too strongly
for my mental equilibrium."

"Ah, yes!" she said, "I can imagine that you have done well to stay
away. I ought to have thought of that."

"No," I said, "I am glad you spoke of it. The danger, if there was
any, existed only during the first day or two. Thanks to you, chiefly
and always, I feel my footing now so firm in this new world, that if
you will go with me to keep the ghosts off, I should really like to
visit the place this afternoon."

Edith demurred at first, but, finding that I was in earnest, consented
to accompany me. The rampart of earth thrown up from the excavation
was visible among the trees from the house, and a few steps brought us
to the spot. All remained as it was at the point when work was
interrupted by the discovery of the tenant of the chamber, save that
the door had been opened and the slab from the roof replaced.
Descending the sloping sides of the excavation, we went in at the door
and stood within the dimly-lighted room.

Everything was just as I had beheld it last on that evening one
hundred and thirteen years previous, just before closing my eyes for
that long sleep. I stood for some time silently looking about me. I
saw that my companion was furtively regarding me with an expression of
awed and sympathetic curiosity. I put out my hand to her and she
placed hers in it, the soft fingers responding with a reassuring
pressure to my clasp. Finally she whispered, "Had we not better go out
now? You must not try yourself too far. Oh, how strange it must be to
you!"

"On the contrary," I replied, "it does not seem strange; that is the
strangest part of it."

"Not strange?" she echoed.

"Even so," I replied. "The emotions with which you evidently credit
me, and which I anticipated would attend this visit, I simply do not
feel. I realize all that these surroundings suggest, but without the
agitation I expected. You can't be nearly as much surprised at this as
I am myself. Ever since that terrible morning when you came to my
help, I have tried to avoid thinking of my former life, just as I have
avoided coming here, for fear of the agitating effects. I am for all
the world like a man who has permitted an injured limb to lie
motionless under the impression that it is exquisitely sensitive, and
on trying to move it finds that it is paralyzed."

"Do you mean your memory is gone?"

"Not at all. I remember everything connected with my former life, but
with a total lack of keen sens