " He said slowly : * Suger never slept so soundly as he sleeps to-night — he is dead.' " I uttered no sound. A strange feeling came over me. The lights in the room grew dim and indistinct, and yet I caught every word he said as he proceeded : ** * Neighbour Francis was passing the brothers' house at the noon hour on his way from work, and seeing Suger sitting in his accustomed chair in the little yard, called to him wishing him good health. Not receiving a reply, he called back again, more loudly as he had by this time passed the house, and again receiving no reply he turned back and entered the yard. When he approached the old man he found him sitting, as was his custom, with a smile upon his lips but quite dead. Neighbour Francis at once gave the alarm, but as I have said our good old friend had 74 THB HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. already passed from life. Word was quickly taken to his brother at the Convent, and the neighbours say it was an awful sight to see his face when his eyes first rested on his dead brother. Indeed they had to carry him down the road to the house of his friend Jean where he now lies, and to tell the truth, my friend, it would be hard from the look of his face to say that he was not the dead man himself.' " As he said these words I arose from the table, and with- out speaking rushed out into the night. As I made my way hurriedly through the village my mind ran back over the quiet scenes of the past year. I remembered tho many kindly words he had spoken to me ; the many little acts he had done to show me that he was my friend ; the many times he had said in his gentle way, ' My son it is better to be good ; it is always better to be good, and remember at all times that the greatest good in all this world is for him who is most like the Christ.' And he was dead. Ah, my friend, I felt that I had lost my father, and when I reached the little house the tears were fast rolling down my cheeks. « *' I was unacquainted with their custom, and expected to find several of the villagers, but when I entered the house no one was there ; it was deserted. I had seen through the window that there was a light in the room which the good Suger was wont to occupy, and as I stood there in the darkness of the hallway an intense desire to look once more upon my old friend's face took {possession of me. I noiselessly opened the door, and stepped inside. The appearance of the room was unchanged since I left. THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 75 I turned half in fear towards the bed, but the foot-board, which was very high, intercepted my vision, and I could not see his face. I moved a few steps nearer. His head lay upon a pillow between two candles. His long white hair was brushed back off his high forehead, and I could see by the pale, flickering light of the candles that a smile still lingered around the old man's lips. His face was in- finitely tranquil and calm, I gazed for some time upon it in silence, and then my feelings again overcame me, and I threw myself upon my knees beside the couch, placed my head in my hands, and wept aloud. " Oh, my friend, I felt such a strange feeling of lone- liness. *' I must have been on my knees for sometime, when I heard an infinitely tender voice say : " * Do not weep, my brother, he is better, far better, as he is.' " The voice thrilled through my soul down to the very foundations of my being. I knew it ; there was only one such voice in all the world. I scarcely dared to raise my eyes. A strange shivering took possession of my body. I looked up. It was she. It was Winnie. " Oh, my friend, it was Winnie ; but it was Winnie with a white band drawn tightly across her forehead. It was Winnie robed in black, with a long crape veil sweep- ing to the ground. Winnie with her blue eyes dull and lustreless ; with her face emaciated, and pale as the dead face into which I had just been looking. Yes, my friend," he began, but ceased speaking, and turning his chair away from mine, placed his head in his hands, and sobbed aloud. iijiiii 1 11 i 76 THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. After sitting thus for some moments he again looked up, and said almost calmly : " Yes, my friend, it was Winnie. " When I raised my head she was again speaking from the other side of the bed where she had knelt to pray, but when she saw my face her lips ceased to move, and her voice be- came silent. A dull red spot came in each of her cheeks, and then faded slowly out again, and left her face as white as the snowy band that crossed her forehead. ** She still said nothing, but gazed into my face. Oh, my friend, I will never forget that look. No sound broke the awful stillness. The wan light of the candles flickered slowly over her face, over mine, and then over the face of the dead man who lay so quiet and motionless between us, and still there was no sound. '* Presently I saw her lips move. I listened with all the intensity of my being. " ' It is you, Paul ; ' she said in the same low tender voice. * It is you.' *< She ceased speaking as if to gather strength, and then continued : " * I have not prayed for this, Paul, but I have longed for it these many years, that I might yet once more look into your face even as I do now, and say " Paul, I loved you most." But there has been a prayer, Paul, which I have prayed unceasingly to God, that one day I might lead you from your sorrows to where the Lord Christ sits beyond the stars, and hear Him bid you welcome ; that one day we together, bathed in light, might walk beside the quiet waters that flow eternally before His face— just you and I, Paul ; and He has promised me that it shall be.' TIIK HISTORY OP PR0FBS80R PAUL. 77 ler len )ok red lide lust " She ceased speaking, but her eyes were still fixed upon mine, and her lips were still parted as though she would speak longer. I was motionless. I did not breathe. I