"Chaskin! What is the matter with Herne?"
The clergyman turned round, and seeing the rigidity of his friend, went forward and shook his arm. "It is one of his trances," he said composedly, "and will pass in a few moments. The excitement of speaking with Lovel has thrown him into it."
"Is he often like this?"
"No; only when his nervous system is wrought up by unusual excitement. As a rule it is his religious emotions which throw him into these states."
"Can he move?"
"Not unless he is guided; see!" Here Chaskin took Herne's arm, and led him down the road. The squire moved stiffly, like an automaton, with unseeing eyes staring straight before him. "Otherwise, Mr. Mexton," continued the Vicar, "he remains standing, or sitting, or lying, in precisely the same attitude as when in his trance."
"Can't you wake him out of this cataleptic state?"
"There is no need to," rejoined Chaskin; "he will come out of it as suddenly as he has fallen into it. The time varies, that is all; he may remain thus for an hour, or recover himself in a few moments. See--he is getting better now."
At that moment the eyelids of Herne quivered, a sigh issued from his half-open mouth, and a sudden colour flushed his face. In another minute he looked round and spoke quite naturally. "Where is Lovel?" he demanded.
"Gone away," replied Chaskin, taking his friend's arm; "and I think we had better go too."