s deeply versed in amulet-lore. He wrote a treatise upon 'amulets'
and their inscriptions. All this was after the death of his first
wife. He had a large collection of amulets, Gnostic gems, and
abraxas stones. That he really believed in the virtue of amulets will
be pretty clearly seen as my narrative proceeds. Indeed, the subject
of amulets and love-tokens became a mania with him. After his death
it was said that his collection of amulets, Egyptian, Gnostic, and
other, was rarer, and his collection of St. Helena coins larger,
than any other collection in England.

Though my mother did not know of the spiritualistic orgies in
Switzerland, she knew that my father was a spiritualist. And this
vexed her, not only because she conceived it to be visionary folly,
but because it was 'low.' She knew that it led him to join a
newly-formed band of Latter-Day mystics which had been organised at
Raxton, but luckily she did not know that through them he believed
himself to be holding communication with his first wife. The members
of this body were tradespeople of the town, and I quite think that in
my mother's eyes all tradespeople were low.

As to her indifference towards me,--that is easily explained. I was
an incorrigible little bohemian by nature. She despaired of ever
changing me. During several years this indifference distressed me,
though it in no way diminished my affection for her. At last,
however, I got accustomed to it and accepted it as inevitable. But
the remarkable thing was that Frank's affection for his mother was of
the most languid kind. He was an open-hearted boy, and never took
advantage of my mother's favouritism. Thus I was left entirely to my
own resources. My little love-idyl with Winifred was for a long time
unknown to my mother, and no amount of ocular demonstration could
have made it known (in such a dream was he) to my father.

On one occasion, however, my mother, having been struck by her beauty
at church, told Wynne to bring her to the house, little thinking what
she was doing. Accordingly, Winifred came one evening and charmed my
mother, charmed the entire household, by her grace of manner. My
mother, upon whom what she called 'style' made a far greater
impression than anything else, pronounced her to be a perfect little
lady, and I heard her remark that she wondered how the child of such
a scapegrace as Wynne could have been so reared.

Unfortunately I was not old enough to disguise the transpo