only listened, but she was silent. " Then the words so long dead within my spul, broke from me in my agony like a torrent. I besought her to fly with me, and leave that awful place ; the world was wide, and we would seek a home in some far land, and live and love each other more for all the weary years that had passed. I called her by her name ; I called her Winnie, but she was silent. I leaned far across the couch ; I leaned upon the dead man, and gazed into her face. There was no answering gaze. A dull sensation stole slowly into my brain. I arose to my feet almost stealthily ; I think I feared that I might wake the dead man, and he would fiud us there together and give an alarm. I stepped noise- lessly around the foot of the couch to where she knelt. I whispered ' Winnie, Winnie,' close to her ear. I kissed her upon her cheek ; it was cold." The old man was silent for a few moments ; then he arose slowly from his seat, and tottered towards me. He placed a hand heavily upon each of my shoulders, and lowering his head close to mine gazed into my face. His lips were quivering. His whole body shook. His eyes were dry and hard as stone, and blazed into mine like red agates. Such a look of agony I never saw. Then his lips slowly parted, and he whispered : " My God, she was stone dead." >e. 78 THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. w ^ ..';>.. it it i - ¥■ ■ VITI. URING the early part of the evening which I have laet mentioned, Professor Paul made what I considered at the time a somewhat singular request. He said : " My good friend, you have been so long a patient listener to the history of my life, and have during its relation expressed so many kind feelings towards me, that I feel well assured that you will grant what I am about to ask of you." He looked at me very earnestly as he said this, and when he had finished I replied : " Your history has indeed interested me very deeply, Professor Paul, and if there is anything I can do that will show how completely you have won my sympathy, and at the same time be of assistance to you, I will not only will- ingly do it, but will be more than glad cf the opp^ 'tunity.'> "Ah, my friend," he answered, "you do not know what strength and encouragement I am able to draw from your words. You have indeed been good to me, and I felt sure, now that the crisis was near, you would not desert me. What I would ask of you is this, that you discontinue your visits to me until the fourth night from to-night, and that you then come to this place at twelve o'clock prepared to remain with me until the morning." It was certainly, as I have already said, a very odd request to make; and now that the fourth night was rapidly ap- proaching the midnight hour, and I found myself near the door of the Professor's little shop, I could not help again THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL* 79 )W >m lOt >m ive iSt he LlQ going over the whole matter in my mind. Why was it he had asked me to come 1 Certainly not for the mere purpose of listening to the completion of his story. Why, he had "already himself told me that it was almost finished. No, it could not be that ; but supposing it were, why had he wished me to come at midnight and remain till morning *? Was not the early portion of the night more suitable 1 And then why pass over the three intervening evenings 1 No, this plainly could not be his intention. What it was I did not know, but at all events it certainly was not this. Perhaps he was going to try some dangerous experiment. He had himself called it a crisis. A crisis ; ah, now I remembered it all : how he had spoken to me long ago of a great plan which he said was the one remaining purpose of his life. I remembered how earnestly he had expressed his belief in its success, and quoted so many names of men unknown to me as his authority for it. Yes, perhaps 'his was indeed the reason for his strange request. Perchance to-night vfould see the success or failure of his great scheme, whatever it might be. Here, again, arose the question, *' What could it heV I remembered well encountering it before, and at that time arriving at a somewhat vague conclusion that perhaps the old man was partially insane. Had I still reason to believe that this was so 1 Yes, I believed I had. His actions had certainly at times been unexplainable on any other grounds ; and then had he not himself admitted that at one time he had been altogether out of his mind ? By this time I had arrived at my destination, and was standing with my hand upon the knob of Professor Paul's u- if ijil i 'ii i: 80 THE HISTORY OP PIIOFESSOR PAUL. door. I did not turn it, however, but remained in a state of indecision. If my conclusions were correct, and Profes- sor Paul was really a lunatic, was it wise for me to enter 1 Ought I to trust myself alone with him at midnight in this lonely place 1 Perhaps tonight he would ask me to accom- pany him upon one of those mysterious visits upstairs. If he should ask me I could hardly refuse to go, for had I not consented to come that I might assist him in som e unknown operation 1 What, then, if I should before morning find myself alone with him in the third story of this old building, and something should happen Who would hear my cry for help? \\ ould any one hear it 1 It may have been that the night was cold, but as this thought passed through my brain a little shiver ran quickly over me. It roused me in an instant. Bah ! I was be- coming a coward. Had I not already promised Professor Paul that I would come and help him in what manner I could 1 Was he not a poor old man almost oroken down by the weight of his misfortunes, and at the same tiuae wms he not a brother artist to whom I had pledged my ^ord? Go inl of course I would go in, and without Hesitating longer I turneni the knob and entered. I passed at onc<^ through the shop into the little back room expecting to find Professor