s none of my doing.
Presently I was taking the short cut through the woods. The red glow of
sunset was fading behind me, and darkness already gathered among the
trees. Aware of a vague anxiety that impelled me forward, an odd notion
that I might be late for something, I began to hurry along, the gaunt
tree trunks watching like sentinels as I passed. Was I looking for Auber
Hurn? It was strangely reminiscent, not a real experience. "This is
absurd," I said to myself at length, and straightened my foot to stop.
Instead, I unexpectedly leaped over a fallen log, and continued with
nervous strides, while I flung back a sneaking glance of embarrassment.

On the turns of the path darkness closed in rapidly; the outlines of
objects loomed uncertainly distant through the forest. Gradually I
became aware that at the end of a dim vista down which I was hurrying,
something white had formed itself in the path. I stopped to look, but
could make out nothing clearly. It remained dimly ahead, and I
approached, a few steps at a time, peering through the obscure gray
shadows, striving to concentrate my vision. At last I recognized that
it was Auber Hurn in his shirt-sleeves, standing still in the middle of
the path. Apparently he, too, was trying to see who was coming.

"Auber!" I called. I was not sure that he replied.

When I was very close I began at once, as if involuntarily: "Auber, you
see, I came to meet you. There is a message from Ezekiel--a Wall Street
panic, or something. He wants you to meet him on the 11.10 to-mor--It
will be necess--Auber?" Had I been talking to the air? I looked about
me. "Auber!--Auber Hurn!" I called. There was no one there; but in the
hush of listening there came, as if wandering to me through the forest,
the little lost gurgle of a distant brook.

For a moment I stood fascinated by a reminiscence--and then, a sudden
fear swelling in my throat, I ran. Back on the path I fled, my legs
seeming to go of themselves, hurling my body violently along; my feet
pounding behind, as if in pursuit, whirling around the turns, then down
the last straight aisle, past the sentinel trees, out into the light.

When I reached the farmyard, a fresh team was being hitched to our
carriage.

"What! Has Mr. Hurn come back?" I asked, shakily.

"No," said Josiah, "but I thought maybe you'd want things ready. Didn't
you find him?"

"Why--no," I replied, and then repeated firmly, "No, I did not."

I sat down, exhausted, o