Hamlet was to be acted at our theatre, and it so happened that a famous
actor of ours had died, and the part of Hamlet was allotted to me. In the middle of my part I could not help wishing to myself that Maud
were present to see me act. The wish was intense; nor was it mere vanity
that prompted it, but I really had a sincere respect for her opinion,
and she was that sort of girl who would have told me to my face of any
defect in my acting she noticed, for she was a merciless critic. I rather longed to hear my acting severely cut up by her than to receive
unqualified praise, although I was sure that praise from her lips would
be unfeigned. The memory of Maud's face haunted me throughout my part, but so far from
being an impediment to me, I fancied I acted better than usual, and I
was anxious for Maud to be present that I might hear her candid opinion
of my performance afterwards. I was in the middle of that scene where
Hamlet strains his eyes into space after his father's ghost when I
noticed the figure of a lady seated in one of the boxes near the stage
which up to that time had been empty. Surprise at seeing a lady alone
whom I had not noticed before so near the close of the piece caused me
to look again. Good Heavens! it was Maud herself. What could she be doing in that box
alone? Not even dressed for the theatre, but wearing the identical dress
I had seen her last in, as if she were at home. I started, in spite of
myself. She seemed to heed no one, for her eyes were constantly fixed on
me. Her appearance there I did not attempt to account for, but I felt a
thrill of delight that my acting was being appreciated by one at least. I inwardly resolved at the close of the last scene to wrap my cloak
hurriedly over my theatrical dress and rush out to meet her before she
stepped into her carriage, but I was not in time, so I undressed and
leisurely returned home. A few days afterwards I met the medical attendant of the ---- family in
the street. I inquired after the young ladies and especially Maud. "It appears they are in London," said I. "Indeed!" replied he. "Then it must be very lately, for it was only on
the tenth, in the evening, that I was called for to attend upon Miss
Maud, and they did not say anything about coming to town." "On the tenth!" exclaimed I, in amazement, "you say you saw Miss Maud?" This was the very evening I had seen her at the theatre. "Yes; on the tenth." "Are you sure?" I asked. "Perfectly," he said. "In the evening, at about half-past nine." "At half-past nine, on the tenth!" I exclaimed. "Why, she was at the
theatre at that hour. I saw her." "Impossible!" said the doctor. "You must have been mistaken; someone
like her, perhaps." "No, no, doctor," I firmly asserted; "I tell you she was in a box near
the stage while I was acting Hamlet. I was as near to her as I am to you
now; it is impossible that I could be mistaken." "But I tell you, you _are_ mistaken, most grievously," said the doctor,
somewhat warmly. "I give you my word of honour as a medical man and a
gentleman that I attended Miss Maud at her own country house on the
tenth instant, at about half-past nine in the evening." "Then it must have been her ghost I saw, that's all," said I. "And do
you know, doctor, that the most strange part of it all was, she was
perfectly alone in the box, and not dressed for the theatre, but wore
the very same dress I saw her last in? I marked her well, and wondering
to myself what brought her there unaccompanied and in such plain attire. It is true, she is a little eccentric, but then her parents, I thought,
would have looked after her sufficiently to prevent such a breach of
etiquette. Really, doctor, I don't know what to think of it." "Come," said he, with a smile, "come, confess you are a little smitten
with the young lady. You can't quite get her out of your thoughts, even
while you are acting. She has made a great impression on your
over-sensitive brain, and at the time perhaps your nerves were a little
unstrung from over study or over excitement about your part, or
else"--here he relaxed into another smile--"are you quite, _quite_ sure
you did not take just a _leetle_ drop of _something_ upon an empty
stomach, just to screw yourself up to the right pitch?" And here he laughed heartily. "Upon my honour, doctor," said I, "I am not in the habit of having
recourse to stimulants. I assure you----"

He interrupted me with a hearty laugh, and said, "Ah! you actors are sad
dogs." I smiled and then after a moment's reflection said, "By the way, doctor,
for what were you called to attend upon Miss Maud? I hope she is not
dangerously ill. What is her complaint?" "Well," said the physician, gravely, "I am afraid it is somewhat
serious. She had a fit that appeared to me to be cataleptic. It is the
second she has had it seems. It lasted for some considerable time, and
when she awoke she complained of a weight over her eyeballs and an
inclination to sleep, with a pain down the whole right side of the body. She felt extremely nervous, and asked for a fan, with which she begged
me to fan her powerfully, and afterwards to change the movement, so as
to cause the current of air to pass her face in a transverse direction. This I did, after which she declared that she had recovered." I was startled at the doctor's relation, but said nothing, for I was now
more convinced than ever that my intense desire for her to be present
had influenced her magnetically, and had been the means, though
unwittingly, of withdrawing her spirit temporarily from the body. But
what would have been the use of my declaring my suspicions to such an
old-fashioned fogey as this worthy doctor? I should only have been
laughed at, so I held my peace. "Well, doctor," said I, after we had walked on together for some time in
silence, being occupied with my thoughts, "if you have nothing else to
do in the evenings, now that you are in London, I should be glad if you
would drop in at our theatre to see me act. This evening I am going to
act Romeo again. If you have any spare time, I can give you a
box-ticket." He thanked me, and said that as he was free that evening he would
gladly accept my offer, so we parted. The evening arrived, and when I made my appearance on the boards I
noticed my friend the doctor already in his box. His appearance put me
in mind of the conversation we had had in the morning, and, do what I
could, I was unable to get Maud out of my head all through the piece. I
certainly _did_ long for her to be present, though I tried not to wish
too strongly, lest I should bring on another magnetic trance. I glanced
towards the box where I had last seen Maud. It was occupied by two
gentlemen, and Maud was not there. As the piece proceeded, however, I forgot my caution, and an intense
desire to see her again, which I could not restrain, came over me.