On the road! Last night! What did all that mean? Oh, he was too tired to think any more. Let him try to rest--to sleep. Dusk. Yes, there could be no doubt the daylight was fading. At this time of the year the days were short. He had been asleep some time, for the last thing he remembered was that it was full daylight. He was then in some difficulty as to this room. He was under the impression it was a strange room. Could a more absurd idea enter the mind of man? Is it possible he could not identify his own bed-room? What would come next? What should he forget next? His own name, no doubt. The thirst continued. It was even greater than it had been. He could get water if he went to the dressing-table. But, strange as it might seem, he had the greatest desire to go to the table and drink the water, but not the will. How was that? Why did he not spring out of bed and quench his thirst? It was easy to think of springing out of bed, but quite impossible to do anything of the kind. Why, he could not move his feet or hands with ease. Ah, yes, it was quite plain! He had been ill--very ill. That would account for all--for the confusion in awaking, the thirst, the weakness. How long had he been ill, and what had ailed him? This thirst was no longer tolerable. He must drink. "Water!" How thin and weak his voice sounded! It was almost ridiculous. If anything could ever again be ridiculous, his voice was. But nothing could ever again be ridiculous. Everything was serious and dull, and would so continue from that time forward. It was strange no one came. If he had been ill they would hardly leave him alone. He must try again. "Water!" Instantly a figure stood between his eyes and the fading light in the window. "You are better, Alfred?" "Yes, Madge. Water." His sister poured out some, and handed him the glass. He drank with avidity, and felt refreshed. "I have been very ill, Madge?" "Yes, Alfred; but you will be all right in a short time, now that you have begun to mend. So Dr. Santley says." Dr. Santley! Ah, that name set memory afoot. He lay pondering, still unable to see distinctly the matters he wished. "How long have I been ill, Madge?" "Several days." "I have been unconscious?" "Yes. But you are sure to be quite well in a little time." "I am not anxious about the future. I am trying to recall the past." "You are not to speak much, and you are on no account to excite yourself." "I must be in possession of the facts of the past before I can rest. Tell me what has happened--what happened just before I fell ill? I have had fever, and been delirious." "You have; but you must keep quiet, or I shall go away." "I must know what took place before my illness, if I am to be at ease. There was some trouble about the law--some inquiry. What was it?" "Dr. Santley has forbidden me to speak of that matter. You have been very ill, and your recovery depends on your keeping from excitement."