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〃To no living creature；〃 I replied〃as yet。〃
〃This very strange！〃 he said； still earnestly reading my face。
〃What interest can _you_ have in a dead woman whom you never
knew？ Why did you ask me that question just now？ Have you any
motive in coming here to see me？〃
I boldly acknowledged the truth。 I said； 〃I have a motive。〃
〃Is it connected with Eustace Macallan's first wife？〃
〃It is。〃
〃With anything that happened in her lifetime？〃
〃No。〃
〃With her death？〃
〃Yes。〃
He suddenly clasped his hands with a wild gesture of despair； and
then pressed them both on his head； as if he were struck by some
sudden pain。
〃I can't hear it to…night！〃 he said。 〃I would give worlds to hear
it； but I daren't。 I should lose all hold over myself in the
state I am in now。 I am not equal to raking up the horror and the
mystery of the past； I have not courage enough to open the grave
of the martyred dead。 Did you hear me when you came here？ I have
an immense imagination。 It runs riot at times。 It makes an actor
of me。 I play the parts of all the heroes that ever lived。 I feel
their characters。 I merge myself in their individualities。 For
the time I _am_ the man I fancy myself to be。 I can't help it。 I
am obliged to do it。 If I restrained my imagination when the fit
is on me； I should go mad。 I let myself loose。 It lasts for
hours。 It leaves me with my energies worn out； with my
sensibilities frightfully acute。 Rouse any melancholy or terrible
associations in me at such times； and I am capable of hysterics；
I am capable of screaming。 You heard me scream。 You shall _not_
see me in hysterics。 No； Mrs。 Valeriano； you innocent
reflection of the dead and goneI would not frighten you for the
world。 Will you come here to…morrow in the daytime？ I have got a
chaise and a pony。 Ariel； my delicate Ariel； can drive。 She shall
call at Mamma Macallan's and fetch you。 We will talk to…morrow；
when I am fit for it。 I am dying to hear you。 I will be fit for
you in the morning。 I will be civil； intelligent； communicative；
in the morning。 No more of it now。 Away with the subjectthe too
exciting； the too interesting subject！ I must compose myself or
my brains will explode in my head。 Music is the true narcotic for
excitable brains。 My harp！ my harp！〃
He rushed away in his chair to the far end of the room； passing
Mrs。 Macallan as she returned to me； bent on hastening our
departure。
〃Come！〃 said the old lady； irritably。 〃You have seen him； and he
has made a good show of himself。 More of him might be tiresome。
Come away。〃
The chair returned to us more slowly。 Miserrimus Dexter was
working it with one hand only。 In the other he held a harp of a
pattern which I had hitherto only seen in pictures。 The strings
were few in number； and the instrument was so small that I could
have held it easily on my lap。 It was the ancient harp of the
pictured Muses and the legendary Welsh bards。
〃Good…night； Dexter；〃 said Mrs。 Macallan。
He held up one hand imperatively。
〃Wait！〃 he said。 〃Let her hear me sing。〃 He turned to me。 〃I
decline to be indebted to other people for my poetry and my
music；〃 he went on。 〃I compose my own poetry and my own music。 I
improvise。 Give me a moment to think。 I will improvise for You。〃
He closed his eyes and rested his head on the frame of the harp。
His fingers gently touched the strings while he was thinking。 In
a few minutes he lifted his head； looked at me； and struck the
first notesthe prelude to the song。 It was wild； barbaric；
monotonous music； utterly unlike any modern composition。
Sometimes it suggested a slow and undulating Oriental dance。
Sometimes it modulated into tones which reminded me of the
severer harmonies of the old Gregorian chants。 The words； when
they followed the prelude； were as wild； as recklessly free from
all restraint of critical rules； as the music。 They were
assuredly inspired by the occasion； I was the theme of the
strange song。 And thusin one of the finest tenor voices I ever
heardmy poet sang of me：
〃Why does she come？ She reminds me of the lost； She reminds me
of the dead： In her form like the other； In her walk like the
other： Why does she come？
〃Does Destiny bring her？ Shall we range together The mazes of the
past？ Shall we search together The secrets of the past？ Shall we
interchange thoughts； surmises； suspicions？ Does Destiny bring
her？
〃The Future will show。 Let the night pass； Let the day come。 I
shall see into Her mind： She will look into Mine。 The Future will
show。〃
His voice sank； his fingers touched the strings more and more