Paul already there, but was disappointed as the room was empty. I knew, how- ever, that he had already been there at some previous time during the evening, for the large arm chair, which he always occupied was drawn up to its accustomed place before the fire. Seeing this, I went over to the end of the THE HISTOUY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 81 room and, brmging ray ovsrn chair also up to the fire, sat down to await his return. I had not been seated many minutes when the little clock in the outside shop began to strike twelve, and as the last stroke died away there was a slight noise at the hall door, and Professor Paul entered. He was apparently much excited. His fingers were twitching nervously, and his face was very white. Upon entering he had not in any way showed that he noticed my presence, but walking rapidly to his chair had seated himself, and ever since remained in silence. He now arose suddenly and began to pace up and down the room, but after continuing to do so for some moments he appeared to gradually become calmer, and resumed his seat. Shortly afterwards he turned towards me, and without any pre- liminary remarks began at once by saying : " My friend, the man who studies well the history of the race, cannot fail to be profoundly impressed with the fact that at ever recnrring periods in the course of its existence God has breathed into this world great souls. The periods of which I speak have at times lengthened into centuries, but there has never been a time when a new and great thought was essential to the wellbeing of the race, and God has refused to create a soul capable of con- taining it. " Men of this nature walk through the world with their heads enveloped in the clouds. They gaze out into a night the density of which would appal the weaker sight of their fellow mortals, and yet they are enabled by the lightnings of their own genius to illuminate thia 6 i 82 THE HISTORY OP PROFESSOR PAUL. obscurity, and in it to see and grasp secrets of the universe which would otherwise remain for ever hidden from men. Such a man was Krasds the Arabian. •' It had been given to the great alchemist Geber to discover the Infernal Stone and the parallelism between metals and planets ; to Calid, the Cabalist, to discover the influence of the stars upon operations of alchemy, and to Paracelsus, Artephius, Avicenna, Kellir, and many others, to uncover the secrets of nature before the eyes of men ; but it remained to Krasds alone to discover the greatest of all secrets — the secret of life itself. At his command the most occult and untried forces of the universe became luminous, and unveiled their mysteries to meet his glance. His was a aature that did not fear to scale the dim heights of the vast unseen, and when all other mortals fell back abashed before the unlit portal, he alone passed through. Long before his time, Heraclitus, of Ephesus, surnamed The Obscure, had maintained that fire was the principle of all things, and it had been written in the Zohar, the sacred book of the Cabala, * The sun is the source of life.' In an earlier time the aged Sestros, while endeavouring in vain to discover the process of creating potable gold, had extracted from the recesses of his alembic the long sought Elixir Vitas, and died with the great secn^t still locked within his soul, slain by the Gods, as men said, for his prefcamption. " These and many others were indeed great discoveries, my friend, but a secret more subtle and elusive th*.n all still remained beyond the grasp of man. The Elixir of Sestros would indeed prolong the human life for many THE HISTORY OF PUOFKi-SOll PAUL. 83 centuries, but it still remained for some great soul to torture nature, and from her agony extort the elixir, in the pure light of whose flame the inanimate should awake inzo being. This man was Krasds the Arabian. " Of his discovery he writes that the knowledge of it weighed so heavily upon his mind, that he would willingly have yielded it back again to the Gods, but was not able. '< It was commonly reported that the great alchemist had made a writing of his discovery, and after his death diligent search was made for this manuscript. It was not found, however, and as there had been a stranger from the kingdom of Persia staying at the house of Krases shortly before his death, the disappearance of the manuscript was always laid to his charge. Whether this is the true ex- planation or not I have never been able to discover, but it is certain that it was not again seen for over a century. ** Of all those good men who devoted their lives to the recovery of lost manuscripts, Poggio, the Florentine, is perhaps, as you are aware, my friend, the most distin* guished. His energy and zeal were unflagging, and though we often hear him complain that his efibrts were unassisted bj the great, yet we never find him ceasing to continue his great researches. He it was who was destined to bring this manuscript again to light. " You will remember, my friend, ♦hat history records how Poggio founc'. the work of Quintilian under a heap of rubbish in a decayed coffer in a tower belonging to the Monastery of St. Gallo, and it is indeed true, but there was another discovery made a-, the same time which has always remained unchronicied. During the search which ;i: ':i ti- ' i 84 THE HISTORY OP PROFESSOR PAUL. was the occasion of his finding the work of Quintilian he also discovered a further manuscript hidden away in an- other part of the same tower, which, although unknown to him, was the great writing of Krasds, the Arabian. How it came to be there I have never been able to learn. *' Poggio, being unacquainted with the Sanskrit in which it was written, employed the services of a learned Jew in its translation, and afterwards being absorbed in the joy which his great discovery of Quintilian brought with it, he neglected to reclaim the work which would have added