“Yes; he has hinted at it.”
“And you believe him?”
“Of course I do; he told me so.”
This was unanswerable. “A pretty pair they will make,” I muttered, as Madeline slipped from me to welcome her lover who was approaching. “They will see ghosts in every corner, and goblins behind every curtain.”
Nevertheless, the young people had no doubts about their coming bliss. Everything was going smoothly and pleasantly for them. Carriston had at once spoken to Madeline’s aunt, and obtained the old Scotchwoman’s ready consent to their union. I was rather vexed at his still keeping to his absurd whim, and concealing his true name. He said he was afraid of alarming her aunt by telling her he was passing under an alias, whilst if he gave Madeline his true reason for so doing she would be miserable. Moreover, I found he had formed the romantic plan of marrying her without telling her in what an enviable position she would be placed so far as worldly gear went. A kind of Lord Burleigh surprise no doubt commended itself to his imaginative brain.
The last day of my holiday came. I bade a long and sad farewell to lake and mountain, and, accompanied by Carriston, started for home. I did not see the parting proper between the young people—that was far too sacred a thing to be intruded upon—but even when that protracted affair was over, I waited many, many minutes whilst Carriston stood hand-in-hand with Madeline, comforting himself and her by reiterating “Only six weeks—six short weeks! And then—and then!” It was the girl who at last tore herself away, and then Carriston mounted reluctantly by my side on the rough vehicle.
From Edinburgh we travelled by the night train. The greater part of the way we had the compartment to ourselves. Carriston, as a lover will, talked of nothing but coming bliss and his plans for the future. After a while I grew quite weary of the monotony of the subject, and at last dozed off, and for some little time slept. The shrill whistle which told us a tunnel was at hand aroused me. My companion was sitting opposite to me, and as I glanced across at him my attention was arrested by the same strange intense look which I had on a previous occasion at Bettws-y-Coed noticed in his eyes—the same fixed stare—the same obliviousness to all that was passing. Remembering his request, I shook him, somewhat roughly, back to his senses. He regarded me for a moment vacantly, then said:
“Now I have found out what was wanting to make the power I told you of complete. I could see her if I wished.”
“Of course you can see her—in your mind’s eye. All lovers can do that.”
“If I tried I could see her bodily—know exactly what she is doing.” He spoke with an air of complete conviction.