Page:Sylvester Sound the Somnambulist (1844).djvu/301

ing and writing, every man has a peculiar style—a style, of which the peculiarity of it cannot be at once perceived by others, is very soon discovered by himself. Hence, though unconscious of its being his own, Sylvester dwelt upon this speech, notwithstanding it was but an outline of the question at issue—an outline which left the filling up to the imagination. Still it is questionable whether even this piece of declamation could have been delivered by him in the house when awake. Had he been in reality a member—albeit he might have felt equally indignant at the mode in which the subject was discussed—his calm, retiring, diffident nature would, in all probability, have prompted him to be silent; but while asleep, every feeling, every idea of fear, was absent; he experienced no nervousness, no trepidation: whatever his imagination suggested, he did, regardless of all unfavourable consequences, seeing that Danger never presented itself then to his view.

Having read this speech again and again—suggesting improvements as he proceeded, precisely as if he had been conscious of its being his own—he was amazed by the sudden arrival of Mr. Scholefield, whose countenance denoted the most painful anxiety.

"Good God!" he exclaimed—"Sylvester, what have you been doing?"

"Doing?" echoed Sylvester, with an expression of wonder. "Explain."

"Where were you last night—or rather this morning?"

"Last night I was at the hotel—just above, with some friends."

"At what time did you leave those friends?"

"About twelve o'clock."

"Well, and where did you go then?"

"Where did I go? I came home and went to bed."

"Immediately?"

"Immediately."

"Sylvester," said Mr. Scholefield, with deep emotion, "confide in me. Disguise nothing from me. I have," he added, as tears sprang into his eyes—"I have towards you the feelings of a father."

"Why, how is this?" interrupted Sylvester. "What is the meaning of it all?"

"Sylvester, you have known me sufficiently long, I hope, to know that I am your friend; therefore conceal nothing from me."

"What have I to conceal? I am perfectly unconscious of having done anything which renders concealment necessary, or even expedient."

"Did you not visit Lady Julian last night?"

"Most certainly not. I have not seen Lady Julian since I left you."

"What! were you not there until three o'clock this morning?"

"There!—where?"

"At Sir Charles's house."

"No."

"Sylvester," resumed Mr. Scholefield, solemnly, "Sir Charles himself, on his return at that hour, saw you pass out at the garden-gate."

"No such thing!" exclaimed Sylvester, indignantly.

"He declares it to be a fact."

"Then he declares that which is false."

"But Thompson, his butler, saw you too."