But she came up to me.
"Now, you're not going to run away from me like that," she said, tucking her arm tight into mine and coming close to me. "Come along, get in here and sit beside me."
She believed in the occult I knew, and, although I felt it was better to keep all such nonsense to myself I told her about the automatic writing, not saying what it was about, but that it was a message from my mother.
"Well, at that rate, I'd go on with it," she said, when she heard my description.
It was too interesting for me not to try again but I got no more messages.
The exercises still went on nightly, but I seemed to take less interest in them by degrees—they seemed also to be fainter—more weakly given.
Why I should have believed that anyone was there I don't know, for I have always disbelieved in spirits, fairies, and elementals, but there was a consciousness of another being than myself who gave signs to me by movements of my hands, answering "yes" or "no" by different movements.
Then one day, while I was shopping in town, I felt very faint and, as if I must get home quickly or I should faint.
The next day, in the morning, a horrible feeling of vagueness came over me as if a veil had fallen between me and the outside world, preventing my consciousness from coming through. I sat at my window talking to my landlady and hoped she did not notice the vagueness of my expression as I felt it must appear.
I felt tired and inert as if I could not pull my faculties together. I went to a restaurant for dinner and on the way there, was conscious of this Presence.
He seemed to be depressed and I questioned him as to why I could not get a true answer from him.
But as I sat at dinner a terrible feeling came over me of depression and a kind of ceasing of feeling—so that I could not enjoy my dinner. Here again I had such a feeling of vagueness that I hoped the waitress would not notice anything peculiar.
As I left the shop I could not walk properly. I kept running to one side of the pavement as if some invisible person was sharing my consciousness and interfering with my own movements by unconsciously directing them his way.
He seemed to be persuading me to go home and lie down, saying he thought I needed rest.
I found myself whispering now, moving my lips as I asked him questions and gave him answers—I found myself whispering to him all day long.