so greatly to his fame. It had remained for genera- tions in the family of the Jew, until it had at length de- scended to Berseus, to whom the good Suger was appren- ticed when in Paris. " Shortly after the death of the brothers — for Jacques had also died before I left the village — I returned to Eng- land. Upon my arrival there I learned for the first time of the death of my aunt, and at the same time I was in- formed that she had i"ft to me whatever little property she possessed. I nly imained long enough to complete the necessary arrange uients, and then returning to the Continent, I spent the next two years in travel and research. " T was consumed by the one desire to learn the secret which the othek' half of the manuscript contained and thus be able to bring back to life one already dead. " Upon having the part which was in my possession translated I found that what it contained was much the same as the good Suger had told me. It described the opera- tion necesBary to the distillation of the Elixir, but continued THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 85 to say that the process of constructing the golden globe in which it must be burned was even a more profound mys- tery still, and here it ended. " I thought at one time of making a search for the descendants of the Jew. The good Suger had told me how he had afterwards been obliged to leave Paris, and had gone to America. He even told me the name of the new place in which he had settled, but to tind the descendants of an obscure Jew, even supposing that he had any, seemed a task so much more than hopeless that, after considering it for a short time, I gave it up as futile. " I continued my labours without relaxation. I pored over the faded manuscript of alchemists who had been dead for centuries. I searched through old monasteries and ancient libraries in the hope of obtaining light, but in vain. I then retired into solitude, and began a series of experiments which lasted for over two years. My friend, all proved fruitless ; I was still as far from grasping the great secret as in the first days of my search. " I then at last came to decide that my only hope of success lay in discovering the manuscript, and to do this I must first discover the family of the Jew. I came to America and to this city, for it was here I had been told he first settled. I made diligent enquiries among the Jews, and, strange as it may seem, in a comparatively short time I was successful. You will no doubt, my friend, be astonished at this, but you must remember that the Jows are a peculiarly conservative people. They have their own rites and customs, and in the practice of them become a body separate from their surroundings. 86 THE HISTORY OP PROFESSOR PAUL. *' BerseuR had been dead some years, but the little shop which had been his was at the time of which I am speak- ing occupied by another Jew named Levy, and still re- mained, in much the same state as that in which Berseus bad left it. In that shop, my friend, you are now sitting. " The Jew, Levy, from whom I obtained possession, said that Berseus had been reputed to be a very wise man, but he had never seen any manuscripts about the place since it had been in his occupation, and if there ever had been any, he thought Berseus must have destroyed them before his death. The only things which might be the work of Berseus that he had seen upon the premises were some instruments which he had one day accidentally found in the attic, and as he was unable to discover any use to which they could be put, he said they had remained there without being interfered with ever since. '* After a continuous and thorough search for the manuscript which proved unsuccessful, I ascended one afternoon to the attic, that I might see the instruments of which the Jew had spoken." The old man as he reached this point in his narrative again became very excited, and arising from his chair paced up and down the room as he continued : " Ah, my friend ! my friend ! How shall I describe my feelings ? How shall I depict to you the emotions that swept over me, as I stood in the twilight of that little room, and after all those weary years of labour and despair, beheld at last before my eyes the golden globe that was to bring back all my happiness. I stood for a moment dazed and motionless. I scarcely dared to breathe. Then I THE HISTORY OP PROFESSOR PAUL. 87 turned, and exerting all my strength I cautiously dragged a heavy box across the floor, and placed it against the door. I was afraid some one might enter and claim it from me. I slipped off my shoes, and walked noiselessly around it several times. I dared not touch it, for I knew from the little I had been able to discover that the mechan- ism must be of a very delicate nature, and easily displaced. " I remember well, my friend, that I was forced to pass the entire night there, for when it became at length too dark to see, and T returned to the door, I found after repeated trials that I was w .xolly unable to move the box away, although under the tension of my extreme excite- ment I had dragged it a considerable distance to place it there. I was thus obliged to remain till morning, as I did not dare to remove any of the contents of the box in the darkness, not knowing with what it might be filled. I studied the mechanism of the globe and reflectors almost continually, until at last I knew that I was mauter of their secret. I will never forget the night, when after placing Winnie's picture in position before the globe. I slowly poured in the precious elixir and stood with the match ready to light the flame tb.at should call back her soul to earth. For a moment I was almost overcome by a great feeling of awe. The solemn question arose before my mind, *' * Is it right to bring one back from the peace of heaven to walk again amid the trouble and anguish of this world ' 1 I hesitated for a moment, but only for a