STRANGER THAN FICTION,

BY THE AUTHOR OF "THE TALLANTS OF BARTON," "THE VALLEY OF POPPIES," &c.

CHAPTER V.

COMING TO LIFE AGAIN.

HAT autumn day and night of the preceding chapter had been the introduction to many weeks of cold and biting winter weather. Keen northerly winds had dried up the earth, until it rang with the tread of ordinary boots, and re-echoed the clatter of horses. Middleton groaned under the long frost which pinched the poor, and filled the streets with unemployed bricklayers, gardeners, and canal boatmen, who howled forth lugubrious complaints in monotonous protests against winter and wealth. The river which had carried down to the bridge that terrible cry in the November night was frozen hard and fast, and the mill-pool was covered with skaters. People went about shrugging their shoulders, rubbing their hands, and puffing out their cheeks. Those who had jolly fires and well-filled tables said it was good old-fashioned weather, delightful weather, seasonable weather. Mr. Ephraim Magar said this; but he said more-he declared that the poor ought to be specially cared for at such times. He set the excellent example of opening a public soup-kitchen, over which he presided, and for which he was duly praised, and puffed, and lauded in the local newspaper. The poor benefited by Mr. Magar's cant; which is the only consolation to be extracted from the miller's judicious benevolence. Like the longest lane and the greatest trouble, the longest winter comes to an end. This winter which was so hard upon Middleton came to an end. One morning the dull cold earth was awakened into life again. The river flowed on once more. The birds got up early and told each other that spring was coming. The boatmen unmoored their barges. The gardeners looked up their spades. The bricklayers hammered their melted mortar into plastic heaps, and resumed their storeys which had been left "to be continued" for many weary weeks. The whole world was coming to life again, and with it our little friend, Jacob Martyn. He was lying where we left him after

his mad ramble by the mill-pool; he was lying where he had been lying all through the autumn and the winter; but at last he was coming out of his long illness.

It was early morning. The white curtains of Jacob's little room were warm with the tints of the rising sun. A tea-cup and saucer standing near the bed, in the full radiance of the morning light, looked to Jacob like some wonderful trophies of Chinaland. There was a small collection of medicine bottles on the dressing-table, and a few smouldering cinders in the fire-grate. The mantel-shelf was decorated with an apple, half an orange, a wine-glass, a packet of sweetmeats, a jelly-mould, and a variety of other sick-room trifles, and the atmosphere of the room was heavy with the perfumes thereof.

Jacob was bewildered as he gazed upon all these things. He tried to remember what had happened, what time it was, when it was, how it was, who he was, where he was. He cudgelled his brains with a variety of strange conceits, until he sank exhausted on the pillow where he had lain for so many months-we cannot say weary months, so far as Jacob was concerned, for to him they had passed away almost without a sign; but so far as others were concerned, they were long, dreary, anxious, melancholy months.

Jacob raised himself gradually upon his pillow to take a more careful survey of the room. It was then that he found out how weak he was, discovered the meagreness of his wasted little hands, and arrived at the conclusion that he was very ill. How came he so? Had he been rescued from drowning? Had the miller brought him home on a shutter, as he had brought home the boy in the next street after an evening's fishing in the mill-pool? These and a hundred other questions Jacob mentally asked himself, and all were dismissed with equally unsatisfactory answers. He was in this oblivious state when the door was steadily and cautiously opened. It occurred to Jacob that he would lie down and watch. One, two, three, four, five light, soft, up and down steps, and then a hand pulled the bed curtains aside. One, two, three, four, five more soft steps, and the window blind was pulled down to shut out the sunshine. Then a voice whispered, "Bless him-he's asleep." Jacob could not help smiling at his own mild joke of being wide awake all the time. The face which had looked in upon him, the hand which had drawn down the blind, the voice which had whispered, "Bless him-he's asleep," went to another part of the room. Then Jacob peeped forth, and saw Mrs. Titsy put her cap to rights at the glass. He saw Mrs. Titsy encourage the aspiring cinders in the fire-grate with a gentle touch of the poker. He saw Mrs. Titsy return

again to the bed, and thereupon he determined to surprise that buxom matron by suddenly pronouncing her name in a very loud key. Jacob was startled at the result; startled, not at the noise he made, but at the noise he did not make; startled at the very small voice which said, "Mrs. Titsy-Boh!" To Jacob it was like anybody else's voice but his own. He began to wonder if he was in the condition of those poor people, mentioned in the Scriptures, afflicted with some evil spirit that was talking for him.

Mrs. Titsy, however, did not give him time to follow up this train of thought. She was close to him in an instant, and when he said, or when somebody else said, or something said, "Mrs. Titsy-Boh!" Mrs. Titsy commenced to laugh and cry and kiss Jacob in a manner that in no wise tended to clear up the mystery in which he found himself so important an actor.

"Wait a bit, my dear," said Mrs. Titsy, "wait a bit," as if she had a reasonable fear of his getting up and dressing himself; "don't distress yourself; I'll be back in a moment."

Then she laughed, and nodded her head, and drew the curtains, and opened the door, and disappeared. In another moment she returned, still laughing and nodding her head at Jacob; and following her upon tiptoe came Jacob's father.

"Jacob, my dear boy," said his father, stooping down and kissing his forehead; "Jacob, my poor boy, you are better then at last, at last."

