José smiled weakly and fainted dead away.
The two men carried him back up the flight of steps, not daring to try the experiment of the passage leading to the library.
"I suppose Uncle Stephen has known these passages since he was a child," said Stephen in a low voice to Bab as they passed through the attic, "and when his attendant is asleep, no doubt he steals off and wanders about the house. I believe he has always had a mania that he was being pursued by the Italian boatman; and when José followed him, right on top of his meeting with you, it was too much for the old fellow."
"He's a dear old man," returned Bab, "and how he must have suffered all these years; that is, whenever his memory returned."
"And think of the hermit, too, who sacrificed his entire career for you, Miss, just because you never learned to swim."
Bab smiled. "If my Aunt Barbara had lived by the sea as I have, she would never have had to wait for boatmen and lovers to pull her out of the deep water. Swimming is as easy as walking to me."
"I am glad you've learned wisdom in your old age," replied Stephen as they paused at the door of the bedroom given to José.
"There is one thing I cannot believe," declared Bab, "and that is that the hermit swam off and left Aunt Barbara to drown."
"Who knows?" answered Stephen. "People lose their heads strangely sometimes."
It was Alfred, destined to be a great doctor, who set José's leg that night.
Four days had passed since the exciting happenings of that eventful day that had begun with the disappearance of José, and had ended with his discovery.
"I have much to be thankful for," said the major to Miss Sallie, who was reclining in a steamer chair on the piazza. She had not left her bed until the afternoon of the third day, and was still a little shaky and nervous.
"I can't think what they are, John," she replied severely. "You have had nothing but misfortunes since we came to stay under your roof. I hope they may end when we leave."
"The first one," said the major, smiling good-humoredly, "is that I have had the privilege of knowing how splendid American women can be in time of danger. I always admired the women of my country, but never so much as now," he added, looking fondly at his old friend.