"DOES HE REMEMBER?"
"Does he remember?" was the exclamation of Frank, as concealing the history of the Life of Nameless within her bosom, a singular expression flashed over her beautiful face. "Does he remember?" was her thought—"Is he conscious of the words which have fallen from his lips? Does he pass from this singular state of trance, only to forget the real history of his life?"
The agitation which had convulsed the face of Nameless, at the moment when he emerged from the clairvoyant state (if thus we may designate it) soon passed away. His face became calm and almost radiant in its every line. His eyes, no longer glassy, shone with clear and healthy light; a slight flush animated his hitherto sallow cheeks; in a word, his countenance, in a moment, underwent a wonderful change.
Frank uttered an exclamation of surprise.
"Ah! I begin to live!" said Nameless, passing his hand over his forehead—"Yes, yes," he uttered, with a sigh of mingled sorrow and delight, "I have risen from the grave. For two years the victim of a living death, I now begin to live. The cloud is gone; I see, I see the light!"
He rose and confronted Frank.
"There was another child—yes, my mother gave birth to two children, one of whom your father stole on the night of its birth and reared as his own. His purpose you may guess. But what has become of that child? It disappeared, I know, at the time when your father arrived from Paris—disappeared, ha, ha, Frank! Did it not disappear to rise into light again, on the 25th of December, 1844, as the only child of Gulian Van Huyden? Your father is a bold gamester; he plays with a fearless hand!"
He paced the room, while Frank, listening intently to his words, watched with dumb wonder the delight which gave a new life to his countenance.
"And Cornelius Berman, Frank—" he turned abruptly.
"Died last year."