But Archibald had come into possession of his intelligent soul once more;
or he was awake again; or the pressure of the skull upon the cerebrum had
yet another time been relieved; at all events there was now a brilliant
youth in the flesh-and-blood envelope which, an hour before, had contained
only a half-witted boy. When the first crash of the restoration was over,
the new man began to accommodate himself with wonderful rapidity and
keenness to the strange environment. He knew of nothing that had happened
since that afternoon when he spoke with Kate in the east chamber, while
the blood oozed from the cut on his forehead; but he accepted the facts
with more than a youth's resolution and stoicism. The world had been
turning round while he had been absent--somewhere! Well, then, by the
force of his will and his splendid faculties he would get on even terms
with it again--and more. Injury had been done him; irreparable injury,
perhaps, but which still might be avenged. He was not discouraged; his
spirit seemed to come upon life with all the freshness of a seven years'
rest, and it reckoned nothing impossible.

Of course his fresh metamorphosis created plenty of comment among the
neighbors; Archibald Malmaison was the most talked-of man in that part of
the country for several weeks, the impossibility of arriving at any
satisfactory conclusion regarding his condition or conditions prolonging
the wonder so far beyond the proverbial nine days. One party were
vehemently of the opinion that he was mad; another party opposed this view
with equal energy and just as much foundation. Both sides put forward
plenty of arguments, and when they were refuted, appealed to Sir Henry
Rollinson, who confirmed them both with equally sagacious shakes of the
head.

But this good gentleman was now getting near the end of his days, and, in
fact, ceased living in the world before the close of the year. He did not