"Geraldine dearest, do not cry so,--courage,--it will be all right--" (Pause.) "Won't you speak to me? Please, please look at me!" (Longer pause.) "Geraldine!" I shouted, savagely, "look at me at once or I'll leave you forever!" No response of any kind! By heaven! What _did_ it mean? I rose and dropped into a chair, remarking,-- "I'll sit here and look at you till you do get up and say something to me, if your father comes in here and kills me!" So I waited and watched her. Presently she raised her beautiful eyes, red with weeping, and fixed them straight on me without the slightest sign of recognition, not even the fear that would have filled them had I been a stranger. What could be the matter? I rushed over to the long swinging mirror in the corner, determined to look at myself and see what was wrong. I stood directly in front of the glass and glanced at its bright surface to make a last effort to solve the mystery. Reader, I will solemnly assert that when I looked in that mirror, expecting to see myself, _I was not there_! There was nothing reflected there but the room and contents and Geraldine beyond, completely oblivious of me. She had taken a small picture of me I had given her and was alternately looking at it and pressing it to her heart. This evidence of an affection which I scarcely dared to hope that she entertained for me was certainly very gratifying, and at any other moment would have filled me with happiness; but in the light of the fact that I was not there, where I felt myself to be, I was too horror-struck for anything else. I stood mechanically glaring at Geraldine, at the glass which did not reflect me, and at myself. I could see myself with my own eyes perfectly, hear my own voice distinctly, or touch myself with my own hands; in fact, I could see and feel as well as ever. I resolved to make one more effort. "Geraldine," I said, softly. "Geraldine," louder. "Geraldine!" in a perfect scream, "I am going to kiss you this moment!" She was lying back in a large chair, her hands listlessly crossed in her lap and her eyes closed. I walked firmly to her, hesitated a second, and then bent and kissed her upon the lips. She says now it was very ungenerous of me to have taken advantage of her, but I submit that I had given every possible warning of my intention, and besides I was wrought up to such a pitch by the events of the afternoon I scarcely knew what I did; so I kissed her again and again, and this did really have some effect upon her. At first she blushed a warm, beautiful crimson, and as I kissed her a second and a third time, she started, raised her head, opened her eyes with a little scream, and said,-- "Oh, I must have fallen asleep and dreamed he was here--I suddenly felt a kiss, it seemed--Oh, Harry, Harry, why do you not come and help your girl?" and her head sank back in the chair and tears came again into her eyes. "Oh, Harry, why are you not here?" I was nearly frantic by this time.