“And then, Mr. Upton, he give my collar a twist, sir, as near broke my neck, it did; and shook his fist in my face, and put his own ugly mug right up, grinnin’ at me till I thought the eyes would rowl out of his head. And then dropped me, and goes shamblin’ off round the corner. There! Now I’ve told it, Miss Stewart, and don’t ask me to tell it again no more, for the chills go down my back, they do, when I think of it.” James was soothed and dismissed, and went off, muttering, to his den. “It is true that he was terribly frightened, poor fellow,” said Miss Stewart, laughing. “We found him as white as a sheet, and for a long time he would not say a word about what had happened. Indeed, I have never heard the whole of it before. Do you think the man was a lunatic?” “Perhaps; or perhaps some Caliban of an islander, who had been sent to guard the two children. My curiosity is thoroughly roused about them, I confess. Can I have a peep at them before I go, or are they already in bed?” Miss Stewart led the way up-stairs. “We have given them a room together,” she said apologetically. “It is hardly according to rules, but they have never been separated in their lives, and it seemed so terrible a thing to them, that we thought we might strain a point, and let them be together for a while, till they grew accustomed to the new surroundings. There was a vacant room, which was not in use.” The trustee nodded. “I like india-rubber in my cast-iron, too!” he said, sympathetically. “It wears much better.” They went silently up the second flight. At the landing, Miss Stewart paused, and beckoned to her companion to come up; unconsciously she put her finger to her lips, which was absurd, if there were none but deaf children near by. The trustee came up, and looked over her shoulder. The door of a large room opposite the stairs stood open. No furniture was in the room, save two beds and a chair or two. In one bed a little boy sat upright, clapping his hands and making soft sounds of pleasure; his voice was unmodulated, but had no harsh, unnatural tone, rather a low, rustling murmur, like leaves touched by a light wind. His eyes were fixed on a figure that instantly caught the eyes of the two beholders, and held them.