At each repetition of the word his voice rose. He was on the point of breaking into a scream, when he took a tighter turn of his chain and instantly silenced himself. 'I am quiet, sir,' he said, before the superintendent could reprove him.
My aunt added a word in his favor. 'Jack has promised not to frighten me; and I am sure he will keep his word. Have you never had parents or friends to be kind to you, my poor fellow?' she asked, turning to him again.
He looked up at her. 'Never,' he said, 'till you came here to see me.' As he spoke, there was a flash of intelligence in the bright gratitude of his eyes. 'Ask me something else,' he pleaded; 'and see how quietly I can answer you.'
'Is it true, Jack, that you were once poisoned by accident, and nearly killed by it?'
'Yes!'
'Where was it?'
'Far away in another country. In the doctor's big room. In the time when I was the doctor's man.'
'Who was the doctor?'
He put his hand to his head, 'Give me more time,' he said. 'It hurts me when I try to remember too much. Let me finish my hat first. I want to give you my hat when it's done. You don't know how clever I am with my fingers and thumbs. Just look and see!'
He set to work on the hat; perfectly happy while my aunt was looking at him. The lawyer was the unlucky person who produced a change for the worse. Having hitherto remained passive, this worthy gentleman seemed to think it was due to his own importance to take a prominent part in the proceedings. 'My professional experience will come in well here,' he said; 'I mean to treat him as an unwilling witness; you will see we shall get something out of him in that way. Jack!'
The unwilling witness went on impenetrably with his work. The lawyer (keeping well out of reach of the range of the chain) raised his voice. 'Hullo, there!' he cried, 'you're not deaf, are you?'
Jack looked up, with an impish expression of mischief in his eyes. A man with a modest opinion of himself would have taken warning, and would have said no more. The lawyer persisted.
'Now, my man! let us have a little talk. 'Jack Straw' can't be your proper name. What is your name?'
'Anything you like,' said Jack. 'What's yours?'
'Oh, come! that won't do. You must have had a father and mother.'
'Not that I know of.'
'Where were you born?'
'In the gutter.'
'How were you brought up?'
'Sometimes with a cuff on the head.'
'And at other times?'
'At other times with a kick. Do be quiet, and let me finish my hat.'
The discomfited lawyer tried a bribe as a last resource. He held up a shilling. 'Do you see this?'
'No, I don't. I see nothing but my hat.'
This reply brought the examination to an end. The lawyer looked at the superintendent, and said, 'A hopeless case, sir.' The superintendent looked at the lawyer, and answered, 'Perfectly hopeless.'
Jack finished his hat, and gave it to my aunt. 'Do you like it, now it's done?' he asked.
'I like it very much,' she answered: 'and one of these days I shall trim it with ribbons, and wear it for your sake.'
She appealed to the superintendent, holding out the hat to him.
'Look,' she said. 'There is not a false turn anywhere in all this intricate plaiting. Poor Jack is sane enough to fix his attention to this subtle work. Do you give him up as incurable, when he can do that?'
The superintendent waved away the question with his hand. 'Purely mechanical,' he replied. 'It means nothing.'
Jack touched my aunt. 'I want to whisper,' he said. She bent down to him, and listened.
I saw her smile, and asked, after we had left the asylum, what he had said. Jack had stated his opinion of the principal officer of Bethlehem Hospital in these words: 'Don't you listen to him, Mistress; he's a poor half-witted creature. And short, too—not above six inches taller than I am!'
But my aunt had not done with Jack's enemy yet.
'I am sorry to trouble you, sir,' she resumed—'I have something more to say before I go, and I wish to say it privately. Can you spare me a few minutes?'
The amiable superintendent declared that he was entirely at her service. She turned to Jack to say good-bye. The sudden discovery that she was about to leave him was more than he could sustain; he lost his self- control.
'Stay with me!' cried the poor wretch, seizing her by both hands. 'Oh, be merciful, and stay with me!'
She preserved her presence of mind—she would permit no interference to protect her. Without starting back, without even attempting to release herself, she spoke to him quietly.
'Let us shake hands for to-day,' she said; 'you have kept your promise, Jack—you have been quiet and good. I
