It was near ten o'clock when Doctor Moran returned, and his face was sombre and thoughtful--the face of a man who had been listening for hours to grave matters, and who had not been able to throw off their physical reflection. "Have you had tea, John?" asked Mrs. Moran. "No. Give me a good strong cup, Ava. I am tired with listening and feeling." She poured it out quickly, and after he had taken the refreshing drink, Cornelia asked-- "Is madame very ill?" "She is wonderfully well. It is her husband." "Captain Jacobus?" "Who else? She has brought him home, and I doubt if she has done wisely." "What has happened, John? Surely you will tell us!" "There is nothing to conceal. I have heard the whole story--a very pitiful story--but yet like enough to end well, Madame told me that the day after her sister-in-law's burial, James Lauder, a Scotchman who had often sailed with Captain Jacobus, came down to Charleston to see her. He had sought her in New York, and been directed by her lawyer to Charleston. He declared that having had occasion to go to Guy's Hospital in London to visit a sick comrade, he saw there Captain Jacobus. He would not admit any doubt of his identity, but said the Captain had forgotten his name, and everything in connection with his past life; and was hanging about the premises by favour of the physicians, holding their horses, and doing various little services for them." "Oh how well I can imagine madame's hurry and distress," said Cornelia. "She hardly knew how to reach London quickly enough. She said thought would have been too slow for her. But Lauder's tale proved to be true. Her first action was to take possession of the demented man, and surround him with every comfort. He appeared quite indifferent to her care, and she obtained no shadow of recognition from him. She then brought to his case all the medical skill money could procure, and in the consultation which followed, the physicians decided to perform the operation of trepanning." "But why? Had he been injured, John?" "Very badly. The hospital books showed that he had been brought there by two sailors, who said he had been struck in a gale by a falling mast. The wound healed, but left him mentally a wreck. The physicians decided that the brain was suffering from pressure, and that trepanning would relieve, if it did not cure." "Then why was it not done at first?"