My interest in this queer child was a good deal aroused. I felt certain that I was right in my conjectures of yesterday, and that this young creature was really burdened with some secret which was gravely undermining her health. "I am willing to listen to you," I continued. "You must be brief, of course, for I am a very busy man, but anything you can say which will throw light on your own condition, and so help me to cure you, will, of course, be welcome." "You think me very nervous?" said Miss Gabrielle. "Your nerves are out of order," I replied. "You know that I don't sleep at night?" "Yes." Miss Gabrielle looked towards the door. "Is it shut?" she asked, excitedly. "Of course it is." She came close to me, her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, her face turned not only white but grey. "I can stand it no longer," she said. "I'll tell you the truth. You wouldn't sleep either if you were me. _My father isn't dead!_" "Nonsense," I replied. "You must control such imaginings, Miss Gabrielle, or you will really get into a very unhealthy condition of mind." "That's what mother says when I speak to her," replied the child. "But I tell you, this thing is true. My father is not dead. I know it." "How can you possibly know it?" I asked. "I have seen him--there!" "You have seen your father!--but he died six months ago?" "Yes. He died--and was buried, and I went to his funeral. But all the same he is not dead now." "My dear young lady," I said, in as soothing a tone as I could assume, "you are the victim of what is called a hallucination. You have felt your father's death very acutely." "I have. I loved him beyond words. He was so kind, so affectionate, so good to me. It almost broke my heart when he died. I thought I could never be happy again. Mother was as wretched as myself. There weren't two more miserable people in the wide world. It seemed impossible to either of us to smile or be cheerful again. I began to sleep badly, for I cried so much, and my eyes ached, and I did not care for lessons any more." "All these feelings will pass," I replied; "they are natural, but time will abate their violence."