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Page 14
10 P. M. Well, well, what a thing of straw I am! I am
coming to know myself better of late, and the more I
know the lower I fall in my own estimation. Surely I
was not always so weak as this. At four o'clock I
should have smiled had any one told me that I should go
to Miss Penclosa's to-night, and yet, at eight, I was
at Wilson's door as usual. I don't know how it
occurred. The influence of habit, I suppose. Perhaps
there is a mesmeric craze as there is an opium craze,
and I am a victim to it. I only know that as I worked
in my study I became more and more uneasy. I fidgeted.
I worried. I could not concentrate my mind upon the
papers in front of me. And then, at last, almost
before I knew what I was doing, I seized my hat and
hurried round to keep my usual appointment.
We had an interesting evening. Mrs. Wilson was present
during most of the time, which prevented the
embarrassment which one at least of us must have felt.
Miss Penclosa's manner was quite the same as usual, and
she expressed no surprise at my having come in spite of
my note. There was nothing in her bearing to show that
yesterday's incident had made any impression upon her,
and so I am inclined to hope that I overrated it.
April 6 (evening). No, no, no, I did not overrate it.
I can no longer attempt to conceal from myself that
this woman has conceived a passion for me. It is
monstrous, but it is true. Again, tonight, I awoke
from the mesmeric trance to find my hand in hers, and
to suffer that odious feeling which urges me to throw
away my honor, my career, every thing, for the sake of
this creature who, as I can plainly see when I am away
from her influence, possesses no single charm upon
earth. But when I am near her, I do not feel this.
She rouses something in me, something evil, something I
had rather not think of. She paralyzes my better
nature, too, at the moment when she stimulates my
worse. Decidedly it is not good for me to be near her.
Last night was worse than before. Instead of flying I
actually sat for some time with my hand in hers talking
over the most intimate subjects with her. We spoke of
Agatha, among other things. What could I have been
dreaming of? Miss Penclosa said that she was
conventional, and I agreed with her. She spoke once or
twice in a disparaging way of her, and I did not
protest. What a creature I have been!
Weak as I have proved myself to be, I am still strong
enough to bring this sort of thing to an end. It shall
not happen again. I have sense enough to fly when I
cannot fight. From this Sunday night onward I shall
never sit with Miss Penclosa again. Never! Let the
experiments go, let the research come to an end; any
thing is better than facing this monstrous temptation
which drags me so low. I have said nothing to Miss
Penclosa, but I shall simply stay away. She can tell
the reason without any words of mine.
April 7. Have stayed away as I said. It is a pity to
ruin such an interesting investigation, but it would be
a greater pity still to ruin my life, and I KNOW that I
cannot trust myself with that woman.
11 P. M. God help me! What is the matter with me? Am
I going mad? Let me try and be calm and reason with
myself. First of all I shall set down exactly what
occurred.
It was nearly eight when I wrote the lines with which
this day begins. Feeling strangely restless and uneasy,
I left my rooms and walked round to spend the evening
with Agatha and her mother. They both remarked that I
was pale and haggard. About nine Professor Pratt-
Haldane came in, and we played a game of whist. I
tried hard to concentrate my attention upon the cards,
but the feeling of restlessness grew and grew until I
found it impossible to struggle against it. I simply
COULD not sit still at the table. At last, in the very
middle of a hand, I threw my cards down and, with some
sort of an incoherent apology about having an
appointment, I rushed from the room. As if in a dream
I have a vague recollection of tearing through the
hall, snatching my hat from the stand, and slamming the
door behind me. As in a dream, too, I have the
impression of the double line of gas-lamps, and my
bespattered boots tell me that I must have run down the
middle of the road. It was all misty and strange and
unnatural. I came to Wilson's house; I saw Mrs. Wilson
and I saw Miss Penclosa. I hardly recall what we
talked about, but I do remember that Miss P. shook the
head of her crutch at me in a playful way, and accused
me of being late and of losing interest in our
experiments. There was no mesmerism, but I stayed some
time and have only just returned.
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