Perhaps you will tell me these are all dreams; but no, I am wide awake. Again and again do I see the same things, and of all my woes, the feeling of horror is the most dreadful," THE SOLDIER. "It is quite possible that the want of sleep produces fever, and that what you describe is a species of delirium." THE LEPER. "You think it may proceed from fever? be so. I only wish it may Till now I have always feared these visions were symptoms of approaching insanity, and I own that was a terrible idea to me. God grant it may prove only delirium." THE SOLDIER. "I cannot tell you how intensely you interest me; never could I have imagined such a life as yours. But was it not less sad during your sister's lifetime?" THE LEPER. "God only knows how much I lost in losing her. But are you not afraid to stand so near me? Sit down on this stone, and I will go behind these bushes; so that we can talk without seeing each other." THE SOLDIER. "What for? No, you shall not leave me. Come and sit down by my side." (As he said this the traveller made an involuntary movement to seize the leper's hand, who drew his hastily back.) "It would have been the first time that such a happiness has No man has ever pressed my hand." been vouchsafed to me. THE SOLDIER. "How do you mean? Excepting this sister whom you have mentioned, have you never had any ties ! Were you never loved by any of your fellows?" THE LEPER. Happily for humanity, I have no fellow upon earth." THE SOLDIER. "You make me shudder!" THE LEPER. "Forgive me, pitying stranger; but you must remember that the unfortunate always delight in talking of their miseries." THE SOLDIER. "Go on, you interest me; you said that a sister once lived with you, and helped you to bear your sufferings." THE LEPER. "That was the one link which bound me to humanity. It pleased God to break it, and to leave me isolated and desolate in the midst of the world. Her soul was worthy of the heaven which now possesses her, and her example sustains me under the despondency which has often threatened to overpower me since her death. But we did not live together in that delightful intimacy which is my ideal as uniting two unhappy friends. The very nature of our woes deprived us of this consolation. Even when we prayed together, we took care not to look at each other, lest the sight of each other's sufferings might disturb our meditations. Only our inward eyes could meet at the throne of grace. When our prayers were ended my sister generally retired into her cell, or under the nut trees at the end of the garden. So that we lived entirely apart." THE SOLDIER. "But why did you inflict on yourselves this cruel constraint ?" THE LEPER. "When my sister was attacked by the contagious malady, to which all our family have fallen victims, and came here to share my retreat, she and I had never seen each other, and her horror on beholding me for the first time was extreme. The fear of distressing her, and of increasing her illness by approaching her, forced me to adopt this melancholy mode of life. The leprosy at first only affected her chest, and I had then some hopes of her recovery. You see these neglected palings; they were then covered with hops which I trained with great care, and they divided the garden into two parts. By each side of this hedge I made a little footpath, along which we walked and talked without seeing each other, or coming too near." THE SOLDIER. "It sounds almost as if Heaven had taken a delight in poisoning the melancholy joys it left you." THE LEPER. Still I was not alone then, and my sister's presence gave life to my retreat. I could hear the sound of her footsteps in my solitude. When at dawn I came to pray beneath the trees, the door of the tower opened gently, and I heard my sister's petitions mingling almost unconsciously with my own. In the evening, when I watered my garden, she sometimes came out to watch the sunset, just where we are now talking, and her shadow passed and repassed across my flowers. Even when I did not see her, I was constantly reminded of her. Never again shall I find my path strewn by flower petals or by small branches of flowering shrubs, which she had gathered and let fall as she passed. I am alone, around me is neither life nor movement, and already the grass is growing over the walk which led to her favourite grove. She never seemed to watch me, but nothing that could give me pleasure was ever forgotten. Often, on entering my own room, I would find it decorated by vases of me. fresh flowers, or by a dish of choice fruit, which her own hands had carefully tended. I dared not do the same for her, and had often begged her never to enter my room; but who can curb a sister's love? A single instance will give you an idea of her affection for One night I was walking up and down my cell, tormented by horrible pain. On sitting down for a moment I heard a slight noise outside. I went to the door and listened attentively, when, fancy my astonishment to find it was my sister praying just outside. She had heard my groans, and though fearing to disturb me by her She appearance, she came to be near me in case I needed help. was then repeating the Miserere in a low voice, and I fell on my knees following her words in my heart. Tears filled my eyes, for who would not have been touched by such love? When her prayer was finished I whispered to her, 'Adieu, my sister! go back, I am a little better. May God bless and reward thee for thy piety She went away in silence, and I do not doubt that her prayers were granted, for I had several hours of the most tranquil sleep." THE SOLDIER. "How deeply melancholy the first few days after that beloved sister's death must have been !" THE LEPER. "For a long time I was in a kind of stupor which deprived me of the power of grasping the full extent of my loss, and when at last I came to myself, and understood what had happened, my reason almost left me. This part of my life will always seem to ne full a double sadness; for in it was contained the greatest misfortune of my life, and, as a consequence of that great sorrow, I "A crime! I cannot believe you guilty of one." THE LEPER. "It is too true, and in confessing it to you I feel a painful certainty that I shall lose much of your esteem. Nevertheless I will not paint myself better than I am, and perhaps while you condemn, you will pity me. Often in my fits of melancholy the idea of