ARTHUR
51

My insensitivity may be misinterpreted by observers as death, but some parts of this interval are haunted by frightening dreams. I imagined myself lying on the threshold of a hole, which was basically unreachable by the eye. My hands and feet were shackled, in order to paralyze me from fighting against the two gigantic and gloomy figures who bent down to lift me from the earth. Their goal, I thought, was to throw me into this abyss. My terror was unspeakable, and I fought with such force, that my bond broke and I found myself in freedom. At this moment my senses returned, and I opened my eyes.

Memories of recent events, for a time, were erased by my visionary horrors. I was aware of the transition from one state to another; but my imagination was still filled with images of danger. The bottomless pit and my giant persecutors are still feared. I looked up excitedly. Beside me, I found three figures, whose characters or posts were explained by coffins from pine boards lying on the floor. A man stands with a hammer and a nail in his hand, ready to replace and tighten the lid of the coffin as soon as the load is received.

I tried to get up from the floor, but my head was dizzy and my vision blurred. Seeing me come back to life, one of the men helped me to regain my legs. The current fog and confusion disappeared, thus allowing me to stand without a buffer and move. I once again looked at my waiter, and recognized the three men I met on High Street, and whose conversations I had mentioned that I heard. I looked again at the coffin. Shaky memories of the incident that brought me here, and the amazing blow I received, came to my mind. I looked into what appearance errors had misled these people, and shuddered to contemplate what broad meaning my hair had escaped from being buried alive.

Before those people could interrogate me, or comment on my situation, someone entered the apartment, whose habits and attitudes tended to drive me. The stranger is characterized by an aspect full of serenity and hospitality, a face in which serious age lines mix with the roughness and subtlety of youth, the, and the bespoke dress of the religious profession whose doctrine of virtue has been given by Hadwin.

While observing me at my feet, she betrayed a sign of surprise and satisfaction. He greeted me with a soft tone:

"Young man," he said, "how are you doing? Are you sick? If you are sick, you must agree to receive the best care that will be given time. These guys are gonna take you to a hospital in Bush Hill."

The mention of such an infectious and hated container inspired me with some level of energy. "No," I said, "i'm not sick; a hard blow puts me in this situation. Now I will recover enough strength to leave this place without any help."

He looked at me with a look of disbelief but compassion :— "I'm afraid you're cheating yourself or me. The need to go to the hospital is regrettable, but, overall, it's for the best. Maybe, indeed, you have a brother or friend who will take care of you?"

"No," I said; "not a brother or a friend. I am a stranger in town. I don't even know a single creature."

"Darling!" back the stranger, sighing, "your situation is pitiful. But how did you get here?" he continued, looking around; "and where did you come from?"

"I come from the countryside. I arrived in town a few hours ago. I'm looking for a friend who lives in this house."

"Your company is strangely dangerous and in a hurry; but who's the friend you're looking for ? Was he the one who died on that bed, and whose body was just picked up?"

I assured him that I was free from disease, and did not need help; adding, that my weakness was due to the amazing blow received from the bastard at my temple. The signs of this blow were striking, and after hesitation he dispersed the men; who, lifting the empty coffin on their shoulders, disappeared.

He now invites me to go down to the living room; "because," he said, "the air of this room is deadly. I felt as if I should have a reason to repent for having entered it."

He is now investigating the cause of the apparitions he has witnessed. I explained my situation as clearly and concisely as possible.

After contemplating, in silence, on my story, "I see how it is," he said; "The person you see in the agony of death is a stranger. She was accompanied by her maid and a chartered nurse. Due to his master's death, the nurse was sent by the maid to obtain a coffin. He probably chose that opportunity for his master's proboscis rifle, which stood on the table. Your season-inappropriate entrance annoys him; and he plans, with the blow he gives you, to secure his retreat before the arrival of the hearse. I know the man, and the apparition you have so well described is his. You said that a friend of yours lived in this house: You came late to serve. The whole family has perished. No one suffers to escape."

This intelligence was fatal to my expectations. It took some effort to temper my heightened emotions. Compassion was not only for Wallace, but for Thetford, his father, wife and son, causing an overflowing flood of tears. I was ashamed of this useless and childish sensitivity; and tried to apologize to my friend. Sympathy, however, has been shown to be contagious, and the stranger turns his face to hide his own tears.

"No," he replied, answering my reasoning, "there is no need to be ashamed of your emotions. Just getting to know this family, and witnessing their miserable fate, was enough to melt the most stubborn of hearts. I suspect that you are united to someone from this family by the bonds of tenderness like the one that brought poor Maravegli here ."

This suggestion was attended to, in relation to myself, with a certain degree of obscurity; but my curiosity was rather excited by the name he mentioned, I asked about the character and situation of this person, and I asked about the character and situation of this person, and especially respect his relationship with this family.

" Maravegli," he answered, "was the lover of the eldest daughter, and was already engaged to her. The entire family, made up of helpless women, had placed themselves under his distinctive guardianship. Mary Walpole and her children enjoy in her a husband and a father."

The name Walpole, in which I was a stranger, indicates the doubts I immediately communicated. "I was looking," I said, "not from a female friend, though not without an interest in the well-being of Thetford and his family. My main concern is for a young man, named Wallace."

He looked at me in wonder. "Theford! this is not his place of residence. She moved in a few weeks before the fever . Those who last lived under this roof were an English woman and seven daughters."