Jacob thought he saw a tear roll down his father's cheek, and he felt his own eyes growing dim with tears of joy.

"Am I, father?" he said presently. "Yes, I think I am-I am sure I am better."

He would have said anything just then that could give pleasure to his father, who had spoken to him in the familiar voice of old, in the tone of the old days before aunt Keziah came to Middleton.

"And you know me now, and Mrs. Titsy," said Jacob's father; "Mrs. Titsy, who has been so kind to you?"

"Yes, father," said Jacob putting his wasted hand into his father's. "Poor dear fellow !" said Mr. Martyn, "poor dear boy! you have had a hard time of it, well and ill for that matter; but happier days are coming; don't cry, my boy, don't cry, Jacob, cheer up.”

The sympathetic, caressing manner of Jacob's father quite overcame the invalid. A chord had been touched in the boy's heart that had lain still and hushed for so long that the unaccustomed music now thrilled the wasted frame.

"There, we've had enough of this, please," said Mrs. Titsy. "Now,

Jacob, no more crying; there, that will do, we must have a wash and be cheerful, and eat some breakfast."

In a very short time Mrs. Titsy had bustled Jacob's father out of the room, and Jacob was propped up with pillows and made comfortable.

During the morning the Doctor came. He was not one of those medical authorities in whose care we would trust your life, most polite and courteous of readers; but he was looked upon as one of the best men in Middleton. If you had asked his own opinion of his own abilities he would have given you most clearly to understand that but for him Middleton would have been little better than a city of the dead any time this twenty years. He was a stiff, pompous, starchy, very much linen-collared, kid-gloved, ringed gentleman, with a goldheaded cane, and a gold-headed pin to match in a black satin

cravat.

"Put out your tongue, my friend," he said to Jacob, feeling his pulse at the same time.

"Ah, we are improving," he said in a deep hollow voice. proving, decidedly improving."

"Im

"It is a long lane that has no turning," said Mrs. Titsy, smoothing her apron and nodding mysteriously at Jacob.

"A wise proverb, Mrs. Titsy," said the Doctor, with a grand patronising air, "we are just arriving at the turning, Mrs. Titsy."

"It seems so," said Mrs. Titsy, drawing herself up and standing upon her dignity; "quite out of danger, Sir?"

"Quite out of danger," said the Doctor, taking up his hat and cane and contemplating Mrs. Titsy with an air of triumph; "as I said before, we are just at the turning."

"Thank God!" said Mrs. Titsy, not noticing this last remark of the Doctor, who proceeded to give instructions with regard to the patient's diet, without in his turn noticing Mrs. Titsy's fervent ejaculation.

"Arrowroot, with a little milk, plain pudding; no objection to chicken or beef-tea in moderation, no vegetables, the mixture as before, and leave off the powders; good morning, Mrs. Titsy, good morning."

"Certainly, by all means, thank you for nothing," said Mrs. Titsy, when the last sound of the Doctor's footsteps had died away; "mixture as before, by all means, certainly."

Jacob thought very seriously about Mrs. Titsy's state of mind. It was plain to him that her intellect was going. She was evidently losing her head.

"No, I am not," said Mrs. Titsy, answering his wondering look; "I am quite right in my mind, Jacob; you will know all about it some day, don't distress yourself."

During the day Jacob showed still more gratifying symptoms. The old days were coming back. Susan came to see him. Julius Jennings came to see him. Tom Titsy came to see him. They were only permitted to say a few words, but it was so pleasant to hear kind tender soft expressions from these people, and it was so very pleasant to feel of importance to them. Mrs. Gompson paid him a visit, and after the first momentary chill which her presence created, Jacob found a kindly feeling in his heart for his aunt, who did her best to speak softly and agreeably; but she could not resist a parting shot at Mrs. Titsy as she left the room.

"Fewer visitors, Mrs. Titsy, and a more moderate diet, in my opinion are advisable; I only state my own opinion; it is of little moment I know what my opinion may be, but still I state it, I record it; fewer visitors and more moderate diet."

Many days passed away before Jacob came to know how ill he had been. During these many days he improved rapidly. In course of time Tom Titsy was permitted to have long interviews with his young master. On these occasions, at appropriate intervals during their talk, Tom would go to the window and release pigeons from his big coat-pockets; and Jacob noticed that every pigeon was a carrier, gently laden with variously coloured ribbon tied round its neck or fluttering from its feet.

"Them's volumes, Mester Jacob," he would say, watching the pigeons as they sailed round and round in the air before starting off to the thatched roof of the Titsy household.

"I thought they were pigeons, Tom," said Jacob smiling.

"Now you're laughing at me," said Tom. "Never mind, I like it. There was a time when you couldn't laugh nor cry either, for that Them bits o' ribbon speaks no end of eloquence to Mester Johnson, if he's at home, and I think he is."

matter.

"Indeed! In what way?" asked Jacob.

"Why they're to him what they call bulletins when grand folks are

ill. They tell him just how you're goin' on."

"Does that interest Mr. Johnson so much then ?" inquired Jacob.

"Ah, a good deal more nor you think.”

"Indeed!"

"Yes, indeed, Mester Jacob, he's never tired of hearing about you, and he's the best and the cleverest man in all the world, I don't care where the t'other comes from."