suicide had presented itself to me, but the fear of God had hitherto, sufficed to repel the temptation, when a very simple circumstance occurred, one which would seem in no way calculated to move me very deeply, yet it had nearly accomplished my eternal ruin. A fresh sorrow had befallen me. Some years ago a little dog had come to our door, we took it in, and my sister became very fond of it. After her death the poor brute had been a real comfort to me. Probably it was its ugliness that made it choose our dwelling as its refuge every one drove it away, but in the leper's home it was a treasure. We thanked God for His goodness in send ing us this friend, and my sister called it miracle. Its name contrasted grotesquely with its frightfulness, and its great playful. ness amused us in the midst of our sorrows. Sometimes, in spite of all my care, it would run away, and it never struck me it could hurt anyone. However, some of the townspeople got frightened above it, fancying that it might carry with it some infection from me, aud they laid a complaint before the Commandant, who ordered it to be killed at once. A party of soldiers, accompanied by some of the inhabitants, came here immediately to execute this cruel order. They put a string round its neck and dragged it off under my very eyes. When it reached the garden gate I could not help taking a last look at it, and I saw it turn and look at me imploringly, as if to ask the help I was powerless to give. They were going to drown it in the Doire; but the mob, who were assembled outside, stoned it to death at once. I could hear its cries, and I sought refuge in my tower, more dead than alive. My trembling knees bent under me, and I threw myself on my bed in a state impossible to describe. In the blindness of grief I could not see that this act was one of needful severity, it looked only like a piece of uncalled. for barbarity, and, though I am now ashamed of the feelings of resentment which filled my breast, I cannot yet think of the scene coolly. I passed the whole day in the greatest agitation, the only living being which remained to me had been taken from me, and this last blow opened up all the old wounds afresh. I was in this state of mind when that same day at sunset I came to sit down here on this stone where you are sitting now. I had been ruminating on my wretched fate when I saw, close by the birch trees at the end of the hedge, two young people coming who had been married a very short time before. They walked along the path and across the meadow, passing very near me. They were both very handsome, and in their faces you read that delightful expression of content which happiness gives; they walked slowly along with their arms intertwined; all at once they stopped, aud the young woman laid her head on her husband's breast, whilst he clasped her in his arms. I felt as if my heart would break. Must I own it? for the time I was envious; never before had I seen such a vivid picture of happiness. I followed them with my eyes to the end of the meadow, and was just losing sight of them amidst the trees, when shouts of joy were heard in the distance-it was their united families coming to meet them-old men, women, and children soon surrounded them. I heard a confused murmur of joy, I saw amongst the trees the bright colouring of their clothes, and the whole group seemed enveloped in an atmosphere of happiness. This was too much for me; the pains of hell got hold upon me and entered into my soul. I turned away and rushed into my cell. My God! how dark and desertel and miserable it looked! Here, then, I ejaculated, my life is fixed for ever, here I must drag on my weary life, and here must I wait for a lingering death. The Omnipotent has poured happiness-yes, and loads of happiness on every living thing, whilst I only am left helpless, hopeless, without a friend, without even a companion! What a hideous fate! Full of these melancholy reflections I forgot there is One who consoles; I even forgot that at least the gift of existence had been given me. Why,' said I, 'did I ever see the light? why is nature nothing to me but an unjust and cruel stepmother? Like a disinherited son I see a sound me the rich patrimony of the human race, but a grudging Heaven refuses me it. No, no,' I cried at last, in a perfect fury, there is no happiness for thee in this world-die, miserable creature, die, thou hast polluted the earth long enough by thy presence, would that it might open and swallow thee up without leaving behind a single trace of thy odious being. The madness of my rage increased till the purpose of self-destruction took possession of my mind and every thought became fixed on it. I determined at last to set fire to the tower, and burn up, not only myself, but every trace of my existence. Furious and agitated, I went out and wandered about under the trees near my house. Involuntary shrieks burst from my over-laden breast and startled me in the silence of night. Filled with wrath I came back to the house crying aloud, 'Woe unto thee! leper, woe unto thee! and, as if everything took part in my destruction, I heard the echo from the ruined Castle of Bramafau repeat distinctly Woe unto thee!' Horrified, I stopped at the door of the tower, and heard the far-off echo from the mountain repeating again and again Woe unto thee.' Determined to set fire to my abode, I took my lamp and went down into the lowest room, carrying with me some dry sticks and vine branches. This was the room my sister had lived in, and I had never been in it since she died. Her arm chair was standing just where it did when I took her out of it for the last time: a kind of shudder went through me as I saw her veil and some of her garments lying about the room, and the last words she had uttered before leaving it occurred to my mind, I will not abandon thee when thou art dying remember; that at thy last agony I shall be present.' As I placed the lamp on the table I noticed the ribbon of the cross she used to wear round her neck floating between two leaves of the Bible. At this sight I drew back filled with holy awe. All at once the depth of the abyss into which I was about to precipitate myself was revealed to me; tremblingly I approached the sacred volume: Is this,' I cried, "the help she promised me?' As I drew the cross from within the book, I found a sealed paper which she had left addressed to me. |