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Bangs, John Kendrick, 1862-1922

"The Water Ghost and Others"


"Tom," I cried again, holding out my hand towards him in a beseeching
fashion, "come back. Explain this dreadful mystery if you do not wish me
to lose my senses."
And then the eyes faded from my sight, and I was alone again. Horrified by
my experience, I rushed from the study into my bedroom, where I threw
myself, groaning, upon my couch. To collect my scattered senses was of
difficult performance, and when finally my agitated nerves did begin to
assume a moderately normal state, they were set adrift once more by Tom's
voice, which was unmistakably plain, bidding me to come back to him there
in the study. Fearful as I was of the results, I could not but obey, and I
rose tremblingly from my bed and tottered back to my desk, to see Bragdon
sitting opposite my usual place just as he had so often done when in the
flesh.
"Phil," he said in a moment, "don't be afraid. I couldn't hurt you if I
would, and you know--or if you don't know you ought to know--that to
promote your welfare has always been the supremest of my desires.


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