"Yes, I am much better," he said. "I followed a part of your advice; gave up moping, tried constant change of scene, interested myself in many more things. I am quite a different man." "No supernatural visitations?" I asked, anxious to learn that his cure in that direction was complete. His face fell. He hesitated a second before answering. "No--not now," he said. "I fought against the strange feeling, and I believe have got rid of it--at least I hope so." I said no more on the subject. Carriston plunged into a series of vivid and mimetic descriptions of the varieties of Scotch character which he had met with during his stay. He depicted his experiences so amusingly that I laughed heartily for many a mile. "But why the change in your name?" I asked, when he paused for a moment in his merry talk. He blushed, and looked rather ashamed. "I scarcely like to tell you; you will think my reason so absurd." "Never mind. I don't judge you by the ordinary standard." "Well, the fact is, my cousin is also in Scotland. I feared if I gave my true name at the hotel at which I stayed on my way here, he might perchance see it, and look me up in these wild regions." "Well, and what if he did?" "I can't tell you. I hate to know I feel like it. But I have always, perhaps without cause, been afraid of him; and this place is horribly lonely." Now that I understood the meaning of his words, I thought the boy must be joking; but the grave look on his face showed he was never further from merriment. "Why, Carriston!" I cried, "you are positively ridiculous about your cousin. You can't think the man wants to murder you?" "I don't know what I think. I am saying things to you which I ought not to say; but every time I meet him I feel he hates me, and wishes me out of the world." "Between wishing and doing there is a great difference. I dare say all this 's fancy on your part." "Perhaps so. Any way, Cecil Carr is as good a name up here as Charles Carriston, so please humor my whim and say no more about it." As it made no difference to me by what name he chose to call himself I dropped the subject. I knew of old that some of his strange prejudices were proof against anything I could do to remove them. At last we reached our temporary abode. It was a substantial, low-built house, owned and inhabited by a thrifty middle-aged widow, who, although well-to-do so far as the simple ideas of her neighbors went, was nevertheless always willing to add to her resources by accommodating such stray tourists as wished to bury themselves for a day or two in solitude, or artists who, like ourselves, preferred to enjoy the beauties of Nature undisturbed by the usual ebbing and flowing stream of sightseers. As Carriston asserted, the accommodation if homely was good enough for two single men; the fare was plentiful, and our rooms were the picture of cleanliness. After a cursory inspection I felt sure that I could for a few weeks make myself very happy in these quarters.