and took the opportunity of inspecting the
museum. After I had seen most of the sculptured stones, the coffins,
rings, coins, and fragments of tessellated pavement which the place
contains, I was shown a small square pillar of white stone, which had
been recently discovered in the wood of which I have been speaking,
and, as I found on inquiry, in that open space where the Roman road
broadens out. On one side of the pillar was an inscription, of which I
took a note. Some of the letters have been defaced, but I do not think
there can be any doubt as to those which I supply. The inscription is
as follows:

DEVOMNODENTi
FLAvIVSSENILISPOSSvit
PROPTERNVPtias
quaSVIDITSVBVMra

"To the great god Nodens (the god of the Great Deep or Abyss) Flavius
Senilis has erected this pillar on account of the marriage which he saw
beneath the shade."

The custodian of the museum informed me that local antiquaries were
much puzzled, not by the inscription, or by any difficulty in
translating it, but as to the circumstance or rite to which allusion is
made.

* * * * *

...And now, my dear Clarke, as to what you tell me about Helen Vaughan,
whom you say you saw die under circumstances of the utmost and almost
incredible horror. I was interested in your account, but a good deal,
nay all, of what you told me I knew already. I can understand the
strange likeness you remarked in both the portrait and in the actual
face; you have seen Helen's mother. You remember that still summer
night so many years ago, when I talked to you of the world beyond the
shadows, and of the god Pan. You remember Mary. She was the mother of
Helen Vaughan, who was born nine months after that night.

Mary never recovered her reason. She lay, as you saw her, all the
while upon her bed, and a few days after the child was born she died.
I fancy that just at the last she knew me; I was standing by the bed,
and the old look came into her eyes for a second, and then she
shuddered and groaned and died. It was an ill work I did that night
when you were present; I broke open the door of the house of life,
without knowing or caring what might pass forth or enter in. I
recollect your telling me at the time, sharply enough, and rightly too,
in one sense, that I had ruined the reason of a human being by a
foolish experiment, based on an absurd theory. You did well to blame
me, but my theory was not all abs