moment, for with the next thought my great love had conquered. I couched the match to the elixir and the flame shot up through the ilarkness like the bursting of a star. 88 TUB HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. " To-night is the thirteenth night since then, and if the flame but burns until to-morrow's dawn — she lives." As he said this he drew himself up until the stoop, which his misfortunes had brought with them, entirely disappeared from his shoulders. He stood up firm and erect as a young man of twenty, and his dark eyes flashed back the fire with a brilliancy that I would not have believed they could possess. After some moments' silence he turned to me, and said : " I must leave you now my friend, to return to my vigil upstairs. I have already remained away too long. If you will take my large chair it will be more comfortable for you, and perhaps you will then n:ore easily fall asleep." I protested that I would remain awake so as to be ready whenever he should need assistance, but he only answered ; " It is not necessary, my friend, that we should both watch, and besides it is well that you should sleep, for you will then be better prepared to take your part in the events which will follow the dawn. Yes, my friend, I shall feel better satisfied if I know that you are sleeping. I have from the first always feared that when the last great moment should come, and she began to slowly pulsate with returning life, my emotions would overcome me, and 1 would be unable to complete the operation. Indeed, my friend, this was my reason from the beginning for attempt- ing to interest you in my history. I hoped that you '^ould consent to be w* ' h me at that moment, and I was not mis- taken in your goodness. Sleep therefore, my friend, for it ■will renew your strength, and I will return, and arouse THE HISTORY OP PROFESSOR PAUL. 89 you when the time is come. Having said this he took up the lamp and went out." 1 had taken Professor Paul's chair while he was speak- ing, and I now sat in the wavering light of the fire reflecting upon what he had said. Sleep ! It was a very simple matter to say sleep, but after the strange things to which I had been listening that evening, I found it a very difficult thing to accomplish. No, there could be no two ways about it, sleep was out of the question. What then should I do to pass away the time 1 How long would it be ? I slowly revolved it in my mind. Let me see. I came at twelve o'clock. Then there was the Professor's story ; how long had he been talking 1 I should think about half an hour. Oh no, half an hour, it must have been more like two hours and a- half. Well, supposing it were two hours, it would now be two o'clock. Then it occurred to me that it was rather absurd for me to sit there trying to calculate it, when I could at once tell by merely going into the outside shop, and looking at the clock. Should I go ! No, what would be the use 1 I was sure I hadn't heard the clock strike yet, and if it really was about two o'clock, it certainly would in a few minutes, so I would wait. The long deep shadows thrown out by the flickering firelight chased each other rapidly round the room. Now they ran like madmen in a wild race over the floor, then, scaling the walls, leaped out upon the ceiling, and laughed back again at the flames. I was watching them as they glided along, each in his turn being swallowed up by the dark recesses of some corner, when I was startled by a slight sound. I turned involuntarily in my chair, and IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I Ill 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 ^ 6" — ► Vl y /A Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 873-4S03 \ •N? :\ \ ^ r> \ :^- ^^/^ 1 90 THB HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. waited. It seemed to have come from the tall case in which Professor Paul kept the skeleton. I listened intently, but it did not occur again, so perhaps I had been mistaken. I then fell to wondering whose bones those were that filled that unsightly box. Perhaps some murderer's whose body had been handed over for dissection. I had seen a skeleton some place before. I was sure I had, I had a vague recollection of having been afraid of it. It must have been long ago then ; when could it have been. 1 Yes, I remembered now. It stood in a glass case at the side of my desk when I was a boy at school. Again I saw it standing there, with its hollow eye holes peering ominously into my face. Now its jaws opened slowly, and its yellow teeth grinned at me. What a hideous grin. Its bones rattled. It raised its thin fingers, and tapped with an awful regpilarity upon the glass slowly muttering to itself in a sepulchral tone, " Dust and Ashes, dust and ashes, dust and ashes." Ugh ! I started with a little shudder. These were no thoughts for a time like this. I would think of something pleasant, of my art, of home, of any- thing. Of home ; yes, this ^ould be r« better subject for my musings. I would remember the pretty little city where I had spent my early life. Again I stood upon the brow of the mountain that shelters it to the South, and far away Northward saw the tiny crafts gliding over the blue waters. How slowly they crept along, appearing in the distance like the little fleecy patches of white cloud in which the young angels sleep. And still further and to the East, what was it that I saw % Ah, yes, I remember now and as I still lingered to gaze upon ■*T»l»r THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 91 the scene, again stealing through the sunlight like a gleam of gold, I could discern the slender thread of sand that sep- arates the turbulent Ontario waters from the almost sab- batical stillness of the little bay. It was indeed a pretty sight, and I now turned to the westward to look for the little town that lies there hidden among the hills. Yes, there it was, sleeping as usual in the