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public appointment, and try whether I can do the things he says I can't do. He has been here. Father wants him to come and test it himself, and that's what he's gone to him for; and I know he will; and I can't do anything when he's by.'
She said no more, and Hatch began to walk up and down the room. Presently he stopped before her. "Well, Miss Egeria, there's only one way out of it. The way is to go and talk to that fellow, and get him not to keep his appointment with your father, if he's made one."
"For me to go? I thought of that; and then " —
"Oh, no," said Hatch, with a smile. "I'll do the going and talking. You make yourself easy about it. But after that, don't you think we could get your father to give this thing up, and go home?"
"Oh, if we only could!" cried the girl. "But it's no use. I have been talking to him, and begging him to; but he'll never go back in the world. He hates my grandfather."
"The old gentleman was rough on him; but you can't much wonder at it. I'm not saying anything against the doctor, mind; I don't go back on him; I don't forget what he did for me. But we can talk about all that afterwards. What we've got to do now is to go and beg off from that fellow. Goodbye, Miss Egeria; I mustn't lose time."
She stopped him. "I can't let you. It would be throwing blame on my father. I'd rather let him kill me."
"Oh, I'll make it all right about the doctor," said Hatch. "No one shall have a right to blame him for anything. Don't you be troubled. I'll fix it. Don't worry!"
Egeria faltered. "You'll only lose your time. It won't do any good."
"But you don't tell me not to go?"
"It won't do any good," she said.
"Well," said Hatch, "I'm going to see this man, and then I'm coming back to have a talk with the doctor. I want to go away to-morrow feeling first-rate, and I don't believe I shall feel just right unless you take the Eastern road back to Maine about the time I take the Boston and Albany for Omaha.
Egeria followed him from the room, and responded with a hopeless look to the bright nod with which he turned to her at the outer door. As it closed, she stood a moment in the dim entry, and then crept languidly up the stairs to her own room; she cast herself upon the lounge again, with her face to the wall, and lay there in the apathy which is the refuge from overstress of feeling. The worst could not be worse than the worst; and whatever happened, it could but be another form, not another degree, of ill.
Hatch hurried upon his errand, and climbed, heated and panting, to Ford's room, and to a loud "Come in!" which followed his knock, he responded by entering and shutting the door behind him.
Ford stood before the fireplace, striking against the brick a burning paper with which he had been lighting his pipe. In this act, he looked round at Hatch over his shoulder, at first vaguely, and then with recognition, but not certainly with welcome. "Oh!" he said.
"Mr. Ford?" asked Hatch.
"Yes."
"I met you at Mrs. Le Roy's. I don't know whether you remember me."
"Yes, I do," said Ford. He drew two or three whiffs at his pipe. "Will you sit down? You know Mr. Phillips." He indicated with a motion of his head a third person, whose face, black against the window, Hatch had not made out.
At the mention of his name, Phillips came forward in his brisk way, and shook hands with Hatch. "Oh, yes," he said. "Mr. Hatch hasn't forgotten me. I feel myself memorable since that night. I was then an element of the supernatural. Have you seen our friends lately?"
"Yes," said Hatch. "I've just come from them."
"They're well, I hope? Miss Boynton struck me as a most interesting person. Doesn't her life of excitements wear upon her? Most young ladies find one world as much as they can stand; mingling in the society of two, as she does, must be rather fatiguing."
" Miss Boynton isn't very well, or, rather, she hasn't been."
"Ah, I'm sorry to hear that," said Phillips. "I hope it's nothing serious."
"Well, no," replied Hatch, uneasily. He turned to Ford, who from his superior stature had been smoking down upon Phillips and himself. "Mr. Ford," he added, "I came here from Dr. Boynton's to see you."
"Yes?" said Ford.
Phillips made a polite movement in the direction of his hat. "I think I'll be going, Ford," he explained.
"You can go," returned Ford, taking his pipe from his mouth, "but it isn't necessary.
This gentleman can have nothing confidential to say to me. I'd rather you'd stay—for once."
"You're so flattering," said Phillips, "that I will stay, if Mr. Hatch doesn't object. My engagement's at one."
"Oh, not at all," said Hatch, reluctantly. Ford had remained standing, with his back to the fireplace, and Hatch had not accepted his invitation, or his permission, to sit down.
" As Mr. Phillips was at Mrs. Le Roy's that night, he might as well hear what I have to say. Mr. Ford," he added abruptly, "I want you to do me a great favor."
"Why should I do you a great favor; Mr. Hatch?" asked Ford, while he looked with half-closed eyes at the ceiling, and blew a cloud of smoke above Hatch's head.
Hatch glanced sharply at him, to see whether he spoke in gratuitous insolence or ill-timed jest. He decided for the latter, apparently, for he returned jocosely, " Well, do yourself a great favor, then."
"I don't feel the need of that," said Ford. "What is it?"
"Has Dr. Boynton been here this morning?" asked Hatch, with the anxiety he could not hide.
"No," said Ford, taking out his pipe, and looking at him.
"Then that makes it a great deal easier. I want to ask you, when he comes,—I know he is coming,—to refuse the proposition he will make you."
"What proposition is Dr. Boynton coming to make me?" demanded Ford, with his pipe between his fingers.
Hatch faltered, and scanned Ford's unyielding face. "I shall have to tell you, of course. He is coming to propose a public test seance with you, in which Miss Boynton's powers shall be put to proof. I ask you to refuse it."
Ford did not change countenance, but Phillips, from the easy-chair into which he had cast himself, smiled, and studied now his friend's sad, cold visage, and now the eager, anxious face of Hatch. "In whose behalf do you ask this?" Ford inquired, beginning to smoke again. "By what right do you ask it?"
"Miss Boynton has been sick, and is still very much unstrung. It would be a kindness, a mercy, to her, if you would refuse."
"How do you know? Do you ask it from her?"
Hatch hesitated in an interval of silence that prolonged itself painfully.
"I don't come at her request," he said, at last.
Ford made no comment, but continued to smoke. His pipe died out; he struck a match and kindled it again; and then smoked as before. "Mr. Hatch," he asked finally, "are you a spiritualist?"
"I am a spiritualist, but I am not a fool," replied Hatch.
"Then you don't care for the effect of this seance on the fortunes of your creed?"
"No, I don't. I care for the effect of it on a young lady who dreads it, and who—and on a man that I owe a good deal to. Look here, Mr. Ford; I don't decide on these things. I suppose spiritualism is a matter of faith, like other religions. These people are in earnest about it; that is, Dr. Boynton is, and his daughter thinks and does whatever he tells her to. I'm sorry they're in the business, and I wish they were out of it. They're good people, and as innocent as babies, both of 'em. I don't like the way you take with me, but you can walk over me as much as you like, if only you'll grant this favor. I'm in hopes to get them back to where they belong. I used to live in their town, and I know all about them. He's a visionary, but he's a good