"Very well," said he, with a smile which seemed to me forced in order to disguise his emotion, for I noticed that he turned away his head suddenly, shook my hand, and walked away hurriedly. We had both of us left the cemetery, and about half-a-mile further on led me to the door of my friend's house. I tried to assume an air of indifference before my friend, and discoursed on various topics; nevertheless, he noticed that my hand trembled, and that I seemed distracted. I said I had been a little out of health lately, and was glad of a little change of air. "My doctor, Mr. Merrivale," said he, "will be here to-day to look at the children. If you would like to see him----" "Thank you, thank you; but I hope it is nothing worth mentioning." In the afternoon Merrivale arrived, and I managed to find an opportunity of speaking with him alone. I inquired after the family E----n, and was informed that Maud had died suddenly in a trance, and he had been called too late. That her two sisters were engaged to be married. That Maud had spoken much of me before her last fit, and had given out some strange mysterious hints of a certain power I had over her, and nothing could induce her mother and sisters to believe otherwise than that I had cast an evil spell over her. He added that her father was more reasonable, and did not believe in those things. The family would be sure to hear of my arrival in the village, therefore I resolved to call on an early opportunity. I did so, and was well received by Maud's father, he having been intimate with mine, but by the mother and sisters with rigid coldness. They did not even offer me their hand. I expected this, but nevertheless felt it my duty to call. I made some slight allusion to Maud's death in as delicate a way as I could, but was checked in the midst of my remarks by scornful glances from the mother and sisters. I left the house, and I need hardly say that this was my last call on that family, although the master of the house wrung my hand cordially, and said he should be always glad to see me when chance led me to those parts. I returned to my friend's house, where I tried to divert myself with a week's shooting. I frequently met my friend Merrivale. We used to take walks together sometimes. In one of our rambles I recounted to him all the particulars of the evening of the 31st of December, when I had last seen and spoken to Maud in the spirit at the theatre. He marvelled, but was silent. * * * * * By the time the tragedian had finished his recital, our friends had arrived at the door of the inn, where their host's pretty daughter waited to receive them. "Well, Helen, my dear," said Mr. Oldstone. "Is the breakfast ready? We have had a long story, and we are all very hungry."