‘It is I, dearest!’ said the voice. ‘It is Alma!’
‘What brings you here?’ he murmured, almost inaudibly.
‘I knew you were in sorrow;—I came to bring you comfort, and to assure you of my affection.’
The words were spoken in a low, just audible voice, close to his ear, and it is doubtful if they were heard by any other member of the company. In the meantime the more commonplace manifestations still continued; the room was full of strange sounds, bells ringing, knocking, shuffling of invisible feet.
Bradley was startled beyond measure. Either her supernatural presence was close by him, or he was the victim of some cruel trick. Before he could speak again, he felt the pressure of cold lips on his forehead, and the same strange voice murmuring farewell.
Wild with excitement, not unmingled with suspicion, he again broke the chain and sprang to his feet. There was a sharp cry from the medium, as he sprang to the window and drew back the curtain, letting in the daylight. But the act discovered nothing. All the members of the circle, save himself, were sitting in their places. Eustasia, the medium, was calmly leaning back in her chair. In a moment, however, she started, put her hand quickly to her forehead as if in pain, and seemed to emerge from her trance.
‘Salem,’ she cried in her own natural voice, ‘has anything happened?’
‘Mr. Bradley has broken the conditions, that’s all,’ returned the Professor, with an air of offended dignity. ‘I do protest, ladies and gentlemen, against that interruption. It has brought a most interesting seance to a violent close.’
There was a general murmur from the company, and dissatisfied glances were cast at the offender.
‘I am very sorry,’ said the clergyman. ‘I yielded to an irresistible influence.’