"I am your aunt, Ruth Tremount. My dear, I am so sorry for you."

"Can you tell me what is the matter with me? Am I mad?"

"On the contrary," put in the Doctor, "you are yourself for the second time
in your life. You've overslept yourself, my lad, that's all!"

Archibald cast his eyes round the hall, as if searching for some one.
"Where is my father?" he asked at length.

There was an awkward pause. Finally Miss Tremount said, "My dear, your
sleep has lasted seven years. Much may happen in such a length of time."

"But my father--where is he? I want to see him; I will see him!" and he
made some steps toward the door.

"My poor lad, you cannot see him now--he ... he--"

"Where is he?" cried Archibald, stamping his foot.

"He has been for five years in his grave."

Archibald stared at the Doctor a moment, and then burst out laughing.




IX.