parts. Give 'em fits, Heatherlegh, and my love. Now let me sleep a bit longer."
Then my two selves joined—and it was only I (half crazed, devil-driven I) that tossed in my bed, tracing step by step the history of the past month. "But I am in Simla," I kept repeating to myself. "I, Jack Pansay, am in Simla, and there are no ghosts here. It's unreasonable of that woman to pretend there are. Why couldn't Agnes have left me alone? I never did her any harm. It might just as well have been me as Agnes. Only I'd never have come back on purpose to kill her. Why can't I be left alone—left alone and happy?" It was high noon when I first awoke and the sun was low in the sky before I slept—slept as the tortured criminal sleeps on his rack, too worn to feel further pain.
Next day I could not leave my bed. Heatherlegh told me in the morning that he had received an answer from Mannering père, and that, thanks to his (Heatherlegh's) friendly offices, the story of my affliction had travelled through the length and breadth of Simla, where I was, on all sides, much pitied. "And that's rather more than you deserve," he concluded pleasantly, "though Lord knows you've been going through a pretty severe mill. Never mind, we'll cure you yet, you perverse phenomenon." I declined firmly to be cured. "You've been much too good to me allready, old man," said I; "but I don't think I need trouble you further." In my heart I knew that nothing Heatherlegh could do would lighten the burden that had been laid upon me.
With that knowledge came also a sense of hopeless impotent rebellion against the unreasonableness of it all. There were scores of men no better than I whose punishments have at least been reserved for another world; and I felt that it was bitterly, cruelly unfair that I alone should have been singled out for so hideous a fate. This mood would in time give place to another where it seemed that the 'rickshaw and I were the only realities in a world of shadows; that Kitty was a ghost; that Mannering, Heatherlegh, and all the other men and women I knew were all ghosts; and the great grey hills themselves but vain shadows devised to torture me. From mood to mood I tossed backward and forward for seven weary days; my body growing daily stronger and stronger, until the bedroom looking-glass told me that I had returned to everyday
