There are moments of exultation in the life of every artist, when his soul reaches out to visions of great beauty. No canvas or marble can record these visions. In his associations with the world, he may, at times, catch glimpses that remind him of what he has seen, but nowhere does he realize, as a whole, the perfection of those forms that have allured him from his ordinary surroundings.
Was this charming creature one of those beings who had haunted my dreams?—who, in the still hours of the night, had sometimes dispelled the darkness by the glow of her presence?
If I hesitated a moment in recognizing her, it was because she had never before appeared clothed in so beautiful a form, or if so I had failed to appreciate it. Perhaps it was due, in part, to the negative condition I was in, which allowed a freer and more perfect development, undisturbed by any mental action on my part; and this idea is strengthened by the fact that, in all my connection with these séances, what I most desired to obtain seldom came until after I had become more or less indifferent about it. As I stood beside this form, I passed my fingers through her long silken tresses, and put my hand upon her finely formed head. As she laid her face to mine, she said in the most earnest yet tender tones, "You did not think I would come." This was true; tired with my journey and the sultry heat, I was indifferent to taking an active part in the séance. I was, however, in a listless way, interested in what came to others, and had given up expecting that anything would come to me; and yet, had I reflected for a moment, I should have known that at any true séance, where I was present and the conditions favorable, it would have been hardly possible for her to keep away. The consciousness of her presence at other times than in the séance-room is no uncommon occurrence with me.
In the séance-room, where she comes so strong and substantial, I have often put forth little playful, but somewhat provocative remarks, in order to draw out, as far as possible, an expression of her character. Sometimes these things excited her, but never, except for the moment, disturbed the harmony between us.
At this interview I was not in a condition of mind likely to attract spirits, whether in or out of the flesh. In the course of conversation, I dropped a remark that disturbed her. She grasped my hand nervously, her chest rose and fell with increased respiration, and without making any reply she retreated to the cabinet.
Thinking it possible that I might have displeased her, and that she would not return, I went to my seat. A moment afterward, I was surprised by her rushing out and kneeling down in front of me. Throwing her bare arms around my neck and pulling my head down to her, that others might not listen to what was said, she poured forth, in the most earnest and impassioned strain, her thoughts; talking as only a woman can talk under the highest inspiration.
I had long since abandoned all doubts of the existence of these beings, and had been, in a quiet and affectionate way, studying the different phases of character manifested by them. Like many others who have investigated this subject, I had met with things which I could not understand or harmonize with my experience. This was leading me to conclusions that I intuitively felt were not true, and yet I could not extricate myself from the network of apparent evidence that surrounded me.
That she understood my mental condition, was evinced by the fact that her whole force and energy were directed to this one subject. Her form trembled and vibrated with emotion as she uttered sentence after sentence in clear explanation of what had perplexed me. Raising her head, and tossing back her long hair, she grasped both my hands, and, with a face beaming with light, said:
"It seems strange to you, but what can I do? We are subject to conditions; and if I come at all, it must be in harmony with them. There are spheres and circles we cannot penetrate, if the controlling influence is against us. We are still human, still yearning for affection,—that love which is the silken cord that binds us all. What would you not do to reach those dear to your heart? You understand me now."
There was a remarkably childlike simplicity in the way she unburdened her mind, giving free expression to her feelings, bearing me mentally along with her, until I was lost to everything else. That is all. There are thoughts and feelings which no language can express. Like the silvery notes of a sweet song that echo in the distance, they revel in their freedom from restraint, and forever elude our grasp.