‘See! see!’
‘What is it Sira?’ demanded the Professor.
‘Shapes like angels, carrying one that looks like a corpse. They are singing—do you not hear them? Now they are touching me—they are passing their hands over my hair. I see my mother; she is weeping and bending over me. Mother! mother!’
Simultaneously, Bradley himself appeared conscious of glimpses like human faces flashing and fading. In spite of his scepticism, a deep dread, which was shared more or less by all present, fell upon him. Then all at once he became aware of something like a living form, clad in robes of dazzling whiteness, passing by him. An icy cold hand was pressed to his forehead, leaving a clammy damp like dew.
‘I see a shape of some kind,’ he cried. ‘Does anyone else perceive it?’
‘Yes! yes! yes!’ came from several voices.
‘It is the spirit of a woman,’ murmured the medium.
‘Do you know her?’ added the Professor.
‘No; she belongs to the living world, not to the dead. I see far away, somewhere on this planet, a beautiful lady lying asleep; she seems full of sorrow, her pillow is wet with tears. This is the lady’s spirit, brought hither by the magnetic influence of one she loves.’
‘Can you describe her to us more closely?’