It cannot be true. But I no longer talk of Upsidonia to them, for when I did so, after I began to mend, they looked askance at me and were obviously hiding something. Even the doctor, who rides over the moors from Eppington on a shaggy pony, told me that I should not get well as long as I clung to such delusions.
Delusions! Is Miriam a delusion, I should like to know? Can a man fall in love with a delusion?
No. These people must know perfectly well of the existence of Upsidonia, but for some reason of their own they wish to keep it dark. Perhaps I shall know why when I get well again.
But I don't much care what their reasons are. The cave is blocked up now, but from where I sit I can see a tall rampart of rock about a mile to the north across the moor. It looks inaccessible, but there must be some way over it, or round it. When I can walk again I shall find a way. For beyond it lies Upsidonia, and Upsidonia contains Miriam.
Wherever Miriam is, I am going to find her.
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Upsidonia, by Archibald Marshall