Archibald cast his eyes round the hall, as if searching for some one. "Where is my father?" he asked at length.
There was an awkward pause. Finally Miss Tremount said, "My dear, your sleep has lasted seven years. Much may happen in such a length of time."
"But my father--where is he? I want to see him; I will see him!" and he made some steps toward the door.
"My poor lad, you cannot see him now--he ... he--"
"Where is he?" cried Archibald, stamping his foot.
"He has been for five years in his grave."
Archibald stared at the Doctor a moment, and then burst out laughing.
IX.
But Archibald had come into possession of his intelligent soul once more; or he was awake again; or the pressure of the skull upon the cerebrum had yet another time been relieved; at all events there was now a brilliant youth in the flesh-and-blood envelope which, an hour before, had contained only a half-witted boy. When the first crash of the restoration was over, the new man began to accommodate himself with wonderful rapidity and keenness to the strange environment. He knew of nothing that had happened since that afternoon when he spoke with Kate in the east chamber, while the blood oozed from the cut on his forehead; but he accepted the facts with more than a youth's resolution and stoicism. The world had been turning round while he had been absent--somewhere! Well, then, by the force of his will and his splendid faculties he would get on even terms with it again--and more. Injury had been done him; irreparable injury, perhaps, but which still might be avenged. He was not discouraged; his spirit seemed to come upon life with all the freshness of a seven years' rest, and it reckoned nothing impossible.
Of course his fresh metamorphosis created plenty of comment among the neighbors; Archibald Malmaison was the most talked-of man in that part of the country for several weeks, the impossibility of arriving at any satisfactory conclusion regarding his condition or conditions prolonging the wonder so far beyond the proverbial nine days. One party were vehemently of the opinion that he was mad; another party opposed this view with equal energy and just as much foundation. Both sides put forward plenty of arguments, and when they were refuted, appealed to Sir Henry Rollinson, who confirmed them both with equally sagacious shakes of the head.