hen Sclamowsky made his way to where his daughter was standing, she
said, in tones of icy disapproval, which must have been audible for a
long way down the room--

"A very clever piece of imposture, sir."

The mesmerist's face flushed and his eyes flashed angrily. He, however,
bowed low.

"There's nothing so hard," he said, "to overcome, madam, as prejudice. I
fear you have been inconvenienced by my daughter's hand. I will now
release her--and you."

So saying, he placed his own hand for a moment over his daughter's and
breathed lightly on the girl's face. Instantly the muscles relaxed, her
hand fell to her side, and I could hear her give a little shuddering
sigh, apparently of relief.

I noticed, too, that, whether by design or accident Sclamowsky kept his
hand for a moment longer on my aunt's necklace, and as he took his
finger away, I fancied that he looked at her fixedly for a second, and
muttered something either to himself or her, the meaning of which I
could not catch.

"What did he say to you?" I asked, as Sclamowsky, after removing the
bandage from his daughter's eyes, assisted her to remount the stage.

Aunt Phoebe looked a little confused and dazed, and her hand went up
to her necklace, as though to reassure herself of its safety.

"Say to me?" she repeated, rousing herself as though by an effort; "he
said nothing to me. But I think, Elizabeth, if it is the same to you, we
will go home; the heat of the room has made me feel a little dizzy."

We heard next day that we had missed the best part of the entertainment
by leaving when we did, and that many and far more wonderful experiments
were successfully attempted; but I had no time to waste in vain regrets
for not having been present, for I was much taken up with Aunt Phoebe.

I was really anxious about her; she was so strangely unlike her calm,
equable self. All Saturday she was restless and irritable, wandering
half way upstairs, and then as though she had forgotten what she wanted,
returning to the drawing-room, where she set to work opening old cabinet
drawers, looking under chairs and sofas, tumbling everything out of her
work-box as if in search of something, and snubbing me for my pains when
I offered to help her.

This went on all day, and I had almost made up my mind to send for Dr.
Perkins, when, after late dinner, she suddenly sank into an arm-chair
with a look of relief.

"I know what it is," she said; "it is my diamonds!"

"Your dia