“‘She must be exceedingly beautiful indeed. That is the sweetest face I ever saw. You have been holding that picture in your hand, and kissing it frequently, while your reason was partially, if not totally, dethroned.’
“‘Oh, sir, if you knew how I worship that dear girl, you would not be surprised at my devotion to her picture!’
“‘I don’t think your wife would like to hear you talk that way.’
“‘What in Heaven’s name do you mean? I have no wife—nor ever did.’
“‘Look here, Debar, you are either out of your senses, or shamming; for I know a lady who loves you devotedly, and she is your wife, too, and a very true, worthy one at that—a thousand times too good for such a scapegrace as you.’
“‘I tell you my name is not Debar; and I swear I have not been married. I never loved but one woman in my life, and that is Lottie Wallingford, of Memphis.’
“‘Ha! ha! ha! Now this is really interesting—indeed it is! You don’t know your own name! Can’t remember your pretty wife! Never was here before! Ha! ha! ha! well! well! well! I have often known criminals to try the insane dodge, but I never knew one to deny his own name and repudiate his own wife before. But good-morning, old fellow, I am to blame for letting you talk so much anyway; you just keep very quiet, and drink as much of the beef tea as you can. I will call again in the morning; by that time I guess you will remember your name; and I’ll send a messenger after your wife, as I have been told she has got back home. She has been absent a long time; that is the reason she has not called to see you, I suppose. By-by, Debar.’
“Doctor Lamberton was quite a young man, and from our short acquaintance I had formed rather a favorable opinion of him. He was very kind to me, and I learned that he had been unremitting in his attentions to me during my long and serious illness. Doubtless I would have died but for his kindness. When I was left alone, my thoughts went to work more vigorously than they ever had done before.
CHAPTER XXIV.
“After Doctor Lamberton departed I closed my eyes and tried to sum up in my mind all that had occurred since I left Memphis, in order to see if I could make anything tangible out of it. The hours dragged slowly along, a faint light struggled through the small aperture misnamed window, a little mouse stole in and began to nibble at the crumbs of bread on the floor, while I watched him intently. It was a relief to me to see any living thing, no matter what it was; it had the effect of keeping my mind from painful subjects. When the little mouse would finish his repast and leave me alone, I would lie on my filthy straw bed and watch his hole for hours at a time, hoping he would come again to keep me company. A large spider had set his net in one corner of the window, in order to capture unsuspecting flies that were constantly coming in and out through the opening. His net was an ingenious piece of workmanship, and it took him several days to finish it; he could throw his fine-spun thread with as much accuracy as a Mexican Greaser could throw his lariat. After he had completed his net, he built a little neat residence for himself near it, so he could sit and look through his window and watch his trap. I noticed that in selecting the location for his residence, he was very particular to place it so that it would not be seen by any insect coming in through the window; he erected his apartments inside, and a little in the rear of the corner of the window-sill, while his net was stretched across it. The web was woven so very fine that it was scarcely visible to the naked eye, and many a bold fly lost his life by being caught in its meshes. Sometimes a vigorous contest would take place, when a fly would make a desperate struggle to free himself; but I noticed that the victim seldom came off victorious. One memorable battle between the spider and a large bumblebee I think worthy to be described. As soon as the bumblebee got one of his legs entangled in the net he commenced to work vigorously to loosen it. The spider came out and took up his position within two inches of the captive, and began to throw his lariat at his leg. The heroic efforts of the bumblebee excited my sympathy, and I would have gone to his rescue if I had been able, but I was helpless. I could only lie still and give him my good wishes. After a while the spider managed to get one leg of his intended victim securely fastened, and I was sorry to think that the poor bumblebee’s fate was to be death; but not so: I was struck with admiration when I saw the brave fellow amputating his own leg by using his teeth. The spider, however, seemed to realize the situation, for while the bumblebee was engaged in amputating the leg he began to hurl his lariat at another, and by the time the amputation was done one more limb was tied fast; but the bumblebee seemed determined to regain his liberty at any cost, so he fell to and took off the other leg, and did it so quickly that the spider did not have time to fasten another, and the gallant hero was free, minus two of his legs. As soon as the bumblebee regained his liberty, instead of retreating, as I expected he would do, he quietly seated himself on the window-sill and watched the spider’s hall, as if he were not satisfied with the result of the fight. After a while, however, he disappeared, and I let my sympathies go with him. The spider’s net was completely destroyed, and I was glad of it, but he set about rebuilding it, which cost him three days’ incessant labor. The little mouse, the spider, and dear Lottie’s picture were my only companions during the long, lonesome days of my captivity. I would lie on my back for many hours at a time, with my eyes riveted on Lottie’s picture, and ask myself a thousand questions: What is Lottie doing at this moment? I wonder if she is thinking of me! Have they made her believe that I ran away of my own accord? Perhaps they have persuaded her to give me up, as one unworthy of her love. Maybe they have induced her to marry Heartsell!’