The Argosy, Vol. XXIV, No. 3 — page 137: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A WEIRD INTERVAL. 521 other room ceased, and some one came into the apartment where he lay. He kept his eyes fastened on her as she approached the bed. He thought she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. And yet she was a stranyer to him. He wrinkled his brow in a frown, trying to place her. She noticed the movement and hurried forward with the question, ‘‘ Are you in pain ?”’ He shook his head and looked up into her face with a smile on his own. ‘““VYou are looking much better today,’’ she said. ‘‘ Won’t you let me feel your pulse?”’ He drew his left hand out from under the bed clothes. A thrill went through him when she took his wrist between her dainty fingers. ‘‘ Ves, very encouraging,’’ she responded. She relaxed the clasp, and in his weak state his hand dropped, chancing to brush close by his face. In doing so he felt something strange. He lifted his hand again and passed it across his upper lip, covered by his blond mustache. A look of perplexity, of horror almost, came into his eyes. He gave a sort of groan, dropped his hand, and great beads of perspiration came out on his forehead. His poor brain, twisted all askew by the blow on the head he had received in the collision, was at seaagain. He thought he had placed him- self right in putting himself back in boyhood. He could remember nothing beyond that point. Had he lost his own identity entirely, and was he not Will Cadwalader at all? He madea mighty effort of mind to comprehend the mystery, but it was too deep for him. He raised himself in the bed for an instant, gave a look around the room, then an agonized, pleading one into the face of her who stood by his side, and fell back on the pillow again in a swoon. He was conscious that tender hands administered to him, that the soft, sweet voice he had already heard spoke of him as “‘ poor fellow! I wish that we might help him,’’ and then he slept, to wake again with a light burning in the room and a young man sitting by the bedside and looking fixedly at him. ‘“Good,’’ exclaimed the latter, as Cadwalader opened his eyes. ‘‘ You look bright and cheerful. How do you feel ?’’ ‘Where am I ?’’ was the other’s only response to this. He knitted his brow thoughtfully and gazed fixedly at his questioner. ‘In my house, Dr. Raymond’s, in Tarrytown.’’ —“ Tarrytown?’ repeated Cadwalader, the look of perplexity deepening on his face. | ‘‘ Ves, don’t you remember the railroad accident? You were hurt; very badly. For days you were quite unconscious. I had you brought straight here ; the hospital was full, and—besides, I was much interested in your case. I am a physician, you know. You remember now, do you not?”’ ‘‘A railroad accident?’’ repeated the other. ‘‘ Ah, perhaps you thought it was the cars that did it. Weran into Alonzo’s wagon near the track. And Harry? ‘Tell me, was he hurt as badly as I was?’’ Then, before the other could answer, he went on, the wild look coming CONnnicloOoks,.€@