afterwards I vainly endeavoured to account. He showed me several exquisite crystalline substances and chemical preparations, each inclosed in a curiously carved wooden case. These, he informed me, he had produced while he had been in the laboratory, and that he had come to London in order to prepare them, as they were intended to assist him in a series of experiments, on which he was engaged in the country. He said, also, that his stay in town would not be long, and giving me his address, told me that he would be happy to see me in the evening, whenever I could call upon him.
I left the place without even speaking to Holdsworth. I was lost in thought, and my mind seemed overcome with an unaccountable presentiment of evil. I tried to shake off this feeling, but found that it was impossible to do so,—the glittering eyes of the old man seemed to haunt me. When I got to my rooms I began to consider what there was about the Doctor that had produced so singular and disagreeable an effect upon me. One thing I thought that I detected, namely, that Fred Holdsworth had evidently been speaking to him about some of my fanciful ideas with regard to the connection between organic and inorganic nature. This I presumed, not from any direct remark from the Doctor, but rather from observations that he had made to me, seemingly by chance, while showing to me his chemical preparations. I also remembered, with a shudder, that nearly all the substances which he displayed were virulent poisons. When I pondered on this fact, again the shadow of impending evil fell upon me, and once more I seemed to hear the sweet, low voice of Mary Maurice whispering at my side, “Beware of poisons! beware of poisons!” I started from my reverie, almost expecting to find her in the room, but I found it was all the work of imagination. Still the remembrance of my loved cousin was enough to dissipate my gloom. I endeavoured to cast off the evil foreboding which overshadowed me, and I succeeded. What was Doctor Walstein to me, or I to Doctor Walstein, that I should care for him? I declared to myself that I would have nothing more to do with him or his poisonous experiments, and when Holdsworth arrived in the evening, he found me in better spirits than usual.
“Well, Charlie,” said he, “what do you think of our Doctor? I can assure you that he has taken a strong liking to you; indeed, he told me to tell you that you must not forget to call upon him.”
“To tell you the truth, Fred, I have no great partiality for your old friend, and have no desire to meet him again.”
“I think, however, that you ought to call, if it was only to see his daughter. She is really a most beautiful girl,—and you see—knowing that we live together,—you might get an invitation for me on another occasion.”
“Oh! that’s how the land lies, is it, Fred? I thought there was a little bit of self in it; but you must excuse me. I cannot explain my reasons to you, but my wish is, to avoid Doctor Walstein if possible; besides, you cannot care very much for a girl whom you have never spoken to.”
Holdsworth was a handsome, strong young fellow, but he had one weakness, which was, that he could not conceal a blush. He turned very red at my last remark, and was silent.
After a week had elapsed, I received a note from the Doctor, inviting me to his lodgings on the following evening, and as I had really no valid excuse for declining, I went, to the great envy of my companion. But I saw that his envy was tempered with the hope that my visit would result advantageously for himself.
An evil-faced servant in black opened the door for me, and told me to walk upstairs, where I found Doctor Walstein, who received me cordially, almost affectionately. He was alone, and we immediately began to converse about ordinary topics. He had evidently seen much, and studied much, and on every subject he spoke shrewdly, and with a touch of satire that suited my youthful taste exactly. I did not perceive it at first, but I found out afterwards, that notwithstanding his light and fluent mode of guiding the conversation, he was drawing me out, and making me speak of subjects that I would not have ventured upon with anyone else. He had even got me to speak in somewhat glowing terms about my Yorkshire home and my Uncle Mark. In doing this, however, I felt that I was saying too much before a complete stranger, and I became silent.
The shades of evening filled the room, and the old man was sitting with his back to the window, so I could not see the expression on his face, but I felt that those piercing grey eyes of his were bent upon me, with their strange, fascinating glance. I was roused by the Doctor informing me that coffee was awaiting us in the adjoining room. He put his arm through mine, and opened the folding-doors leading into the inner apartment. A lamp in the middle of the table lighted the room brightly, and I saw a young girl of the most dazzling beauty, who stood looking at us with a startled expression. It was only for an instant or two, for the Doctor said sternly:
“How is this, Minna? You informed me that you were so unwell, that you would remain in your own room!”
She murmured some words in reply which I could not distinguish, and the doctor turned to me, asking me to excuse him for an instant, and then passed through the folding-doors, closing them behind him, and leaving me alone in the outer room.
Even in the darkened apartment, rendered more dark by the glimpse of light afforded by the opening of the doors, the beautiful figure of that young girl seemed still before me,—a mental picture that appeared indelible. I do not know what length of time elapsed,—it seemed an age,—when the Doctor returned, and invited me into the inner room. He was profuse in his apologies. His daughter was seriously unwell, and he had cautioned her to take care of herself. She was unaware that a stranger was present. He hoped, however, that on my next visit, his daughter would be able to join us. I noticed, as he spoke, that the old man seemed agitated, but he proceeded to say, more calmly, as we sat down to our coffee, that his daughter had lived till within the last year in Southern Europe, and that he feared the