ad been keeping the other pictures back, with a dim hope that Edward
might relent. But I saw it was quite useless, so I told him they were
going next day. To my intense surprise he said rather abruptly: 'Then
send this picture with them, and don't ask me any questions.'"

His wife took the hint, and waited for no second bidding. Off went the
picture to the Warwick shop, and there it remained for nearly six
months.

When it came back eventually, the Squire was very triumphant on the
subject, but I was equally triumphant in pointing out that nothing could
alter the fact that the picture _had_ been sent away, in spite of his
earlier denunciations of our folly.

Also I suggested that a good deal can happen in six months on either
side of the veil, and that no doubt poor old Richard Lyon had had ample
opportunity to "get free," as he called it, thanks to the unaccountable
action of his descendant!

I have reserved this story for my last chapter for two reasons. It
happened within the last few years, but I cannot remember the exact
date, and dare not inquire from my irascible hunting friend; and also it
did not specially link on to any of the previous incidents described.

* * * * *

I must now pass on to the autumn months of 1905, which found me in
Eastbourne, where I have various kind friends.

I had been going through a time of great anxiety, owing to family
reasons, and went down to Eastbourne with every prospect of finding rest
and peace there. I arrived on the 11th of November, and the first few
days amply justified my hopes.

Then a feeling of the most intense depression came over me, quite
unexpected and unaccountable. My family anxieties and responsibilities
were happily over. I had been able to make a wise, and, as it turned
out, most admirable choice, in finding a fresh attendant for an invalid
brother, and there was nothing now to be done but to rest on my oars and
be thankful that a most trying time--requiring infinite patience and
tact--was over.

When this unaccountable depression came on so suddenly, I put it down to
reaction, and expected it to pass away with returning strength, after
the heavy strain. But it _increased_ as the weeks passed on into
December, and did not lift until about eight A.M. on the morning of 22nd
December.

Then I had one of the most vivid experiences of my life. As suddenly as
they had enveloped me some weeks before, so did the heavy clouds n