chesne's prognosis,
however, seemed at fault; the elder Slinn did not succumb to this
second stroke, nor did he recover his reason. He apparently only
relapsed into his former physical weakness, losing the little ground he
had gained during the last month, and exhibiting no change in his
mental condition, unless the fact that he remembered nothing of his
seizure and the presence of Don Caesar could be considered as
favorable. Dr. Duchesne's gravity seemed to give that significance to
this symptom, and his cross-questioning of the patient was
characterized by more than his usual curtness.

"You are sure you don't remember walking in the garden before you were
ill?" he said. "Come, think again. You must remember that." The old
man's eyes wandered restlessly around the room, but he answered by a
negative shake of his head. "And you don't remember sitting down on a
stone by the road?"

The old man kept his eyes resolutely fixed on the bedclothes before
him. "No!" he said, with a certain sharp decision that was new to him.

The doctor's eye brightened. "All right, old man; then don't."

On his way out he took the eldest Miss Slinn aside. "He'll do," he
said, grimly: "he's beginning to lie."

"Why, he only said he didn't remember," responded Esther.

"That was because he didn't want to remember," said the doctor,
authoritatively. "The brain is acting on some impression that is
either painful and unpleasant, or so vague that he can't formulate it;
he is conscious of it, and won't attempt it yet. It's a heap better
than his old self-satisfied incoherency."

A few days later, when the fact of Slinn's identification with the
paralytic of three years ago by the stage-driver became generally
known, the doctor came in quite jubilant.

"It's all plain now," he said, decidedly. "That second stroke was
caused by the nervous shock of his coming suddenly upon the very spot
where he had the first one. It proved that his brain still retained
old impressions, but as this first act of his memory was a painful one,
the strain was too great. It was mighty unlucky; but it was a good
sign."

"And you think, then--" hesitated Harry Slinn.

"I think," said Dr. Duchesne, "that this activity still exists, and the
proof of it, as I said before, is that he is trying now to forget it,
and avoid thinking of it. You will find that he will fight shy of any
allusion to it, and will be cunning enough to dodge it every time."

He