“I will not call in question a word you have said,” remarked Florence, speaking in a deprecatory tone, as she turned to the woman. “All I ask now is that you give me some clue by which I can trace this person from the time she left your house. That is my errand here; and I beg, in the name of humanity, that you will satisfy it to the extent of your ability.”
“I asked her no questions when she left,” replied the woman. “She came with a message from an absent one in the upper spheres,—a message that filled my heart with reverent gladness. As an honored guest, she remained for a few days an inmate of my house, and then went as she came. The spirits led her here, and the spirits withdrew her in their own good time. She is gifted in a high degree; and they have chosen her as one of their most favored messengers to darkly-wandering mortals. I bless the day she came to this house. Ah! now I see the white garments, and now the angel-face, of that blessed daughter who ten years ago left my heart desolate.”
The woman’s eyes were elevated, and she seemed in an ecstatic vision.
“She removed the veil from my dull eyes,—that honored messenger!” she continued, “and, by a pure vision, I now see beyond the dark boundary which conceals the beautiful world where the blessed ones dwell. She likewise unstopped my ears, so that they can hear spirit-voices. I hearken to them all day long.”
“I call nothing of this in question,” said Florence, rising, and moving toward the door; “but other matters of interest press on me too imperatively for delay. Once again, let me implore you to give me some light. Think again! Is there no one likely to be informed of her present home, to whom you could refer me? Let your mother’s heart counsel for me in this matter!”
“I trust the spirits in all things. For wise ends they have hidden from me all that pertains to their favored messenger. She came in mystery, and departed as she came. In the spirit I meet her almost daily. In the body I know her not.”
The Irish girl had already retreated beyond the outer door, and stood upon the marble steps. Hopeless of gaining any information here touching the object of her search, Florence, over whose spirit had fallen a strange, suffocating fear, as if her very life were waning, turned from the woman, and almost rushed, panic-stricken, from the house.
“’Dade, and it’s the divil’s den!” ejaculated the Irish girl, bluntly, as they crowded into the carriage. “I wouldn’t go into that house again for a mint o’ money. I expected every instant to see you spirited off!”
Florence did not answer the girl, but ordered the driver to leave her at the house in Fifth Street and then to take her to the residence of Mr. Dainty. She brought neither light, hope, nor comfort to those who had anxiously awaited her return, and found none for her own troubled heart.