are six more to come that will not get more than half a ----' "I had reached this part of my letter when I broke off, my attention being attracted by the sound of voices. At first I imagined that it was Mme. MacDonald talking to herself, as she was in the habit of doing, but on listening I could distinguish another voice. A feeling of alarm suddenly came over me and impelled me to blow out the candle. "'Who could my nurse's visitor be?' I asked myself, as I jumped off the bed and approached the long French windows that opened on to a little veranda. To find anyone calling upon her at such an hour was, to say the least, strange. Stranger still, I seemed to know the voice of the person who was talking with her, but where I had heard it before I could not for the life of me tell. There was no doubt, however, that it was that of a man, and that the language in which he was conversing was French, of which I knew sufficient to seize a phrase now and then. From the words 'arrivé aujourd'hui,' 'voyage,' 'fatigue,' I came to the conclusion that the speaker must be a sailor who had arrived at the port of James Town after a long and fatiguing voyage; and on hearing him addressed as 'mon fils,' my mind immediately began to weave a story around the mother and the son. Their relationship thus established, I felt much less alarmed than I had been at first; so I refrained from further eavesdropping and retired to rest. But, though I tried my hardest, I could not get to sleep for hours. Again and again I found myself dwelling on the question: 'Where have I heard that voice before?' "On the following morning, much to my surprise, the visitor was nowhere to be seen. Having fully expected to meet this sailor son of hers, I expressed my regret that he had gone so early. "'A visitor, monsieur?' she replied, with well-feigned astonishment. 'Since no one has come here during the last twenty-four hours, no one can have departed. You have been dreaming, monsieur--one of the consequences, no doubt, of your illness. I hope not a nightmare? Monsieur must not sit up so late at night. It is an imprudence when still so weak.' "I had not been dreaming, but I did not contradict her. She evidently had reasons for concealing from me the fact that her son had paid her a nocturnal visit; and as I could conceive these reasons to be of such a nature as to warrant her little subterfuge, I decided to poke my nose no further into her affairs. What business was it of mine if she cared to receive her son in secret? Why should I trouble my head over the question as to whether she had or had not--as, indeed, she affirmed--a sailor son? Nevertheless, the old question recurred as regards the disconcerting resemblance of his voice to that of someone whom I had once met--but where I could not recall.