CHAPTER XXXII HERBERT RANDAL “I beg your pardon. I did not mean to be inquisitive, or to arouse any unpleasant memories,” Brownie hastened to say, but she looked somewhat disappointed, as well as embarrassed. He saw it, and, after a moment’s thought, continued, speaking more to himself than to her: “During the last few years of my life I have been led to recognize a higher power as guiding my life, and I have been praying that its bitterness might be removed. I am not sure but what that prayer is beginning to be answered by the events of to-night, and your presence here. So why should I not tell you?” Then, with sudden decision, he went on: “Miss Douglas, this place has been my home all my life. Yes,” as he saw her look of surprise, and speaking with great bitterness, “a galley slave is scarcely more of a prisoner than I have been ever since my unfortunate birth. I have never seen the outside of these buildings, excepting four blank walls which inclose a small court; I know not what my surroundings are, what my country is like, and, beyond my own attendants, scarce have seen the face of a human being. I think I must have been born with a deformed disposition as well as a distorted body; for, as a child, I was subject to fits of passion, so furious and of such long duration, that those who had charge of me deemed me insane and unsafe for the time, and used to confine me in yonder cell until I came to my senses. The bolt, you perceive, can be fastened on this side, so that the shaft will not move, and I could not get out until they released me. I used to grow frightened and almost idiotic shut up in that dismal place, with its sepulchre-like stillness, and I really think that in those days I was more brute than human. Forgive me for disturbing you with my sorrow—it will overcome me at times. But, as I was saying, I used to think I should die shut up in there away from every one; so, after my passion exhausted itself and I was let out, I would busy myself, when I was alone in this room, by cutting away this wall, and puncturing these holes; and then when they put me in there, I would creep close to this spot, and, with my ear against these holes, I could hear what was said and done here, and did not feel quite so lonely and wild.” A shudder seemed to shake his whole frame at the remembrance of those fearful days. “No one but yourself,” he continued, “knows to this day that the wall has been mutilated thus.” The more she heard him talk, the more she wondered who he could be—this sad young cripple, who was so gentle, yet repulsive, so intelligent, yet to all appearance scarcely human. She looked at her watch, and found it was four o’clock. The young man, noting the act, suddenly said: