ause me to interrupt our sittings
for a few days. She has answered, formally enough, to say that if I
should change my mind I should find her at home at the usual hour.

10 P. M. Well, well, what a thing of straw I am! I am coming to know
myself better of late, and the more I know the lower I fall in my own
estimation. Surely I was not always so weak as this. At four o'clock
I should have smiled had any one told me that I should go to Miss
Penclosa's to-night, and yet, at eight, I was at Wilson's door as
usual. I don't know how it occurred. The influence of habit, I
suppose. Perhaps there is a mesmeric craze as there is an opium craze,
and I am a victim to it. I only know that as I worked in my study I
became more and more uneasy. I fidgeted. I worried. I could not
concentrate my mind upon the papers in front of me. And then, at last,
almost before I knew what I was doing, I seized my hat and hurried
round to keep my usual appointment.

We had an interesting evening. Mrs. Wilson was present during most of
the time, which prevented the embarrassment which one at least of us
must have felt. Miss Penclosa's manner was quite the same as usual,
and she expressed no surprise at my having come in spite of my note.
There was nothing in her bearing to show that yesterday's incident had
made any impression upon her, and so I am inclined to hope that I
overrated it.

April 6 (evening). No, no, no, I did not overrate it. I can no longer
attempt to conceal from myself that this woman has conceived a passion
for me. It is monstrous, but it is true. Again, tonight, I awoke from
the mesmeric trance to find my hand in hers, and to suffer that odious
feeling which urges me to throw away my honor, my career, every thing,
for the sake of this creature who, as I can plainly see when I am away
from her influence, possesses no single charm upon earth. But when I
am near her, I do not feel this. She rouses something in me, something
evil, something I had rather not think of. She paralyzes my better
nature, too, at the moment when she stimulates my worse. Decidedly it
is not good for me to be near her.

Last night was worse than before. Instead of flying I actually sat for
some time with my hand in hers talking over the most intimate subjects
with her. We spoke of Agatha, among other things. What could I have
been dreaming of? Miss Penclosa said that she was conventional, and I
agreed with her. She spoke once or