mellow sunlight, while its smoke curled lazily upward and was lost in the blue above. Around it were the broad fields bathed in the rich yellow light of the afternoon sun, and winding sinuously downward from its doors I could trace the little canal which had been cut through the shallow waters of the inlet to give access to the bay. Many a time I had roamed through those wide fields, and many a time I had glided over the quite waters of that little inlet. Again I felt the yellow dust of the lilies blown softly agiMlist my cheek, and heard the sighing of the slender rushes as they bent low haaeath the boat. Again I became friends with the wild roses, the tall waving grasses, and the limpid little stream that slips noisessly through them almost hidden from sight. Ah yes, it was a very gentle stream, and so cool beneath the shadow of the overhanging trees. Yes, the trees shaded it well. It was always cool. I remember — what was it I was thinking of 1 Of — of some stream. Yes, I think it was a stream. Well I remember — but I remembered no more, and I think it must have been at this juncture that my musings slowly dissolved themselves into dreams, and without knowing it I quietly fell asleep. ■OB 92 THK HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. IX. HEN I awoke it was with a start. I must have been asleep sometime, for I found myself shivering. The room was very cold and dark, the fire ha\ring burned itself out during my sleep until nothing remained ex- cept a few smouldering embers. I had been dreaming again of that ghastly skeleton, with the awful monotone of " Dust and ashes." It had again stood in the tall case, and grinned at me with its hollow jaws and yellow teeth. It had gazed hideously into my face, as it nodded its skull with the same awful regularity against the glass, and muttered, " Dust and ashes, dust and ashes." It was this dull rapping sound that had awakened me. What could have caused it ] There must have been some external noise to produce the one in my dream. I sat still, and listened intently. Yes, there it was again ; I had not been deceived. What could it be 1 I revolved the question rapidly in my mind. It was growing more distinct each moment Suddenly I remembered. Why of course it was Professor Paul coming for me. As I reached this conclusion, I certainly felt an unmis- takable feeling of relief, but it was short lived, for with the next thought I remembered that the dawn must be fast approaching. At this moment Professor Paul opened the door, and entered. He was carrying a lighted candle in one hand, and with the other shielded the little flame from the draft THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 93 of air which the closias; door created. The light was thus thrown full upon his face, and I could see at a glance that it was very pale. He said nothing, but after placing the candle down upon the table, proceeded at once to the little cupboard that stood at the other side of the room, and when he returned he was carrying a loaf of bread, some butter, and a bottle of wine. He laid these carefully upon the table, and then drawing up a chair sat down, and began to cut up the bread in thin slices, and butter it. When he had finished he arose, and again going to the cupboard he returned this time with a small basket, a wine glass, and some table napkins. He placed the basket also upon the table, and then covered the bottom with one of the napkins, at the same tima allowing the ends to come well up over the sides. After doing this he carefully laid the bottle and glass in the bottom of the basket, and having placed the bread in around them, he folded in the ends of the napkin, and laid a second over the top. All this had been done without a word being spoken, but as he completed it he turned to me and said : ** You see, my friend, immediately after she becomes animate it will be necessary to give her some nourish- ment." I made no reply, and after looking at his watch, he continued : '* Come, my friend, wa must hurry ; it will be dawn in thirty-six minutes." His voice was very weak, and trembled as he spoke. He took both the candle and basket himself, and after I i'l;^ 94 THE HISTORY OF PROFBSSOK PAUL. had opened the door started upstairs telling me to follow. He hesitated three or foar times in the ascent, apparently to regain his breath, bat it was not long before we arrived at the third story, and I found myself standing before a closed door. Professor Paul now whispered to me to take off my shoes, he at the same time removing his own, and then taking up the basket, he carefully extinguished the light. After this he drew the door open far enough «o allow us to enter, and we passed in together. I found myself still enveloped in total darkness, but I at once became aware of a low humming, or rather buz- zing, sound, not unlike that made by the works of a clock when the pendulum is broken. It seemed to disturb Professor Paul in some way, for muttering something to himself, he hurriedly left my side, and in a moment after- wards the noise ceased. When he returned I could tell from hi. manner that an occurrence beyond the ordinary had taken place. He seemed to have been wholly unnerved, and as he leaned against the closed door, I could hear that ho was breathing heavily. As soon as he recovered sufficient command of himself, he said in a hoarse whisper : ** How long did I remain down stairs 1 " and then added, ** Be very careful how you answer for much depends upon itr' I thought for a moment, and replied : " I should say not longer than six or seven minutes at the outside, and that would include the time you spent coming down and going up again as well." THB HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 95 My answer appeared to greatly relieve him. " Ah, my friend," he said, *' if that be indeed accurate, all may yet be well. I had thought that it might be eleven or twelve