how I was placed.  She only smiled out of amusement, perhaps, when in my dazed state I seized her hand.  It was my half-mesmerized brain which gave it a meaning, and sprang with such bestial swiftness to meet it.  I wish I could persuade myself that it was indeed so.  On the whole, perhaps, my wisest plan would be to postpone our other experiments until Wilson’s return.  I have written a note to Miss Penclosa, therefore, making no allusion to last night, but saying that a press of work would cause 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 twice in a disparaging way of her, and I did not protest.  What a creature I have been!