ON quitting Oxford, Kenelm wandered for several days about the
country, advancing to no definite goal, meeting with no noticeable
adventure. At last he found himself mechanically retracing his steps.
A magnetic influence he could not resist drew him back towards the
grassy meads and the sparkling rill of Moleswich.

"There must be," said he to himself, "a mental, like an optical,
illusion. In the last, we fancy we have seen a spectre. If we dare
not face the apparition,--dare not attempt to touch it,--run
superstitiously away from it,--what happens? We shall believe to our
dying day that it was not an illusion, that it was a spectre; and so
we may be crazed for life. But if we manfully walk up to the phantom,
stretch our hands to seize it, oh! it fades into thin air, the cheat
of our eyesight is dispelled, and we shall never be ghost-ridden
again. So it must be with this mental illusion of mine. I see an
image strange to my experience: it seems to me, at first sight,
clothed with a supernatural charm; like an unreasoning coward, I run
away from it. It continues to haunt me; I cannot shut out its
apparition. It pursues me by day alike in the haunts of men,--alike
in the solitudes of nature; it visits me by night in my dreams. I
begin to say this must be a real visitant from another world: it must
be love; the love of which I read in the Poets, as in the Poets I read
of witchcraft and ghosts. Surely I must approach that apparition as a
philosopher like Sir David Brewster would approach the black cat
seated on a hearth-rug, which he tells us that some lady of his
acquaintance constantly saw till she went into a world into which
black cats are not held to be admitted. The more I think of it the
less it appears to me possible that I can be really in love with a
wild, half-educated, anomalous creature, merely because the apparition
of her face haunts me. With perfect safety, therefore, I can approach