gh I own I'm anxious to hear what comes of
your expedition--understand at the same time, so far as the lady is
concerned, that I wash my hands of the consequences."--

* The doctor's narrative is not imaginary. It will be found
related in full detail, and authenticated by names and
dates, in Robert Dale Owen's very interesting work called
"Footfalls on the Boundary of Another World." The author
gladly takes this opportunity of acknowledging his
obligations to Mr. Owen's remarkable book.

CHAPTER X. SAINT ANTHONY'S WELL.

I STOOD on the rocky eminence in front of the ruins of Saint Anthony's
Chapel, and looked on the magnificent view of Edinburgh and of the old
Palace of Holyrood, bathed in the light of the full moon.

The Well, as the doctor's instructions had informed me, was behind
the chapel. I waited for some minutes in front of the ruin, partly to
recover my breath after ascending the hill; partly, I own, to master
the nervous agitation which the sense of my position at that moment had
aroused in me. The woman, or the apparition of the woman--it might be
either--was perhaps within a few yards of the place that I occupied. Not
a living creature appeared in front of the chapel. Not a sound caught
my ear from any part of the solitary hill. I tried to fix my whole
attention on the beauties of the moonlit view. It was not to be done. My
mind was far away from the objects on which my eyes rested. My mind was
with the woman whom I had seen in the summer-house writing in my book.

I turned to skirt the side of the chapel. A few steps more over the
broken ground brought me within view of the Well, and of the high
boulder or rock from the foot of which the waters gushed brightly in the
light of the moon.

She was there.

I recognized her figure as she stood leaning against the rock, with her
hands crossed in front of her, lost in thought. I recognized her face as
she looked up quickly, startled by the sound of my footsteps in the deep
stillness of the night.

Was it the woman, or the apparition of the woman? I waited, looking at
her in silence.

She spoke. The sound of her voice was not the mysterious sound that
I had heard in the summer-house. It was the sound I had heard on the
bridge when we first met in the dim evening light.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

As those words passed her lips, she recognized me. "_You_ here!" she
went on, advancing a step, in uncontrollable sur