feebly as he approached the last lines。 The overwrought brain
needed and took its reanimating repose。 At the final words his
eyes slowly closed。 His head lay back on the chair。 He slept with
his arms around his harp； as a child sleeps hugging its last new
toy。
We stole out of the room on tiptoe； and left Miserrimus
Dexterpoet； composer； and madmanin his peaceful sleep。
CHAPTER XXVI。
MORE OF MY OBSTINACY。
ARIEL was downstairs in the shadowy hall； half asleep； half
awake； waiting to see the visitors clear of the house。 Without
speaking to us； without looking at us； she led the way down the
dark garden walk； and locked the gate behind us。 〃Good…night；
Ariel；〃 I called out to her over the paling。 Nothing answered me
but the tramp of her heavy footsteps returning to the house； and
the dull thump； a moment afterward； of the closing door。
The footman had thoughtfully lighted the carriage lamps。 Carrying
one of them to serve as a lantern； he lighted us over the wilds
of the brick desert； and landed us safely on the path by the
high…road。
〃Well！〃 said my mother…in…law； when we were comfortably seated in
the carriage again。 〃You have seen Miserrimus Dexter； and I hope
you are satisfied。 I will do him the justice to declare that I
never； in all my experience； saw him more completely crazy than
he was to…night。 What do _you_ say？〃
〃I don't presume to dispute your opinion；〃 I answered。 〃But；
speaking for myself； I'm not quite sure that he is mad。〃
〃Not mad！〃 cried Mrs。 Macallan； 〃after those frantic performances
in his chair？ Not mad； after the exhibition he made of his
unfortunate cousin？ Not mad； after the song that he sang in your
honor； and the falling asleep by way of conclusion？ Oh； Valeria！
Valeria！ Well said the wisdom of our ancestorsthere are none so
blind as those who won't see。〃
〃Pardon me； dear Mrs。 Macallan； I saw everything that you
mention； and I never felt more surprised or more confounded in my
life。 But now I have recovered from my amazement； and can think
it over quietly； I must still venture to doubt whether this
strange man is really mad in the true meaning of the word。 It
seems to me that he only expressesI admit in a very reckless
and boisterous waythoughts and feelings which most of us are
ashamed of as weaknesses； and which we keep to ourselves
accordingly。 I confess I have often fancied myself transformed
into some other person； and have felt a certain pleasure in
seeing myself in my new character。 One of our first amusements as
children （if we have any imagination at all） is to get out of our
own characters； and to try the characters of other personages as
a changeto fairies； to be queens； to be anything； in short； but
what we really are。 Mr。 Dexter lets out the secret just as the
children do； and if that is madness； he is certainly mad。 But I
noticed that when his imagination cooled down he became
Miserrimus Dexter againhe no more believed himself than we
believed him to be Napoleon or Shakespeare。 Besides； some
allowance is surely to be made for the solitary； sedentary life
that he leads。 I am not learned enough to trace the influence of
that life in making him what he is； but I think I can see the
result in an over…excited imagination； and I fancy I can trace
his exhibiting his power over the poor cousin and his singing of
that wonderful song to no more formidable cause than inordinate
self…conceit。 I hope the confession will not lower me seriously
in your good opinion； but I must say I have enjoyed my visit；
and； worse still； Miserrimus Dexter really interests me。〃
〃Does this learned discourse on Dexter mean that you are going to
see him again？〃 asked Mrs。 Macallan。
〃I don't know how I may feel about it tomorrow morning；〃 I said；
〃but my impulse at this moment is decidedly to see him again。 I
had a little talk with him while you were away at the other end
of the room； and I believe he really can be of use to me〃
〃Of use to you in what？〃 interposed my mother…in…law。
〃In the one object which I have in viewthe object； dear Mrs。
Macallan； which I regret to say you do not approve。〃
〃And you are going to take him into your confidence？ to open your
whole mind to such a man as the man we have just left？〃
〃Yes； if I think of it to…morrow as I think of it to…night。 I
dare say it is a risk； but I must run risks。 I know I am not
prudent； but prudence won't help a woman in my position； with my
end to gain。〃
Mrs。 Macallan made no further remonstrance in words。 She opened a
capacious pocket in front of the carriage； and took from it a box
of matches and a railway reading…lamp