"Go on!" says the chairman. " What happened
next? How did you get on shore?"

Feeling what a fool I had been to run myself
headlong into a scrape, for want of thinking
before I spoke, I now cast about discreetly in
my mind for the best means of finishing off-hand
without letting out a word to the company
concerning those particulars before mentioned. I
was some little time before seeing my way to
this; keeping the chairman and company, all
the while, waiting for an answer. The Club,
losing patience in consequence, got from staring
hard at me to drumming with their feet, and
then to calling out lustily, "Go on! go on!
Chair! Order!"—and such like. In the midst
of this childish hubbub, I saw my way to what
I considered to be rather a neat finish—and got
on my legs to ease them all off with it
handsomely.

"Hear! hear!" says the Club. " He's going
on again at last."

"Gentlemen!" I made answer; "with your
permission I will now conclude by wishing you
all good night." Saying which words, I gave
them a friendly nod, to make things pleasant—
and walked straight to the door. It's hardly
to be believed—though nevertheless quite true
—that these curious men all howled and groaned
at me directly, as if I had done them some
grievous injury. Thinking I would try to pacify
them with their own favourite catch-word, I said,
"Hear! hear!" as civilly as might be, whereupon,
they all returned for answer, "Oh! oh!"
I never belonged to a Club of any kind, myself;
and, after what I saw of that Club, I don't care
if I never do.

My bedroom, when I found my way up to it,
was large and airy enough, but not over-clean.
There were two beds in it, not over-clean either.
Both being empty, I had my choice. One was
near the window, and one near the door. I
thought the bed near the door looked a trifle
the sweetest of the two; and took it.

After falling asleep, it was the grey of the morning
before I woke. When I had fairly opened my
eyes and shook up my memory into telling me
where I was, I made two discoveries. First, that
the room was a deal colder in the new morning,
than it had been over-night. Second, that the other
bed near the window had got some one sleeping in
it. Not that I could see the man from where I lay;
but I heard his breathing, plain enough. He must
have come up into the room, of course, after I
had fallen asleep and he had tumbled himself
quietly into bed without disturbing me. There
was nothing wonderful in that; and nothing
wonderful in the landlord letting the empty bed
if he could find a customer for it. I turned,
and tried to go to sleep again; but I was out of
sorts out of sorts so badly, that even the
breathing of the man in the other bed fretted
and worried me. After tumbling and tossing
for a quarter of an hour or more, I got up for a
change; and walked softly in my stockings, to
the window, to look at the morning.

The heavens were brightening into daylight,
and the mists were blowing off, past the window,
like puffs of smoke. When I got even with
the second bed, I stopped to look at the man in
it. He lay, sound asleep, turned towards the
window; and the end of the counterpane was
drawn up over the lower half of his face.
Something struck me, on a sudden, in his hair, and
his forehead; and, though not an inquisitive
man by nature, I stretched out my hand to the
end of the counterpane, in spite of myself.

I uncovered his face softly; and there, in the
morning light, I saw my brother, Alfred Raybrock.

What I ought to have done, or what other
men might have done in my place, I don't know.
What I really did, was to drop back a step—to
steady myself, with my hand, on the sill of the
window and to stand so, looking at him.
Three years ago, I had said good-by to my wife,
to my little child, to my old mother, and to
brother Alfred here, asleep under my eyes. For
all those three years, no news from me had
reached them—and the underwriters, as I knew,
must have long since reported that the ship I
sailed in was lost, and that all hands on board
had perished. My heart was heavy when I
thought of my kindred at home, and of the
weary time they must have waited and sorrowed
before they gave me up for dead. Twice I
reached out my hand, to wake Alfred, and to
ask him about my wife and my child; and twice
I drew it back again, in fear of what might
happen if he saw me, standing by his bed-head
in the grey morning, like Hugh Raybrock risen
up from the grave.

I drew my hand back the second time, and
waited a minute. In that minute he woke. I
had not moved, or spoken a word, or touched
him—I had only looked at him longingly. If
such things could be, I should say it was my
looking that woke him. His eyes, when they
opened under mine, passed on a sudden from
fast asleep to broad awake. They first settled
on my face with a startled look which passed
directly. He lifted himself on his elbow, and
opened his lips to speak, but never said a word.
His eyes strained and strained into mine; and
his face turned all over of a ghastly white.
"Alfred!" I said, "don't you know me?"
There seemed to be a deadly terror pent up in
him, and I thought my voice might set it free. I
took fast hold of him by the hands, and spoke
again. "Alfred!" I said——

Oh, sirs! where can a man like me find words
to tell all that was said and all that was thought
between us two brothers? Please to pardon my
not saying more of it than I say here. We
sat down together, side by side. The poor
lad burst out crying—and got vent that way. I
kept my hold of his hands, and waited a bit
before I spoke to him again. I think I was
worst off, now, of the two—no tears came to
help me—I haven't got my brother's quickness,
any way; and my troubles have roughened and
hardened me, outside. But, God knows, I felt
it keenly; all the more keenly, maybe, because I
was slow to show it.