things so much. But she will be her own mistress again before long.'

'Valence, you will drive me mad if you persist in talking in this way,' says Bulwer, as he starts from his chair and commences walking up and down the room. 'Tell me, what reason have you to anticipate your death? It is some old superstition you have got hold of-some Banshee story

'It has nothing whatever to do with the Banshee.'

'Who told you so then?'

'I told myself, Bulwer. The conviction lies here,' tapping his chest, more strongly impressed than it could have been by any living being. I know what is in store for me, and I do not fear it. What mortal could say more?'

'You will kill yourself in reality if you encourage such absurd ideas,' says the other, testily.

'How do I encourage them? I have neither sought nor courted them. They have come to me of themselves. And am I not ready and willing to try Dr. Bulwer's famous remedy of marriage for a dying man?' he adds, with a smile. Come, dear old fellow, don't be angry with me. I have opened my heart to you as I have to no one else. Don't make me regret my confidence.'

'Dear Bulwer,' he thinks, affectionately, 'how little he knows -he imagines! The mysteries I revel in are sealed books to him. His eyes see nothing but the outer world through which we are passing. Is he the happier, I wonder, for being blind! Could I give up the companionship which has been my solace for so long?"

Here Lord Valence pauses and turns his head towards his shoulder. 'No' he continues quietly, as though he were answering some 'You know that I could not. I am yours-soul and body -no one shall come between us!

one.

'And yet this girl-whom Bulwer describes so full of life and spirits-ought I to make her my wife without a knowledge of the fact? Will my close companymy daily presence, blanch her cheek- unnerve - enfeeble her? Will she be cognizant of the mystery that surrounds me, and become frightened of it, and of myself? No! I will take care of that -they will take care of it! For the short time we are together I must make her happy and leave her-ignorant! There is no need that she should know! She would not comprehend! She is a butterfly, and, like more than half the world, enjoys the flowers without thinking of the honey at their hearts. I will not be the one to disturb her serenity.'

Then he rises with a sigh and seats himself before the writingtable. The afternoon dusk is settling quickly down on the surrounding objects and makes it difficult for him to see clearly. Yet he draws a clasped book from one of the drawers, and opening it, begins to write :

An hallucina

'A chimera! tion! That is what my best friend calls the unalterable conviction that is stamped upon my mind, that I shall not be here long. And I have no answer for his unbelief except the inner consciousness that I am right. I might distrust another faceanother voice. I cannot give the lie to my own spirit. Spirit! For how many years have I been striving to fathom the mystery of that wonderful word, Spirit! to find out what it is-by what laws it is governed-whence it comes-and where it goes! Bulwer spoke of the Banshee! The first time the possibility of communication with the unseen world was presented to my mind was through that old superstition. I remember how my Irish nurse, Kathleen, alarmed me by her tales; and how, after hearing them, I used to shrink shudderingly beneath the bed-clothes, afraid to open my eyes in the dark lest they should encounter the forerunner of misfortune to our house. I heard the servants speak of it again when my poor father died. I was a mere lad at the time, and could not bear to go about the corridors alone during his long illness, although I was ashamed to say so. I thought that if I once saw the spirit of the Banshee, under whatever shape, I could never survive it. My father grew worse. For weeks he was confined to his bed, unable to move hand or foot. One night I

had gone to rest with my little brother-Arthur, who passed from us three years ago when I was awakened by the sound of some one drawing back the curtains at the foot of the bed. I looked up sleepily. There stood my father

my father who had not left his room nor walked for a month past-clad in his dressing-gown and with a smile upon his face. The sight chased all my drowsi

ness away.

"Father!" I called out as I sprang up in bed. "Oh! father! I am so glad that you are better."

'He looked at me; no sound issued from his lips, but from their movement I could see they formed the syllables, "Good-bye.”

"Good-bye," I echoed, "why, good-bye?" but as I spoke the words he vanished. Some brightness that had lit up the room went out, and all was dark again, and some one was tapping at my door. I leapt out of bed and opened it. Dr. Newall stood outside.

"I regret to tell you- -" he commenced, but I interrupted him.

* "I know it. He is gone! He has been here to tell me so himself."

'Our good friend Newall was quite taken aback. "Of whom are you speaking, my dear? I came to break the sad news to you that your poor father"

""Is dead. I know it, Doctor. He came here-he said good-bye to me."

""You must be dreaming, child. This grief has made you feverish. The Earl has never left his couch, and I have watched beside him all the night."

""Indeed I have seen him, Doctor," I replied excitedly. "He stood just there and smiled at me, and I knew it was for the last time."

'Dr. Newall evidently thought I did not know what I was talking about.

"Come with me, dear boy," he said, soothingly, "and see where your dear father lies in his last sleep."

I followed him mechanically, and in another moment stood beside the corpse. The face was colourless; the eyes were closed and sunken; the mouth drawn, as though with pain. I regarded the sight for a few minutes dumbly.