minutes, but your estimate is far more likely to be correct than mine, for to me each moment that I was away seemed almost an eternity. You will scarcely wonder at my anxiety in asking you the question, when I tell you that the slight noise you heard was caused by the too rapid revolution of the little wheel which regulates the intensity of the light. I was beside the globe imme- diately before going down stairs, but as I left it I remem- ber my exhaustion was so great that it rendered my step very heavy and uncertain, in fact I almost staggered as I reached the door, and it may be that the unusual vibration in some way loosened the moderator. At all events, when I entered just now, it was unchecked and running at a pressure of seventy instead of its normal rate of forty- eight and a half, and you will easily understand the disas- trous consequences which would have followed had it been in this state as long as I thought, when I tell you there was barely sufficient liquid in the globe to keep up the flame till dawn, even at its normal rate. However, I have no doubt your estimate is correct, and if so all will yet be well, for I can counteract the effect of the extra pressure waste without weakening too greatly its intensity, by allowing it to run from this out at four or five below." I now began to have very grave doubts myself, for while he was speaking, I had rapidly gone over the whole matter again in my mind. I recollected his going twice to the cupboard, how slow he had been in cutting up the 96 THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. bread, in buttering it and filling the basket^ and then how laboriously he had climbed the stairs, hesitating so many times. I said nothing, however, and the next moment he drew aside the heavy curtain that surrounded the doorway, and we entered. As I stepped inside, I at once became aware that I was in the presence of an intense light of some kind, but was for the moment unable to observe anything further, as Professor Paul at once took me by the arm, and led me to the far end of the room. Upon our arrival there, he informed me in a whisper that this was to be my position and cautioned me not to leave it for a moment on any pretext whatever. He placed in my hand the end of a cord which appeared to be hanging from the ceiling, and instructed me to pull it the instant I &hould hear him cry out, " The dawn ie, come." He then informed me that this cord was attached to the covering of a large skylight, and pulling it would liberate the curtain and allow the day- light to enter the room. He then further told me that he would leavo the basket with me, and after the curtain had fallen I was to be prepared to bring him the bread and wine at any moment if he should call for them. As soon as he appeared to feel satisfied that I was ready to do all he required of me, he slipped noiselessly from my side, and moved quickly away through the darkness towards the place where the light was shining. My eyes had now become somewhat accustomed to the obscurity with which I was surrounded, and I was able to dimly discern in the middle of the room what appeared from the shape of its dark outline to be a huge globe. THE HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 97 What it was mounted on I couid not tell, but from its face, which was turned directly away from me, appeared to be issuing a continuous and intense stream of pure white light. I saw that it fell upon the wall at the further end of the room in a large circle, and in the centre of the circle stood the figure of a young girl. The light was so power- ful that even from the distance at which I stood, I could easily discern every feature perfectly, and I remember even admiring the delicate tracery of the lace work about her throat. It needed no second glance at the pure blue eyes, wavy brown hair and close fitting little red gown, to know that this was indeed the picture which Professor Paul had so long ago promised I should one day see. I was just beginning to examine it more minutely, when I was interrupted by again hearing the same buzzing sound that had succeeded our entrance.. I turned my attention quickly to the place where the globe was stand- ing, and was just in time to see the dark form of Professor Paul glide noiselessly up and remain apparently motion- less beside it. At the same instant the buzzing ceased, and the room was again filled with intense silence. I had not before been aware how great this stillness was, but the sudden cessation of the noise appeared to impress it more fully upon me. It seemed almost like a heavy weight cast upon me to press me downward. With it came a strange sensation of awe. I gazed earnestly through the darkness into that wonderful light Was Professor Paul right, and would she really live ? Would her spirit be drawn back to earth 98 THE HISTORY OF PR0FB880R PAUL. again under the luminous power of that strange flame 1 Would the God, who had once called her soul away from this world, now release it again at the command of a mortall If it were indeed true, I felt that I was destined in the next few moments to witness amid the gloomy stillness of that lonely place, an event which would remain forever sublime in the history of the world. At this moment the silence was broken by a sudden exclamation from Professor Paul. An almost impercep- tible shudder ran quickly over me as I turned my gaze still more intently upon the picture, and saw the lips slowly move. Now a thrill of life ran through the whole body until it stood trembling from head to foot. The fingers twitched nervously. An appalling sensation came upon me, and I stood motionless, holding my breath. Could it be that the light was becoming unsteady and flickering as it exhausted the last drops of the precious elixir, or was she really begin ning to feel the slow pulsations of returning animation. The suspense was becoming almost unbearable. I distinctly heard Professor Paul whisper twice amid the intense still- ness, *' She liveSj she lives ! " The movement in the body now almost amounted to distortion. The intensity of the light was plainly dimin- ishing each moment, and I could see at a glance that what we had both mistaken for signs of returning life was indeed only the strange effect of the expiring quiver of the flame within the globe. Almost the same instant that the reality of this flashed upon me. Professor Paul also seemed to become aware of THB HISTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. 