“I confess you have disappointed me,” she said to Mr. MacGlue. “I should have thought you would have been the last man to encourage my son in an act of imprudence.”
“Craving your pardon, madam, your son requires no encouragement. I can see for myself that his mind is made up. Where is the use of a person like me trying to stop him? Dear madam, if he won’t profit by your advice, what hope can I have that he will take mine?”
Mr. MacGlue pointed this artful compliment by a bow of the deepest respect, and threw open the door for my mother to pass out.
When we were left together over our wine, I asked the doctor how soon I might safely start on my journey to Edinburgh.
“Take two days to do the journey, and you may start, if you’re bent on it, at the beginning of the week. But mind this,” added the prudent doctor, “though I own I’m anxious to hear what comes of your expedition—understand at the same time, so far as the lady is concerned, that I wash my hands of the consequences.”—
* The doctor’s narrative is not imaginary. It will be found
related in full detail, and authenticated by names and
dates, in Robert Dale Owen’s very interesting work called
“Footfalls on the Boundary of Another World.” The author
gladly takes this opportunity of acknowledging his
obligations to Mr. Owen’s remarkable book.
CHAPTER X. SAINT ANTHONY’S WELL.
I STOOD on the rocky eminence in front of the ruins of Saint Anthony’s Chapel, and looked on the magnificent view of Edinburgh and of the old Palace of Holyrood, bathed in the light of the full moon.
The Well, as the doctor’s instructions had informed me, was behind the chapel. I waited for some minutes in front of the ruin, partly to recover my breath after ascending the hill; partly, I own, to master the nervous agitation which the sense of my position at that moment had aroused in me. The woman, or the apparition of the woman—it might be either—was perhaps within a few yards of the place that I occupied. Not a living creature appeared in front of the chapel. Not a sound caught my ear from any part of the solitary hill. I tried to fix my whole attention on the beauties of the moonlit view. It was not to be done. My mind was far away from the objects on which my eyes rested. My mind was with the woman whom I had seen in the summer-house writing in my book.