"That I did, sir, with all my heart and soul," said my father. "You told me last evening," said I, "that if your son should come to life again you would give your consent to his marriage. If you really repent having withheld your consent during his lifetime let me see that your repentance is true by writing me the following words and affixing your signature." "What words, sir, must I write?" he asked. "Write," said I, "'If my son is restored to me I will give my consent to his marriage, with the girl of his choice,' that is what you have to write." "But--but--" began my father. "Write what I tell you, and affix your signature," said I, gruffly. "As you like, sir," said he, complying with my request. I blotted the sheet of paper, and placed it in my pocket. "Now, sir," said I to my father, "I have a secret to tell you. Do not faint, but be prepared for a shock." My father looked at me in astonishment. "Your son lives," said I. "What do I hear?--my son--my son lives?" he exclaimed, staggering backwards. Then recovering somewhat his composure, he asked, "But how? I myself saw him laid in the ground; besides, I tell you I saw his ghost last night." "That was nothing but a distempered dream brought on by our conversation before you retired to rest," said I. "I tell you your son lives--he is in my care. Listen; but what I am about to tell you, you must keep to yourself, otherwise it will damage my reputation. Hearing that your son had been buried, I, being a doctor and in want of a subject for dissection, employed resurrectioners or body-snatchers to procure me your son's body. They stole it from his grave and brought it to my house. When I began to dissect I found that he was not yet dead. He has been at my house ever since, still very weak from his recent illness. He has related to me his love affair, and knows of the deception that you practised upon him. He begged me to procure for him his father's consent to his marriage, otherwise, he said he might die in real earnest." "Oh, doctor, doctor!" cried my father, "can it be true? Oh, say that you are not jesting with me. Do not trifle with the feelings of a poor man!" "I never trifle," I replied, with dignity. "Then it is true, doctor, really true! O God be praised," and he clasped his hands convulsively, whilst the tears ran down his cheeks. Suddenly his ecstasy abated, and he grew serious. "What is the matter?" I asked. "Oh, but, doctor, if--if after all what I saw last night were not a dream--if whilst during your absence from home, my son really has died, and appeared to me last night to let me know. What proof have you that the vision of my son last night _was_ a dream?" he asked. "What proof?" I exclaimed. "_This_ proof," I cried, throwing off my disguise and speaking in my own natural voice again. "Behold me, father, risen from the dead!" My father's surprise, consternation and joy was beyond all description.