A Secret Inheritance (Volume 1 of 3)Farjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
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A Secret Inheritance (Volume 1 of 3)
Farjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
Mystery fiction; Sleepwalking -- Fiction
The statement bewildered me. Accepting it as fact--and it was not
possible for me to doubt it--I must have lain during those four weeks
in a state of delirium. What perplexed me was the consciousness that I
had been so well cared for by strangers, and that something more than
a friendly interest had been taken in me. The evidences were around
and about me. The sweet-smelling room, the beautiful scene through the
open folding windows, the entrance of the fair girl, the smile on
whose lips seemed to speak of innocent affection, the presence of
Doctor Louis, and the friendliness and sympathy with which he was
conversing with me--all these might be construed into evidences even
of love. Still it would not do to take things too much for granted.
"Am I in an inn?" I asked.
"You are in my house," replied Doctor Louis courteously, "my guest, in
whom we are all very much interested."
"All?"
"Myself--who should properly be mentioned last--my wife, who is first,
as she deserves to be--and my daughter, who is our Home Rose."
Our Home Rose! The mere utterance of the words conveyed a sense of
spiritual sweetness to me, who had never known the meaning of Home.
"It pleases us to call her so," said Doctor Louis.
"The young lady," I said, in a musing tone, "I saw in the room shortly
before you entered, and whose appearance so harmonised with the peace
and loveliness of the view of cloud and flower I see from my bed, that
I should not have been surprised to hear she was spirit or angel."
"An angel in a blue dress," said Doctor Louis, with pleasant nods;
"but it is agreeable to me, her father, to hear you speak so of her.
She is, as I have said, the rose of our home. If there is an angel in
our house, it is her mother. Lauretta, as yet, is but a child; she has
to prove herself in life. But I ask your pardon. These details can
scarcely interest you."
"They more than interest me," I said earnestly; "they do me good.
Although you are a physician, your friendly confidence--which I accept
as a privilege--is better than the most potent medicine you could
administer to me. Pray continue to speak of your home and family. I
beg of you!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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