s not a week yet," she went on, "since I saw you lying between
life and death in your bed at the inn. How can you talk of keeping the
appointment, in your state of health? An appointment with a shadowy
Something in your own imagination, which appears and disappears, and
leaves substantial writing behind it! It's ridiculous, George; I wonder
you can help laughing at yourself."

She tried to set the example of laughing at me--with the tears in her
eyes, poor soul! as she made the useless effort. I began to regret
having opened my mind so freely to her.

"Don't take the matter too seriously, mother," I said. "Perhaps I may
not be able to find the place. I never heard of Saint Anthony's Well; I
have not the least idea where it is. Suppose I make the discovery, and
suppose the journey turns out to be an easy one, would you like to go
with me?"

"God forbid" cried my mother, fervently. "I will have nothing to do
with it, George. You are in a state of delusion; I shall speak to the
doctor."

"By all means, my dear mother. Mr. MacGlue is a sensible person. We
pass his house on our way home, and we will ask him to dinner. In the
meantime, let us say no more on the subject till we see the doctor."

I spoke lightly, but I really meant what I said. My mind was sadly
disturbed; my nerves were so shaken that the slightest noises on the
road startled me. The opinion of a man like Mr. MacGlue, who looked
at all mortal matters from the same immovably practical point of view,
might really have its use, in my case, as a species of moral remedy.

We waited until the dessert was on the table, and the servants had left
the dining-room. Then I told my story to the Scotch doctor as I have
told it here; and, that done, I opened the sketch-book to let him see
the writing for himself.

Had I turned to the wrong page?

I started to my feet, and held the book close to the light of the lamp
that hung over the dining table. No: I had found the right page. There
was my half-finished drawing of the waterfall--but where were the two
lines of writing beneath?

Gone!

I strained my eyes; I looked and looked. And the blank white paper
looked back at me.

I placed the open leaf before my mother. "You saw it as plainly as I
did," I said. "Are my own eyes deceiving me? Look at the bottom of the
page."

My mother sunk back in her chair with a cry of terror.

"Gone?" I asked.

"Gone!"

I turned to the doctor. He took me completely by surp