hing wonderful to hear. After she had been in
London two years her bigamist lover found out where she was, and leaving
his home in Italy followed her to London. There was no doubt as to the
sincerity of his attachment to the woman whom he had betrayed, and the
scenes which took place between them were painful, and at one time
threatened to have a very tragic ending.

Fortunately, although she never ceased to cherish a very passionate
affection for her lover, she refused to resume her old relations with
him, and after many stormy scenes he departed for Italy, loading her
with reproaches. Some months after his departure she came to me and told
me she was afraid something had happened to him. She had heard him
calling her outside her window, and shortly afterwards saw him quite
distinctly in her room. She was much upset about it.

I pooh-poohed the story, and put it down to a hallucination caused by
the revival of the stormy and painful scenes of the parting. Shortly
afterwards she received news from Italy that her late husband, if we may
so call him, had died about the same time she heard him calling her by
her name under her window in East London.

I only learnt when the above was passing through the press that the
unfortunate man, whose phantasm appeared to my friend, died suddenly
either by his own hand or by accident. On leaving London he drank on
steadily, hardly being sober for a single day. After a prolonged period
of intoxication he went out of the house, and was subsequently found
dead, either having thrown himself or fallen over a considerable height,
at the foot of which he was found dead.

I asked Mrs. G. F.--to write out for me, as carefully as she could
remember it after the lapse of two years, exactly what she saw and
heard. Here is her report:--

_The Promise._

"In the end of the summer of 1886 it happened one morning that Irwin and
myself were awake at 5.30 a.m., and as we could not go to sleep again,
we lay talking of our future possible happiness and present troubles. We
were at the time sleeping in Room No. 16, Hotel Washington, overlooking
the Bay of Naples. We agreed that nothing would force us to separate in
this life--neither poverty nor persecution from his family, nor any
other thing on earth. (I believed myself his wife then.) We each agreed
that we would die together rather than separate. We spoke a great deal
that morning about our views of what was or was not likely to be the
condit