“O, she is here yet, at least in body, but her mind is up in the clouds roving around after familiar spirits. She was in some kind of a trance when I went there to-day, and wrote me a letter purporting to come from some mystical source.�
“Ah?� Mr. Wylie became interested.
“It didn’t amount to anything. The whole thing was dreadful.�
“Why dreadful? Did you keep the letter?�
“Yes, here it is upon my shopping-tablet.� She detached the ivory ornament and handed it to him. He studied it carefully, then said:
“And she was unconscious when she wrote this, you say?�
“Yes, apparently.�
“Strange, strange. It is as I thought. Mrs. Lucien will develop into a writing medium. It is such ethereal natures as hers that are chosen.�
“But, Horace, I cannot endure the thought of such a thing.�
“And why not, pray?� Again his eyebrows were exasperatingly elevated.