March 24. The spring is fairly with us now. Outsidemy laboratory window the great chestnut-tree is allcovered with the big, glutinous, gummy buds, some ofwhich have already begun to break into little greenshuttlecocks. As you walk down the lanes you areconscious of the rich, silent forces of nature workingall around you. The wet earth smells fruitful andluscious. Green shoots are peeping out everywhere. The twigs are stiff with their sap; and the moist,heavy English air is laden with a faintly resinousperfume. Buds in the hedges, lambs beneath them--everywhere the work of reproduction going forward!

I can see it without, and I can feel it within. Wealso have our spring when the little arterioles dilate,the lymph flows in a brisker stream, the glands workharder, winnowing and straining. Every year naturereadjusts the whole machine. I can feel the ferment inmy blood at this very moment, and as the cool sunshinepours through my window I could dance about in itlike a gnat. So I should, only that Charles Sadlerwould rush upstairs to know what was the matter. Besides, I must remember that I am Professor Gilroy. An old professor may afford to be natural, but whenfortune has given one of the first chairs in theuniversity to a man of four-and-thirty he must try andact the part consistently.

What a fellow Wilson is! If I could only throw thesame enthusiasm into physiology that he does intopsychology, I should become a Claude Bernard at theleast. His whole life and soul and energy work to oneend. He drops to sleep collating his results of thepast day, and he wakes to plan his researches for thecoming one. And yet, outside the narrow circle whofollow his proceedings, he gets so little credit forit. Physiology is a recognized science. If I add evena brick to the edifice, every one sees and applauds it. But Wilson is trying to dig the foundations for ascience of the future. His work is underground anddoes not show. Yet he goes on uncomplainingly,corresponding with a hundred semi-maniacs in the hopeof finding one reliable witness, sifting a hundred lieson the chance of gaining one little speck of truth,collating old books, devouring new ones, experimenting,lecturing, trying to light up in others the fieryinterest which is consuming him. I am filled withwonder and admiration when I think of him, and yet,when he asks me to associate myself with hisresearches, I am compelled to tell him that, in theirpresent state, they offer little attraction to a manwho is devoted to exact science. If he could show mesomething positive and objective, I might then betempted to approach the question from its physiologicalside. So long as half his subjects are taintedwith charlatanerie and the other half with hysteria wephysiologists must content ourselves with the body andleave the mind to our descendants.

No doubt I am a materialist. Agatha says that I am arank one. I tell her that is an excellent reason forshortening our engagement, since I am in such urgentneed of her spirituality. And yet I may claim to be acurious example of the effect of education upontemperament, for by nature I am, unless I deceivemyself, a highly psychic man. I was a nervous,sensitive boy, a dreamer, a somnambulist, full ofimpressions and intuitions. My black hair, my darkeyes, my thin, olive face, my tapering fingers, are allcharacteristic of my real temperament, and causeexperts like Wilson to claim me as their own. But mybrain is soaked with exact knowledge. I have trainedmyself to deal only with fact and with proof. Surmiseand fancy have no place in my scheme of thought. Showme what I can see with my microscope, cut with myscalpel, weigh in my balance, and I will devote alifetime to its investigation. But when you ask me tostudy feelings, impressions, suggestions, you ask me todo what is distasteful and even demoralizing. Adeparture from pure reason affects me like an evilsmell or a musical discord.

Which is a very sufficient reason why I am a littleloath to go to Professor Wilson's tonight. Still Ifeel that I could hardly get out of the invitationwithout positive rudeness; and, now that Mrs. Mardenand Agatha are going, of course I would not if I could. But I had rather meet them anywhere else. I know thatWilson would draw me into this nebulous semi-science ofhis if he could. In his enthusiasm he is perfectlyimpervious to hints or remonstrances. Nothing short ofa positive quarrel will make him realize my aversion tothe whole business. I have no doubt that he has somenew mesmerist or clairvoyant or medium or trickster ofsome sort whom he is going to exhibit to us, for evenhis entertainments bear upon his hobby. Well, it willbe a treat for Agatha, at any rate. She is interestedin it, as woman usually is in whatever is vague andmystical and indefinite.