"He is at peace, my child," said Dr. Newall, who misinterpreted my silence for emotion. "All his troubles are over; he will sleep securely till the Resurrection-day."

"He is not asleep," I answered sharply, for the mystery which I could not fathom made me petulant; "he was in my room but a moment ago, smiling and happy. Let me go back to him, Dr. Newall. This is not my father. me go back and speak to him again."

Let

'The good doctor thought that anxiety and distress had affected my brain, and insisted upon watching through the remainder of the night with me. But it was futile; my father did not again appear, and when the morning dawned, and I passed through the silent, darkened corridors of the castle, I felt that, whether he still existed or not, life must henceforth hold a blank for me, which could be filled by communion with no other created being. But I would not go near the corpse again, nor recognize it as even part of the parent whose loss I lamented; and as each night came round, I lay awake hour after hour, longing to see his face once more, and have the opportunity of telling him all I suffered at his disappearance from amongst us. Many will wonder that I was not afraid to hold such vigils (for I

was but fourteen years old at the time); but no one can wonder more than I did myself. The strangest part of this mystery to me was that it had robbed me of all fear. I, who had shivered at the mere mention of the unknown Banshee, now lay, night after night, longing, hoping, praying that I might again see the apparition of my father. It was the remembrance of this fact that led me, years afterwards, to the conviction that it is ignorance alone that makes us call such visitations supernatural; for I argued that if such a thing is possible, what could be more natural than that a parent who has passed away from earth should revisit his child, or a child thirst to look once more upon the kind face of its parent? To those who are happily unconscious of the yearning which succeeds bereavement to reclaim what we have lost, even by a passing glimpse, a touch, a whisper-the intense anxiety of the survivor to penetrate the darkness that envelopes mortal sight and sense, and catch some sign, however faint, that those we mourn still live-it is useless to speak of a love that casts out fear. The words would hold no meaning for them. They would shrink back aghast at the idea of anything so horrible as communion with the dead, and be incapable of believing there are souls who would boldly penetrate the darkest caves of Erebus, like Orpheus in search of Eurydice, could they thereby gain speech or knowledge of their kindred spirits gone before.

'I had always been a reserved and taciturn boy, and I mourned my father more deeply than the world gave me credit for. He never reappeared to me; but, though I said nothing about it, I knew, I felt that he was near me, in solitude and company, try

ing to speak, to communicate his wishes, and yet unable to do so. This idea took a fast hold upon my mind; and no books claimed my interest so deeply as those that gave me any information on the subject. My brother and I were brought up at the castle, under the charge of tutor. I am not aware that I was more averse to learning than most lads of my age; but all my playtime was passed in reading such works as those of Swedenborg and Mesmer, until my mind became absorbed by the exciting topics of which they treated, and I longed to test for myself the marvels they spoke of as true. One by one, I gave up all the healthy outdoor pursuits I had once enjoyed. I went through the tasks that were appointed me mechanically; but all my spare thoughts were given to one absorbing idea-how could I speak with my father again. I knew that he still existed. Religion and my own sense taught me to believe so much; the only doubt seemed to be whether between his dwelling-place and mine a gulf was fixed, which neither could pass over in order to communicate with the other. Yet from the earliest ages spirits had appeared and spoke with men, and by what law should that which has once been cease to be. One day I ventured to make this remark to my tutor. He received it with scorn.

""It is true," he said, "that the mention of spirits communing with men occurs upon almost every other page of Holy Writ; but you cannot take it as any proof they can still do so. Remember that what you allude to occurred in the Bible."

"In the Bible!" I answered. "Is the Bible a place, an age, another world, that you speak of the deeds recorded there as though

they had no reference to our humanity? Is it not rather a record of what our fellow-creatures did before us? And who is there bold enough to assert that God has changed the laws of nature since that time? or that the world no longer needs the help, instruction, or counsel that was afforded to it then ?"

"All this may be true," replied my tutor uneasily; "but any idea of an established communion between the living and the dead is but a remnant of the superstition of the darkened ages, which has been cleared away by the light of the Gospel."

"And yet when its rays were clearest-when the God-Man hung on Calvary these remnants of superstition left their graves (or were supposed to do so), and went into the city, and appeared unto many."

"That was a miracle."

""And by whose command have miracles ceased? Who drew the line between the time when they should and should not be ?"

"This is utter folly," cried my tutor. "I cannot argue with you on the subject any more."

'And I never gave him the opportunity to do so. From that day my lips were sealed to every human being on the mystery that engrossed my mind.

Arrived at the age of eighteen, I was sent abroad to travel. I visited France, Italy, Germany, and Spain, by turns, and it was in the last-named country I first became aware I possessed powers which made me different from the common race of men.

'But the dusk deepens; I can write no more. I could not have traced these few lines had not my fingers been guided by an invisible agency apart from my own will. Already, through the fast descend