The man sat up in bed and flung the bedclothes from
his quaking limbs. “Good God, you are mad!”
he cried, aghast.
“Get it,” she panted; “get it quickly,
and wish—Oh, my boy, my boy!”
Her husband struck a match and lit the candle.
“Get back to bed,” he said, unsteadily.
“You don’t know what you are saying.”
“We had the first wish granted,” said
the old woman, feverishly; “why not the second?”
“A coincidence,” stammered the old man.
“Go and get it and wish,” cried his wife,
quivering with excitement.
The old man turned and regarded her, and his voice
shook. “He has been dead ten days, and
besides he—I would not tell you else, but—I
could only recognize him by his clothing. If
he was too terrible for you to see then, how now?”
“Bring him back,” cried the old woman,
and dragged him toward the door. “Do you
think I fear the child I have nursed?”
He went down in the darkness, and felt his way to
the parlour, and then to the mantelpiece. The
talisman was in its place, and a horrible fear that
the unspoken wish might bring his mutilated son before
him ere he could escape from the room seized upon
him, and he caught his breath as he found that he
had lost the direction of the door. His brow
cold with sweat, he felt his way round the table,
and groped along the wall until he found himself in
the small passage with the unwholesome thing in his
hand.
Even his wife’s face seemed changed as he entered
the room. It was white and expectant, and to
his fears seemed to have an unnatural look upon it.
He was afraid of her.
“Wish!” she cried, in a strong voice.
“It is foolish and wicked,” he faltered.
“Wish!” repeated his wife.
He raised his hand. “I wish my son alive
again.”
The talisman fell to the floor, and he regarded it
fearfully. Then he sank trembling into a chair
as the old woman, with burning eyes, walked to the
window and raised the blind.
He sat until he was chilled with the cold, glancing
occasionally at the figure of the old woman peering
through the window. The candle-end, which had
burned below the rim of the china candlestick, was
throwing pulsating shadows on the ceiling and walls,
until, with a flicker larger than the rest, it expired.
The old man, with an unspeakable sense of relief
at the failure of the talisman, crept back to his bed,
and a minute or two afterward the old woman came silently
and apathetically beside him.
Neither spoke, but lay silently listening to the ticking
of the clock. A stair creaked, and a squeaky
mouse scurried noisily through the wall. The
darkness was oppressive, and after lying for some time
screwing up his courage, he took the box of matches,
and striking one, went downstairs for a candle.
At the foot of the stairs the match went out, and
he paused to strike another; and at the same moment
a knock, so quiet and stealthy as to be scarcely audible,
sounded on the front door.