10.50 P. M. This diary-keeping of mine is, I fancy,the outcome of that scientific habit of mind aboutwhich I wrote this morning. I like to registerimpressions while they are fresh. Once a day at leastI endeavor to define my own mental position. It is auseful piece of self-analysis, and has, I fancy, asteadying effect upon the character. Frankly, I mustconfess that my own needs what stiffening I can giveit. I fear that, after all, much of my neurotictemperament survives, and that I am far from that cool,calm precision which characterizes Murdoch or Pratt-Haldane. Otherwise, why should the tomfoolery which Ihave witnessed this evening have set my nervesthrilling so that even now I am all unstrung? My onlycomfort is that neither Wilson nor Miss Penclosa noreven Agatha could have possibly known my weakness.

And what in the world was there to excite me? Nothing,or so little that it will seem ludicrous when I set itdown.

The Mardens got to Wilson's before me. In fact, I wasone of the last to arrive and found the room crowded. I had hardly time to say a word to Mrs. Marden and toAgatha, who was looking charming in white and pink,with glittering wheat-ears in her hair, when Wilsoncame twitching at my sleeve.

"You want something positive, Gilroy," said he, drawingme apart into a corner. "My dear fellow, I have aphenomenon--a phenomenon!"

I should have been more impressed had I not heard thesame before. His sanguine spirit turns every fire-flyinto a star.

"No possible question about the bona fides this time,"said he, in answer, perhaps, to some little gleam ofamusement in my eyes. "My wife has known her for manyyears. They both come from Trinidad, you know. MissPenclosa has only been in England a month or two, andknows no one outside the university circle, but Iassure you that the things she has told us suffice inthemselves to establish clairvoyance upon an absolutelyscientific basis. There is nothing like her, amateuror professional. Come and be introduced!"

I like none of these mystery-mongers, but the amateurleast of all. With the paid performer you may pounceupon him and expose him the instant that you have seenthrough his trick. He is there to deceive you, and youare there to find him out. But what are you to do withthe friend of your host's wife? Are you to turn on alight suddenly and expose her slapping a surreptitiousbanjo? Or are you to hurl cochineal over her eveningfrock when she steals round with her phosphorus bottleand her supernatural platitude? There would he ascene, and you would be looked upon as a brute. So youhave your choice of being that or a dupe. I was in novery good humor as I followed Wilson to the lady.

Any one less like my idea of a West Indian could not beimagined. She was a small, frail creature, well overforty, I should say, with a pale, peaky face, and hairof a very light shade of chestnut. Her presence wasinsignificant and her manner retiring. In any group often women she would have been the last whom one wouldhave picked out. Her eyes were perhaps her mostremarkable, and also, I am compelled to say, her leastpleasant, feature. They were gray in color,--gray witha shade of green,--and their expression struck me asbeing decidedly furtive. I wonder if furtive is theword, or should I have said fierce? On secondthoughts, feline would have expressed it better. Acrutch leaning against the wall told me what waspainfully evident when she rose: that one of her legswas crippled.

So I was introduced to Miss Penclosa, and it did notescape me that as my name was mentioned she glancedacross at Agatha. Wilson had evidently been talking. And presently, no doubt, thought I, she will inform meby occult means that I am engaged to a young lady withwheat-ears in her hair. I wondered how much moreWilson had been telling her about me.

"Professor Gilroy is a terrible sceptic," said he; "Ihope, Miss Penclosa, that you will be able to converthim."

She looked keenly up at me.

"Professor Gilroy is quite right to be sceptical if hehas not seen any thing convincing," said she. "Ishould have thought," she added, "that you wouldyourself have been an excellent subject."

"For what, may I ask?" said I.

"Well, for mesmerism, for example."

"My experience has been that mesmerists go for theirsubjects to those who are mentally unsound. All theirresults are vitiated, as it seems to me, by the factthat they are dealing with abnormal organisms."

