‘Do—and get your beauty-sleep. You’ll want all your strength to-morrow. We have a seance at seven, at the house of Mrs. Upton. Tyndall is invited, and I calculate you’ll want to have all your wits about you.’
‘Good night!’
‘Good night,’ said the Professor, kissing her on the forehead; then, with a quiet change from his glib, matter-of-fact manner to one of real tenderness, he added, looking wistfully into her eyes, ‘Keep up your spirits, Eustasia! We shan’t stay here long, and then we’ll go back to America and take a long spell of rest.’ Eustasia sighed again, and then glided from the room. She was so light and fragile that her feet seemed to make no sound, and in her white floating drapery she seemed almost like a ghost.
Left alone, the Professor sat down to the table, drew out a pencil and number of letters, and began making notes in a large pocket-book.
Presently he paused thoughtfully, and looked at the door by which Eustasia had retreated.
‘Poor girl!’ he muttered. ‘Her soul’s too big for her body, and that’s a fact. I’m afraid she’ll decline like her mother, and die young.’
CHAPTER XX.—THE THUNDERCLAP.
The Mighty and the Merciful are one;