“I want you to do one thing, Agatha,” said I, when we were alone together.  “If you should happen to meet Miss Penclosa, either in town or here, you must promise me never again to allow her to mesmerize you.”

Agatha opened her eyes.

“Why, it was only the other day that you were saying how interesting it all was, and how determined you were to finish your experiments.”

“I know, but I have changed my mind since then.”

“And you won’t have it any more?”

“No.”

“I am so glad, Austin.  You can’t think how pale and worn you have been lately.  It was really our principal objection to going to London now that we did not wish to leave you when you were so pulled down.  And your manner has been so strange occasionally—­especially that night when you left poor Professor Pratt-Haldane to play dummy.  I am convinced that these experiments are very bad for your nerves.”

“I think so, too, dear.”

“And for Miss Penclosa’s nerves as well.  You have heard that she is ill?”

“No.”

“Mrs. Wilson told us so last night.  She described it as a nervous fever.  Professor Wilson is coming back this week, and of course Mrs. Wilson is very anxious that Miss Penclosa should be well again then, for he has quite a programme of experiments which he is anxious to carry out.”

I was glad to have Agatha’s promise, for it was enough that this woman should have one of us in her clutch.  On the other hand, I was disturbed to hear about Miss Penclosa’s illness.  It rather discounts the victory which I appeared to win last night.  I remember that she said that loss of health interfered with her power.  That may be why I was able to hold my own so easily.  Well, well, I must take the same precautions to-night and see what comes of it.  I am childishly frightened when I think of her.

April 10.  All went very well last night.  I was amused at the gardener’s face when I had again to hail him this morning and to ask him to throw up my key.  I shall get a name among the servants if this sort of thing goes on.  But the great point is that I stayed in my room without the slightest inclination to leave it.  I do believe that I am shaking myself clear of this incredible bond—­or is it only that the woman’s power is in abeyance until she recovers her strength?  I can but pray for the best.

The Mardens left this morning, and the brightness seems to have gone out of the spring sunshine.  And yet it is very beautiful also as it gleams on the green chestnuts opposite my windows, and gives a touch of gayety to the heavy, lichen-mottled walls of the old colleges.  How sweet and gentle and soothing is Nature!  Who would think that there lurked in her also such vile forces, such odious possibilities!  For of course I understand that this dreadful thing which has sprung out at me is neither supernatural nor even preternatural.  No, it is a natural