"Which of these ladies would you say possessed a normalorganism?" she asked. "I should like you to select theone who seems to you to have the best balanced mind. Should we say the girl in pink and white?--Miss AgathaMarden, I think the name is."

"Yes, I should attach weight to any results from her."

"I have never tried how far she is impressionable. Ofcourse some people respond much more rapidly thanothers. May I ask how far your scepticism extends? Isuppose that you admit the mesmeric sleep and the powerof suggestion."

"I admit nothing, Miss Penclosa."

"Dear me, I thought science had got further than that. Of course I know nothing about the scientific side ofit. I only know what I can do. You see the girl inred, for example, over near the Japanese jar. I shallwill that she come across to us."

She bent forward as she spoke and dropped her fan uponthe floor. The girl whisked round and came straighttoward us, with an enquiring look upon her face, as ifsome one had called her.

"What do you think of that, Gilroy?" cried Wilson, in akind of ecstasy.

I did not dare to tell him what I thought of it. To meit was the most barefaced, shameless piece of imposturethat I had ever witnessed. The collusion and thesignal had really been too obvious.

"Professor Gilroy is not satisfied," said she, glancingup at me with her strange little eyes. "My poor fan isto get the credit of that experiment. Well, we musttry something else. Miss Marden, would you have anyobjection to my putting you off?"

"Oh, I should love it!" cried Agatha.

By this time all the company had gathered round us in acircle, the shirt-fronted men, and the white-throatedwomen, some awed, some critical, as though it weresomething between a religious ceremony and a conjurer'sentertainment. A red velvet arm-chair had been pushedinto the centre, and Agatha lay back in it, a littleflushed and trembling slightly from excitement. Icould see it from the vibration of the wheat-ears. Miss Penclosa rose from her seat and stood over her,leaning upon her crutch.

And there was a change in the woman. She no longerseemed small or insignificant. Twenty years were gonefrom her age. Her eyes were shining, a tinge of colorhad come into her sallow cheeks, her whole figure hadexpanded. So I have seen a dull-eyed, listless ladchange in an instant into briskness and life when givena task of which he felt himself master. She lookeddown at Agatha with an expression which I resented fromthe bottom of my soul--the expression with which aRoman empress might have looked at her kneeling slave. Then with a quick, commanding gesture she tossed up herarms and swept them slowly down in front of her.

I was watching Agatha narrowly. During three passesshe seemed to be simply amused. At the fourth Iobserved a slight glazing of her eyes, accompanied bysome dilation of her pupils. At the sixth there was amomentary rigor. At the seventh her lids began todroop. At the tenth her eyes were closed, and herbreathing was slower and fuller than usual. I tried asI watched to preserve my scientific calm, but afoolish, causeless agitation convulsed me. I trustthat I hid it, but I felt as a child feels in the dark. I could not have believed that I was still open to suchweakness.

"She is in the trance," said Miss Penclosa.

"She is sleeping!" I cried.

"Wake her, then!"

I pulled her by the arm and shouted in her ear. Shemight have been dead for all the impression that Icould make. Her body was there on the velvet chair. Her organs were acting--her heart, her lungs. But hersoul! It had slipped from beyond our ken. Whither hadit gone? What power had dispossessed it? I waspuzzled and disconcerted.

"So much for the mesmeric sleep," said Miss Penclosa. "As regards suggestion, whatever I may suggest MissMarden will infallibly do, whether it be now or aftershe has awakened from her trance. Do you demand proofof it?"

"Certainly," said I.

"You shall have it." I saw a smile pass over her face,as though an amusing thought had struck her. Shestooped and whispered earnestly into her subject's ear. Agatha, who had been so deaf to me, nodded her head asshe listened.

"Awake!" cried Miss Penclosa, with a sharp tap of hercrutch upon the floor. The eyes opened, the glazingcleared slowly away, and the soul looked out once moreafter its strange eclipse.

We went away early. Agatha was none the worse for herstrange excursion, but I was nervous and unstrung,unable to listen to or answer the stream of commentswhich Wilson was pouring out for my benefit. As I badeher good-night Miss Penclosa slipped a piece of paperinto my hand.

