“Well, all I have to say is this, I wish that I had the power to get one good night’s rest. I think that hypnotism would be a blessing, if it were the means of securing it to me; I lie awake half the night to think and worry, and at last fall asleep and dream it all over again, intensified a thousand times, and aggravated by something, which each night persistently occurs, and which I try all day to recall to memory; at times I just touch the border—it is like trying to grasp the luminous tail of a comet—it is but empty air.” He suddenly paused, evidently annoyed that he had been betrayed into an expression of his feelings. James sat up, instantly interested: “Can you not concentrate your mind, and thus trace the sequence of that which you do remember? Is it a dream—or—or——” “It is nothing! I tell you it is nothing!” said Henry testily. James said no more, but he knew that there was something which Henry either could not, or would not explain. Later, as Henry was starting for home, James laid his hand on his shoulder and said, “I think I will go home with you, and we will have a quiet smoke together, it will soothe your nerves, and perhaps you will sleep better.” At first Henry shrugged his shoulders impatiently, and made a movement as though he would jerk away from his detaining hand; but as James continued speaking he seemed to change his mind, and said slowly: “Very well! I do not often smoke, but perhaps it would quiet my nerves.” Aunt Hattie bade him a very crusty good-night; she had been very sarcastic, and ill-natured all the evening; it seemed to make her angry if either Marjy or Henry showed any enjoyment; she seemed equally angry if they sat silent and unhappy. “Oh, auntie, you ought not to be so ill-natured!” said Marjy after they had gone. “Oh, of course, I am the one to blame! If I lost everything I possess on earth, I ought to keep right on smiling—I should like to know what James went home with Henry for? some scheming, I suppose!” she harped upon these two strings until it was very trying. James locked his arm in Henry’s, talking pleasantly, Henry replying absently as though he but half-comprehended. As I have said his rooms were in the front part of the house; he pulled down the blinds, and lighted a lamp with a soft, rose-colored shade, and threw himself into an easy-chair with an air of great weariness. James seated himself at his right side, but with his chair so turned that he could watch Henry’s face. He led him gently on, until, before he realized what he was doing, he was pouring all his distress and grief into his companion’s ear, in a low, dreamy tone, an aggrieved quiver running through his voice. “Can you explain what it is that haunts your mind—you remember that you spoke of it this evening?” questioned James.