"Now, sir or madam," said I to the cat, "what do you think of Bob's residence, and what can we do to make you comfortable?" The cat glided to the hearthrug and stretched itself upon it; I wrested my attention from the unpleasant object. "I am very well off here," said Bob; "the landlady cooks my meals for me, and allows me to have them downstairs. I am at the top of the house, and there is a fine view from the roof; I often smoke for an hour there. You see that door in the corner; it is a closet, with a fixed flight of steps leading to the roof; in case of fire I should be safe. Sit in the armchair, Ned, and let us reason out things. I have been thinking a great deal about you to-day, and talking about you, too." "That was scarcely right, Bob." "Don't be afraid; you were not mentioned by name, and the gentleman I conversed with is blind. That is the reason, very likely, why he believes in what he does not see." "A friend of yours?" "A dear friend; a poor gentleman who has suffered, and who bears his sufferings with a resignation which can only spring from faith. I told you yesterday that I had been married and that I lost my wife. The gentleman I speak of is the son of my dead wife's sister, who is herself a widow. My wife's family were gentlefolk, who had fallen from affluence, not exactly into poverty, but into very poor circumstances. Ronald Elsdale--the name of my nephew--is a tutor; he was not born blind; the affliction came upon him gradually, and was accelerated by over study in his boyish days. Four years ago he could see, and when blindness came upon him he was fortunately armed, and able to obtain a fair living for himself and his widowed mother by tutoring. He is an accomplished musician, and frequently obtains remunerative engagements to play. He speaks modern languages fluently, is well up in the sciences, has read deeply, and is altogether as noble and sweet a gentleman as moves upon the earth." Bob spoke with enthusiasm, and it was easy to perceive that he had a sincere love for Mr. Ronald Elsdale. "In every way so accomplished and admirable," I said, "and with such a misfortune hanging over him, he needs a wife to look after him." "His mother does that," Bob replied, "with tender devotion, and Ronald will never marry unless--but thereby hangs a tale, as Shakspere says. He is not the only man who cherishes delusions." "Ah! he has delusions. I hope they are more agreeable than mine. How is it, Bob, that you have had time for so much talk to-day with your nephew?" "This is Thursday, and Mr. Gascoigne closes his office on Thursdays at two o'clock, so I have had a few hours at my disposal, which have been partly employed in talking with Ronald and partly in studying your case." "Explain." "I have been looking up apparitions," said Bob, pointing to the books upon the table.