99 it There was a sound like a suppressed groan, and stand- ing with the cord tightly clutched in my fist I shuddered from head to foot as I heard him cry in a voice of agony, " Oh, my God, just one little minute more of light ! " The sound of his voice had scarcely died away when there was an instantaneous and almost blinding flash, followed by complete darknesa I heard a low sob come slowly out of the silence, and then there was a dull crash, as of some heavy body falling to the floor, and again all was still. I stood dazed and horrified. I did not move. I did not dare to move. Then my heart, which had seemed to cease beating, began faintly to act again, and with its throbbing impulse returned. I clutched the cord more tightly, and pulled with all my strength. In an instant the curtain had dropped, and the dull gray light of the dawn began slowly to fill the room. As I turned round I could dimly discern a dark object stretched out upon the floor at the foot of the picture, and I slowly groped my way over towards it. I felt conscious that it was Professor Paul, even before I stooped down to look. He had fallen forward upon his face at the pictured feet of her he had loved, and as he lay there so still and motionless I could not help feeling that the blue eyes above never ceased to look down mournfully at him. I at once turned him over on his back, and tore away the clothing from his throat and breast. His heart had apparently ceased to beat. My head became cold, and a chill perspiration broke out upon my forehead. I rubbed him vigorously, but without eflfect. Then suddenly I remembered the bottle of wine. It had become much S 100 THB HISTORY 07 PROFESSOR PAUL. 1 lighter by this time, and I crossed the room in an instant. I returned no less rapidly, and at once poured a small quantity down his throat. I then steadily continued the rubbing, only desisting when I thought it necessary to give him some more of the wine. A length I believed I could detect a slight movement of the heart. I bent down my ear and listened intently. Yes, I was not mistaken ; it was indeed beating, though almost imperceptibly. I gave him some more of the wine, and in a few moments his eyes slowly unclosed, and he looked into my face. I quickly took off my coat, and folded it |ttto a pillow, raised his head gently, and placed it under. He lay perfectly quiet for some moments, and then I saw that his lips were moving. I bent down my ear, and he whispered almost inaudibly : " I have not long to live, my friend, place me where I can see her face." I drew him gently back from where he had fallen at the foot of the canvas, and after turning him partly round, I gave my coat another fold, and then raised his head upon it so thai his eyes could fall upon the picture. As he gazed upon it the agony of dying fled from his counten» ance, and it became luminous. A light from the unseen began to take possession of his eyes, and he smiled. I was still listening and heard him whisper to himself : " She was an angel, and is now with Qod." After this he was silent. When he again spoke his voice was inarticulate and weak, and seemed as though coming to my ears from afar. He had already advanced some distance into death. THE HISTORY OF PR0FB880R PAUL. 101 ** Ah, my friend," he said, " my life has been a failure, even from the first. I thought that I oould mould it as I would and God refused to let me. And now that I am come to die, I have no memory of any day that I have spent alone in doing good. This breath is given man that he may learn while here to imitate the Christ, and this 1 have not done." lie lay without speaking for a few moments ; his face was very pale, and I thought he was dead. Presently, however, a smile again came slowly over his countenance, and made it majestic. Gazing still upon the picture, he continued in a whisper : ** And yet, my friend, her prayers have saved me from myself, and we will stand together bathed in light, and I will walk with her beside the quiet waters that flow eter- nally before God's face, even as she told me long ago, just she and I together, for He Las promised her that it shall be." He lay silent and motionlesH, and 1 felt that I was now in an unknown Presence. The quiet light of the dawn fell upon his face, but the light from within had fled. He was very pale, and a great gloomy tear gathered slowly in his eye. I felt his pulse. It was still. The tear was the passing of his soul. His lips slowly move'^ and as I lis- tened they said, " It is over," and were still again. He allowed me to stroke back the long white hair that had fallen over his forehead ; he was dead ! Ah, what was it those eyes saw, that they thus gazed so fixedly upward through the dim light of the dawnl Who is there that shall say 1 And yet I think that out beyond the slowly waning stars, beyond the silent deep of 102 THE HTSTORY OF PROFESSOR PAUL. the vast inane, beyond the formless waters that lie along the shadow of the world, far out beyond all these, those eyes had already become bright with a strange brilliancy as they looked into two tearful little eyes, those hands, so cold and rigid here, had already become very tender as they touched two soft little hands, and I think, ah yes, I think he heard a tremulous little voice say : " Paul, I always loved you most," and he was satisfied. THE END.