I took off my knapsack and gave it to my wife, who carried it to our room, while I went to look for Mr. Gilbert. Fortunately I found him just as he was about to go up to his chamber. He took my offered hand, but looked at me sadly and gravely.
“Mr. Gilbert,” I said, “I must speak to you in private. Let us step into this room. There is no one here.”
“My friend,” said Mr. Gilbert, “it will be much better to avoid discussing this subject. It is very painful to both of us, and no good can come from talking of it.”
“You cannot now comprehend what it is I want to say to you,” I replied. “Come in here, and in a few minutes you will be very glad that you listened to me.”
My manner was so earnest and impressive that Mr. Gilbert was constrained to follow me, and we went into a small room called the smoking-room, but in which people seldom smoked, and closed the door. I immediately began my statement. I told my old friend that I had discovered, by means that I need not explain at present, that he had considered me crazy, and that now the most important object of my life was to set myself right in his eyes. I thereupon gave him the whole history of my invention, and explained the reason of the actions that had appeared to him those of a lunatic. I said nothing about the little incident of that evening. That was a mere accident, and I did not care now to speak of it.
Mr. Gilbert listened to me very attentively.
“Your wife is here?” he asked, when I had finished.
“Yes,” I said; “and she will corroborate my story in every item, and no one could ever suspect her of being crazy. I will go and bring her to you.”
In a few minutes my wife was in the room, had shaken hands with Mr. Gilbert, and had been told of my suspected madness. She turned pale, but smiled.
“He did act like a crazy man,” she said, “but I never supposed that anybody would think him one.” And tears came into her eyes.