"Pray forgive me," said she, "if I take means toovercome your scepticism. Open this note at teno'clock to-morrow morning. It is a little privatetest."

I can't imagine what she means, but there is the note,and it shall be opened as she directs. My head isaching, and I have written enough for to-night. To-morrow I dare say that what seems so inexplicable willtake quite another complexion. I shall not surrendermy convictions without a struggle.

March 25. I am amazed, confounded. It is clear that Imust reconsider my opinion upon this matter. But firstlet me place on record what has occurred.

I had finished breakfast, and was looking over somediagrams with which my lecture is to be illustrated,when my housekeeper entered to tell me that Agatha wasin my study and wished to see me immediately. Iglanced at the clock and saw with sun rise that it was onlyhalf-past nine.

When I entered the room, she was standing on thehearth-rug facing me. Something in her pose chilled meand checked the words which were rising to my lips. Her veil was half down, but I could see that she waspale and that her expression was constrained.

"Austin," she said, "I have come to tell you that ourengagement is at an end."

I staggered. I believe that I literally did stagger. I know that I found myself leaning against the bookcasefor support.

"But--but----" I stammered. "This is very sudden,Agatha."

"Yes, Austin, I have come here to tell you that ourengagement is at an end."

"But surely," I cried, "you will give me some reason! This is unlike you, Agatha. Tell me how I have beenunfortunate enough to offend you."

"It is all over, Austin."

"But why? You must be under some delusion, Agatha. Perhaps you have been told some falsehood about me. Oryou may have misunderstood something that I have saidto you. Only let me know what it is, and a word mayset it all right."

"We must consider it all at an end."

"But you left me last night without a hint at anydisagreement. What could have occurred in the intervalto change you so? It must have been something thathappened last night. You have been thinking it overand you have disapproved of my conduct. Was it themesmerism? Did you blame me for letting that womanexercise her power over you? You know that at theleast sign I should have interfered."

"It is useless, Austin. All is over:"

Her voice was cold and measured; her manner strangelyformal and hard. It seemed to me that she wasabsolutely resolved not to be drawn into any argumentor explanation. As for me, I was shaking withagitation, and I turned my face aside, so ashamed was Ithat she should see my want of control.

"You must know what this means to me!" I cried. "It isthe blasting of all my hopes and the ruin of my life! You surely will not inflict such a punishment upon meunheard. You will let me know what is the matter. Consider how impossible it would be for me, under anycircumstances, to treat you so. For God's sake,Agatha, let me know what I have done!"

She walked past me without a word and opened the door.

"It is quite useless, Austin," said she. "You mustconsider our engagement at an end." An instant latershe was gone, and, before I could recover myselfsufficiently to follow her, I heard the hall-door closebehind her.

I rushed into my room to change my coat, with the ideaof hurrying round to Mrs. Marden's to learn from herwhat the cause of my misfortune might be. So shakenwas I that I could hardly lace my boots. Never shall Iforget those horrible ten minutes. I had just pulledon my overcoat when the clock upon the mantel-piecestruck ten.

Ten! I associated the idea with Miss Penclosa's note. It was lying before me on the table, and I tore itopen. It was scribbled in pencil in a peculiarlyangular handwriting.

"MY DEAR PROFESSOR GILROY [it said]: Pray excuse thepersonal nature of the test which I am giving you. Professor Wilson happened to mention the relationsbetween you and my subject of this evening, and itstruck me that nothing could be more convincing to youthan if I were to suggest to Miss Marden that sheshould call upon you at half-past nine to-morrowmorning and suspend your engagement for half an hour orso. Science is so exacting that it is difficult togive a satisfying test, but I am convinced that this atleast will be an action which she would be mostunlikely to do of her own free will. Forget any thingthat she may have said, as she has really nothingwhatever to do with it, and will certainly notrecollect any thing about it. I write this note toshorten your anxiety, and to beg you to forgive me forthe momentary unhappiness which my suggestion must havecaused you."Yours faithfully;"HELEN PENCLOSA.

