’I did.  I gathered from him that she was buried by the parish in the usual way.  But I assure you the man’s account of everything that occurred was so bewildered and so incoherent that I could really make nothing out of him.  What is his creed?  Is it Swedenborgianism?  He seems to think that the model he has lost is a spirit (or spiritual body, to use his own jargon) sent to him by the artistic-minded spirits for entirely artistic purposes, but snatched from him now by the mean jealousy of the same spirit-world.’  ’But what did he say about her burial?’ ’Well, he seems not to have ignored so completely the mundane question of burying this spiritual body as his creed would have warranted, for he gave the mother money to bury it.  The mother, however, seems to have spent the money in gin and to have left the duty of burying the spiritual body to the parish, who make short work of all bodies; and, of course, by the parish she was buried, you may rest assured of that, though the artist seems to think that she was simply translated to heaven like Elijah.’

‘I must return to England at once,’ I said.  ’I shall apply to the Home Secretary to have the body disinterred.’

‘Why, sir?’

‘In order that she may be buried in a proper place, to be sure.’

‘No use.  You have no locus standi.’

‘What do you mean?’

’You are not a relative, and to ask for a disinterment for such an unimportant reason as that you, a stranger, would prefer to see her buried elsewhere, would be idle.’

Sleaford now came into the cabin.  I thanked him for his kindness, but told him I must return at once.

‘Even if your health permitted,’ he said, ’it is impossible for the yacht to go back.  I have an appointment to meet a yachting friend.  But in any case depend upon it, old fellow, the doctor won’t hear of your returning for a long while yet.  He told me not five minutes ago that nothing but sea air, and keeping your mind tranquil, you know, will restore you.’

The feeling of exhaustion that came upon me as he spoke convinced me that there was only too much truth in his words.  I felt that I must yield to the inevitable; but as to tranquillity of mind, my entire being was now filled with a yearning to see the New North Cemetery—­to see her grave.  I seemed to long for the very pang which I knew the sight of the grave would give me.

It is of course impossible for me to linger over that cruise, or to record any of the incidents that took place at the ports at which we touched and landed.  My recovery, or rather my partial recovery, was slower than the doctor had anticipated.  Weeks and months passed, and still there seemed but little improvement in me.

The result was that I was obliged to yield to the importunities of my mother, and to the urgent advice of Dr. Finch, to remain on board Sleaford’s yacht during the entire cruise, and afterwards to go with them to Italy.