y with even the effort he had made, and
soon fell asleep, as naturally as a child.

Later in the day he awoke and seemed strange. He looked at me with the
same puzzled expression. I was heating some drink for him over a
spirit lamp when he spoke in a strangely familiar voice, although very
weak.

"Mrs. Spencer, has anything happened at home that you have come to me,
and not mother? I had a letter from mother yesterday, and all were
well. Was the accident very fatal?"

I dropped the cup I was holding; my heart seemed to stop beating. For
the white, serious face on the pillow was not that of Charlie
Reynolds, but Chester Mansfield! I ran out of the room, down the hall,
and into my own room. I had no motive in doing so, because I was too
much startled and I think terrified for thought.

My first collected idea was, that I had dwelt upon the subject so much
during lonely days and nights of vigil that I was now a victim of
subjective vision--I was for the moment insane upon that subject. I
sent for the doctor immediately, and after bathing my face and trying
to steady my quivering nerves, returned to my patient whom I was
afraid I might have shocked by my sudden exit. He looked surprised,
and watched me curiously.

"I think you had better not talk any more. The doctor says you must be
kept quiet." And I busied my hands in smoothing down the bed-clothes.

"I will be quiet; but you must tell me one or two things. Are they all
well at home--Lucia, and mother and the girls? and how many were hurt
in the accident?"

"They are all well at home. I am visiting here," I managed to answer,
and he turned away his head, apparently satisfied. I paced up and down
the hall until the doctor came, and drew him into a vacant room to
tell him the situation. He looked at me incredulously when I had
finished my excited narrative, reached for my wrist, and shook his
head. "You have been working too hard over that fellow," he said. "You
will be the next patient."

"But he asked for his wife and called her by name. Come and see which
is the lunatic," and I led the way to the sick-room.

"Ah!" he said in a cheery tone, going to the bedside. "I see we are
getting along bravely, and look as smart as folks that have a whole
skull."

The patient (I didn't know what name to call him) smiled, but without
a trace of recognition.

"I suppose you are my physician, and I am probably indebted to you for
my life," he said feebly.

The doctor lo