Really, when I had read the note, I was too relieved tobe angry. It was a liberty. Certainly it was a verygreat liberty indeed on the part of a lady whom I hadonly met once. But, after all, I had challenged her bymy scepticism. It may have been, as she said, a littledifficult to devise a test which would satisfy me.

And she had done that. There could be no question atall upon the point. For me hypnotic suggestion wasfinally established. It took its place from now onwardas one of the facts of life. That Agatha, who of allwomen of my acquaintance has the best balanced mind,had been reduced to a condition of automatism appearedto be certain. A person at a distance had worked heras an engineer on the shore might guide a Brennantorpedo. A second soul had stepped in, as it were, hadpushed her own aside, and had seized her nervousmechanism, saying: "I will work this for half anhour." And Agatha must have been unconscious as shecame and as she returned. Could she make her way insafety through the streets in such a state? I put onmy hat and hurried round to see if all was well withher.

Yes. She was at home. I was shown into the drawing-room and found her sitting with a book upon her lap.

"You are an early visitor, Austin," said she, smiling.

"And you have been an even earlier one," I answered.

She looked puzzled. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"You have not been out to-day?"

"No, certainly not."

"Agatha," said I seriously, "would you mind telling meexactly what you have done this morning?"

She laughed at my earnestness.

"You've got on your professional look, Austin. Seewhat comes of being engaged to a man of science. However, I will tell you, though I can't imagine whatyou want to know for. I got up at eight. Ibreakfasted at half-past. I came into this room at tenminutes past nine and began to read the `Memoirs ofMme. de Remusat.' In a few minutes I did the Frenchlady the bad compliment of dropping to sleep over herpages, and I did you, sir, the very flattering one ofdreaming about you. It is only a few minutes since Iwoke up."

"And found yourself where you had been before?"

"Why, where else should I find myself?"

"Would you mind telling me, Agatha, what it was thatyou dreamed about me? It really is not mere curiosityon my part."

"I merely had a vague impression that you came into it. I cannot recall any thing definite."

"If you have not been out to-day, Agatha, how is itthat your shoes are dusty?"

A pained look came over her face.

"Really, Austin, I do not know what is the matter withyou this morning. One would almost think that youdoubted my word. If my boots are dusty, it must be, ofcourse, that I have put on a pair which the maid hadnot cleaned."

It was perfectly evident that she knew nothing whateverabout the matter, and I reflected that, after all,perhaps it was better that I should not enlighten her. It might frighten her, and could serve no good purposethat I could see. I said no more about it, therefore,and left shortly afterward to give my lecture.

But I am immensely impressed. My horizon of scientificpossibilities has suddenly been enormously extended. Ino longer wonder at Wilson's demonic energy andenthusiasm. Who would not work hard who had a vastvirgin field ready to his hand? Why, I have known thenovel shape of a nucleolus, or a trifling peculiarityof striped muscular fibre seen under a 300-diameterlens, fill me with exultation. How petty do suchresearches seem when compared with this one whichstrikes at the very roots of life and the nature of thesoul! I had always looked upon spirit as a product ofmatter. The brain, I thought, secreted the mind, asthe liver does the bile. But how can this be when Isee mind working from a distance and playing uponmatter as a musician might upon a violin? The bodydoes not give rise to the soul, then, but is rather therough instrument by which the spirit manifests itself. The windmill does not give rise to the wind, but onlyindicates it. It was opposed to my whole habit ofthought, and yet it was undeniably possible and worthyof investigation.

And why should I not investigate it? I see that underyesterday's date I said: "If I could see somethingpositive and objective, I might be tempted to approachit from the physiological aspect." Well, I have got mytest. I shall be as good as my word. Theinvestigation would, I am sure, be of immense interest. Some of my colleagues might look askance at it, forscience is full of unreasoning prejudices, but ifWilson has the courage of his convictions, I can affordto have it also. I shall go to him to-morrow morning--to him and to Miss Penclosa. If she can show us somuch, it is probable that she can show us more.